“The bell as an alarm signal is hundreds of years old,” he muttered, falling back on the cot. “Much older than radio or television. In Constantinople, after the Turks captured it in 1453, the use of bells was strictly forbidden lest they should provide a signal to the people for revolt and — and — ”

For once he did not finish. He was asleep, too.

Bob had lost his footing in the dark, rushing waters of the drains beneath Denzo. He was being swept along, jostled and bumped against the sides, while Jupiter shouted at him from far away, “Bob, Bob!”

Bob struggled to stand up. Somebody grabbed his arms. Jupiter’s voice shouted in his ear. “Bob! Wake up! Wake up!”

Bob blinked sleepily, and yawned. With an effort he sat up. Jupe, looking a bit sleepy himself, was grinning at him.

“Bob! We have a visitor. Look who it is.”

Jupe stepped aside and Bob saw Bert Young smiling at him.

“Good work, Bob!” Bert exclaimed, stepping forward and giving his hand an enormous squeeze. “All of you, it was terrific! We were worried and I do mean worried when you stopped contacting us. But it looks as if you accounted for yourselves far better than we ever figured you could.”

Bob blinked at him. Then he asked, “Prince Djaro? Is he safe?”

“Couldn’t be finer. He’s on his way here now,” Bert Young said. “Duke Stefan and the Prime Minister and all the guards who were in their private pay are under arrest. Rudy’s father has just been released from jail and appointed prime minister again. But I’m sure you want to know what happened after you started ringing that bell like crazy, don’t you?”

They did. Rudy and Pete crowded into the cell while the police officers stood outside, smiling at them. There wasn’t a palace guard officer in sight. Bert Young made his story as brief as he could. That morning — it was now after noon — he and the United States Ambassador had gone to the palace to try to find out what had become of Pete, Jupiter and Bob. The gates had been locked and palace guards refused them entrance.

They were still arguing with the guards when the bell of Prince Paul began its ominous ringing. The first sounds had struck everyone dumb with surprise. Then, as the ringing continued, people began to gather in the street outside the palace gates.

The crowd grew and grew until the square opposite the palace was jammed with people. Men began shouting for Prince Djaro. The guards were helpless to drive them away. Then someone climbed high on a gate post and shouted to the crowd that Prince Djaro must be in danger, that the bell could mean nothing else, and that they must rescue him.

“Then I got into the act.” Bert Young grinned. “I know some Varanian so I started shouting, too. ‘Save Prince Djaro! Down with Duke Stefan!’ Things like that. By now the crowd was pretty worked up and they surged against those gates and broke them open with a terrific snap. People poured in and I was with them. I made contact with the man who first started shouting, and he told me he was a Minstrel.

“We led the way into the palace. That mob just swept the guards aside as if they were matchsticks. My companion, Lonzo — ”

“That’s my brother!” Rudy interjected proudly. “So he escaped, too!”

“Yes. And he knew the way to Prince Djaro’s apartments. We led the mob that way and when the guards saw what was happening, they changed sides pretty quick. Most of them didn’t give any more trouble. We got Djaro free, and he took charge like a real prince. He ordered the guards to arrest Duke Stefan and the Prime Minister. Those rascals tried to hide, but they were caught.

“It took some time to run down all of the disloyal guards, but the rest, who were always secretly loyal to the prince, did it. Prince Djaro is busy making sure all the plotters are arrested, but he’ll be here as soon as he can. By the way, it seems that your near-collision with Djaro’s car in California was no accident either. It was part of the plot to get rid of the prince.”

A shout in the corridor interrupted him.

“The Prince!” the cry went up. “Long live the Prince!”

Then Djaro himself appeared. He was pale, but his eyes glowed. He entered the cell, and they all squeezed back to make room for him.

“My American friends!” he exclaimed, and embraced each of them. “You saved the day. Ringing the bell of Prince Paul was an inspiration. How did you come to think of it?”

“Jupiter did it,” Rudy spoke up. “We were so busy thinking of radio and television and newspapers as the only way to get a message to the people, we never thought of the bell.”

“You told us,” Jupiter said to Djaro, “that your ancestor Prince Paul used the bell to summon aid in the revolution of 1675. Since then the bell has only been used on royal occasions. But I thought that this was the time to use it for an alarm again.

“After all, bells are centuries older than radio and television, and even newspapers. They’ve always been used to summon people, to signal curfew, to warn of danger, and so on. Therefore — ”

Again he was unable to finish. Djaro laughed happily and clapped him on the back.

“You did splendidly!” he cried. “Prince Paul himself would have been proud of you. Duke Stefan is in jail under guard and the plot — which I learned was far graver than I ever realized — is smashed. I have ordered the bell of Prince Paul to ring until nightfall as a signal of victory. So all is well, even though the silver spider of Varania is still lost.”

“A bell rings for victory,” Jupiter muttered, and for a moment his jaw dropped. Then he snapped to attention.

“Prince Djaro,” he said, “I think I have deduced where the silver spider is. But to find it we have to go to the palace.”

Fifteen minutes later they were riding in Prince Djaro’s car through cheering crowds that blocked the streets. Prince Djaro had to bow and wave constantly, as the car inched along. But at last they reached the palace, and the bedroom that had been assigned to The Three Investigators. Pete, Jupiter, Bob, and Prince Djaro went inside.

“Now,” Jupiter said, “to test my deduction. I’m almost sure it is correct, because everywhere else has been searched. There is only one place the spider could be. I may be wrong, but — ”

“Less talk and more action!” Pete groaned. “This is no time to make a speech. Show us!”

“All right.” Jupiter turned toward the corner of the room. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward the big spider web that still hung from the bed to the wall.

A large black and gold spider scuttled away from him and disappeared in the crack between the floor and the wainscoting. Another black and gold spider watched Jupiter from the crack with beady eyes.

Jupiter stretched out his hand carefully. He slid it under the web, breaking only a few strands. They all expected the second spider to retreat, but it didn’t. Jupiter caught it with the tip of his finger and edged it out from the crack. He pulled it beneath the web, stood up, and extended his palm to Djaro.

“Look!” he said.

“The silver spider of Varania!” Prince Djaro cried, taking it. “You found it!”

“I finally deduced where it was,” Jupiter told him. “You see, just as the guards were hammering on the door and Rudy was urging us to flee, Bob had a brilliant inspiration.”

“I did?” Bob asked doubtfully. He wished he could remember having it.

“Yes, except that you forgot all about it when you bumped your head on the balcony. You realized that the one place people wouldn’t expect to find an artificial spider was near a real spider web. So you slid the silver spider into the crack behind the web. We all saw it when we were searching the room and none of us thought a thing about it. Though I should have realized two spiders don’t share the same web.”

“Brojas, Bob! Well done!” exclaimed Djaro, clapping him on the back. “I knew I could count on you, my American friends.”