Tony’s fingers tightened around his glass. Phil sat perfectly motionless. Jimmy’s head jerked slightly; then he was immobile. Tony looked around, and the others followed his lead. Standing beside them was a small, round-faced man, his beady dark eyes glinting beneath a sun-helmet, his tropical whites looking freshly laundered. His gaze swiveled sharply from one to another of the trio. A shadow of disappointment flickered over his features and was gone. Tony said, “Who the devil are you?” The stranger flashed white teeth. “The private secretary of a certain Rajah. One of you has seen me before. I do not know which one. However—” “He’s crazy,” Phil grunted. “Batty as a bedbug. Drink up, boys.” “My name is Zadah,” the man went on without heeding the interruption. “I know that one of you is the Merlin and has the Earth Star. I want it.” Tony looked at the man. “Do you think anybody’d who’d stolen a jewel would be fool enough to keep it on him?” “The Merlin would. Because he’d want to make certain that a certain—deal—wouldn’t ever be completed. An imitation of the stone was made, so perfect that the deception can be discovered only by comparison with the original. Someone might try to sell the imitation as the original jewel—and the Merlin could block such a transaction only by producing the real Earth Star. He won’t get rid of it. Not unless—he’s forced to.” Tony drank gin reflectively. “There’s an offensive odor in this place,” he remarked. “Notice it, anybody?” Zadah said, “I do not want the police to find you or the Earth Star. If I recover it myself, the Rajah will pay me any price to have the jewel—and the original owners can prove nothing. My private operatives have traced you this far. Now—” He took out a small gun. “You will stand up and walk one by one through the door behind you. Stay in single file. My plane is just near by. We will fly to my country, and there—” Again the teeth flashed. “There I think it will not be too hard to learn which of you is the Merlin.” Tony hesitated, remembering the plane he had seen in the sky. Zadah held the gun almost hidden under his coat, but of its deadliness there could be no doubt. The brothers exchanged glances. “Stand up!” Zadah whispered. Tony obeyed. He turned toward the door, opened it, and stepped out into sunlight. The others followed. Zadah said, “To the left.” They moved slowly through an alley, littered with refuse and foul with odors. Not a soul was visible—only a stray cur that ran past, tail between its legs. “Across the square. The gun is in my pocket, but I have my finger on the trigger. Make no suspicious move.” Tony’s lips were white. He guessed well enough what would happen once he and his brothers were captives aboard the plane. Zadah would not stop at torture to achieve his ends. If only—