"The Mystery of the Silver Spider" - читать интересную книгу автора (Артур Роберт)

11 The Mysterious Anton

BOB LAY with his eyes closed, listening to Jupiter and Rudy talk.

“Well,” Jupiter said gloomily, “here we are, caught like that cricket in the spider web. I never guessed there would be men on guard outside the door of our room.”

“Neither did I,” Rudy said, equally gloomy. “I thought that since it was empty they’d forget about it. Well, at least Pete and Elena got away.”

“But what can they do?” Jupiter asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing, except tell our plight to my father and the others. It is doubtful that my father can rescue us, but he can go into hiding to avoid Duke Stefan’s vengeance.”

“Which leaves us and Djaro in the soup,” Jupiter muttered. “We came over here to help Djaro but we certainly have been washouts.”

“Washouts? I do not understand the word.”

“Flops. Failures,” Jupiter told him. “Look, I think Bob is waking up. Poor Records, he’s had two bad bumps.”

Bob opened his eyes. He was lying on a rude cot covered with a blanket. He blinked in the dim light. Slowly his eyes focused on a flickering candle, a stone wall beside him and a stone roof above. Across the room was a solid door with only a small peephole. Jupe and Rudy were bending over him. Bob sat up, his head throbbing.

“Next time I come to Varania, I’m going to wear a football helmet,” he said, and tried to smile.

“Good, then you’re all right!” Rudy exclaimed.

“Bob, do you remember?” Jupe asked urgently. “Think hard now.”

“Sure I remember,” Bob said. “Those guards busted into the room and you and Rudy tangled with them and I got knocked down and bumped my head. I remember that much. Now I guess we’re in jail someplace.”

“I don’t mean that,” Jupiter said. “Do you remember what you did with the silver spider? Sometimes if one bump gives you amnesia, another bump will bring back your memory.”

“No.” Bob shook his head. “It’s all still a blank.”

“Perhaps it is just as well,” Rudy said darkly. “Then Duke Stefan cannot force you to tell him anything.”

At that moment, keys rattled outside. The heavy iron door swung inward. Two men in the uniform of the Royal Guard tramped in, shining powerful electric lanterns at them. In their right hands they carried swords.

“Come,” growled one of the men. “Duke Stefan wants you in the room of questioning. On your feet. Walk between us. Try no tricks or it will be the worse for you.”

He waved his sword threateningly.

The boys got slowly to their feet. With one soldier ahead of them and one behind, they tramped out into a damp stone corridor. Behind them the corridor led downward into unguessed realms of darkness. Ahead of them it sloped upward. They went past other closed doors, and up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, two more guards stood at attention.

The two men hustled the boys through a doorway into a long room lit with lanterns. Bob gave a little gasp and even Jupiter turned pale. They had seen this kind of room a couple of times in horror movies. It was a torture room dating from centuries ago. And it was real.

At one side was an ugly rack where a victim was tied to have his bones stretched by heavy weights. Beyond was a huge wheel to which a victim was tied to have his arms and legs smashed by hammers. There were other devices, made of massive timbers, which they preferred not to guess about. And in the center of the room was a tall figure of a woman made of metal. The figure was just a shell, and the front was hinged so it would open. It was open now. Inside were rusty spikes sticking straight out. The idea was that someone stood inside the shell of the Iron Maiden, as it was called, and the front half was slowly closed until those rusty spikes — but neither Jupe nor Bob cared to think about that.

“The room of questioning!” Rudy whispered, and his voice trembled a little. “I’ve heard of it. It dates back to the reign of Black Prince John, a bloody tyrant of the Middle Ages. It hasn’t been used since, that I know of. I think Duke Stefan had us brought here just to scare us. He wouldn’t dare use torture on us!”

Maybe Rudy was right, but just the same, the rack, the wheel, the Iron Maiden and other devilish devices made Bob and Jupe’s stomachs feel queer.

“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.

Old Anton bobbed his head to Duke Stefan.

“The first one,” he said, “has not seen the silver spider and does not know where it is. The fat one saw the spider, but did not handle it. He doesn’t know where it is. The small one had the spider in his hand and then — ”

“Yes?” Duke Stefan exclaimed eagerly. “Go on!”

“A cloud comes over his thoughts. The silver spider disappears into the cloud. I have never met before such a case. He knew once where the spider went, but a blankness came into his mind and he has forgotten. Until he remembers, I can do no more.”

“A thousand curses!” spat Duke Stefan. His fingers tapped the chair arm again.

“Tell me, gypsy,” he began, then changed his tone. “Old Anton, I appreciate your efforts. It is not your fault that they cannot tell me where the silver spider is. But perhaps you can make a guess? You have many powers — we all know that. What of the spider? And — ” he added with restrained eagerness — “what of my ambition to take the throne of Varania, so that a weak and foolish boy shall not sit upon it?”

Old Anton gave a sly smile.

“As to the silver spider, though silver, it is only a spider,” he said. “As to your ambition, I hear a bell ringing victory. And now good night. Old men like me need their sleep.”

Chuckling deep in his throat, he withdrew. Duke Stefan waved his hand.

“Escort him to his home,” he said to the guards. Then he turned to Duke Rojas.

“You heard! The silver spider is only a spider, meaning we can ignore it, it is not important. And Anton says I shall be victorious. We know that in such matters Anton is never wrong. We wait no longer. In the morning the proclamation goes forth. Prince Djaro is under arrest and I am assuming the Regency until further notice. Denounce the United States for trying to interfere in our affairs, and proclaim the arrest of these two as spies and thieves. Offer a reward for the third. Round up all members of Rudolph’s family, and all these so-called Minstrels you can find. Charge them with treason.

“By tomorrow Varania will be firmly in my grasp. After that we will decide whether to hold a public trial of these rascally boys, or merely expel them from the country. Guards! Take them back to their cell and let them meditate there.”

He leaned toward Bob.

“Meanwhile, little mouse, try to remember what you did with the silver spider. Even though Anton says it is not vital, I would like to wear it around my neck when I am crowned Prince of Varania. Restore it to me and things will go easier for you.

“Now, take them away!”