"No one all day."

He raced back along the corridor to Mrs. Zanderson's room. He looked in the open doors of the rooms he passed and saw the rooms were empty. One door was closed. He grabbed the doorknob and burst into the room.

An elderly lady turned to regard him with a motherly smile. She held a potted plant in her hands and caressed the plant's shiny leaves. She was not wearing a stitch of clothing.

Embarrassed, he quickly closed the door and returned to where Adjani was waiting for him.

"I can't find her," Spence puffed. "No one has seen her."

"You won't find her. She's gone." Adjani held out his hand and Spence saw a small black object-a little stone carving. "They meant for us to find this. It is a clue to where they are taking her."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure. But I know who can tell us-my father."

Spence, mystified, looked at the carving and back at Adjani.

The day seemed very dark and cold, as if the sun had been blanketed in the sky. He felt a sharp sting of fear pierce him like an icy chill.

"We've got to find her, Adjani. Before anything happens to her. We've got to find her!"

… THE TRIP TO LONDON from Boston left Spence nervous, irritable, and upset. Heat, fatigue, and worry joined forces to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was. On top of everything else he had a headache that wouldn't quit. His head throbbed every time he moved and drummed with a steady, pulsing rhythm of dull pain. In short, he was miserable.

The last twenty-four hours were a blurred scramble. He and Adjani had chased over half of Metropolitan Boston to catch a plane to London to meet Adjani's parents and dine with them. Adjani's mother had insisted on fixing her son and his friend a meal they would both remember, although neither one professed to being at all hungry.

They ate a chicken pilau which contained okra and some other vegetable Spence could not identify over saffron rice. A cool yogurt and cucumber sauce helped soothe the fire of the curry. Fish baked in tents of paper and served with dill, peanuts, and chutney highlighted the meal. There were stacks of chapatis, the traditional flat bread of India, and endless cups of sweet milk tea.

Spence enjoyed the meal enormously and ate his share with no additional urging after his first polite nibblings. Following dinner Adjani's father took the two aside into his study. The Rajwandhis lived in spare, almost ascetic style in a small four – room apartment in an old building near the university. The room which housed the professor's library and served as a den when need occasioned it bore the stamp of a meticulous scholar.

Books lined shelves, floor to ceiling. A small desk covered with a dyed yellow and green cotton cloth sat in one corner with papers stacked squarely in the center next to a great open dictionary. A single large window looked out upon a dusky cityscape where street lights began to twinkle as stars in a firmament of gray cement.

Professor Chetti, as his students affectionately called him, settled into an armchair and waved Spence and Adjani to seats on either side facing him. Looking somewhat out of character he took up a pipe and filled it with tobacco and lit it, savoring the first few puffs in silence.

"It is my English vice," he said at last with a happy chuckle.

He fished in his pocket and brought out the curiously carved stone charm Adjani had found in Mrs. Zanderson's room.

"You wish to know what this is, he? I will tell you. It is very interesting. I have not seen one of these in many years and never outside a museum."

He got up and walked to one of his bookshelves and scanned the rows of books for a moment. He drew out a book and returned to his seat. He thumbed the pages of the book and smoked his pipe and then said, "Ah!" He turned the book around and offered it to them. "You see? Here." He pointed to a picture on one of the pages.

Spence looked at the picture and saw a carving of the exact figure Adjani had found. It was of smooth black stone and looked like a man with the body of an insect. The one in the book had a tail like a snake and wings partly outstretched. Its arms were drawn up over its head and it held a circular object in its hands.

"What is it?" asked Spence.

"It is an arca, an icon, a charm, you might say," answered the professor. "In many places in India it is believed that one keeps a demon away by wearing a charm such as this, representing an even greater demon."

"Fighting fire with fire," said Adjani.

"Yes, in a way. This is a Naga, a snake spirit. One of the older of the demons. And this one is itself very old. Look at the fine detail. You can see the eyes and eyelids, the mouth and nostrils, even though it is very small. Even the scales of the tail are individually carved. Yes, this one is very old. Later carvings are simpler, more stylized." He turned it over in his hands, regarding it with keen scrutiny. "Where did you get it?"

"It was found in the room of a friend," said Adjani vaguely.

"I see-you do not wish me to know." Chetti shrugged. "All right. But whatever you do, don't lose this. It is a very valuable piece."

"Tell us about the Nagas," suggested Spence. The scholar's words had struck a responsive chord in him.

Chetti settled back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "I would happily tell you all I know; the problem is where to start. It is a very long, confusing story. But I will try to make it understandable."

He launched in at once.

"India is an ancient country of years beyond counting. The peculiar cultures of many peoples have mingled together over time, like the waters of streams flowing to a central river, and have created what is India today.

"But it is still possible to take short trips back along some of these tributaries, although many of them are lost to us forever. Such are the Nagas. Little is known now about where the belief came from. It may have originated almost spontaneously among many of the hill tribes of northern India.

"The mountains of the Himalaya were looked upon by these ancient people as the homes of gods and demons and other strange beings. They believed that in the high hills and among the snowcapped mountain peaks magic cities lay hidden from mortal eyes. The gods lived in these cities and went about their own business, for the most part staying away from men.

"There were three main groups. The Nagas, or snake spirits, dwelt in an underground city called Bhogavati and there guarded great treasures. They were usually represented as at least half human. They seemed to have special protective powers, possibly owing to their function as guardians.

"Then there were the Vidyadharas, or heavenly magicians. These created the magic cites of the high Himalayas and could fly through the air and transform themselves at will. Little is known about them; they had little to do with men.

"But some were more approachable by human beings; they were called the Rsis, or Seers. These were legendary wise men. Some say they were at one time mortals who became so wise that they were translated into heaven to become gods. Other accounts state that they were leaders of the Vidyadharas who could be petitioned by men in times of trouble, or who appeared during special times set aside for the purpose of teaching or instructing men in better ways of living.

"There have been many Rsis – the word now applies to anyone who is thought to possess great powers of magic or psychic ability. But the original Seven Rsis are thought to be the very ancestors of all the gods, and men too. They are mentioned by name: Marici, Atri, Angiras, Pulastya, Pulaha, Kratu, and Vasistha. They came from heaven and built the magic cities to live in because they liked the Earth, having watched it from afar.