Upon a raised platform at one side was a heavy table on which lay Glinda’s Great Book of Records; but the platform was firmly fastened to the floor and the table was fastened to the platform and the Book was chained fast to the table—just as it had been when it was kept in Glinda’s palace. On the wall over the table hung Ozma’s Magic Picture. On a row of shelves at the opposite side of the hall stood all the chemicals and essences of magic and all the magical instruments that had been stolen from Glinda and Ozma and the Wizard, with glass doors covering the shelves so that no one could get at them.

And in a far corner sat Ugu the Shoemaker, his feet lazily extended, his skinny hands clasped behind his head. He was leaning back at his ease and calmly smoking a long pipe. Around the magician was a sort of cage, seemingly made of golden bars set wide apart, and at his feet—also within the cage—reposed the long-sought diamond-studded dishpan of Cayke the Cookie Cook.

Princess Ozma of Oz was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well,” said Ugu, when the invaders had stood in silence for a moment, staring about them, “this visit is an expected pleasure, I assure you. I knew you were coming and I know why you are here. You are not welcome, for I cannot use any of you to my advantage, but as you have insisted on coming I hope you will make the afternoon call as brief as possible. It won’t take long to transact your business with me. You will ask me for Ozma, and my reply will be that you may find her—if you can.”

“Sir,” answered the Wizard, in a tone of rebuke, “you are a very wicked and cruel person. I suppose you imagine, because you have stolen this poor woman’s dishpan and all the best magic in Oz, that you are more powerful than we are and will be able to triumph over us.”

“Yes,” said Ugu the Shoemaker, slowly filling his pipe with fresh tobacco from a silver bowl that stood beside him, “that is exactly what I imagine. It will do you no good to demand from me the girl who was formerly the Ruler of Oz, because I will not tell you where I have hidden her—and you can’t guess in a thousand years. Neither will I restore to you any of the magic I have captured. I am not so foolish. But bear this in mind: I mean to be the Ruler of Oz myself, hereafter, so I advise you to be careful how you address your future Monarch.”