“Silence!” a guard roared at Rudy. “Duke Stefan comes!”
The guards at the door sprang to attention. Duke Stefan strode into the room, followed by Duke Rojas. On Duke Stefan’s face was a look of ugly pleasure.
“So the mice are in the trap!” Duke Stefan said to the three boys. “And now it is time for them to squeal. You are going to tell me what I want to know, or it will be the worse for you.”
The guards brought a chair from a corner, dusted it off, and placed it before the wooden bench where the boys were seated. Duke Stefan sat down and tapped his fingers on the chair arm.
“Ah, young Rudolph,” he said to Rudy. “So you are in this. It shall go hard with your father and your family, I promise you. Not to mention yourself.”
Rudy clamped his lips tightly and said nothing.
“And now you, my young Americans,” Duke Stefan purred. “I have you. At least I have two of you. I will not ask you why you are here in this country. The cameras you left behind in your flight tell us everything. They prove you are agents of the American government — spies! You came here to plot against Varania. But you have committed a greater crime than that. You have stolen the silver spider of Varania.”
He leaned forward, his face darkening.
“Tell me where it is,” he said, “and I will be easy with you. I will assume you are just young and foolish. Come, speak!”
“We didn’t steal it,” Jupiter said boldly. “Someone else stole it and hid it in our room.”
“So!” Duke Stefan said. “You admit you had it. That in itself is a crime. But I am tender-hearted. I feel sympathy for your youth and folly. Just tell me where it is — return it to me — and I will forgive you much.”
Bob waited for Jupiter to speak. Jupe hesitated. But he could see no harm in telling the truth.
“We don’t know where it is,” he said. “We haven’t any idea.”
“You defy me, eh?” Duke Stefan scowled. “Let the other one speak. If you wish mercy, my little mouse, tell where the silver spider is.”
“I don’t know,” Bob said. “I haven’t any idea.”
“But you had it!” Duke Stefan roared at them. “That you have admitted. So you know where it is. Did you hide it? Did you give it to someone? Answer or it will be the worse for you!”
“We don’t know where it went,” Jupiter said. “You can ask us all night, and we won’t be able to tell you anything else.”
“So. You are being stubborn.” Duke Stefan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We can cure that. We have instruments in this room that have made grown men, far braver than you, scream to be allowed to speak. How would you like to stand within the Iron Maiden there and have her slowly embrace you, eh?”
Jupiter gulped and was silent. Rudy spoke up boldly.
“You wouldn’t dare!” he said. “You plan to take the throne from Prince Djaro, and you want the people of Varania to think you are a just and kind ruler. If it became known that you had tortured anyone, you would suffer the fate of Black Prince John long ago. Remember that the people rose and tore him limb from limb with their bare hands.”
“Bold words,” sneered Duke Stefan. “But I do not need the Iron Maiden nor the rack to get the truth from these culprits. I have other methods.”
He signaled to the guards.
“Bring in the gypsy, Old Anton,” he ordered.
“Anton the Ancient!” Rudy whispered excitedly to his friends. “He — ”
“Silence!” Duke Stefan roared.
The boys craned their heads and saw an old man escorted into the room by the guards. He was tall, or would have been if he had not been bent far over as he walked, supporting himself with a stick. He wore bright-coloured rags, and gold rings in his ears, and his face was drawn like a skull. Two bright blue eyes burned in his face, which was so dark that it made his eyes seem even brighter.
He shuffled forward until he stood before Duke Stefan.
“Old Anton is here,” he said, his tone suggesting that he considered himself far superior to the man he was speaking to.
“I have need of your powers,” said Duke Stefan. “These boys know something they will not tell. Learn it for me.”
The ancient gypsy’s skull-like face split in an ironic smile.
“Old Anton does not take orders,” he said. “Good night, Duke Stefan.”
Duke Stefan’s face darkened at the impudence of the gypsy. But he restrained his anger. From his pocket he drew several gold pieces.
“I did not mean to order you, Anton,” he said. “I seek your aid. I pay well. Here is gold.”
The gypsy turned back. Claw-like hands reached for the gold pieces and tucked them away under the rags.
“Anton will help one who is so generous,” he said, seeming to laugh at the duke. “What knowledge do you seek, Duke Stefan?”
“These young imps know where the silver spider of Varania is,” Duke Stefan said. “They have hidden it but will not tell where. I could easily learn the truth with the aid of these — ” he waved his hand toward the instruments of torture — “but I am merciful. Your power is great, and it is painless. Question them.”
“Old Anton obeys,” the gypsy cackled. He turned to the three boys. From somewhere beneath his rags he brought out a brass cup and a pouch. Into the cup he put several pinches of powdery material that looked like seeds. Then, surprisingly, he produced a modern cigarette lighter and lit the powder. Thick blue smoke rose in the air.
“Breathe, small ones,” Anton crooned, waving the cup back and forth in front of the three boys’ faces. “Breathe deeply. Anton commands you to breathe the smoke of truth.”
They tried to turn their faces aside and hold their breath, but they couldn’t. The smoke got into their nostrils. They breathed it in spite of themselves. It was pungent but not disagreeable and they found themselves relaxing, their minds becoming pleasantly drowsy.
“Now look at me,” Old Anton said. “Look at me, little ones, look into my eyes.”
Though they wanted to resist, their heads turned. They looked into Anton’s bright blue eyes and they seemed to be deep, distant pools of water into which they were falling.
“Now speak!” Anton said, his tone commanding. “The silver spider! Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” Rudy answered in spite of an effort to remain silent. Beside him Bob and Jupiter echoed the words. “I don’t know… I don’t know… ”
“Ah!” Anton murmured. “Breathe again — breathe deeply.”
Once more he passed the smoking cup in front of the three boys’ faces. Bob felt himself drifting as if upon a very comfortable cloud high in the air.
The gypsy touched Rudy’s forehead lightly with his fingers. He leaned very close and stared unblinkingly into Rudy’s eyes. Rudy could not have looked away if his life depended on it.
“Now,” Old Anton whispered, “do not speak. But think. Think of the silver spider. Think where it is… Ah!”
After a long moment he took his fingers from Rudy’s forehead and repeated the same movements and words with Jupiter. Once more he said “Ah!” and came to Bob. As he touched Bob’s forehead, his fingers seemed to tingle with electricity, and his eyes were all Bob could see, blue and piercing as if reading his very thoughts. Bob found himself thinking of the silver spider. Again he seemed to see it sitting in the palm of his hand. Then it vanished. He didn’t have any idea where it went. He couldn’t remember — there was a cloud on his thoughts…
The ancient gypsy seemed puzzled. He lingered with Bob, murmuring urgently again and again, “Think! Think!” At last he sighed and turned away. Bob blinked. He felt as if released from a spell.