Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a book open and set on a writing table. Investigating, you realize it's a diary. Her muffled protests tell you you're onto something revealing, something she doesn't want you to see.
You read. And smile. It's an account of a romantic relationship between the barmaid and her lover, Aleppo. Apparently, Aleppo was a tickle monster and she was extremely ticklish. You pocket the diary, being a voyeur, for later reading at your leisure. Then you approach the struggling beauty.
You remove the gag and loosen the bindings to give her a slight freedom of movement, but not too much. She gleefully hurls obscenities at you, that is until you inform her that you, too, are a practitioner in the art of tickling. You remove her shoes as she begins to beg mercy. You also cut the stockings away to expose her creamy, white soles.
Pretty sure that you've already uncovered a clue to the mysterious disappearances in the land, in the figure of Aleppo and his obsession, you inform your prisoner that all you want is the whereabouts of said suspect. She hesitates, unsure of what she ought to do. You have no time for this as the bartender might come up at any moment, so tickle the frantic feet, slowly at first and then with ever increasing speed and pressure, her peals of laughter like a siren in the night. You immediately regret not putting the makeshift gag back in her mouth.
Sure enough, there's an insistent knocking on the room's door and you have to think fast.
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