“It is my brother calling for his Imps,” whispered the Shadow Witch. “He is not used to have them tarry when he summons them.” It was as she said: the Wizard, in the Cave Hall, was grey with rage. Never before had he called to his servants without their scurrying on nimble feet to learn his desires, but this time he had struck repeatedly upon the arm of his chair, and had lifted his voice louder and louder, yet neither the Chief Imp nor any other came. He knew where and how they should be employed at this time, and if they were doing their duty, they were within sound of his voice. How they could dare not to answer him, how they could be deaf when he summoned them, the Wizard could not understand. The Shadow Witch stole closer to Prince Ember, and spoke beneath her breath. “The Wizard is but a few yards from us,” she said. “A moment more, and we must encounter him. I do not fear him now, for in this part of the Cave my power has always been fully equal to his own. The truth is, I have more than once defeated him here. He remembers it well. Yet—I was long bound by that dark prison—long subject to his power. Before I return to the Land of Shadows, I must test myself, for I wish to be certain that I can still meet and defy him in his Cave Hall without being conquered by him; but in order to make sure of myself I must go before him quite alone.” Prince Ember shook his head. “I would not have you venture it,” he objected. “The risk is too great.” “Not when you are near me,” she told him confidently. “If the moment should come when I know that I am unable to resist him longer, I will call to you, and you will hasten to my help.” Reluctantly the Prince consented, and she glided away from him with soundless footsteps. Close, close behind her he followed till they reached the threshold of the Cave Hall. There he tarried out of sight, yet where his eyes could still keep guard over her. The Wizard, provoked beyond measure by the inattention of his servants, was about to rise from his chair to go and learn the reason, and to punish them, when suddenly a low-toned laugh struck on his ears. It startled him, for it was the familiar laughter of his sister—his sister, whom he believed to be far away, hopelessly imprisoned in the deepest recesses of his cavern. He turned his head in the direction from whence it came, and as he half rose from his seat, puzzled and uncertain, it echoed a second time through the Cave. It came from close by, in that dusky corridor that led to his own bedchamber, led to the rooms beyond where the Imps were busy, ay—and led on still further to his Pit of Fumes. By that way his sister could not pass. He smiled cruelly as he thought of that inconquerable barrier to her coming. By the other way there was the double wall, sealed by his enchantment. Remembering these things he was certain that he but imagined that he had heard her echoing laugh.