‘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.’