Curlie tried to think what it would mean if they should stumble.
They rounded a second breakwater and there stood the building. But such a building as it was! A low structure of many sides and a large dome. It seemed a tomb.
“And not a light!” The boy’s heart sank.
There was nothing to be done but to race on. Heavy footsteps, labored breathing were behind them; the city was far away. They reached the wall of dark marble. No doors there. They began circling this astonishing edifice.
Their pursuers were all but upon them when they came at last to a door.
“It is not locked!” the girl said aloud. “It must not be!” She put out a hand and turned the knob. The door swung open. They tumbled in. Then, as if by magic, the door closed and locked itself.
Curlie knew it was locked, for a heavy hand on the outside knob failed to budge it.
The knob was all but wrenched away to no purpose. After that came silence, deep and ominous.
“Well,” the boy whispered with a nervous laugh, “here we are. But where are we?”
And where, indeed, were they? Aside from a tiny gleam of red light that seemed far away, the place was utterly dark. This feeble light, casting not the faintest shadow, appeared to make the darkness more intense.