Glancing hastily back, Una noticed that the door, a great block of stone revolving with the utmost nicety in grooves made for the purpose, had closed behind them. She was thus separated from her companions and alone with a singular being whose purpose in all this she was at a loss to fathom. Narva's trustworthiness had appealed to her, it is true, and she had followed her leading when the others held back. But there was an air about Narva, suggesting the occasional freaks of one whose wits are not of the steadiest, that might well cause anxiety among those temporarily in her power. Just now, however, there was no sign of trouble, and Una repressed any outward evidence of alarm she might feel. Narva, indeed, seemed to have lost the solemn dignity she had assumed hitherto, and became every moment more ingratiating, reassuring. Gently stroking Una's hand, she stopped in her hurried walk down the corridor and, throwing back the heavy veil obscuring her features, showed a face marked by the nobility and calm of age. Its serenity and kindliness strengthened Una's confidence. "We will go back to them," said Narva; "but first we must see," she added enigmatically. "Why have you brought me here?" asked Una. "Something you will see. You will help us, and then I will help you. I knew you were coming." The explanation, if it could be called one, increased Una's mystification. "You could know nothing of me. How could you know?" she persisted. "How can I help you?" "Ah, Narva is very old," she replied, her long bony fingers passing through the masses of snow-white hair that fell to her shoulders, "and with the old there is knowledge. Long time I lived with your people, far from here. All the years I keep the secret of this Kingdom of the Condor. No one knows--if they know they do not dare to come. Only one--he knows, he has come. And now, you have come. Why?" The abrupt question was confusing. Una wondered how much she knew, how much she dared tell her. The inscrutable eyes fixed upon her revealed nothing. Was it to learn her secret Narva had lured her away from the others? The narrow gloomy passage where they stood was remote from the inhabited portion of the cave; the door to Narva's dwelling, now that it was closed, was not distinguishable from the rest of the wall into which it fitted so admirably. Had Una tried, she could not have found her way back. She was completely at Narva's mercy--but the old Indian had shown only friendliness hitherto, it was reasonable to suppose that her proffer of assistance was genuine, since motive for treachery was lacking. Impulsively reaching this conclusion, Una answered Narva's question without reserve. "I have come," she said, "because I am looking for one who is dear to me. I think he is lost in this cave." "Why?" asked Narva, showing neither surprise nor incredulity. "Once before he disappeared, and then he was lost here." "When?"