"We are sure," the tones rolled out like deepest organ notes, shaking,
vibrating, assailing the ears as strangely as their appearance struck
the eyes. Another moment the O'Keefe stared at them. Once more he
squared his shoulders; lifted Lakla's chin and smiled into her eyes.

"We stick!" he said again, nodding to the Three.

Over the visages of the Trinity fell benignity that was--awesome; the
tiny flames in the jet orbs vanished, leaving them wells in which
brimmed serenity, hope--an extraordinary joyfulness. The woman sat
upright, tender gaze fixed upon the man and girl. Her great shoulders
raised as though she had lifted her arms and had drawn to her those
others. The three faces pressed together for a fleeting moment; raised
again. The woman bent forward--and as she did so, Lakla and Larry, as
though drawn by some outer force, were swept upon the dais.

Out from the sparkling mist stretched two hands, enormously long,
six-fingered, thumbless, a faint tracery of golden scales upon their
white backs, utterly unhuman and still in some strange way beautiful,
radiating power and--all womanly!

They stretched forth; they touched the bent heads of Lakla and the
O'Keefe; caressed them, drew them together, softly stroked
them--lovingly, with more than a touch of benediction. And withdrew!

The sparkling mists rolled up once more, hiding the Silent Ones. As
silently as once before we had gone we passed out of the place of
light, beyond the crimson stone, back to the handmaiden's chamber.