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said Mr. Beaver, “once he’s with us, then we can begin doing things. Not that we don’t need you too. For that’s another of the old rhymes:

      When Adam’s flesh and Adam’s bone

      Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,

      The evil time will be over and done.

      So things must be drawing near their end now he’s come and you’ve come. We’ve heard of Aslan coming into these parts before—long ago, nobody can say when. But there’s never been any of your race here before.”

      “That’s what I don’t understand, Mr. Beaver,” said Peter, “I mean isn’t the Witch herself human?”

      “She’d like us to believe it,” said Mr. Beaver, “and it’s on that that she bases her claim to be Queen. But she’s no Daughter of Eve. She comes of your father Adam’s”—(here Mr. Beaver bowed) “your father Adam’s first wife, her they called Lilith. And she was one of the Jinn. That’s what she comes from on one side. And on the other she comes of the giants. No, no, there isn’t a drop of real human blood in the Witch.”

      “That’s why she’s bad all through, Mr. Beaver,” said Mrs. Beaver.

      “True enough, Mrs. Beaver,” replied he, “there may be two views about humans (meaning no offense to the present company). But there’s no two views about things that look like humans and aren’t.”

      “I’ve known good Dwarfs,” said Mrs. Beaver.

      “So’ve I, now you come to speak of it,” said her husband, “but precious few, and they were the ones least like men. But in general, take my advice, when you meet anything that’s going to be human and isn’t yet, or used to be human once and isn’t now, or ought to be human and isn’t, you keep your eyes on it and feel for your hatchet. And that’s why the Witch is always on the lookout for any humans in Narnia. She’s been watching for you this many a year, and if she knew there were four of you she’d be more dangerous still.”

      “What’s that to do with it?” asked Peter.

      “Because of another prophecy,” said Mr. Beaver. “Down at Cair Paravel—that’s the castle on the seacoast down at the mouth of this river which ought to be the capital of the whole country if all was as it should be—down at Cair Paravel there are four thrones and it’s a saying in Narnia time out of mind that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit on those four thrones, then it will be the end not only of the White Witch’s reign but of her life, and that is why we had to be so cautious as we came along, for if she knew about you four, your lives wouldn’t be worth a shake of my whiskers!”

      All the children had been attending so hard to what Mr. Beaver was telling them that they had noticed nothing else for a long time. Then during the moment of silence that followed his last remark, Lucy suddenly said:

      “I say—where’s Edmund?”

      There was a dreadful pause, and then everyone began asking “Who saw him last? How long has he been missing? Is he outside?” and then all rushed to the door and looked out. The snow was falling thickly and steadily, the green ice of the pool had vanished under a thick white blanket, and from where the little house stood in the center of the dam you could hardly see either bank. Out they went, plunging well over their ankles into the soft new snow, and went round the house in every direction. “Edmund! Edmund!” they called till they were hoarse. But the silently falling snow seemed to muffle their voices and there was not even an echo in answer.

      “How perfectly dreadful!” said Susan as they at last came back in despair. “Oh, how I wish we’d never come.”

      “What on earth are we to do, Mr. Beaver?” said Peter.

      “Do?” said Mr. Beaver, who was already putting on his snow-boots, “do? We must be off at once. We haven’t a moment to spare!”

      “We’d better divide into four search parties,” said Peter, “and all go in different directions. Whoever finds him must come back here at once and—”

      “Search parties, Son of Adam?” said Mr. Beaver; “what for?”

      “Why, to look for Edmund, of course!”

      “There’s no point in looking for him,” said Mr. Beaver.

      “What do you mean?” said Susan. “He can’t be far away yet. And we’ve got to find him. What do you mean when you say there’s no use looking for him?”

      “The reason there’s no use looking,” said Mr. Beaver, “is that we know already where he’s gone!” Everyone stared in amazement. “Don’t you understand?” said Mr. Beaver. “He’s gone to her, to the White Witch. He has betrayed us all.”

      “Oh, surely—oh, really!” said Susan; “he can’t have done that.”

      “Can’t he?” said Mr. Beaver, looking very hard at the three children, and everything they wanted to say died on their lips, for each felt suddenly quite certain inside that this was exactly what Edmund had done.

      “But will he know the way?” said Peter.

      “Has he been in this country before?” asked Mr. Beaver. “Has he ever been here alone?”

      “Yes,” said Lucy, almost in a whisper. “I’m afraid he has.”

      “And did he tell you what he’d done or who he’d met?”

      “Well, no, he didn’t,” said Lucy.

      “Then mark my words,” said Mr. Beaver, “he has already met the White Witch and joined her side, and been told where she lives. I didn’t like to mention it before (he being your brother and all) but the moment I set eyes on that brother of yours I said to myself ‘Treacherous.’ He had the look of one who has been with the Witch and eaten her food. You can always tell them if you’ve lived long in Narnia; something about their eyes.”

      “All the same,” said Peter in a rather choking sort of voice, “we’ll still have to go and look for him. He is our brother after all, even if he is rather a little beast. And he’s only a kid.”

      “Go to the Witch’s House?” said Mrs. Beaver. “Don’t you see that the only chance of saving either him or yourselves is to keep away from her?”

      “How do you mean?” said Lucy.

      “Why, all she wants is to get all four of you (she’s thinking all the time of those four thrones at Cair Paravel). Once you were all four inside her House her job would be done—and there’d be four new statues in her collection before you’d had time to speak. But she’ll keep him alive as long as he’s the only one she’s got, because she’ll want to use him as a decoy; as bait to catch the rest of you with.”

      “Oh, can no one help us?” wailed Lucy.

      “Only Aslan,” said Mr. Beaver, “we must go on and meet him. That’s our only chance now.”

      “It seems to me, my dears,” said Mrs. Beaver, “that it is very important to know just when he slipped away. How much he can tell her depends on how much he heard. For instance, had we started talking of Aslan before he left? If not, then we may do very well, for she won’t know that Aslan has come to Narnia, or that we are meeting him, and will be quite off her guard as far as that is concerned.”

      “I don’t remember his being here when we were talking about Aslan—” began Peter, but Lucy interrupted him.

      “Oh yes, he was,” she said miserably; “don’t you remember, it was he who asked whether the Witch couldn’t turn Aslan into stone too?”

      “So he did, by Jove,” said Peter; “just the sort of thing he would say, too!”

      “Worse and worse,” said Mr. Beaver, “and the next thing is this. Was he still here when I told you that the place for meeting Aslan was the Stone Table?”