Filish and Bazim appeared, coming carefully down the stairs side by side, carrying a chair between them. Goth was in the chair. There was a gag in her mouth; and even at that distance the captain could see her arms were fastened by the wrists to the sides of the chair.

“Over here!” Sunnat called to her partners. They started towards her with Goth. She put the poker back in the coals, its handle resting on the grate, and stood waiting for them. As they came up, she reached out and snatched the gag from Goth’s mouth. Goth jerked forward, then settled back while the two men put the chair down beside the table, facing the fire. Sunnat tossed the gag into the coals.

“No need for that here, you see!” she informed the captain. “This is a very old place, Captain Aron, and there’s been a great deal of strange noise made down here from time to time, which never disturbed anybody outside. It will cause no disturbance tonight.”

“Now then, we have your brat. You’re quite fond of her, I think. In a minute or two, I’ll also have a very hot poker. If you don’t wish to talk now, you needn’t. On the other hand, you may tell me anything you wish — until I decide the poker is as hot as I want it to be. After that I’m afraid I’ll be too busy to listen to what you have to say — if I’m able to hear you, which I doubt — for, well, perhaps ten minutes…”

She swung to face him fully, jabbed a finger in his direction.

“And then, Captain Aron, when it’s become quiet enough so you can speak to me again — then I’ll be convinced that what you want to tell me is no lie but the truth. But that may be a little late for your Dani.”

He felt like a chunk of ice. Goth had glanced over at him with her no-expression look, but only for an instant; she was watching Sunnat again now. The two men clearly didn’t like this much — Bazim was sweating heavily and Filish’s face showed a frozen nervous grimace. He could expect no interference from those two. Sunnat was running the show here, as she usually did in the firm. But perhaps he could gain a little time.

“Wait a moment, Sunnat,” he said suddenly. “You don’t have to hurt Dani — I’ll tell you where the thing is!”

“Oh?” replied Sunnat. She’d pulled the poker out of the coals, was waving the glowing tip back and forth in the air, studying it. “Where?” she asked.

“It’s partly disassembled,” the captain improvised rapidly. “Part of it is still in the ship — very difficult to find, of course…”

“Of course,” Sunnat nodded. “And the rest?”

“One small piece is in the house. Everything else has been locked up in two different bank vaults. I had to be careful—”

“No doubt,” she said. “Well, Captain Aron, you’re still lying, I’m afraid! You’re not frightened enough yet… Bazim, get the water ready. Let’s test this on the brat’s sleeve, as a start.”

Bazim reached into the wooden tub beside the table and brought out a dripping ladle of water. He moved behind Goth’s chair, stood holding the ladle in a hand that shook noticeably. Water sloshed from it to the floor.

“Steady, now!” Sunnat laughed at him. “This won’t even hurt the brat yet, if I’m careful. Ready?”

Bazim grunted. Sunnat’s hand moved and the poker tip delicately touched the sleeve of Goth’s jacket. The captain held his breath. Smoke curled from the jacket as the poker moved up along the cloth. There was a sudden flicker of fire.

Bazim reached over hastily. But his hand shook too hard — water spilled all over Goth’s lap instead of on the sleeve. Sunnat stepped back, laughing. Bazim turned, dipped the ladle back into the tub, flung its contents almost blindly in Goth’s direction.

It landed with a splat and a hiss exactly where it was needed. The line of fire vanished — and Sunnat let out a startled yell…

The captain found he was breathing again. Crouched and tense, he watched. Sunnat was behaving very strangely! Grasping the poker handle in both hands, she backed away from Goth and the others along the wall, holding the poker out and down, arms stiff and straight. The partners stared open-mouthed. The captain saw the muscles in Sunnat’s arms strain as if it took all the strength she had to hold the poker. Her face was white and terrified.

“Quick!” she screamed suddenly. “Filish! Bazim! Your guns! Kill him — now! He’s doing it. He’s pulling it away from me! Ah — no!”

The last was a howl of despair as the poker twitched violently, spun out of Sunnat’s hands and fell. It twisted on the flooring, its fiery tip darting back up towards her legs. She gave a shriek, leaped high and to one side, looked back, saw the poker rolling after her. She dodged away from it again, screaming, “Shoot! Shoot!”

But other things were happening. Bazim began to bellow wildly and went into a series of clumsy leaps, turns and twists, clutching his seat with both hands. Filish swung around towards the captain, reaching under his coat… and the captain felt something smack into the palm of his right hand. He wrapped his fingers around it before it could drop, saw with no surprise at all that it was a gun, lifted it to trigger a shot above Filish’s head. But by then there was no need to shoot — Filish, too, was howling and gyrating about with Bazim. And Sunnat was sprinting towards the stairs while something clattered and smoked along the floor a yard behind her.

There were a couple of light clinks at the captain’s feet. Another gun lay there, and a small key. There was a mighty splash not far away. He looked up, saw Bazim and Filish sitting side by side in the tub, their legs hanging over its edge, tears streaming down their faces. Sunnat had disappeared up the stairs. He couldn’t see the poker.

Quite calmly, the captain went down on his left knee, fitted the key into the lock of the metal ring around his ankle and turned it. The ring snapped open. He put the other gun, which would be Bazim’s, into a pocket, stood up and went over to Goth. The partners stared at him in wide-eyed horror, trying to crouch deeper into the tub.

“Thanks, Captain!” Goth said in a clear, unruffled voice as he came up. “Was wondering when you’d let those three monkeys have it!”

The captain couldn’t think immediately of something appropriate to reply to that. He knew it hadn’t been some vagrant vatch at work this time — it had been all Goth. So he only grunted as he began to loosen the cords around her wrists. Then he ran his finger along the burned streak on her jacket sleeve. “Get singed?” he asked.

“Uh-uh!” Goth smiled up at him. “Didn’t even get warm!” She looked over at Bazim and Filish. “Served them right to get hot coals in their back pockets for that, though!”

“I thought so,” the captain agreed.

“ ’Fraid that poker didn’t catch up with Sunnat,” Goth added. She’d got out of the chair, stood rubbing her wrists, looking around.

“No. I was rather busy, you know… I doubt she’ll get far.” If Goth felt it was best to let Bazim and Filish believe he was the one who’d done the witching around here, he’d go along with it. He gave the two a look. They cringed anew. “Well, now…” he began.

“Somebody’s coming, Captain!” Goth interrupted, cocking her head.

It seemed quite a number of people were coming. Boots clattered hurriedly on the staircase, descending towards them. Then a dozen or so men in the uniform of the Daal’s Police boiled down the stairs into the vault, spread out, holding guns. The one in the lead caught sight of the captain and Goth, shouted, “Halt!” to the others and hurried towards them while his companions stayed where they were.

“Ah, Your Wisdoms!” the officer greeted them respectfully as he approached. “You are unharmed, of course — but accept the Daal’s profound apologies for this occurrence, extended for the moment through his unworthy servant. We learned of the plans these rascals were devising against you too late to spare you the annoyance of having to deal with them yourselves.” He gave the partners a look of stern loathing. “I see you have been merciful — they live. But not for long, I feel! We captured the woman as she attempted to escape to the street… Now if Your Wisdoms will permit me to speak to you privately while my men remove this scum from your presence—”