“Before we see Djaro,” he said, “shouldn’t we contact Mr. Young? Just to make sure everything’s working?”

“A good idea, Second,” Jupiter agreed. “I’ll step out on the balcony and take a picture of the view.”

He picked up his camera and trotted out to the balcony. Opening the leather case, he focused on the golden dome of St. Dominic’s.

He pressed down on the button that activated the walkie-talkie.

“First reporting,” he said softly, bending over the camera, apparently to study the picture in the view finder. “First reporting, do you read me?”

Almost instantly a voice that could not be heard three feet away answered.

“I read you,” Bert Young said. “Anything to report?”

“Just testing. We haven’t seen Prince Djaro yet. We’re due to meet him for breakfast.”

“I’ll be standing by. Keep alert. Over and out.”

“Roger,” Jupe said and came back into the room just as a knock sounded on the door.

Pete opened it and there stood Prince Djaro, beaming at them.

“My friends! Pete! Bob! Jupiter!” he exclaimed and threw his arms around them warmly, in a European-style greeting. “I’m glad to see you! What do you think of my country and my city? But you haven’t had much time to see them, have you? We’ll take care of that soon — as soon as we’ve all had breakfast.”

He turned and signaled with his hand. “Come in,” he directed. “Set the table by the window.”

Eight servants, wearing the royal livery of gold and scarlet, brought in a table, chairs, and several platters with silver covers on them. Djaro kept up a stream of cheerful talk while the servitors set up the table, put a white linen cloth on it, set it with heavy silver, and then uncovered plates of eggs and bacon and sausage, toast and waffles, and glasses of milk.