“You could never get my mother to go along with that!” Pete exclaimed. “She’s death on spider webs. She thinks spiders are dirty and poisonous.”

“On the contrary,” Jupiter spoke up, “spiders are very clean creatures, frequently cleansing themselves like tiny cats. And while the black widow spider is somewhat poisonous, it only bites if you practically make it do so. Even the big spiders, the tarantulas, are not nearly as dangerous as popularly supposed. In tests they have had to be teased to make them bite anyone. Most spiders, especially in this part of the world, are harmless and do a lot of good by catching other insects.”

“That is true,” Prince Djaro said. “Here in Varania there are no harmful spiders. The one we call Prince Paul’s spider is the largest species we have, and it is very handsome. It is black with gold markings, and usually builds its web out of doors, but sometimes it comes inside. That web you almost brushed away, Bob, belongs to a Prince Paul spider. It is an omen that you have come to bring me help in my difficulty.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped me from brushing it off,” Bob said. “But what is your trouble?”

Djaro hesitated. Then he shook his head.

“No one knows this but myself,” he said. “Unless, as I am sure, Duke Stefan knows. A new prince of Varania, by long tradition, must wear the silver spider of Prince Paul when he is crowned. So I must wear it around my neck two weeks from now when I’m crowned. And I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” Pete asked.

“Djaro means because it has been stolen,” Jupe put in. “Is that it, Djaro?”

Djaro nodded emphatically.

“It has been stolen and a substitute put in its place. But the substitute won’t do. Unless I can find the real silver spider soon, I can’t be crowned on schedule. There will be an inquiry, a scandal. And if that happens — but no, I will not speak of that.