Beside him, the Athenian chuckled unpleasantly. "That Minos is smart, isn't he?" Burke stared. "Minos--?" "Sure. He told me I'd catch you if I just played drunk long enough." The other's smirk broadened. "That's how much he hates you, see? He said he'd let me and the others go, forget all that crazy stuff with the Minotaur. All I had to do was grab you before you could sneak away someplace with Ariadne." It was all Burke could do to keep from groaning. If Theseus noticed, he ignored it. "Me, I've got a better idea. Something really clever. You'll love it." A small chill ran through Burke. He still didn't speak. Theseus said, "You want to get at the Minotaur so rotten much--well, I'm just the boy to help you do it, now you've worked all the details out with that Daedalus and Ariadne." A leer. "We'll handle it just the way you planned it: drop into the sewer-tunnel here, then hunt till we find the manhole into the Labyrinth." The burly Greek got up as he finished. "All right. On your feet!" By way of emphasis, he kicked Burke in the stomach. Retching, Burke lurched over to a face-down position and tried to rise. * * * * * Stumbling erect proved difficult enough. Then, on his feet at last, he discovered that his captor had hobbled his ankles also, so he could move only in short, awkward steps. Now the Athenian gestured to the open manhole that led into the sewer. "Hurry it up! Get down there!" Awkwardly, Burke shuffled towards the opening. Apparently he moved too slowly for his captor's tastes, for a sandaled foot took a leg from under him and he spilled to the floor and half-fell through the hole. Then he was down in the cool, drafty blackness of the great drain. A moment later, Theseus joined him, a lamp in one hand, Daedalus' cord in the other. The revolver he'd taken from Burke was thrust into his loin-band. Together, with Burke pushed into the lead, they moved along the tunnel. It was a nightmare, after that--a nightmare of slime and smells, sudden winds and water. Snakes slithered across Burke's feet. Cobwebs brushed his face. The lamp's gleam was a pinprick in an infinity of darkness. A dozen times they struck dead ends; retraced their steps out of blind alleys. And each time Theseus raged with greater fury, till Burke's back and hips were numb with blows and kicks and buffets. And then, suddenly, they came to a place where a cage of bars blocked off the passage. Burke's heart leaped. A tight band seemed to constrict his chest. But before he could even speak, Theseus elbowed him aside with new blows and curses. The Hero of Athens was breathing hard; even by the lamp's feeble light, his eyes showed distended. Looping the heavy skein of twine over his shoulder, the Greek now gripped the nearest bar in a brawny hand and shook it. It didn't even quiver.