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theatrical props that had wandered offstage. But David knew what they were. One was for Vincent. The other was for him.
    “You are to look for a needle in a haystack,” Mr. Kilgraw was saying. “Some needles are bigger than others—and that may point you in the right direction. But the needle in question is a small statue of Miss Pedicure. I will tell you only that it is blue in color and two and a half inches high.”
    “It was taken from my mummy some years ago,” Miss Pedicure sniffed. “I’ve always wanted to have it back.”
    “As for the haystack,” Mr. Kilgraw went on, “that is the British Museum in London. All I will tell you is that the statue is somewhere inside. You have until midnight to find it. And there is one rule . . .” He nodded at Mr. Helliwell.
    “You are not to use any magical powers,” the voodoo teacher said. “We want this to be a test of stealth and cunning. We have helped you boys a little. We have arranged for the alarm system at the museum to turn itself off tonight and we have opened one door. But there will still be guards on duty. If you’re caught, that’s your own problem.”
    “It’s seven o’clock now,” Mr. Kilgraw said. “You have just five hours. Do you both understand what you have to do?”
    David and Vincent nodded.
    “Then let us begin. Whichever of you finds the statuette first and brings it back to this room will be declared the winner and will be awarded the Unholy Grail.”
    David glanced at Vincent. The two of them hadn’t spoken to each other since the results of the exam had been announced. The tension between them almost crackled like static electricity. Vincent swept a blond lock of hair off his face. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” he said.
    “I’ll be back here first,” David replied.
    They stepped into the boxes.
    “Let the tiebreaker begin,” Mr. Kilgraw commanded.
    David felt the air inside the box go suddenly cold. He had been standing with his hands pressed against the glass, looking at Mr. Kilgraw. Then, slowly at first but accelerating quickly, the glass box began to turn. It was like an amusement-park ride except that there was no music, no sound at all, and he didn’t feel nauseous or giddy. Mr. Kilgraw spun past him, a blur of color that had lost all sense of shape, blending in with the walls of the cave as the box turned faster and faster. Now the whole world had dissolved into a wheel of silver and gray. Then the lights went out.
    David closed his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, he found he was looking at a street and a hedge. Swallowing, he pulled his hands away from the glass, leaving two damp palm prints behind. The box was illuminated from above by a single yellow bulb. A car drove past along the street, its headlights on. David twisted around. Something bumped against his shoulder.
    He was in a telephone booth. Not a modern kiosk but one of the old red telephone booths with a swinging door that stood in the middle of Regent’s Park, London. It took him a moment to open it, but then he was standing on the pavement, breathing the night air. There was no sign of Vincent. He looked at his watch. Seven o’clock. He had traveled a hundred and twenty-five miles in less than a second.
    But he was still a long way from the museum. Vincent would already be on his way. And this was his last chance . . .
    David crossed the road and broke into a run.
     
     
    In fact he took a taxi to the museum. He caught one in Baker Street and ordered the driver to go as fast as possible.
    “The British Museum? You must be joking, buddy! There’s no point going there now. It’s closed for the night. Anyway, aren’t you a bit young to be out on your own? You got any money?”
    David had no money. Neither of the boys had been given any—it was part of the test. Quickly, he hypnotized the driver. He knew he wasn’t allowed to use magic, but Mr. Kilgraw had often told him that hypnosis was a science and not a magical