IT was so sudden, and so horribly unlike anything that had ever happened to Digory even in a nightmare, that he let out a scream. Instantly Uncle Andrew's hand was over his mouth. “None of that! ” he hissed in Digory's ear. “If you start making a noise your Mother'll hear it. And you know what a fright might do to her.”
As Digory said afterward, the horrible meanness of getting at a chap in that way, almost made him sick. But of course he didn't scream again. “That's better, ” said Uncle Andrew. “Perhaps you couldn't help it. It is a shock when you first see someone vanish. Why, it gave even me a turn when the guinea-pig did it the other night.”
“Was that when you yelled? ” asked Digory.
“Oh, you heard that, did you? I hope you haven't been spying on me? ”
“No, I haven't, ” said Digory indignantly. “But what's happened to Polly? ”
“Congratulate me, my dear boy, ” said Uncle Andrew, rubbing his hands. “My experiment has succeeded. The little girl's gone—vanished—right out of the world.”
“What have you done to her? ”
“Sent her to—well—to another place.”
“What do you mean? ” asked Digory.
Uncle Andrew sat down and said, “Well, I'll tell you all about it. Have you ever heard of old Mrs. Lefay? ”
“Wasn't she a great-aunt or something? ” said Digory.
“Not exactly, ” said Uncle Andrew. “She was my godmother. That's her, there, on the wall.”
Digory looked and saw a faded photograph: it showed the face of an old woman in a bonnet. And he could now remember that he had once seen a photo of the same face in an old drawer, at home, in the country. He had asked his Mother who it was and Mother had not seemed to want to talk about the subject much. It was not at all a nice face, Digory thought, though of course with those early photographs one could never really tell.