Soon after this they stopped in front of a high wall with a gate of bronze. The Sorcerer got out and Raphael followed him. Spinning a dial set in one of the bronze panels, the Sorcerer opened the door and nodded to Raphael to enter. ‘I change the combination every day,’ he said dryly. ‘I shouldn’t bother to learn it, if I were you.’ They passed through the gate into the brightest garden Raphael had ever seen. Millions of flowers grew in great beds, laid out in squares. The walks were broad and made of asphalt. In the distance the boy could make out a little pond. Overshadowing this garden of red and yellow and green, Raphael saw a huge round tower of gray brick. ‘This is where I live,’ said the Sorcerer. ‘Cassandra lives with me.’ ‘Is Cassie here?’ asked Raphael eagerly. ‘Oh, Cassandra,’ called the Sorcerer. At his summons a little girl dressed in white walked slowly from the other side of a large bush in one corner of the garden. ‘Yes,’ she said listlessly. ‘What do you want?’ ‘Cassandra, your brother Raphael is here.’ ‘Cassie!’ shouted Raphael, running toward her. The little girl raised her eyes slowly. ‘Hello, Raphael,’ she said dully. Raphael stopped as though he had been struck. ‘Cassie!’ was all he could say. ‘Cassie, what’s the matter?’ ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Raphael was puzzled. There was something wrong. ‘Well, children,’ said Mechanus, ‘it must be nearly supper-time. Show Raphael to his room, Cassandra.’ Cassandra led the way through the stone-flagged hall of the tower to an elevator. They stepped in, and Cassandra pushed a button. The elevator rose swiftly. ‘Aren’t you well, Cassie?’ whispered Raphael. ‘You look sort of pale.’ ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ said Cassandra. ‘Here’s our room.’ But Raphael wasn’t satisfied. The elevator stopped with a jerk, and Cassandra opened the door. It was a room full of light. Around the pale yellow walls ran a band of pictures representing fire engines, and trucks, and steam shovels, and automobiles. Raphael went to the western window and looked out. The tower overlooked the garden and beyond that Raphael could see the river winding under distant pine bluffs. He was a captive. Several knocks shook at the door, and a mechanico entered bearing a suit of clothes. ‘The Master wishes you to change, Mr. Raphael,’ said the mechanico. ‘I won’t,’ said Raphael. ‘I prefer my feather suit.’ ‘The Master said he wanted no magic nonsense. You must change, Mr. Raphael.’ So the Sorcerer would take away his suit. Would the power of Gæa go with it? Raphael was afraid of this. ‘I won’t,’ he repeated stubbornly. ‘Sorry, Sir,’ replied the mechanico politely. And then before Raphael could scream or cry out, he was seized and his feather suit stripped from him. He burst into angry tears.