The cell door slammed shut behind him. Mario found himself in a small, grey, rectangular room with no windows. There was a cot in a corner, but that was practically all.

Mario sat down on it. He had managed to hide Angelotti down in the well just in time, then a police squad had arrived and put him under arrest without further explanation and then started searching the house, also without explanation, of course. Not that he had expected any. Scarpia's men usually didn't find it necessary to explain what it was they actually wanted. Mario had pointed out to them that Floria wouldn't like to have her house searched, but this had merely resulted in silencing him very quickly, by waving one of those large brand-new laser rifles at him.

He really wondered who the Keeper was, and how he would help him.

And what Floria would say when she didn't find him at home.

How long would he have to stay here? Would he just have to wait until the door opened and a mysterious voice whispered from the darkness I am the Keeper? He felt his skin prickle as this idea passed through his mind. Maybe he was frightened, yes. But on the other hand, the mere imagination of an… adventure like that flooded him with excitement.

Stop being a kid, he told himself. That's real life. That's not just adventure. We're not in one of Floria's films here, and you're definitely not a hero.

But then again… he couldn't banish the strange, somehow thrilling feeling that he was in a true adventure here.