"You little demon!" Victor shouted. "You --"

He didn't get any further. Scipio simply wedged a rag between his captive's teeth. A wet, reeking rag that smelled of damp cat fur.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't we interrogate him first?" The black boy sounded surprised. "We don't even know yet if he's really only after Prosper and Bo."

"Exactly!" The hedgehog nervously pushed his tongue between his teeth. "Let's ask him how he found us, Scipio."

"Look, he'll just tell us lies anyway," Scipio answered. "Tie him up."

Hesitantly, they gathered all the ropes and belts they could find and trussed up Victor like a turkey. The only freedom he had left was to roll his eyes angrily.

"You won't hurt him, will you?" That was Bo. He leaned over Victor with a worried expression on his little face. Then he suddenly giggled. "You look funny, Victor," he said. "Are you really a detective?"

"Yes, he is, Bo." Prosper pushed his little brother aside, leaned forward, and frisked Victor. "A cell phone," he said, "and...look at this ..." He carefully held up Victor's revolver. "I thought he was just bluffing."

"Give it to me. I'll hide it." Hornet took the gun off Prosper very gingerly, as if it might explode in her hand at any moment.

"See what else he's got!" Scipio commanded. He got off Victor's chest and stood over him, looking serious. "Well, Mr. Detective," he said with a quiet, threatening voice, "that will teach you to mess with the Thief Lord." Then he waved at the others. "Come on, put him in the men's bathroom."

20 A Night Visit

They put a blanket on the cold tiles for Victor, that was at least something. Locked up in an old movie theater by a bunch of children!

The hours passed and Victor kept going over things in his mind: I should have known, I should have known the moment that Esther woman came into my office with her pointy nose and her yellow coat. Yellow has always been my unlucky color.

He was trying for the twentieth time to reach his shoe, which contained a few useful tools for emergencies hidden in its heel, when the door behind him opened. It happened very quietly as if whoever was coming in wanted to keep it from everyone else. A light was flashed into Victor's face and someone knelt down next to him on the scratchy blanket. Prosper.

Victor sighed with relief. He didn't really know why, for Prosper was not looking at him in a very friendly manner. But at least he freed him from the stinking gag. Victor spat a few times to get rid of the horrible taste. "Did your boss give you permission to do this?" he asked. "I bet he wanted to poison me with that rag."

"Scipio is not our boss," Prosper answered as he helped Victor to sit up.

"No? He acts as if he is." With a moan, Victor leaned against the tiled wall. Every bone in his body ached. "You're not going to untie my hands, are you?"

"Do I look like a complete idiot?"

"No. But you're probably only half as tough as you act," Victor grunted, "so you'll go and fetch the box I left outside the front of the movie theater."

Prosper gave him a look of deep suspicion. But he went and fetched the box. "I didn't know that tortoises were part of a detective's equipment," he said as he placed the carton on the floor next to Victor.

"Oh, you're a comedian too? Get her out of there. You'd better pray that she's all right or you'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Aren't we in trouble already?" Prosper carefully lifted the tortoise off the sand that Victor had poured into the bottom of the box. "She looks a bit parched."

"She always looks like that," sighed Victor. "But she needs fresh lettuce, water, and a little walk. Go on, let her walk around a bit on the blanket."

Prosper tried not to laugh, but he did as Victor said.

"Her name's Paula. Her husband is at this moment sitting all by himself in his box under my desk and is worried sick." Victor moved his toes. They were tingling terribly. "You'll have to look after him as well if you want to keep me here tied up like a giant sausage roll."

Prosper couldn't help it, he had to grin. He turned his face, but Victor had seen it. "Anything else?"

"No." Victor tried to shift into a more comfortable position but with no success. "So. Let's have our little chat -- that's what you came in for, isn't it?"

Prosper pushed his dark hair back and listened. A quiet snore came from outside. "That's Mosca," Prosper said. "He was supposed to keep watch but he's sleeping like a baby."

"Why keep watch?" Victor stifled a yawn. "Where would I go, wrapped up like a silkworm?"

Prosper shrugged. He placed the flashlight next to him on the floor and started to inspect his fingernails. "You're after me and my brother, right?" he asked without looking at Victor. "My aunt told you to look for us."

Victor shrugged. "Your little girlfriend stole my wallet -- you must have found her card in there."

Prosper nodded. "How did Esther find out we're in Venice?" He pressed his forehead against his pulled-up knees.

"It took some time and cost a lot of money, your uncle told me." Victor caught himself looking at the boy sympathetically.

"You would never have found us if I hadn't run into you."

"Maybe not. Your hideout's quite unusual."

Prosper looked around. "Scipio found it for us. He also makes sure we have enough money to live on. If it wasn't for him, we'd be in real trouble. Riccio used to steal a lot. Mosca and Hornet were both doing pretty badly too, before they met Scipio. They don't like to talk about it. Hornet found Bo and me, and Scipio took us in." Prosper lifted his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're a detective -- you've probably found this out already, haven't you?"

Victor shook his head. "Your friends are none of my business," he said. "But it's my job to make sure that you and your brother have a home again. Hasn't it occurred to you that your brother is too young to get along without parents? What happens if the Thief Lord, as he seems to like to call himself, stops looking after you? Or if the police find you here? Do you want Bo to grow up in a children's home? And what about you? Wouldn't it be easier for you to be teasing your teachers in a boarding school rather than acting the grown-up when you're only twelve?"

Prosper's face froze. "I can look after Bo," he retorted angrily. "Does he look unhappy to you? I'd earn money for us if I was allowed to."

"You'll have to do that before you know it," Victor replied gloomily.

"Hey, where's the tortoise?" Prosper asked. He got up and opened the door to the other cubicle. He shined his flashlight into the narrow space. Victor heard him call, "Come here! Where are you going? There's nothing there."

"I think we should bring Paula's outing to an end," Victor said when Prosper returned with the tortoise under his arm. "She'll just get frozen feet on those tiles. That won't do her cold any good."

"Right," agreed Prosper. He carefully placed Paula back in her box and then squatted down on the blanket next to Victor again. "Do you have a brother?" he asked.