“How?” asked Bart, with something like despair in his voice.
He might well ask how. Clad in garments which they could hardly venture out in, with no shoes, and without so much as a penknife to cut their way free, their case seemed hopeless. Their only weapons were the spoons which had been furnished with their meal. There were no knives or forks.
“We’ve got to do it,” Bart decided.
Silence fell upon them. They could feel the boat vibrate with the speed of the engine. They were still being carried up stream.
“What’s it all about?” asked Fenn. “That’s what gets me! I can’t understand it!”
“I think I have a sort of clew,” said Frank.
“What is it?”
“It hinges on the same thing that has been a mystery from the first.”
“You mean the King of Paprica?” asked Ned.
“That’s it. At first I thought those men were crazy. Now I begin to think differently.”