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Contact Mike Lough +<Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +THE LOST PRINCE + +Francis Hodgson Burnett + + + +CONTENTS + + +I The New Lodgers at No. 7 Philibert Place +II A Young Citizen of the World +III The Legend of the Lost Prince +IV The Rat +V ``Silence Is Still the Order'' +VI The Drill and the Secret Party +VII ``The Lamp Is Lighted!'' +VIII An Exciting Game +IX ``It Is Not a Game'' +X The Rat-and Samavia +XI Come with Me +XII Only Two Boys +XIII Loristan Attends a Drill of the Squad +XIV Marco Does Not Answer +XV A Sound in a Dream +XVI The Rat to the Rescue +XVII ``It Is a Very Bad Sign'' +XVIII ``Cities and Faces'' +XIX ``That Is One!'' +XX Marco Goes to the Opera +XXI ``Help!'' +XXII A Night Vigil +XXIII The Silver Horn +XXIV ``How Shall We Find Him? +XXV A Voice in the Night +XXVI Across the Frontier +XXVII ``It is the Lost Prince! It Is Ivor!'' +XXVIII ``Extra! Extra! Extra!'' +XXIX 'Twixt Night and Morning +XXX The Game Is at an End +XXXI ``The Son of Stefan Loristan'' + + + + + + +THE LOST PRINCE + + + + + +I + + +THE NEW LODGERS AT NO. 7 PHILIBERT PLACE + +There are many dreary and dingy rows of ugly houses in certain +parts of London, but there certainly could not be any row more +ugly or dingier than Philibert Place. There were stories that it +had once been more attractive, but that had been so long ago that +no one remembered the time. It stood back in its gloomy, narrow +strips of uncared-for, smoky gardens, whose broken iron railings +were supposed to protect it from the surging traffic of a road +which was always roaring with the rattle of busses, cabs, drays, +and vans, and the passing of people who were shabbily dressed and +looked as if they were either going to hard work or coming from +it, or hurrying to see if they could find some of it to do to +keep themselves from going hungry. The brick fronts of the +houses were blackened with smoke, their windows were nearly all +dirty and hung with dingy curtains, or had no curtains at all; +the strips of ground, which had once been intended to grow +flowers in, had been trodden down into bare earth in which even +weeds had forgotten to grow. One of them was used as a +stone-cutter's yard, and cheap monuments, crosses, and slates +were set out for sale, bearing inscriptions beginning with +``Sacred to the Memory of.'' Another had piles of old lumber in +it, another exhibited second-hand furniture, chairs with unsteady +legs, sofas with horsehair stuffing bulging out of holes in their +covering, mirrors with blotches or cracks in them. The insides +of the houses were as gloomy as the outside. They were all +exactly alike. In each a dark entrance passage led to narrow +stairs going up to bedrooms, and to narrow steps going down to a +basement kitchen. The back bedroom looked out on small, sooty, +flagged yards, where thin cats quarreled, or sat on the coping of +the brick walls hoping that sometime they might feel the sun; the +front rooms looked over the noisy road, and through their windows +came the roar and rattle of it. It was shabby and cheerless on +the brightest days, and on foggy or rainy ones it was the most +forlorn place in London. + +At least that was what one boy thought as he stood near the iron +railings watching the passers-by on the morning on which this +story begins, which was also the morning after he had been +brought by his father to live as a lodger in the back +sitting-room of the house No. 7. + +He was a boy about twelve years old, his name was Marco Loristan, +and he was the kind of boy people look at a second time when they +have looked at him once. In the first place, he was a very big +boy--tall for his years, and with a particularly strong frame. +His shoulders were broad and his arms and legs were long and +powerful. He was quite used to hearing people say, as they +glanced at him, ``What a fine, big lad!'' And then they always +looked again at his face. It was not an English face or an +American one, and was very dark in coloring. His features were +strong, his black hair grew on his head like a mat, his eyes were +large and deep set, and looked out between thick, straight, black +lashes. He was as un- English a boy as one could imagine, and an +observing person would have been struck at once by a sort of +SILENT look expressed by his whole face, a look which suggested +that he was not a boy who talked much. + +This look was specially noticeable this morning as he stood +before the iron railings. The things he was thinking of were of +a kind likely to bring to the face of a twelve-year-old boy an +unboyish expression. + +He was thinking of the long, hurried journey he and his father +and their old soldier servant, Lazarus, had made during the last +few days--the journey from Russia. Cramped in a close +third-class railway carriage, they had dashed across the +Continent as if something important or terrible were driving +them, and here they were, settled in London as if they were going +to live forever at No. 7 Philibert Place. He knew, however, that +though they might stay a year, it was just as probable that, in +the middle of some night, his father or Lazarus might waken him +from his sleep and say, ``Get up-- dress yourself quickly. We +must go at once.'' A few days later, he might be in St. +Petersburg, Berlin, Vienna, or Budapest, huddled away in some +poor little house as shabby and comfortless as No. 7 Philibert +Place. + +He passed his hand over his forehead as he thought of it and +watched the busses. His strange life and his close association +with his father had made him much older than his years, but he +was only a boy, after all, and the mystery of things sometimes +weighed heavily upon him, and set him to deep wondering. + +In not one of the many countries he knew had he ever met a boy +whose life was in the least like his own. Other boys had homes +in which they spent year after year; they went to school +regularly, and played with other boys, and talked openly of the +things which happened to them, and the journeys they made. When +he remained in a place long enough to make a few boy-friends, he +knew he must never forget that his whole existence was a sort of +secret whose safety depended upon his own silence and discretion. + +This was because of the promises he had made to his father, and +they had been the first thing he remembered. Not that he had +ever regretted anything connected with his father. He threw his +black head up as he thought of that. None of the other boys had +such a father, not one of them. His father was his idol and his +chief. He had scarcely ever seen him when his clothes had not +been poor and shabby, but he had also never seen him when, +despite his worn coat and frayed linen, he had not stood out +among all others as more distinguished than the most noticeable +of them. When he walked down a street, people turned to look at +him even oftener than they turned to look at Marco, and the boy +felt as if it was not merely because he was a big man with a +handsome, dark face, but because he looked, somehow, as if he had +been born to command armies, and as if no one would think of +disobeying him. Yet Marco had never seen him command any one, +and they had always been poor, and shabbily dressed, and often +enough ill-fed. But whether they were in one country or another, +and whatsoever dark place they seemed to be hiding in, the few +people they saw treated him with a sort of deference, and nearly +always stood when they were in his presence, unless he bade them +sit down. + +``It is because they know he is a patriot, and patriots are +respected,'' the boy had told himself. + +He himself wished to be a patriot, though he had never seen his +own country of Samavia. He knew it well, however. His father +had talked to him about it ever since that day when he had made +the promises. He had taught him to know it by helping him to +study curious detailed maps of it--maps of its cities, maps of +its mountains, maps of its roads. He had told him stories of the +wrongs done its people, of their sufferings and struggles for +liberty, and, above all, of their unconquerable courage. When +they talked together of its history, Marco's boy-blood burned and +leaped in his veins, and he always knew, by the look in his +father's eyes, that his blood burned also. His countrymen had +been killed, they had been robbed, they had died by thousands of +cruelties and starvation, but their souls had never been +conquered, and, through all the years during which more powerful +nations crushed and enslaved them, they never ceased to struggle +to free themselves and stand unfettered as Samavians had stood +centuries before. + +``Why do we not live there,'' Marco had cried on the day the +promises were made. ``Why do we not go back and fight? When I +am a man, I will be a soldier and die for Samavia.'' + +``We are of those who must LIVE for Samavia--working day and +night,'' his father had answered; ``denying ourselves, training +our bodies and souls, using our brains, learning the things which +are best to be done for our people and our country. Even exiles +may be Samavian soldiers--I am one, you must be one.'' + +``Are we exiles?'' asked Marco. + +``Yes,'' was the answer. ``But even if we never set foot on +Samavian soil, we must give our lives to it. I have given mine +since I was sixteen. I shall give it until I die.'' + +``Have you never lived there?'' said Marco. + +A strange look shot across his father's face. + +``No,'' he answered, and said no more. Marco watching him, knew +he must not ask the question again. + +The next words his father said were about the promises. Marco +was quite a little fellow at the time, but he understood the +solemnity of them, and felt that he was being honored as if he +were a man. + +``When you are a man, you shall know all you wish to know,'' +Loristan said. ``Now you are a child, and your mind must not be +burdened. But you must do your part. A child sometimes forgets +that words may be dangerous. You must promise never to forget +this. Wheresoever you are; if you have playmates, you must +remember to be silent about many things. You must not speak of +what I do, or of the people who come to see me. You must not +mention the things in your life which make it different from the +lives of other boys. You must keep in your mind that a secret +exists which a chance foolish word might betray. You are a +Samavian, and there have been Samavians who have died a thousand +deaths rather than betray a secret. You must learn to obey +without question, as if you were a soldier. Now you must take +your oath of allegiance.'' + +He rose from his seat and went to a corner of the room. He knelt +down, turned back the carpet, lifted a plank, and took something +from beneath it. It was a sword, and, as he came back to Marco, +he drew it out from its sheath. The child's strong, little body +stiffened and drew itself up, his large, deep eyes flashed. He +was to take his oath of allegiance upon a sword as if he were a +man. He did not know that his small hand opened and shut with a +fierce understanding grip because those of his blood had for long +centuries past carried swords and fought with them. + +Loristan gave him the big bared weapon, and stood erect before +him. + +``Repeat these words after me sentence by sentence!'' he +commanded. + +And as he spoke them Marco echoed each one loudly and clearly. + +``The sword in my hand--for Samavia! + +``The heart in my breast--for Samavia! + +``The swiftness of my sight, the thought of my brain, the life of +my life--for Samavia. + +``Here grows a man for Samavia. + +``God be thanked!'' + +Then Loristan put his hand on the child's shoulder, and his dark +face looked almost fiercely proud. + +``From this hour,'' he said, ``you and I are comrades at arms.'' + +And from that day to the one on which he stood beside the broken +iron railings of No. 7 Philibert Place, Marco had not forgotten +for one hour. + + + +II + +A YOUNG CITIZEN OF THE WORLD + +He had been in London more than once before, but not to the +lodgings in Philibert Place. When he was brought a second or +third time to a town or city, he always knew that the house he +was taken to would be in a quarter new to him, and he should not +see again the people he had seen before. Such slight links of +acquaintance as sometimes formed themselves between him and other +children as shabby and poor as himself were easily broken. His +father, however, had never forbidden him to make chance +acquaintances. He had, in fact, told him that he had reasons for +not wishing him to hold himself aloof from other boys. The only +barrier which must exist between them must be the barrier of +silence concerning his wanderings from country to country. Other +boys as poor as he was did not make constant journeys, therefore +they would miss nothing from his boyish talk when he omitted all +mention of his. When he was in Russia, he must speak only of +Russian places and Russian people and customs. When he was in +France, Germany, Austria, or England, he must do the same thing. +When he had learned English, French, German, Italian, and Russian +he did not know. He had seemed to grow up in the midst of +changing tongues which all seemed familiar to him, as languages +are familiar to children who have lived with them until one +scarcely seems less familiar than another. He did remember, +however, that his father had always been unswerving in his +attention to his pronunciation and method of speaking the +language of any country they chanced to be living in. + +``You must not seem a foreigner in any country,'' he had said to +him. ``It is necessary that you should not. But when you are in +England, you must not know French, or German, or anything but +English.'' + +Once, when he was seven or eight years old, a boy had asked him +what his father's work was. + +``His own father is a carpenter, and he asked me if my father was +one,'' Marco brought the story to Loristan. ``I said you were +not. Then he asked if you were a shoemaker, and another one said +you might be a bricklayer or a tailor--and I didn't know what to +tell them.'' He had been out playing in a London street, and he +put a grubby little hand on his father's arm, and clutched and +almost fiercely shook it. ``I wanted to say that you were not +like their fathers, not at all. I knew you were not, though you +were quite as poor. You are not a bricklayer or a shoemaker, but +a patriot--you could not be only a bricklayer--you!'' He said it +grandly and with a queer indignation, his black head held up and +his eyes angry. + +Loristan laid his hand against his mouth. + +``Hush! hush!'' he said. ``Is it an insult to a man to think he +may be a carpenter or make a good suit of clothes? If I could +make our clothes, we should go better dressed. If I were a +shoemaker, your toes would not be making their way into the world +as they are now.'' He was smiling, but Marco saw his head held +itself high, too, and his eyes were glowing as he touched his +shoulder. ``I know you did not tell them I was a patriot,'' he +ended. ``What was it you said to them?'' + +``I remembered that you were nearly always writing and drawing +maps, and I said you were a writer, but I did not know what you +wrote--and that you said it was a poor trade. I heard you say +that once to Lazarus. Was that a right thing to tell them?'' + +``Yes. You may always say it if you are asked. There are poor +fellows enough who write a thousand different things which bring +them little money. There is nothing strange in my being a +writer.'' + +So Loristan answered him, and from that time if, by any chance, +his father's means of livelihood were inquired into, it was +simple enough and true enough to say that he wrote to earn his +bread. + +In the first days of strangeness to a new place, Marco often +walked a great deal. He was strong and untiring, and it amused +him to wander through unknown streets, and look at shops, and +houses, and people. He did not confine himself to the great +thoroughfares, but liked to branch off into the side streets and +odd, deserted-looking squares, and even courts and alleyways. He +often stopped to watch workmen and talk to them if they were +friendly. In this way he made stray acquaintances in his +strollings, and learned a good many things. He had a fondness +for wandering musicians, and, from an old Italian who had in his +youth been a singer in opera, he had learned to sing a number of +songs in his strong, musical boy-voice. He knew well many of the +songs of the people in several countries. + +It was very dull this first morning, and he wished that he had +something to do or some one to speak to. To do nothing whatever +is a depressing thing at all times, but perhaps it is more +especially so when one is a big, healthy boy twelve years old. +London as he saw it in the Marylebone Road seemed to him a +hideous place. It was murky and shabby-looking, and full of +dreary-faced people. It was not the first time he had seen the +same things, and they always made him feel that he wished he had +something to do. + +Suddenly he turned away from the gate and went into the house to +speak to Lazarus. He found him in his dingy closet of a room on +the fourth floor at the back of the house. + +``I am going for a walk,'' he announced to him. ``Please tell my +father if he asks for me. He is busy, and I must not disturb +him.'' + +Lazarus was patching an old coat as he often patched things-- +even shoes sometimes. When Marco spoke, he stood up at once to +answer him. He was very obstinate and particular about certain +forms of manner. Nothing would have obliged him to remain seated +when Loristan or Marco was near him. Marco thought it was +because he had been so strictly trained as a soldier. He knew +that his father had had great trouble to make him lay aside his +habit of saluting when they spoke to him. + +``Perhaps,'' Marco had heard Loristan say to him almost severely, +once when he had forgotten himself and had stood at salute while +his master passed through a broken-down iron gate before an +equally broken-down-looking lodging-house--``perhaps you can +force yourself to remember when I tell you that it is not +safe--IT IS NOT SAFE! You put us in danger!'' + +It was evident that this helped the good fellow to control +himself. Marco remembered that at the time he had actually +turned pale, and had struck his forehead and poured forth a +torrent of Samavian dialect in penitence and terror. But, though +he no longer saluted them in public, he omitted no other form of +reverence and ceremony, and the boy had become accustomed to +being treated as if he were anything but the shabby lad whose +very coat was patched by the old soldier who stood ``at +attention'' before him. + +``Yes, sir,'' Lazarus answered. ``Where was it your wish to +go?'' + +Marco knitted his black brows a little in trying to recall +distinct memories of the last time he had been in London. + +``I have been to so many places, and have seen so many things +since I was here before, that I must begin to learn again about +the streets and buildings I do not quite remember.'' + +``Yes, sir,'' said Lazarus. ``There HAVE been so many. I also +forget. You were but eight years old when you were last here.'' + +``I think I will go and find the royal palace, and then I will +walk about and learn the names of the streets,'' Marco said. + +``Yes, sir,'' answered Lazarus, and this time he made his +military salute. + +Marco lifted his right hand in recognition, as if he had been a +young officer. Most boys might have looked awkward or theatrical +in making the gesture, but he made it with naturalness and ease, +because he had been familiar with the form since his babyhood. +He had seen officers returning the salutes of their men when they +encountered each other by chance in the streets, he had seen +princes passing sentries on their way to their carriages, more +august personages raising the quiet, recognizing hand to their +helmets as they rode through applauding crowds. He had seen many +royal persons and many royal pageants, but always only as an +ill-clad boy standing on the edge of the crowd of common people. +An energetic lad, however poor, cannot spend his days in going +from one country to another without, by mere every-day chance, +becoming familiar with the outer life of royalties and courts. +Marco had stood in continental thoroughfares when visiting +emperors rode by with glittering soldiery before and behind them, +and a populace shouting courteous welcomes. He knew where in +various great capitals the sentries stood before kingly or +princely palaces. He had seen certain royal faces often enough +to know them well, and to be ready to make his salute when +particular quiet and unattended carriages passed him by. + +``It is well to know them. It is well to observe everything and +to train one's self to remember faces and circumstances,'' his +father had said. ``If you were a young prince or a young man +training for a diplomatic career, you would be taught to notice +and remember people and things as you would be taught to speak +your own language with elegance. Such observation would be your +most practical accomplishment and greatest power. It is as +practical for one man as another--for a poor lad in a patched +coat as for one whose place is to be in courts. As you cannot be +educated in the ordinary way, you must learn from travel and the +world. You must lose nothing--forget nothing.'' + +It was his father who had taught him everything, and he had +learned a great deal. Loristan had the power of making all +things interesting to fascination. To Marco it seemed that he +knew everything in the world. They were not rich enough to buy +many books, but Loristan knew the treasures of all great cities, +the resources of the smallest towns. Together he and his boy +walked through the endless galleries filled with the wonders of +the world, the pictures before which through centuries an +unbroken procession of almost worshiping eyes had passed +uplifted. Because his father made the pictures seem the glowing, +burning work of still-living men whom the centuries could not +turn to dust, because he could tell the stories of their living +and laboring to triumph, stories of what they felt and suffered +and were, the boy became as familiar with the old +masters--Italian, German, French, Dutch, English, Spanish--as he +was with most of the countries they had lived in. They were not +merely old masters to him, but men who were great, men who seemed +to him to have wielded beautiful swords and held high, splendid +lights. His father could not go often with him, but he always +took him for the first time to the galleries, museums, libraries, +and historical places which were richest in treasures of art, +beauty, or story. Then, having seen them once through his eyes, +Marco went again and again alone, and so grew intimate with the +wonders of the world. He knew that he was gratifying a wish of +his father's when he tried to train himself to observe all things +and forget nothing. These palaces of marvels were his +school-rooms, and his strange but rich education was the most +interesting part of his life. In time, he knew exactly the +places where the great Rembrandts, Vandykes, Rubens, Raphaels, +Tintorettos, or Frans Hals hung; he knew whether this masterpiece +or that was in Vienna, in Paris, in Venice, or Munich, or Rome. +He knew stories of splendid crown jewels, of old armor, of +ancient crafts, and of Roman relics dug up from beneath the +foundations of old German cities. Any boy wandering to amuse +himself through museums and palaces on ``free days'' could see +what he saw, but boys living fuller and less lonely lives would +have been less likely to concentrate their entire minds on what +they looked at, and also less likely to store away facts with the +determination to be able to recall at any moment the mental shelf +on which they were laid. Having no playmates and nothing to play +with, he began when he was a very little fellow to make a sort of +game out of his rambles through picture-galleries, and the places +which, whether they called themselves museums or not, were +storehouses or relics of antiquity. There were always the +blessed ``free days,'' when he could climb any marble steps, and +enter any great portal without paying an entrance fee. Once +inside, there were plenty of plainly and poorly dressed people to +be seen, but there were not often boys as young as himself who +were not attended by older companions. Quiet and orderly as he +was, he often found himself stared at. The game he had created +for himself was as simple as it was absorbing. It was to try how +much he could remember and clearly describe to his father when +they sat together at night and talked of what he had seen. These +night talks filled his happiest hours. He never felt lonely +then, and when his father sat and watched him with a certain +curious and deep attention in his dark, reflective eyes, the boy +was utterly comforted and content. Sometimes he brought back +rough and crude sketches of objects he wished to ask questions +about, and Loristan could always relate to him the full, rich +story of the thing he wanted to know. They were stories made so +splendid and full of color in the telling that Marco could not +forget them. + + + +III + +THE LEGEND OF THE LOST PRINCE + +As he walked through the streets, he was thinking of one of these +stories. It was one he had heard first when he was very young, +and it had so seized upon his imagination that he had asked often +for it. It was, indeed, a part of the long-past history of +Samavia, and he had loved it for that reason. Lazarus had often +told it to him, sometimes adding much detail, but he had always +liked best his father's version, which seemed a thrilling and +living thing. On their journey from Russia, during an hour when +they had been forced to wait in a cold wayside station and had +found the time long, Loristan had discussed it with him. He +always found some such way of making hard and comfortless hours +easier to live through. + +``Fine, big lad--for a foreigner,'' Marco heard a man say to his +companion as he passed them this morning. ``Looks like a Pole or +a Russian.'' + +It was this which had led his thoughts back to the story of the +Lost Prince. He knew that most of the people who looked at him +and called him a ``foreigner'' had not even heard of Samavia. +Those who chanced to recall its existence knew of it only as a +small fierce country, so placed upon the map that the larger +countries which were its neighbors felt they must control and +keep it in order, and therefore made incursions into it, and +fought its people and each other for possession. But it had not +been always so. It was an old, old country, and hundreds of +years ago it had been as celebrated for its peaceful happiness +and wealth as for its beauty. It was often said that it was one +of the most beautiful places in the world. A favorite Samavian +legend was that it had been the site of the Garden of Eden. In +those past centuries, its people had been of such great stature, +physical beauty, and strength, that they had been like a race of +noble giants. They were in those days a pastoral people, whose +rich crops and splendid flocks and herds were the envy of less +fertile countries. Among the shepherds and herdsmen there were +poets who sang their own songs when they piped among their sheep +upon the mountain sides and in the flower-thick valleys. Their +songs had been about patriotism and bravery, and faithfulness to +their chieftains and their country. The simple courtesy of the +poorest peasant was as stately as the manner of a noble. But +that, as Loristan had said with a tired smile, had been before +they had had time to outlive and forget the Garden of Eden. Five +hundred years ago, there had succeeded to the throne a king who +was bad and weak. His father had lived to be ninety years old, +and his son had grown tired of waiting in Samavia for his crown. +He had gone out into the world, and visited other countries and +their courts. When he returned and became king, he lived as no +Samavian king had lived before. He was an extravagant, vicious +man of furious temper and bitter jealousies. He was jealous of +the larger courts and countries he had seen, and tried + +to introduce their customs and their ambitions. He ended by +introducing their worst faults and vices. There arose political +quarrels and savage new factions. Money was squandered until +poverty began for the first time to stare the country in the +face. The big Samavians, after their first stupefaction, broke +forth into furious rage. There were mobs and riots, then bloody +battles. Since it was the king who had worked this wrong, they +would have none of him. They would depose him and make his son +king in his place. It was at this part of the story that Marco +was always most deeply interested. The young prince was totally +unlike his father. He was a true royal Samavian. He was bigger +and stronger for his age than any man in the country, and he was +as handsome as a young Viking god. More than this, he had a +lion's heart, and before he was sixteen, the shepherds and +herdsmen had already begun to make songs about his young valor, +and his kingly courtesy, and generous kindness. Not only the +shepherds and herdsmen sang them, but the people in the streets. +The king, his father, had always been jealous of him, even when +he was only a beautiful, stately child whom the people roared +with joy to see as he rode through the streets. When he returned +from his journeyings and found him a splendid youth, he detested +him. When the people began to clamor and demand that he himself +should abdicate, he became insane with rage, and committed such +cruelties that the people ran mad themselves. One day they +stormed the palace, killed and overpowered the guards, and, +rushing into the royal apartments, burst in upon the king as he +shuddered green with terror and fury in his private room. He was +king no more, and must leave the country, they vowed, as they +closed round him with bared weapons and shook them in his face. +Where was the prince? They must see him and tell him their +ultimatum. It was he whom they wanted for a king. They trusted +him and would obey him. They began to shout aloud his name, +calling him in a sort of chant in unison, ``Prince Ivor--Prince +Ivor--Prince Ivor!'' But no answer came. The people of the +palace had hidden themselves, and the place was utterly silent. + +The king, despite his terror, could not help but sneer. + +``Call him again,'' he said. ``He is afraid to come out of his +hole!'' + +A savage fellow from the mountain fastnesses struck him on the +mouth. + +``He afraid!'' he shouted. ``If he does not come, it is because +thou hast killed him--and thou art a dead man!'' + +This set them aflame with hotter burning. They broke away, +leaving three on guard, and ran about the empty palace rooms +shouting the prince's name. But there was no answer. They +sought him in a frenzy, bursting open doors and flinging down +every obstacle in their way. A page, found hidden in a closet, +owned that he had seen His Royal Highness pass through a corridor +early in the morning. He had been softly singing to himself one +of the shepherd's songs. + +And in this strange way out of the history of Samavia, five +hundred years before Marco's day, the young prince had walked-- +singing softly to himself the old song of Samavia's beauty and +happiness. For he was never seen again. + +In every nook and cranny, high and low, they sought for him, +believing that the king himself had made him prisoner in some +secret place, or had privately had him killed. The fury of the +people grew to frenzy. There were new risings, and every few +days the palace was attacked and searched again. But no trace of +the prince was found. He had vanished as a star vanishes when it +drops from its place in the sky. During a riot in the palace, +when a last fruitless search was made, the king himself was +killed. A powerful noble who headed one of the uprisings made +himself king in his place. From that time, the once splendid +little kingdom was like a bone fought for by dogs. Its pastoral +peace was forgotten. It was torn and worried and shaken by +stronger countries. It tore and worried itself with internal +fights. It assassinated kings and created new ones. No man was +sure in his youth what ruler his maturity would live under, or +whether his children would die in useless fights, or through +stress of poverty and cruel, useless laws. There were no more +shepherds and herdsmen who were poets, but on the mountain sides +and in the valleys sometimes some of the old songs were sung. +Those most beloved were songs about a Lost Prince whose name had +been Ivor. If he had been king, he would have saved Samavia, the +verses said, and all brave hearts believed that he would still +return. In the modern cities, one of the jocular cynical sayings +was, ``Yes, that will happen when Prince Ivor comes again.'' + +In his more childish days, Marco had been bitterly troubled by +the unsolved mystery. Where had he gone--the Lost Prince? Had +he been killed, or had he been hidden away in a dungeon? But he +was so big and brave, he would have broken out of any dungeon. +The boy had invented for himself a dozen endings to the story. + +``Did no one ever find his sword or his cap--or hear anything or +guess anything about him ever--ever--ever?'' he would say +restlessly again and again. + +One winter's night, as they sat together before a small fire in a +cold room in a cold city in Austria, he had been so eager and +asked so many searching questions, that his father gave him an +answer he had never given him before, and which was a sort of +ending to the story, though not a satisfying one: + +``Everybody guessed as you are guessing. A few very old +shepherds in the mountains who like to believe ancient histories +relate a story which most people consider a kind of legend. It +is that almost a hundred years after the prince was lost, an old +shepherd told a story his long-dead father had confided to him in +secret just before he died. The father had said that, going out +in the early morning on the mountain side, he had found in the +forest what he at first thought to be the dead body of a +beautiful, boyish, young huntsman. Some enemy had plainly +attacked him from behind and believed he had killed him. He was, +however, not quite dead, and the shepherd dragged him into a cave +where he himself often took refuge from storms with his flocks. +Since there was such riot and disorder in the city, he was afraid +to speak of what he had found; and, by the time he discovered +that he was harboring the prince, the king had already been +killed, and an even worse man had taken possession of his throne, +and ruled Samavia with a blood-stained, iron hand. To the +terrified and simple peasant the safest thing seemed to get the +wounded youth out of the country before there was any chance of +his being discovered and murdered outright, as he would surely +be. The cave in which he was hidden was not far from the +frontier, and while he was still so weak that he was hardly +conscious of what befell him, he was smuggled across it in a cart +loaded with sheepskins, and left with some kind monks who did not +know his rank or name. The shepherd went back to his flocks and +his mountains, and lived and died among them, always in terror of +the changing rulers and their savage battles with each other. +The mountaineers said among themselves, as the generations +succeeded each other, that the Lost Prince must have died young, +because otherwise he would have come back to his country and +tried to restore its good, bygone days.'' + +``Yes, he would have come,'' Marco said. + +``He would have come if he had seen that he could help his +people,'' Loristan answered, as if he were not reflecting on a +story which was probably only a kind of legend. ``But he was +very young, and Samavia was in the hands of the new dynasty, and +filled with his enemies. He could not have crossed the frontier +without an army. Still, I think he died young.'' + +It was of this story that Marco was thinking as he walked, and +perhaps the thoughts that filled his mind expressed themselves in +his face in some way which attracted attention. As he was +nearing Buckingham Palace, a distinguished-looking well-dressed +man with clever eyes caught sight of him, and, after looking at +him keenly, slackened his pace as he approached him from the +opposite direction. An observer might have thought he saw +something which puzzled and surprised him. Marco didn't see him +at all, and still moved forward, thinking of the shepherds and +the prince. The well- dressed man began to walk still more +slowly. When he was quite close to Marco, he stopped and spoke +to him--in the Samavian language. + +``What is your name?'' he asked. + +Marco's training from his earliest childhood had been an extra- +ordinary thing. His love for his father had made it simple and +natural to him, and he had never questioned the reason for it. +As he had been taught to keep silence, he had been taught to +control the expression of his face and the sound of his voice, +and, above all, never to allow himself to look startled. But for +this he might have started at the extraordinary sound of the +Samavian words suddenly uttered in a London street by an English +gentleman. He might even have answered the question in Samavian +himself. But he did not. He courteously lifted his cap and +replied in English: + +``Excuse me?'' + +The gentleman's clever eyes scrutinized him keenly. Then he also +spoke in English. + +``Perhaps you do not understand? I asked your name because you +are very like a Samavian I know,'' he said. + +``I am Marco Loristan,'' the boy answered him. + +The man looked straight into his eyes and smiled. + +``That is not the name,'' he said. ``I beg your pardon, my +boy.'' + +He was about to go on, and had indeed taken a couple of steps +away, when he paused and turned to him again. + +``You may tell your father that you are a very well-trained lad. +I wanted to find out for myself.'' And he went on. + +Marco felt that his heart beat a little quickly. This was one of +several incidents which had happened during the last three years, +and made him feel that he was living among things so mysterious +that their very mystery hinted at danger. But he himself had +never before seemed involved in them. Why should it matter that +he was well-behaved? Then he remembered something. The man had +not said ``well-behaved,'' he had said ``well-TRAINED.'' +Well-trained in what way? He felt his forehead prickle slightly +as he thought of the smiling, keen look which set itself so +straight upon him. Had he spoken to him in Samavian for an +experiment, to see if he would be startled into forgetting that +he had been trained to seem to know only the language of the +country he was temporarily living in? But he had not forgotten. +He had remembered well, and was thankful that he had betrayed +nothing. ``Even exiles may be Samavian soldiers. I am one. You +must be one,'' his father had said on that day long ago when he +had made him take his oath. Perhaps remembering his training was +being a soldier. Never had Samavia needed help as she needed it +to-day. Two years before, a rival claimant to the throne had +assassinated the then reigning king and his sons, and since then, +bloody war and tumult had raged. The new king was a powerful +man, and had a great following of the worst and most self-seeking +of the people. Neighboring countries had interfered for their +own welfare's sake, and the newspapers had been full of stories +of savage fighting and atrocities, and of starving peasants. + +Marco had late one evening entered their lodgings to find +Loristan walking to and fro like a lion in a cage, a paper +crushed and torn in his hands, and his eyes blazing. He had been +reading of cruelties wrought upon innocent peasants and women and +children. Lazarus was standing staring at him with huge tears +running down his cheeks. When Marco opened the door, the old +soldier strode over to him, turned him about, and led him out of +the room. + +``Pardon, sir, pardon!'' he sobbed. ``No one must see him, not +even you. He suffers so horribly.'' + +He stood by a chair in Marco's own small bedroom, where he half +pushed, half led him. He bent his grizzled head, and wept like a +beaten child. + +``Dear God of those who are in pain, assuredly it is now the time +to give back to us our Lost Prince!'' he said, and Marco knew the +words were a prayer, and wondered at the frenzied intensity of +it, because it seemed so wild a thing to pray for the return of a +youth who had died five hundred years before. + +When he reached the palace, he was still thinking of the man who +had spoken to him. He was thinking of him even as he looked at +the majestic gray stone building and counted the number of its +stories and windows. He walked round it that he might make a +note in his memory of its size and form and its entrances, and +guess at the size of its gardens. This he did because it was +part of his game, and part of his strange training. + +When he came back to the front, he saw that in the great entrance +court within the high iron railings an elegant but quiet- looking +closed carriage was drawing up before the doorway. Marco stood +and watched with interest to see who would come out and enter it. +He knew that kings and emperors who were not on parade looked +merely like well-dressed private gentlemen, and often chose to go +out as simply and quietly as other men. So he thought that, +perhaps, if he waited, he might see one of those well-known faces +which represent the highest rank and power in a monarchical +country, and which in times gone by had also represented the +power over human life and death and liberty. + +``I should like to be able to tell my father that I have seen the +King and know his face, as I know the faces of the czar and the +two emperors.'' + +There was a little movement among the tall men-servants in the +royal scarlet liveries, and an elderly man descended the steps +attended by another who walked behind him. He entered the +carriage, the other man followed him, the door was closed, and +the carriage drove through the entrance gates, where the sentries +saluted. + +Marco was near enough to see distinctly. The two men were +talking as if interested. The face of the one farthest from him +was the face he had often seen in shop-windows and newspapers. +The boy made his quick, formal salute. It was the King; and, as +he smiled and acknowledged his greeting, he spoke to his +companion. + +``That fine lad salutes as if he belonged to the army,'' was what +he said, though Marco could not hear him. + +His companion leaned forward to look through the window. When he +caught sight of Marco, a singular expression crossed his face. + +``He does belong to an army, sir,'' he answered, ``though he does +not know it. His name is Marco Loristan.'' + +Then Marco saw him plainly for the first time. He was the man +with the keen eyes who had spoken to him in Samavian. + + + +IV + +THE RAT + +Marco would have wondered very much if he had heard the words, +but, as he did not hear them, he turned toward home wondering at +something else. A man who was in intimate attendance on a king +must be a person of importance. He no doubt knew many things not +only of his own ruler's country, but of the countries of other +kings. But so few had really known anything of poor little +Samavia until the newspapers had begun to tell them of the +horrors of its war--and who but a Samavian could speak its +language? It would be an interesting thing to tell his +father--that a man who knew the King had spoken to him in +Samavian, and had sent that curious message. + +Later he found himself passing a side street and looked up it. +It was so narrow, and on either side of it were such old, tall, +and sloping-walled houses that it attracted his attention. It +looked as if a bit of old London had been left to stand while +newer places grew up and hid it from view. This was the kind of +street he liked to pass through for curiosity's sake. He knew +many of them in the old quarters of many cities. He had lived in +some of them. He could find his way home from the other end of +it. Another thing than its queerness attracted him. He heard a +clamor of boys' voices, and he wanted to see what they were +doing. Sometimes, when he had reached a new place and had had +that lonely feeling, he had followed some boyish clamor of play +or wrangling, and had found a temporary friend or so. + +Half-way to the street's end there was an arched brick passage. +The sound of the voices came from there--one of them high, and +thinner and shriller than the rest. Marco tramped up to the arch +and looked down through the passage. It opened on to a gray +flagged space, shut in by the railings of a black, deserted, and +ancient graveyard behind a venerable church which turned its face +toward some other street. The boys were not playing, but +listening to one of their number who was reading to them from a +newspaper. + +Marco walked down the passage and listened also, standing in the +dark arched outlet at its end and watching the boy who read. He +was a strange little creature with a big forehead, and deep eyes +which were curiously sharp. But this was not all. He had a +hunch back, his legs seemed small and crooked. He sat with them +crossed before him on a rough wooden platform set on low wheels, +on which he evidently pushed himself about. Near him were a +number of sticks stacked together as if they were rifles. One of +the first things that Marco noticed was that he had a savage +little face marked with lines as if he had been angry all his +life. + +``Hold your tongues, you fools!'' he shrilled out to some boys +who interrupted him. ``Don't you want to know anything, you +ignorant swine?'' + +He was as ill-dressed as the rest of them, but he did not speak +in the Cockney dialect. If he was of the riffraff of the +streets, as his companions were, he was somehow different. + +Then he, by chance, saw Marco, who was standing in the arched end +of the passage. + +``What are you doing there listening?'' he shouted, and at once +stooped to pick up a stone and threw it at him. The stone hit +Marco's shoulder, but it did not hurt him much. What he did not +like was that another lad should want to throw something at him +before they had even exchanged boy-signs. He also did not like +the fact that two other boys promptly took the matter up by +bending down to pick up stones also. + +He walked forward straight into the group and stopped close to +the hunchback. + +``What did you do that for?'' he asked, in his rather deep young +voice. + +He was big and strong-looking enough to suggest that he was not a +boy it would be easy to dispose of, but it was not that which +made the group stand still a moment to stare at him. It was +something in himself--half of it a kind of impartial lack of +anything like irritation at the stone-throwing. It was as if it +had not mattered to him in the least. It had not made him feel +angry or insulted. He was only rather curious about it. Because +he was clean, and his hair and his shabby clothes were brushed, +the first impression given by his appearance as he stood in the +archway was that he was a young ``toff'' poking his nose where it +was not wanted; but, as he drew near, they saw that the +well-brushed clothes were worn, and there were patches on his +shoes. + +``What did you do that for?'' he asked, and he asked it merely as +if he wanted to find out the reason. + +``I'm not going to have you swells dropping in to my club as if +it was your own,'' said the hunchback. + +``I'm not a swell, and I didn't know it was a club,'' Marco +answered. ``I heard boys, and I thought I'd come and look. When +I heard you reading about Samavia, I wanted to hear.'' + +He looked at the reader with his silent-expressioned eyes. + +``You needn't have thrown a stone,'' he added. ``They don't do +it at men's clubs. I'll go away.'' + +He turned about as if he were going, but, before he had taken +three steps, the hunchback hailed him unceremoniously. + +``Hi!'' he called out. ``Hi, you!'' + +``What do you want?'' said Marco. + +``I bet you don't know where Samavia is, or what they're fighting +about.'' The hunchback threw the words at him. + +``Yes, I do. It's north of Beltrazo and east of Jiardasia, and +they are fighting because one party has assassinated King Maran, +and the other will not let them crown Nicola Iarovitch. And why +should they? He's a brigand, and hasn't a drop of royal blood in +him.'' + +``Oh!'' reluctantly admitted the hunchback. ``You do know that +much, do you? Come back here.'' + +Marco turned back, while the boys still stared. It was as if two +leaders or generals were meeting for the first time, and the +rabble, looking on, wondered what would come of their encounter. + +``The Samavians of the Iarovitch party are a bad lot and want +only bad things,'' said Marco, speaking first. ``They care +nothing for Samavia. They only care for money and the power to +make laws which will serve them and crush everybody else. They +know Nicola is a weak man, and that, if they can crown him king, +they can make him do what they like.'' + +The fact that he spoke first, and that, though he spoke in a +steady boyish voice without swagger, he somehow seemed to take it +for granted that they would listen, made his place for him at +once. Boys are impressionable creatures, and they know a leader +when they see him. The hunchback fixed glittering eyes on him. +The rabble began to murmur. + +``Rat! Rat!'' several voices cried at once in good strong +Cockney. ``Arst 'im some more, Rat!'' + +``Is that what they call you?'' Marco asked the hunchback. + +``It's what I called myself,'' he answered resentfully. `` `The +Rat.' Look at me! Crawling round on the ground like this! Look +at me!'' + +He made a gesture ordering his followers to move aside, and began +to push himself rapidly, with queer darts this side and that +round the inclosure. He bent his head and body, and twisted his +face, and made strange animal-like movements. He even uttered +sharp squeaks as he rushed here and there--as a rat might have +done when it was being hunted. He did it as if he were +displaying an accomplishment, and his followers' laughter was +applause. + +``Wasn't I like a rat?'' he demanded, when he suddenly stopped. + +``You made yourself like one on purpose,'' Marco answered. ``You +do it for fun.'' + +``Not so much fun,'' said The Rat. ``I feel like one. Every +one's my enemy. I'm vermin. I can't fight or defend myself +unless I bite. I can bite, though.'' And he showed two rows of +fierce, strong, white teeth, sharper at the points than human +teeth usually are. ``I bite my father when he gets drunk and +beats me. I've bitten him till he's learned to remember.'' He +laughed a shrill, squeaking laugh. ``He hasn't tried it for +three months--even when he was drunk-- and he's always drunk.'' +Then he laughed again still more shrilly. ``He's a gentleman,'' +he said. ``I'm a gentleman's son. He was a Master at a big +school until he was kicked out--that was when I was four and my +mother died. I'm thirteen now. How old are you?'' + +``I'm twelve,'' answered Marco. + +The Rat twisted his face enviously. + +``I wish I was your size! Are you a gentleman's son? You look +as if you were.'' + +``I'm a very poor man's son,'' was Marco's answer. ``My father +is a writer.'' + +``Then, ten to one, he's a sort of gentleman,'' said The Rat. +Then quite suddenly he threw another question at him. ``What's +the name of the other Samavian party?'' + +``The Maranovitch. The Maranovitch and the Iarovitch have been +fighting with each other for five hundred years. First one +dynasty rules, and then the other gets in when it has killed +somebody as it killed King Maran,'' Marco answered without +hesitation. + +``What was the name of the dynasty that ruled before they began +fighting? The first Maranovitch assassinated the last of them,'' +The Rat asked him. + +``The Fedorovitch,'' said Marco. ``The last one was a bad +king.'' + +``His son was the one they never found again,'' said The Rat. +``The one they call the Lost Prince.'' + +Marco would have started but for his long training in exterior +self-control. It was so strange to hear his dream-hero spoken of +in this back alley in a slum, and just after he had been thinking +of him. + +``What do you know about him?'' he asked, and, as he did so, he +saw the group of vagabond lads draw nearer. + +``Not much. I only read something about him in a torn magazine I +found in the street,'' The Rat answered. ``The man that wrote +about him said he was only part of a legend, and he laughed at +people for believing in him. He said it was about time that he +should turn up again if he intended to. I've invented things +about him because these chaps like to hear me tell them. They're +only stories.'' + +``We likes 'im,'' a voice called out, ``becos 'e wos the right +sort; 'e'd fight, 'e would, if 'e was in Samavia now.'' + +Marco rapidly asked himself how much he might say. He decided +and spoke to them all. + +``He is not part of a legend. He's part of Samavian history,'' +he said. ``I know something about him too.'' + +``How did you find it out?'' asked The Rat. + +``Because my father's a writer, he's obliged to have books and +papers, and he knows things. I like to read, and I go into the +free libraries. You can always get books and papers there. Then +I ask my father questions. All the newspapers are full of things +about Samavia just now.'' Marco felt that this was an +explanation which betrayed nothing. It was true that no one +could open a newspaper at this period without seeing news and +stories of Samavia. + +The Rat saw possible vistas of information opening up before him. + +``Sit down here,'' he said, ``and tell us what you know about +him. Sit down, you fellows.'' + +There was nothing to sit on but the broken flagged pavement, but +that was a small matter. Marco himself had sat on flags or bare +ground often enough before, and so had the rest of the lads. He +took his place near The Rat, and the others made a semicircle in +front of them. The two leaders had joined forces, so to speak, +and the followers fell into line at ``attention.'' + +Then the new-comer began to talk. It was a good story, that of +the Lost Prince, and Marco told it in a way which gave it +reality. How could he help it? He knew, as they could not, that +it was real. He who had pored over maps of little Samavia since +his seventh year, who had studied them with his father, knew it +as a country he could have found his way to any part of if he had +been dropped in any forest or any mountain of it. He knew every +highway and byway, and in the capital city of Melzarr could +almost have made his way blindfolded. He knew the palaces and +the forts, the churches, the poor streets and the rich ones. His +father had once shown him a plan of the royal palace which they +had studied together until the boy knew each apartment and +corridor in it by heart. But this he did not speak of. He knew +it was one of the things to be silent about. But of the +mountains and the emerald velvet meadows climbing their sides and +only ending where huge bare crags and peaks began, he could +speak. He could make pictures of the wide fertile plains where +herds of wild horses fed, or raced and sniffed the air; he could +describe the fertile valleys where clear rivers ran and flocks of +sheep pastured on deep sweet grass. He could speak of them +because he could offer a good enough reason for his knowledge of +them. It was not the only reason he had for his knowledge, but +it was one which would serve well enough. + +``That torn magazine you found had more than one article about +Samavia in it,'' he said to The Rat. ``The same man wrote four. +I read them all in a free library. He had been to Samavia, and +knew a great deal about it. He said it was one of the most +beautiful countries he had ever traveled in--and the most +fertile. That's what they all say of it.'' + +The group before him knew nothing of fertility or open country. +They only knew London back streets and courts. Most of them had +never traveled as far as the public parks, and in fact scarcely +believed in their existence. They were a rough lot, and as they +had stared at Marco at first sight of him, so they continued to +stare at him as he talked. When he told of the tall Samavians +who had been like giants centuries ago, and who had hunted the +wild horses and captured and trained them to obedience by a sort +of strong and gentle magic, their mouths fell open. This was the +sort of thing to allure any boy's imagination. + +``Blimme, if I wouldn't 'ave liked ketchin' one o' them 'orses,'' +broke in one of the audience, and his exclamation was followed by +a dozen of like nature from the others. Who wouldn't have liked +``ketchin' one''? + +When he told of the deep endless-seeming forests, and of the +herdsmen and shepherds who played on their pipes and made songs +about high deeds and bravery, they grinned with pleasure without +knowing they were grinning. They did not really know that in +this neglected, broken-flagged inclosure, shut in on one side by +smoke- blackened, poverty-stricken houses, and on the other by a +deserted and forgotten sunken graveyard, they heard the rustle of +green forest boughs where birds nested close, the swish of the +summer wind in the river reeds, and the tinkle and laughter and +rush of brooks running. + +They heard more or less of it all through the Lost Prince story, +because Prince Ivor had loved lowland woods and mountain forests +and all out-of-door life. When Marco pictured him tall and +strong- limbed and young, winning all the people when he rode +smiling among them, the boys grinned again with unconscious +pleasure. + +``Wisht 'e 'adn't got lost!'' some one cried out. + +When they heard of the unrest and dissatisfaction of the +Samavians, they began to get restless themselves. When Marco +reached the part of the story in which the mob rushed into the +palace and demanded their prince from the king, they ejaculated +scraps of bad language. ``The old geezer had got him hidden +somewhere in some dungeon, or he'd killed him out an' out--that's +what he'd been up to!'' they clamored. ``Wisht the lot of us had +been there then--wisht we 'ad. We'd 'ave give' 'im wot for, +anyway!'' + +``An' 'im walkin' out o' the place so early in the mornin' just +singin' like that! 'E 'ad 'im follered an' done for!'' they +decided with various exclamations of boyish wrath. Somehow, the +fact that the handsome royal lad had strolled into the morning +sunshine singing made them more savage. Their language was +extremely bad at this point. + +But if it was bad here, it became worse when the old shepherd +found the young huntsman's half-dead body in the forest. He HAD +``bin `done for' IN THE BACK! 'E'd bin give' no charnst. +G-r-r-r!'' they groaned in chorus. ``Wisht'' THEY'D ``bin there +when 'e'd bin 'it!'' They'd `` 'ave done fur somebody'' +themselves. It was a story which had a queer effect on them. It +made them think they saw things; it fired their blood; it set +them wanting to fight for ideals they knew nothing +about--adventurous things, for instance, and high and noble young +princes who were full of the possibility of great and good deeds. +Sitting upon the broken flagstones of the bit of ground behind +the deserted graveyard, they were suddenly dragged into the world +of romance, and noble young princes and great and good deeds +became as real as the sunken gravestones, and far more +interesting. + +And then the smuggling across the frontier of the unconscious +prince in the bullock cart loaded with sheepskins! They held +their breaths. Would the old shepherd get him past the line! +Marco, who was lost in the recital himself, told it as if he had +been present. He felt as if he had, and as this was the first +time he had ever told it to thrilled listeners, his imagination +got him in its grip, and his heart jumped in his breast as he was +sure the old man's must have done when the guard stopped his cart +and asked him what he was carrying out of the country. He knew +he must have had to call up all his strength to force his voice +into steadiness. + +And then the good monks! He had to stop to explain what a monk +was, and when he described the solitude of the ancient monastery, +and its walled gardens full of flowers and old simples to be used +for healing, and the wise monks walking in the silence and the +sun, the boys stared a little helplessly, but still as if they +were vaguely pleased by the picture. + +And then there was no more to tell--no more. There it broke off, +and something like a low howl of dismay broke from the +semicircle. + +``Aw!'' they protested, ``it 'adn't ought to stop there! Ain't +there no more? Is that all there is?'' + +``It's all that was ever known really. And that last part might +only be a sort of story made up by somebody. But I believe it +myself.'' + +The Rat had listened with burning eyes. He had sat biting his +finger-nails, as was a trick of his when he was excited or angry. + +``Tell you what!'' he exclaimed suddenly. ``This was what +happened. It was some of the Maranovitch fellows that tried to +kill him. They meant to kill his father and make their own man +king, and they knew the people wouldn't stand it if young Ivor +was alive. They just stabbed him in the back, the fiends! I +dare say they heard the old shepherd coming, and left him for +dead and ran.'' + +``Right, oh! That was it!'' the lads agreed. ``Yer right there, +Rat!'' + +``When he got well,'' The Rat went on feverishly, still biting +his nails, ``he couldn't go back. He was only a boy. The other +fellow had been crowned, and his followers felt strong because +they'd just conquered the country. He could have done nothing +without an army, and he was too young to raise one. Perhaps he +thought he'd wait till he was old enough to know what to do. I +dare say he went away and had to work for his living as if he'd +never been a prince at all. Then perhaps sometime he married +somebody and had a son, and told him as a secret who he was and +all about Samavia.'' The Rat began to look vengeful. ``If I'd +bin him I'd have told him not to forget what the Maranovitch had +done to me. I'd have told him that if I couldn't get back the +throne, he must see what he could do when he grew to be a man. +And I'd have made him swear, if he got it back, to take it out of +them or their children or their children's children in torture +and killing. I'd have made him swear not to leave a Maranovitch +alive. And I'd have told him that, if he couldn't do it in his +life, he must pass the oath on to his son and his son's son, as +long as there was a Fedorovitch on earth. Wouldn't you?'' he +demanded hotly of Marco. + +Marco's blood was also hot, but it was a different kind of blood, +and he had talked too much to a very sane man. + +``No,'' he said slowly. ``What would have been the use? It +wouldn't have done Samavia any good, and it wouldn't have done +him any good to torture and kill people. Better keep them alive +and make them do things for the country. If you're a patriot, +you think of the country.'' He wanted to add ``That's what my +father says,'' but he did not. + +``Torture 'em first and then attend to the country,'' snapped The +Rat. ``What would you have told your son if you'd been Ivor?'' + +``I'd have told him to learn everything about Samavia--and all +the things kings have to know--and study things about laws and +other countries--and about keeping silent--and about governing +himself as if he were a general commanding soldiers in battle--so +that he would never do anything he did not mean to do or could be +ashamed of doing after it was over. And I'd have asked him to +tell his son's sons to tell their sons to learn the same things. +So, you see, however long the time was, there would always be a +king getting ready for Samavia--when Samavia really wanted him. +And he would be a real king.'' + +He stopped himself suddenly and looked at the staring semicircle. + +``I didn't make that up myself,'' he said. ``I have heard a man +who reads and knows things say it. I believe the Lost Prince +would have had the same thoughts. If he had, and told them to +his son, there has been a line of kings in training for Samavia +for five hundred years, and perhaps one is walking about the +streets of Vienna, or Budapest, or Paris, or London now, and he'd +be ready if the people found out about him and called him.'' + +``Wisht they would!'' some one yelled. + +``It would be a queer secret to know all the time when no one +else knew it,'' The Rat communed with himself as it were, ``that +you were a king and you ought to be on a throne wearing a crown. +I wonder if it would make a chap look different?'' + +He laughed his squeaky laugh, and then turned in his sudden way +to Marco: + +``But he'd be a fool to give up the vengeance. What is your +name?'' + +``Marco Loristan. What's yours? It isn't The Rat really.'' + +``It's Jem RATcliffe. That's pretty near. Where do you live?'' + +``No. 7 Philibert Place.'' + +``This club is a soldiers' club,'' said The Rat. ``It's called +the Squad. I'm the captain. 'Tention, you fellows! Let's show +him.'' + +The semicircle sprang to its feet. There were about twelve lads +altogether, and, when they stood upright, Marco saw at once that +for some reason they were accustomed to obeying the word of +command with military precision. + +``Form in line!'' ordered The Rat. + +They did it at once, and held their backs and legs straight and +their heads up amazingly well. Each had seized one of the sticks +which had been stacked together like guns. + +The Rat himself sat up straight on his platform. There was +actually something military in the bearing of his lean body. His +voice lost its squeak and its sharpness became commanding. + +He put the dozen lads through the drill as if he had been a smart +young officer. And the drill itself was prompt and smart enough +to have done credit to practiced soldiers in barracks. It made +Marco involuntarily stand very straight himself, and watch with +surprised interest. + +``That's good!'' he exclaimed when it was at an end. ``How did +you learn that?'' + +The Rat made a savage gesture. + +``If I'd had legs to stand on, I'd have been a soldier!'' he +said. ``I'd have enlisted in any regiment that would take me. I +don't care for anything else.'' + +Suddenly his face changed, and he shouted a command to his +followers. + +``Turn your backs!'' he ordered. + +And they did turn their backs and looked through the railings of +the old churchyard. Marco saw that they were obeying an order +which was not new to them. The Rat had thrown his arm up over +his eyes and covered them. He held it there for several moments, +as if he did not want to be seen. Marco turned his back as the +rest had done. All at once he understood that, though The Rat +was not crying, yet he was feeling something which another boy +would possibly have broken down under. + +``All right!'' he shouted presently, and dropped his +ragged-sleeved arm and sat up straight again. + +``I want to go to war!'' he said hoarsely. ``I want to fight! I +want to lead a lot of men into battle! And I haven't got any +legs. Sometimes it takes the pluck out of me.'' + +``You've not grown up yet!'' said Marco. ``You might get strong. + +No one knows what is going to happen. How did you learn to drill +the club?'' + +``I hang about barracks. I watch and listen. I follow soldiers. +If I could get books, I'd read about wars. I can't go to +libraries as you can. I can do nothing but scuffle about like a +rat.'' + +``I can take you to some libraries,'' said Marco. ``There are +places where boys can get in. And I can get some papers from my +father.'' + +``Can you?'' said The Rat. ``Do you want to join the club?'' + +``Yes!'' Marco answered. ``I'll speak to my father about it.'' + +He said it because the hungry longing for companionship in his +own mind had found a sort of response in the queer hungry look in +The Rat's eyes. He wanted to see him again. Strange creature as +he was, there was attraction in him. Scuffling about on his low +wheeled platform, he had drawn this group of rough lads to him +and made himself their commander. They obeyed him; they listened +to his stories and harangues about war and soldiering; they let +him drill them and give them orders. Marco knew that, when he +told his father about him, he would be interested. The boy +wanted to hear what Loristan would say. + +``I'm going home now,'' he said. ``If you're going to be here +to- morrow, I will try to come.'' + +``We shall be here,'' The Rat answered. ``It's our barracks.'' + +Marco drew himself up smartly and made his salute as if to a +superior officer. Then he wheeled about and marched through the +brick archway, and the sound of his boyish tread was as regular +and decided as if he had been a man keeping time with his +regiment. + +``He's been drilled himself,'' said The Rat. ``He knows as much +as I do.'' + +And he sat up and stared down the passage with new interest. + + + +V + +``SILENCE IS STILL THE ORDER'' + +They were even poorer than usual just now, and the supper Marco +and his father sat down to was scant enough. Lazarus stood +upright behind his master's chair and served him with strictest +ceremony. Their poor lodgings were always kept with a soldierly +cleanliness and order. When an object could be polished it was +forced to shine, no grain of dust was allowed to lie undisturbed, +and this perfection was not attained through the ministrations of +a lodging house slavey. Lazarus made himself extremely popular +by taking the work of caring for his master's rooms entirely out +of the hands of the overburdened maids of all work. He had +learned to do many things in his young days in barracks. He +carried about with him coarse bits of table-cloths and towels, +which he laundered as if they had been the finest linen. He +mended, he patched, he darned, and in the hardest fight the poor +must face--the fight with dirt and dinginess--he always held his +own. They had nothing but dry bread and coffee this evening, but +Lazarus had made the coffee and the bread was good. + +As Marco ate, he told his father the story of The Rat and his +followers. Loristan listened, as the boy had known he would, +with the far-off, intently-thinking smile in his dark eyes. It +was a look which always fascinated Marco because it meant that he +was thinking so many things. Perhaps he would tell some of them +and perhaps he would not. His spell over the boy lay in the fact +that to him he seemed like a wonderful book of which one had only +glimpses. It was full of pictures and adventures which were +true, and one could not help continually making guesses about +them. Yes, the feeling that Marco had was that his father's +attraction for him was a sort of spell, and that others felt the +same thing. When he stood and talked to commoner people, he held +his tall body with singular quiet grace which was like power. He +never stirred or moved himself as if he were nervous or +uncertain. He could hold his hands (he had beautiful slender and +strong hands) quite still; he could stand on his fine arched feet +without shuffling them. He could sit without any ungrace or +restlessness. His mind knew what his body should do, and gave it +orders without speaking, and his fine limbs and muscles and +nerves obeyed. So he could stand still and at ease and look at +the people he was talking to, and they always looked at him and +listened to what he said, and somehow, courteous and +uncondescending as his manner unfailingly was, it used always to +seem to Marco as if he were ``giving an audience'' as kings gave +them. + +He had often seen people bow very low when they went away from +him, and more than once it had happened that some humble person +had stepped out of his presence backward, as people do when +retiring before a sovereign. And yet his bearing was the +quietest and least assuming in the world. + +``And they were talking about Samavia? And he knew the story of +the Lost Prince?'' he said ponderingly. ``Even in that place!'' + +``He wants to hear about wars--he wants to talk about them,'' +Marco answered. ``If he could stand and were old enough, he +would go and fight for Samavia himself.'' + +``It is a blood-drenched and sad place now!'' said Loristan. +``The people are mad when they are not heartbroken and +terrified.'' + +Suddenly Marco struck the table with a sounding slap of his boy's +hand. He did it before he realized any intention in his own +mind. + +``Why should either one of the Iarovitch or one of the +Maranovitch be king!'' he cried. ``They were only savage +peasants when they first fought for the crown hundreds of years +ago. The most savage one got it, and they have been fighting +ever since. Only the Fedorovitch were born kings. There is only +one man in the world who has the right to the throne--and I don't +know whether he is in the world or not. But I believe he is! I +do!'' + +Loristan looked at his hot twelve-year-old face with a reflective +curiousness. He saw that the flame which had leaped up in him +had leaped without warning--just as a fierce heart-beat might +have shaken him. + +``You mean--?'' he suggested softly. + +``Ivor Fedorovitch. King Ivor he ought to be. And the people +would obey him, and the good days would come again.'' + +``It is five hundred years since Ivor Fedorovitch left the good +monks.'' Loristan still spoke softly. + +``But, Father,'' Marco protested, ``even The Rat said what you +said--that he was too young to be able to come back while the +Maranovitch were in power. And he would have to work and have a +home, and perhaps he is as poor as we are. But when he had a son +he would call him Ivor and TELL him--and his son would call HIS +son Ivor and tell HIM--and it would go on and on. They could +never call their eldest sons anything but Ivor. And what you +said about the training would be true. There would always be a +king being trained for Samavia, and ready to be called.'' In the +fire of his feelings he sprang from his chair and stood upright. +``Why! There may be a king of Samavia in some city now who knows +he is king, and, when he reads about the fighting among his +people, his blood gets red-hot. They're his own people--his very +own! He ought to go to them--he ought to go and tell them who he +is! Don't you think he ought, Father?'' + +``It would not be as easy as it seems to a boy,'' Loristan +answered. ``There are many countries which would have something +to say-- Russia would have her word, and Austria, and Germany; +and England never is silent. But, if he were a strong man and +knew how to make strong friends in silence, he might sometime be +able to declare himself openly.'' + +``But if he is anywhere, some one--some Samavian--ought to go and + +look for him. It ought to be a Samavian who is very clever and a +patriot--'' He stopped at a flash of recognition. ``Father!'' +he cried out. ``Father! You--you are the one who could find him +if any one in the world could. But perhaps--'' and he stopped a +moment again because new thoughts rushed through his mind. +``Have YOU ever looked for him?'' he asked hesitating. + +Perhaps he had asked a stupid question--perhaps his father had +always been looking for him, perhaps that was his secret and his +work. + +But Loristan did not look as if he thought him stupid. Quite the +contrary. He kept his handsome eyes fixed on him still in that +curious way, as if he were studying him--as if he were much more +than twelve years old, and he were deciding to tell him +something. + +``Comrade at arms,'' he said, with the smile which always +gladdened Marco's heart, ``you have kept your oath of allegiance +like a man. You were not seven years old when you took it. You +are growing older. Silence is still the order, but you are man +enough to be told more.'' He paused and looked down, and then +looked up again, speaking in a low tone. ``I have not looked for +him,'' he said, ``because--I believe I know where he is.'' + +Marco caught his breath. + +``Father!'' He said only that word. He could say no more. He +knew he must not ask questions. ``Silence is still the order.'' +But as they faced each other in their dingy room at the back of +the shabby house on the side of the roaring common road--as +Lazarus stood stock- still behind his father's chair and kept his +eyes fixed on the empty coffee cups and the dry bread plate, and +everything looked as poor as things always did--there was a king +of Samavia--an Ivor Fedorovitch with the blood of the Lost Prince +in his veins--alive in some town or city this moment! And +Marco's own father knew where he was! + +He glanced at Lazarus, but, though the old soldier's face looked +as expressionless as if it were cut out of wood, Marco realized +that he knew this thing and had always known it. He had been a +comrade at arms all his life. He continued to stare at the bread +plate. + +Loristan spoke again and in an even lower voice. ``The Samavians +who are patriots and thinkers,'' he said, ``formed themselves +into a secret party about eighty years ago. They formed it when +they had no reason for hope, but they formed it because one of +them discovered that an Ivor Fedorovitch was living. He was head +forester on a great estate in the Austrian Alps. The nobleman he +served had always thought him a mystery because he had the +bearing and speech of a man who had not been born a servant, and +his methods in caring for the forests and game were those of a +man who was educated and had studied his subject. But he never +was familiar or assuming, and never professed superiority over +any of his fellows. He was a man of great stature, and was +extraordinarily brave and silent. The nobleman who was his +master made a sort of companion of him when they hunted together. +Once he took him with him when he traveled to Samavia to hunt +wild horses. He found that he knew the country strangely well, +and that he was familiar with Samavian hunting and customs. +Before he returned to Austria, the man obtained permission to go +to the mountains alone. He went among the shepherds and made +friends among them, asking many questions. + +One night around a forest fire he heard the songs about the Lost +Prince which had not been forgotten even after nearly five +hundred years had passed. The shepherds and herdsmen talked +about Prince Ivor, and told old stories about him, and related +the prophecy that he would come back and bring again Samavia's +good days. He might come only in the body of one of his +descendants, but it would be his spirit which came, because his +spirit would never cease to love Samavia. One very old shepherd +tottered to his feet and lifted his face to the myriad stars +bestrewn like jewels in the blue sky above the forest trees, and +he wept and prayed aloud that the great God would send their king +to them. And the stranger huntsman stood upright also and lifted +his face to the stars. And, though he said no word, the herdsman +nearest to him saw tears on his cheeks--great, heavy tears. The +next day, the stranger went to the monastery where the order of +good monks lived who had taken care of the Lost Prince. When he +had left Samavia, the secret society was formed, and the members +of it knew that an Ivor Fedorovitch had passed through his +ancestors' country as the servant of another man. But the secret +society was only a small one, and, though it has been growing +ever since and it has done good deeds and good work in secret, +the huntsman died an old man before it was strong enough even to +dare to tell Samavia what it knew.'' + +``Had he a son?'' cried Marco. ``Had he a son?'' + +``Yes. He had a son. His name was Ivor. And he was trained as +I told you. That part I knew to be true, though I should have +believed it was true even if I had not known. There has ALWAYS +been a king ready for Samavia--even when he has labored with his +hands and served others. Each one took the oath of allegiance.'' + +``As I did?'' said Marco, breathless with excitement. When one +is twelve years old, to be so near a Lost Prince who might end +wars is a thrilling thing. + +``The same,'' answered Loristan. + +Marco threw up his hand in salute. + +`` `Here grows a man for Samavia! God be thanked!' '' he quoted. +``And HE is somewhere? And you know?'' + +Loristan bent his head in acquiescence. + +``For years much secret work has been done, and the Fedorovitch +party has grown until it is much greater and more powerful than +the other parties dream. The larger countries are tired of the +constant war and disorder in Samavia. Their interests are +disturbed by them, and they are deciding that they must have +peace and laws which can be counted on. There have been Samavian +patriots who have spent their lives in trying to bring this about +by making friends in the most powerful capitals, and working +secretly for the future good of their own land. Because Samavia +is so small and uninfluential, it has taken a long time but when +King Maran and his family were assassinated and the war broke +out, there were great powers which began to say that if some king +of good blood and reliable characteristics were given the crown, +he should be upheld.'' + +``HIS blood,''-- Marco's intensity made his voice drop almost to +a whisper,--``HIS blood has been trained for five hundred years, +Father! If it comes true--'' though he laughed a little, he was +obliged to wink his eyes hard because suddenly he felt tears rush +into them, which no boy likes--``the shepherds will have to make +a new song --it will have to be a shouting one about a prince +going away and a king coming back!'' + +``They are a devout people and observe many an ancient rite and +ceremony. They will chant prayers and burn altar-fires on their +mountain sides,'' Loristan said. ``But the end is not yet--the +end is not yet. Sometimes it seems that perhaps it is near--but +God knows!'' + +Then there leaped back upon Marco the story he had to tell, but +which he had held back for the last--the story of the man who +spoke Samavian and drove in the carriage with the King. He knew +now that it might mean some important thing which he could not +have before suspected. + +``There is something I must tell you,'' he said. + +He had learned to relate incidents in few but clear words when he + +related them to his father. It had been part of his training. +Loristan had said that he might sometime have a story to tell +when he had but few moments to tell it in--some story which meant +life or death to some one. He told this one quickly and well. +He made Loristan see the well-dressed man with the deliberate +manner and the keen eyes, and he made him hear his voice when he +said, ``Tell your father that you are a very well-trained lad.'' + +``I am glad he said that. He is a man who knows what training +is,'' said Loristan. ``He is a person who knows what all Europe +is doing, and almost all that it will do. He is an ambassador +from a powerful and great country. If he saw that you are a +well-trained and fine lad, it might--it might even be good for +Samavia.'' + +``Would it matter that _I_ was well-trained? COULD it matter to +Samavia?'' Marco cried out. + +Loristan paused for a moment--watching him gravely--looking him +over--his big, well-built boy's frame, his shabby clothes, and +his eagerly burning eyes. + +He smiled one of his slow wonderful smiles. + +``Yes. It might even matter to Samavia!'' he answered. + + + +VI + +THE DRILL AND THE SECRET PARTY + +Loristan did not forbid Marco to pursue his acquaintance with The +Rat and his followers. + +``You will find out for yourself whether they are friends for you +or not,'' he said. ``You will know in a few days, and then you +can make your own decision. You have known lads in various +countries, and you are a good judge of them, I think. You will +soon see whether they are going to be MEN or mere rabble. The +Rat now--how does he strike you?'' + +And the handsome eyes held their keen look of questioning. + +``He'd be a brave soldier if he could stand,'' said Marco, +thinking him over. ``But he might be cruel.'' + +``A lad who might make a brave soldier cannot be disdained, but a +man who is cruel is a fool. Tell him that from me,'' Loristan +answered. ``He wastes force--his own and the force of the one he +treats cruelly. Only a fool wastes force.'' + +``May I speak of you sometimes?'' asked Marco. + +``Yes. You will know how. You will remember the things about +which silence is the order.'' + +``I never forget them,'' said Marco. ``I have been trying not +to, for such a long time.'' + +``You have succeeded well, Comrade!'' returned Loristan, from his +writing-table, to which he had gone and where he was turning over +papers. + +A strong impulse overpowered the boy. He marched over to the +table and stood very straight, making his soldierly young salute, +his whole body glowing. + +``Father!'' he said, ``you don't know how I love you! I wish you +were a general and I might die in battle for you. When I look at +you, I long and long to do something for you a boy could not do. +I would die of a thousand wounds rather than disobey you--or +Samavia!'' + +He seized Loristan's hand, and knelt on one knee and kissed it. +An English or American boy could not have done such a thing from +unaffected natural impulse. But he was of warm Southern blood. + +``I took my oath of allegiance to you, Father, when I took it to +Samavia. It seems as if you were Samavia, too,'' he said, and +kissed his hand again. + +Loristan had turned toward him with one of the movements which +were full of dignity and grace. Marco, looking up at him, felt +that there was always a certain remote stateliness in him which +made it seem quite natural that any one should bend the knee and +kiss his hand. + +A sudden great tenderness glowed in his father's face as he +raised the boy and put his hand on his shoulder. + +``Comrade,'' he said, ``you don't know how much I love you--and +what reason there is that we should love each other! You don't +know how I have been watching you, and thanking God each year +that here grew a man for Samavia. That I know you are--a MAN, +though you have lived but twelve years. Twelve years may grow a +man--or prove that a man will never grow, though a human thing he +may remain for ninety years. This year may be full of strange +things for both of us. We cannot know WHAT I may have to ask you +to do for me--and for Samavia. Perhaps such a thing as no +twelve-year- old boy has ever done before.'' + +``Every night and every morning,'' said Marco, ``I shall pray +that I may be called to do it, and that I may do it well.'' + +``You will do it well, Comrade, if you are called. That I could +make oath,'' Loristan answered him. + + +The Squad had collected in the inclosure behind the church when +Marco appeared at the arched end of the passage. The boys were +drawn up with their rifles, but they all wore a rather dogged and +sullen look. The explanation which darted into Marco's mind was +that this was because The Rat was in a bad humor. He sat +crouched together on his platform biting his nails fiercely, his +elbows on his updrawn knees, his face twisted into a hideous +scowl. He did not look around, or even look up from the cracked +flagstone of the pavement on which his eyes were fixed. + +Marco went forward with military step and stopped opposite to him +with prompt salute. + +``Sorry to be late, sir,'' he said, as if he had been a private +speaking to his colonel. + +``It's 'im, Rat! 'E's come, Rat!'' the Squad shouted. ``Look at +'im!'' + +But The Rat would not look, and did not even move. + +``What's the matter?'' said Marco, with less ceremony than a +private would have shown. ``There's no use in my coming here if +you don't want me.'' + +`` 'E's got a grouch on 'cos you're late!'' called out the head +of the line. ``No doin' nothin' when 'e's got a grouch on.'' + +``I sha'n't try to do anything,'' said Marco, his boy-face +setting itself into good stubborn lines. ``That's not what I +came here for. I came to drill. I've been with my father. He +comes first. I can't join the Squad if he doesn't come first. +We're not on active service, and we're not in barracks.'' + +Then The Rat moved sharply and turned to look at him. + +``I thought you weren't coming at all!'' he snapped and growled +at once. ``My father said you wouldn't. He said you were a +young swell for all your patched clothes. He said your father +would think he was a swell, even if he was only a penny-a-liner +on newspapers, and he wouldn't let you have anything to do with a +vagabond and a nuisance. Nobody begged you to join. Your father +can go to blazes!'' + +``Don't you speak in that way about my father,'' said Marco, +quite quietly, ``because I can't knock you down.'' + +``I'll get up and let you!'' began The Rat, immediately white and +raging. ``I can stand up with two sticks. I'll get up and let +you!'' + +``No, you won't,'' said Marco. ``If you want to know what my +father said, I can tell you. He said I could come as often as I +liked --till I found out whether we should be friends or not. He +says I shall find that out for myself.'' + +It was a strange thing The Rat did. It must always be remembered +of him that his wretched father, who had each year sunk lower and +lower in the under-world, had been a gentleman once, a man who +had been familiar with good manners and had been educated in the +customs of good breeding. Sometimes when he was drunk, and +sometimes when he was partly sober, he talked to The Rat of many +things the boy would otherwise never have heard of. That was why +the lad was different from the other vagabonds. This, also, was +why he suddenly altered the whole situation by doing this strange +and unexpected thing. He utterly changed his expression and +voice, fixing his sharp eyes shrewdly on Marco's. It was almost +as if he were asking him a conundrum. He knew it would have been +one to most boys of the class he appeared outwardly to belong to. +He would either know the answer or he wouldn't. + +``I beg your pardon,'' The Rat said. + +That was the conundrum. It was what a gentleman and an officer +would have said, if he felt he had been mistaken or rude. He had +heard that from his drunken father. + +``I beg yours--for being late,'' said Marco. + +That was the right answer. It was the one another officer and +gentleman would have made. It settled the matter at once, and it +settled more than was apparent at the moment. It decided that +Marco was one of those who knew the things The Rat's father had +once known--the things gentlemen do and say and think. Not +another word was said. It was all right. Marco slipped into +line with the Squad, and The Rat sat erect with his military +bearing and began his drill: + +``Squad! + +`` 'Tention! + +``Number! + +``Slope arms! + +``Form fours! + +``Right! + +``Quick march! + +``Halt! + +``Left turn! + +``Order arms! + +``Stand at ease! + +``Stand easy!'' + +They did it so well that it was quite wonderful when one +considered the limited space at their disposal. They had +evidently done it often, and The Rat had been not only a smart, +but a severe, officer. This morning they repeated the exercise a +number of times, and even varied it with Review Drill, with which +they seemed just as familiar. + +``Where did you learn it?'' The Rat asked, when the arms were +stacked again and Marco was sitting by him as he had sat the +previous day. + +``From an old soldier. And I like to watch it, as you do.'' + +``If you were a young swell in the Guards, you couldn't be +smarter at it,'' The Rat said. ``The way you hold yourself! The +way you stand! You've got it! Wish I was you! It comes natural +to you.'' + +``I've always liked to watch it and try to do it myself. I did +when I was a little fellow,'' answered Marco. + +``I've been trying to kick it into these chaps for more than a +year,'' said The Rat. ``A nice job I had of it! It nearly made +me sick at first.'' + +The semicircle in front of him only giggled or laughed outright. +The members of it seemed to take very little offense at his +cavalier treatment of them. He had evidently something to give +them which was entertaining enough to make up for his tyranny and +indifference. He thrust his hand into one of the pockets of his +ragged coat, and drew out a piece of newspaper. + +``My father brought home this, wrapped round a loaf of bread,'' +he said. ``See what it says there!'' + +He handed it to Marco, pointing to some words printed in large +letters at the head of a column. Marco looked at it and sat very +still. + +The words he read were: ``The Lost Prince.'' + +``Silence is still the order,'' was the first thought which +flashed through his mind. ``Silence is still the order.'' + +``What does it mean?'' he said aloud. + +``There isn't much of it. I wish there was more,'' The Rat said +fretfully. ``Read and see. Of course they say it mayn't be +true--but I believe it is. They say that people think some one +knows where he is--at least where one of his descendants is. +It'd be the same thing. He'd be the real king. If he'd just +show himself, it might stop all the fighting. Just read.'' + +Marco read, and his skin prickled as the blood went racing +through his body. But his face did not change. There was a +sketch of the story of the Lost Prince to begin with. It had +been regarded by most people, the article said, as a sort of +legend. Now there was a definite rumor that it was not a legend +at all, but a part of the long past history of Samavia. It was +said that through the centuries there had always been a party +secretly loyal to the memory of this worshiped and lost +Fedorovitch. It was even said that from father to son, +generation after generation after generation, had descended the +oath of fealty to him and his descendants. The people had made +a god of him, and now, romantic as it seemed, it was beginning to +be an open secret that some persons believed that a descendant +had been found--a Fedorovitch worthy of his young ancestor--and +that a certain Secret Party also held that, if he were called +back to the throne of Samavia, the interminable wars and +bloodshed would reach an end. + +The Rat had begun to bite his nails fast. + +``Do you believe he's found?'' he asked feverishly. ``DON'T YOU? +I do!'' + +``I wonder where he is, if it's true? I wonder! Where?'' +exclaimed Marco. He could say that, and he might seem as eager +as he felt. + +The Squad all began to jabber at once. ``Yus, where wos'e? +There is no knowin'. It'd be likely to be in some o' these +furrin places. England'd be too far from Samavia. 'Ow far off +wos Samavia? Wos it in Roosha, or where the Frenchies were, or +the Germans? But wherever 'e wos, 'e'd be the right sort, an' +'e'd be the sort a chap'd turn and look at in the street.'' + +The Rat continued to bite his nails. + +``He might be anywhere,'' he said, his small fierce face glowing. + +``That's what I like to think about. He might be passing in the +street outside there; he might be up in one of those houses,'' +jerking his head over his shoulder toward the backs of the +inclosing dwellings. ``Perhaps he knows he's a king, and perhaps +he doesn't. He'd know if what you said yesterday was true--about +the king always being made ready for Samavia.'' + +``Yes, he'd know,'' put in Marco. + +``Well, it'd be finer if he did,'' went on The Rat. ``However +poor and shabby he was, he'd know the secret all the time. And +if people sneered at him, he'd sneer at them and laugh to +himself. I dare say he'd walk tremendously straight and hold his +head up. If I was him, I'd like to make people suspect a bit +that I wasn't like the common lot o' them.'' He put out his hand +and pushed Marco excitedly. ``Let's work out plots for him!'' he +said. ``That'd be a splendid game! Let's pretend we're the +Secret Party!'' + +He was tremendously excited. Out of the ragged pocket he fished +a piece of chalk. Then he leaned forward and began to draw +something quickly on the flagstones closest to his platform. The +Squad leaned forward also, quite breathlessly, and Marco leaned +forward. The chalk was sketching a roughly outlined map, and he +knew what map it was, before The Rat spoke. + +``That's a map of Samavia,'' he said. ``It was in that piece of +magazine I told you about--the one where I read about Prince +Ivor. I studied it until it fell to pieces. But I could draw it +myself by that time, so it didn't matter. I could draw it with +my eyes shut. That's the capital city,'' pointing to a spot. +``It's called Melzarr. The palace is there. It's the place +where the first of the Maranovitch killed the last of the +Fedorovitch--the bad chap that was Ivor's father. It's the +palace Ivor wandered out of singing the shepherds' song that +early morning. It's where the throne is that his descendant +would sit upon to be crowned--that he's GOING to sit upon. I +believe he is! Let's swear he shall!'' He flung down his piece +of chalk and sat up. ``Give me two sticks. Help me to get up.'' + +Two of the Squad sprang to their feet and came to him. Each +snatched one of the sticks from the stacked rifles, evidently +knowing what he wanted. Marco rose too, and watched with sudden, +keen curiosity. He had thought that The Rat could not stand up, +but it seemed that he could, in a fashion of his own, and he was +going to do it. The boys lifted him by his arms, set him against +the stone coping of the iron railings of the churchyard, and put +a stick in each of his hands. They stood at his side, but he +supported himself. + +`` 'E could get about if 'e 'ad the money to buy crutches!'' said +one whose name was Cad, and he said it quite proudly. The queer +thing that Marco had noticed was that the ragamuffins were proud +of The Rat, and regarded him as their lord and master. ``--'E +could get about an' stand as well as any one,'' added the other, +and he said it in the tone of one who boasts. His name was Ben. + +``I'm going to stand now, and so are the rest of you,'' said The +Rat. ``Squad! 'Tention! You at the head of the line,'' to +Marco. They were in line in a moment--straight, shoulders back, +chins up. And Marco stood at the head. + +``We're going to take an oath,'' said The Rat. ``It's an oath of +allegiance. Allegiance means faithfulness to a thing--a king or +a country. Ours means allegiance to the King of Samavia. We +don't know where he is, but we swear to be faithful to him, to +fight for him, to plot for him, to DIE for him, and to bring him +back to his throne!'' The way in which he flung up his head when +he said the word ``die'' was very fine indeed. ``We are the +Secret Party. We will work in the dark and find out things--and +run risks--and collect an army no one will know anything about +until it is strong enough to suddenly rise at a secret signal, +and overwhelm the Maranovitch and Iarovitch, and seize their +forts and citadels. No one even knows we are alive. We are a +silent, secret thing that never speaks aloud!'' + +Silent and secret as they were, however, they spoke aloud at this +juncture. It was such a grand idea for a game, and so full of +possible larks, that the Squad broke into a howl of an exultant +cheer. + +``Hooray!'' they yelled. ``Hooray for the oath of 'legiance! +'Ray! 'ray! 'ray!'' + +``Shut up, you swine!'' shouted The Rat. ``Is that the way you +keep yourself secret? You'll call the police in, you fools! +Look at HIM!'' pointing to Marco. ``He's got some sense.'' + +Marco, in fact, had not made any sound. + +``Come here, you Cad and Ben, and put me back on my wheels,'' +raged the Squad's commander. ``I'll not make up the game at all. + +It's no use with a lot of fat-head, raw recruits like you.'' + +The line broke and surrounded him in a moment, pleading and +urging. + +``Aw, Rat! We forgot. It's the primest game you've ever thought +out! Rat! Rat! Don't get a grouch on! We'll keep still, Rat! +Primest lark of all 'll be the sneakin' about an' keepin' quiet. +Aw, Rat! Keep it up!'' + +``Keep it up yourselves!'' snarled The Rat. + +``Not another cove of us could do it but you! Not one! There's +no other cove could think it out. You're the only chap that can +think out things. You thought out the Squad! That's why you're +captain!'' + +This was true. He was the one who could invent entertainment for +them, these street lads who had nothing. Out of that nothing he +could create what excited them, and give them something to fill +empty, useless, often cold or wet or foggy, hours. That made him +their captain and their pride. + +The Rat began to yield, though grudgingly. He pointed again to +Marco, who had not moved, but stood still at attention. + +``Look at HIM!'' he said. ``He knows enough to stand where he's +put until he's ordered to break line. He's a soldier, he is--not +a raw recruit that don't know the goose-step. He's been in +barracks before.'' + +But after this outburst, he deigned to go on. + +``Here's the oath,'' he said. ``We swear to stand any torture +and submit in silence to any death rather than betray our secret +and our king. We will obey in silence and in secret. We will +swim through seas of blood and fight our way through lakes of +fire, if we are ordered. Nothing shall bar our way. All we do +and say and think is for our country and our king. If any of you +have anything to say, speak out before you take the oath.'' + +He saw Marco move a little, and he made a sign to him. + +``You,'' he said. ``Have you something to say?'' + +Marco turned to him and saluted. + +``Here stand ten men for Samavia. God be thanked!'' he said. He +dared say that much, and he felt as if his father himself would +have told him that they were the right words. + +The Rat thought they were. Somehow he felt that they struck +home. He reddened with a sudden emotion. + +``Squad!'' he said. ``I'll let you give three cheers on that. +It's for the last time. We'll begin to be quiet afterward.'' + +And to the Squad's exultant relief he led the cheer, and they +were allowed to make as much uproar as they liked. They liked to +make a great deal, and when it was at an end, it had done them +good and made them ready for business. + +The Rat opened the drama at once. Never surely had there ever +before been heard a conspirator's whisper as hollow as his. + +``Secret Ones,'' he said, ``it is midnight. We meet in the +depths of darkness. We dare not meet by day. When we meet in +the daytime, we pretend not to know each other. We are meeting +now in a Samavian city where there is a fortress. We shall have +to take it when the secret sign is given and we make our rising. +We are getting everything ready, so that, when we find the king, +the secret sign can be given.'' + +``What is the name of the city we are in?'' whispered Cad. + +``It is called Larrina. It is an important seaport. We must +take it as soon as we rise. The next time we meet I will bring a +dark lantern and draw a map and show it to you.'' + +It would have been a great advantage to the game if Marco could +have drawn for them the map he could have made, a map which would +have shown every fortress--every stronghold and every weak place. +Being a boy, he knew what excitement would have thrilled each +breast, how they would lean forward and pile question on +question, pointing to this place and to that. He had learned to +draw the map before he was ten, and he had drawn it again and +again because there had been times when his father had told him +that changes had taken place. Oh, yes! he could have drawn a map +which would have moved them to a frenzy of joy. But he sat +silent and listened, only speaking when he asked a question, as +if he knew nothing more about Samavia than The Rat did. What a +Secret Party they were! They drew themselves together in the +closest of circles; they spoke in unearthly whispers. + +``A sentinel ought to be posted at the end of the passage,'' +Marco whispered. + +``Ben, take your gun!'' commanded The Rat. + +Ben rose stealthily, and, shouldering his weapon, crept on tiptoe +to the opening. There he stood on guard. + +``My father says there's been a Secret Party in Samavia for a +hundred years,'' The Rat whispered. + +``Who told him?'' asked Marco. + +``A man who has been in Samavia,'' answered The Rat. ``He said +it was the most wonderful Secret Party in the world, because it +has worked and waited so long, and never given up, though it has +had no reason for hoping. It began among some shepherds and +charcoal-burners who bound themselves by an oath to find the Lost +Prince and bring him back to the throne. There were too few of +them to do anything against the Maranovitch, and when the first +lot found they were growing old, they made their sons take the +same oath. It has been passed on from generation to generation, +and in each generation the band has grown. No one really knows +how large it is now, but they say that there are people in nearly +all the countries in Europe who belong to it in dead secret, and +are sworn to help it when they are called. They are only +waiting. Some are rich people who will give money, and some are +poor ones who will slip across the frontier to fight or to help +to smuggle in arms. They even say that for all these years there +have been arms made in caves in the mountains, and hidden there +year after year. There are men who are called Forgers of the +Sword, and they, and their fathers, and grandfathers, and +great-grandfathers have always made swords and stored them in +caverns no one knows of, hidden caverns underground.'' + +Marco spoke aloud the thought which had come into his mind as he +listened, a thought which brought fear to him. ``If the people +in the streets talk about it, they won't be hidden long.'' + +``It isn't common talk, my father says. Only very few have +guessed, and most of them think it is part of the Lost Prince +legend,'' said The Rat. ``The Maranovitch and Iarovitch laugh at +it. They have always been great fools. They're too full of +their own swagger to think anything can interfere with them.'' + +``Do you talk much to your father?'' Marco asked him. + +The Rat showed his sharp white teeth in a grin. + +``I know what you're thinking of,'' he said. ``You're +remembering that I said he was always drunk. So he is, except +when he's only HALF drunk. And when he's HALF drunk, he's the +most splendid talker in London. He remembers everything he has +ever learned or read or heard since he was born. I get him going +and listen. He wants to talk and I want to hear. I found out +almost everything I know in that way. He didn't know he was +teaching me, but he was. He goes back into being a gentleman +when he's half drunk.'' + +``If--if you care about the Samavians, you'd better ask him not +to tell people about the Secret Party and the Forgers of the +Sword,'' suggested Marco. + +The Rat started a little. + +``That's true!'' he said. ``You're sharper than I am. It +oughtn't to be blabbed about, or the Maranovitch might hear +enough to make them stop and listen. I'll get him to promise. +There's one queer thing about him,'' he added very slowly, as if +he were thinking it over, ``I suppose it's part of the gentleman +that's left in him. If he makes a promise, he never breaks it, +drunk or sober.'' + +``Ask him to make one,'' said Marco. The next moment he changed +the subject because it seemed the best thing to do. ``Go on and +tell us what our own Secret Party is to do. We're forgetting,'' +he whispered. + +The Rat took up his game with renewed keenness. It was a game +which attracted him immensely because it called upon his +imagination and held his audience spellbound, besides plunging +him into war and strategy. + +``We're preparing for the rising,'' he said. ``It must come +soon. We've waited so long. The caverns are stacked with arms. +The Maranovitch and the Iarovitch are fighting and using all +their soldiers, and now is our time.'' He stopped and thought, +his elbows on his knees. He began to bite his nails again. + +``The Secret Signal must be given,'' he said. Then he stopped +again, and the Squad held its breath and pressed nearer with a +softly shuffling sound. ``Two of the Secret Ones must be chosen +by lot and sent forth,'' he went on; and the Squad almost brought +ruin and disgrace upon itself by wanting to cheer again, and only +just stopping itself in time. ``Must be chosen BY LOT,'' The Rat +repeated, looking from one face to another. ``Each one will take +his life in his hand when he goes forth. He may have to die a +thousand deaths, but he must go. He must steal in silence and +disguise from one country to another. Wherever there is one of +the Secret Party, whether he is in a hovel or on a throne, the +messengers must go to him in darkness and stealth and give him +the sign. It will mean, `The hour has come. God save Samavia!' +'' + +``God save Samavia!'' whispered the Squad, excitedly. And, +because they saw Marco raise his hand to his forehead, every one +of them saluted. + +They all began to whisper at once. + +``Let's draw lots now. Let's draw lots, Rat. Don't let's 'ave +no waitin'.'' + +The Rat began to look about him with dread anxiety. He seemed to +be examining the sky. + +``The darkness is not as thick as it was,'' he whispered. +``Midnight has passed. The dawn of day will be upon us. If any +one has a piece of paper or a string, we will draw the lots +before we part.'' + +Cad had a piece of string, and Marco had a knife which could be +used to cut it into lengths. This The Rat did himself. Then, +after shutting his eyes and mixing them, he held them in his hand +ready for the drawing. + +``The Secret One who draws the longest lot is chosen. The Secret +One who draws the shortest is chosen,'' he said solemnly. + +The drawing was as solemn as his tone. Each boy wanted to draw +either the shortest lot or the longest one. The heart of each +thumped somewhat as he drew his piece of string. + +When the drawing was at an end, each showed his lot. The Rat had +drawn the shortest piece of string, and Marco had drawn the +longest one. + +``Comrade!'' said The Rat, taking his hand. ``We will face death +and danger together!'' + +``God save Samavia!'' answered Marco. + +And the game was at an end for the day. The primest thing, the +Squad said, The Rat had ever made up for them. `` 'E wos a +wonder, he wos!'' + + + +VII + +``THE LAMP IS LIGHTED!'' + +On his way home, Marco thought of nothing but the story he must +tell his father, the story the stranger who had been to Samavia +had told The Rat's father. He felt that it must be a true story +and not merely an invention. The Forgers of the Sword must be +real men, and the hidden subterranean caverns stacked through the +centuries with arms must be real, too. And if they were real, +surely his father was one of those who knew the secret. His +thoughts ran very fast. The Rat's boyish invention of the rising +was only part of a game, but how natural it would be that +sometime--perhaps before long--there would be a real rising! +Surely there would be one if the Secret Party had grown so +strong, and if many weapons and secret friends in other +countries were ready and waiting. During all these years, hidden +work and preparation would have been going on continually, even +though it was preparation for an unknown day. A party which had +lasted so long--which passed its oath on from generation to +generation--must be of a deadly determination. + +What might it not have made ready in its caverns and secret +meeting- places! He longed to reach home and tell his father, at +once, all he had heard. He recalled to mind, word for word, all +that The Rat had been told, and even all he had added in his +game, because-- well, because that seemed so real too, so real +that it actually might be useful. + +But when he reached No. 7 Philibert Place, he found Loristan and +Lazarus very much absorbed in work. The door of the back +sitting-room was locked when he first knocked on it, and locked +again as soon as he had entered. There were many papers on the +table, and they were evidently studying them. Several of them +were maps. Some were road maps, some maps of towns and cities, +and some of fortifications; but they were all maps of places in +Samavia. They were usually kept in a strong box, and when they +were taken out to be studied, the door was always kept locked. + +Before they had their evening meal, these were all returned to +the strong box, which was pushed into a corner and had newspapers +piled upon it. + +``When he arrives,'' Marco heard Loristan say to Lazarus, ``we +can show him clearly what has been planned. He can see for +himself.'' + +His father spoke scarcely at all during the meal, and, though it +was not the habit of Lazarus to speak at such times unless spoken +to, this evening it seemed to Marco that he LOOKED more silent +than he had ever seen him look before. They were plainly both +thinking anxiously of deeply serious things. The story of the +stranger who had been to Samavia must not be told yet. But it +was one which would keep. + +Loristan did not say anything until Lazarus had removed the +things from the table and made the room as neat as possible. +While that was being done, he sat with his forehead resting on +his hand, as if absorbed in thought. Then he made a gesture to +Marco. + +``Come here, Comrade,'' he said. + +Marco went to him. + +``To-night some one may come to talk with me about grave +things,'' he said. ``I think he will come, but I cannot be quite +sure. It is important that he should know that, when he comes, +he will find me quite alone. He will come at a late hour, and +Lazarus will open the door quietly that no one may hear. It is +important that no one should see him. Some one must go and walk +on the opposite side of the street until he appears. Then the +one who goes to give warning must cross the pavement before him +and say in a low voice, `The Lamp is lighted!' and at once turn +quietly away.'' + +What boy's heart would not have leaped with joy at the mystery of +it! Even a common and dull boy who knew nothing of Samavia would +have felt jerky. Marco's voice almost shook with the thrill of +his feeling. + +``How shall I know him?'' he said at once. Without asking at +all, he knew he was the ``some one'' who was to go. + +``You have seen him before,'' Loristan answered. ``He is the man +who drove in the carriage with the King.'' + +``I shall know him,'' said Marco. ``When shall I go?'' + +``Not until it is half-past one o'clock. Go to bed and sleep +until Lazarus calls you.'' Then he added, ``Look well at his +face before you speak. He will probably not be dressed as well +as he was when you saw him first.'' + +Marco went up-stairs to his room and went to bed as he was told, +but it was hard to go to sleep. The rattle and roaring of the +road did not usually keep him awake, because he had lived in the +poorer quarter of too many big capital cities not to be +accustomed to noise. But to-night it seemed to him that, as he +lay and looked out at the lamplight, he heard every bus and cab +which went past. He could not help thinking of the people who +were in them, and on top of them, and of the people who were +hurrying along on the pavement outside the broken iron railings. +He was wondering what they would think if they knew that things +connected with the battles they read of in the daily papers were +going on in one of the shabby houses they scarcely gave a glance +to as they went by them. It must be something connected with the +war, if a man who was a great diplomat and the companion of kings +came in secret to talk alone with a patriot who was a Samavian. +Whatever his father was doing was for the good of Samavia, and +perhaps the Secret Party knew he was doing it. His heart almost +beat aloud under his shirt as he lay on the lumpy mattress +thinking it over. He must indeed look well at the stranger +before he even moved toward him. He must be sure he was the +right man. The game he had amused himself with so long--the game +of trying to remember pictures and people and places clearly and +in detail--had been a wonderful training. If he could draw, he +knew he could have made a sketch of the keen-eyed, clever, +aquiline face with the well-cut and delicately close mouth, which +looked as if it had been shut upon secrets always--always. If he +could draw, he found himself saying again. He COULD draw, though +perhaps only roughly. He had often amused himself by making +sketches of things he wanted to ask questions about. He had even +drawn people's faces in his untrained way, and his father had +said that he had a crude gift for catching a likeness. Perhaps +he could make a sketch of this face which would show his father +that he knew and would recognize it. + +He jumped out of bed and went to a table near the window. There +was paper and a pencil lying on it. A street lamp exactly +opposite threw into the room quite light enough for him to see +by. He half knelt by the table and began to draw. He worked for +about twenty minutes steadily, and he tore up two or three +unsatisfactory sketches. The poor drawing would not matter if he +could catch that subtle look which was not slyness but something +more dignified and important. It was not difficult to get the +marked, aristocratic outline of the features. A common-looking +man with less pronounced profile would have been less easy to +draw in one sense. He gave his mind wholly to the recalling of +every detail which had photographed itself on his memory through +its trained habit. Gradually he saw that the likeness was +becoming clearer. It was not long before it was clear enough to +be a striking one. Any one who knew the man would recognize it. +He got up, drawing a long and joyful breath. + +He did not put on his shoes, but crossed his room as noiselessly +as possible, and as noiselessly opened the door. He made no +ghost of a sound when he went down the stairs. The woman who +kept the lodging-house had gone to bed, and so had the other +lodgers and the maid of all work. All the lights were out except +the one he saw a glimmer of under the door of his father's room. +When he had been a mere baby, he had been taught to make a +special sign on the door when he wished to speak to Loristan. He +stood still outside the back sitting-room and made it now. It +was a low scratching sound--two scratches and a soft tap. +Lazarus opened the door and looked troubled. + +``It is not yet time, sir,'' he said very low. + +``I know,'' Marco answered. ``But I must show something to my +father.'' Lazarus let him in, and Loristan turned round from his +writing-table questioningly. + +Marco went forward and laid the sketch down before him. + +``Look at it,'' he said. ``I remember him well enough to draw +that. I thought of it all at once--that I could make a sort of +picture. Do you think it is like him?'' Loristan examined it +closely. + +``It is very like him,'' he answered. ``You have made me feel +entirely safe. Thanks, Comrade. It was a good idea.'' + +There was relief in the grip he gave the boy's hand, and Marco +turned away with an exultant feeling. Just as he reached the +door, Loristan said to him: + +``Make the most of this gift. It is a gift. And it is true your +mind has had good training. The more you draw, the better. Draw +everything you can.'' + +Neither the street lamps, nor the noises, nor his thoughts kept +Marco awake when he went back to bed. But before he settled +himself upon his pillow he gave himself certain orders. He had +both read, and heard Loristan say, that the mind can control the +body when people once find out that it can do so. He had tried +experiments himself, and had found out some curious things. One +was that if he told himself to remember a certain thing at a +certain time, he usually found that he DID remember it. +Something in his brain seemed to remind him. He had often tried +the experiment of telling himself to awaken at a particular hour, +and had awakened almost exactly at the moment by the clock. + +``I will sleep until one o'clock,'' he said as he shut his eyes. +``Then I will awaken and feel quite fresh. I shall not be sleepy +at all.'' + +He slept as soundly as a boy can sleep. And at one o'clock +exactly he awakened, and found the street lamp still throwing its +light through the window. He knew it was one o'clock, because +there was a cheap little round clock on the table, and he could +see the time. He was quite fresh and not at all sleepy. His +experiment had succeeded again. + +He got up and dressed. Then he went down-stairs as noiselessly +as before. He carried his shoes in his hands, as he meant to put +them on only when he reached the street. He made his sign at his +father's door, and it was Loristan who opened it. + +``Shall I go now?'' Marco asked. + +``Yes. Walk slowly to the other side of the street. Look in +every direction. We do not know where he will come from. After +you have given him the sign, then come in and go to bed again.'' + +Marco saluted as a soldier would have done on receiving an order. + +Then, without a second's delay, he passed noiselessly out of the +house. + +Loristan turned back into the room and stood silently in the +center of it. The long lines of his handsome body looked +particularly erect and stately, and his eyes were glowing as if +something deeply moved him. + +``There grows a man for Samavia,'' he said to Lazarus, who +watched him. ``God be thanked!'' + +Lazarus's voice was low and hoarse, and he saluted quite +reverently. + +``Your--sir!'' he said. ``God save the Prince!'' + +``Yes,'' Loristan answered, after a moment's hesitation,--``when +he is found.'' And he went back to his table smiling his +beautiful smile. + + +The wonder of silence in the deserted streets of a great city, +after midnight has hushed all the roar and tumult to rest, is an +almost unbelievable thing. The stillness in the depths of a +forest or on a mountain top is not so strange. A few hours ago, +the tumult was rushing past; in a few hours more, it will be +rushing past again. + +But now the street is a naked thing; a distant policeman's tramp +on the bare pavement has a hollow and almost fearsome sound. It +seemed especially so to Marco as he crossed the road. Had it +ever been so empty and deadly silent before? Was it so every +night? Perhaps it was, when he was fast asleep on his lumpy +mattress with the light from a street lamp streaming into the +room. He listened for the step of the policeman on night-watch, +because he did not wish to be seen. There was a jutting wall +where he could stand in the shadow while the man passed. A +policeman would stop to look questioningly at a boy who walked up +and down the pavement at half-past one in the morning. Marco +could wait until he had gone by, and then come out into the light +and look up and down the road and the cross streets. + +He heard his approaching footsteps in a few minutes, and was +safely in the shadows before he could be seen. When the +policeman passed, he came out and walked slowly down the road, +looking on each side, and now and then looking back. At first no +one was in sight. Then a late hansom-cab came tinkling along. +But the people in it were returning from some festivity, and were +laughing and talking, and noticed nothing but their own joking. +Then there was silence again, and for a long time, as it seemed +to Marco, no one was to be seen. It was not really so long as it +appeared, because he was anxious. Then a very early +vegetable-wagon on the way from the country to Covent Garden +Market came slowly lumbering by with its driver almost asleep on +his piles of potatoes and cabbages. After it had passed, there +was stillness and emptiness once more, until the policeman showed +himself again on his beat, and Marco slipped into the shadow of +the wall as he had done before. + +When he came out into the light, he had begun to hope that the +time would not seem long to his father. It had not really been +long, he told himself, it had only seemed so. But his father's +anxiousness would be greater than his own could be. Loristan +knew all that depended on the coming of this great man who sat +side by side with a king in his carriage and talked to him as if +he knew him well. + +``It might be something which all Samavia is waiting to know-- at +least all the Secret Party,'' Marco thought. ``The Secret Party +is Samavia,''--he started at the sound of footsteps. ``Some one +is coming!'' he said. ``It is a man.'' + +It was a man who was walking up the road on the same side of the +pavement as his own. Marco began to walk toward him quietly but +rather rapidly. He thought it might be best to appear as if he +were some boy sent on a midnight errand--perhaps to call a +doctor. Then, if it was a stranger he passed, no suspicion would +be aroused. Was this man as tall as the one who had driven with +the King? Yes, he was about the same height, but he was too far +away to be recognizable otherwise. He drew nearer, and Marco +noticed that he also seemed slightly to hasten his footsteps. +Marco went on. A little nearer, and he would be able to make +sure. Yes, now he was near enough. Yes, this man was the same +height and not unlike in figure, but he was much younger. He was +not the one who had been in the carriage with His Majesty. He +was not more than thirty years old. He began swinging his cane +and whistling a music-hall song softly as Marco passed him +without changing his pace. + +It was after the policeman had walked round his beat and +disappeared for the third time, that Marco heard footsteps +echoing at some distance down a cross street. After listening to +make sure that they were approaching instead of receding in +another direction, he placed himself at a point where he could +watch the length of the thoroughfare. Yes, some one was coming. +It was a man's figure again. He was able to place himself rather +in the shadow so that the person approaching would not see that +he was being watched. The solitary walker reached a recognizable +distance in about two minutes' time. He was dressed in an +ordinary shop-made suit of clothes which was rather shabby and +quite unnoticeable in its appearance. His common hat was worn so +that it rather shaded his face. But even before he had crossed +to Marco's side of the road, the boy had clearly recognized him. +It was the man who had driven with the King! + +Chance was with Marco. The man crossed at exactly the place +which made it easy for the boy to step lightly from behind him, +walk a few paces by his side, and then pass directly before him +across the pavement, glancing quietly up into his face as he said +in a low voice but distinctly, the words ``The Lamp is lighted,'' +and without pausing a second walk on his way down the road. He +did not slacken his pace or look back until he was some distance +away. Then he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the figure +had crossed the street and was inside the railings. It was all +right. His father would not be disappointed. The great man had +come. + +He walked for about ten minutes, and then went home and to bed. +But he was obliged to tell himself to go to sleep several times +before his eyes closed for the rest of the night. + + + +VIII + +AN EXCITING GAME + +Loristan referred only once during the next day to what had +happened. + +``You did your errand well. You were not hurried or nervous,'' +he said. ``The Prince was pleased with your calmness.'' + +No more was said. Marco knew that the quiet mention of the +stranger's title had been made merely as a designation. If it +was necessary to mention him again in the future, he could be +referred to as ``the Prince.'' In various Continental countries +there were many princes who were not royal or even serene +highnesses--who were merely princes as other nobles were dukes or +barons. Nothing special was revealed when a man was spoken of as +a prince. But though nothing was said on the subject of the +incident, it was plain that much work was being done by Loristan +and Lazarus. The sitting- room door was locked, and the maps and +documents, usually kept in the iron box, were being used. + +Marco went to the Tower of London and spent part of the day in +living again the stories which, centuries past, had been inclosed +within its massive and ancient stone walls. In this way, he had +throughout boyhood become intimate with people who to most boys +seemed only the unreal creatures who professed to be alive in +school- books of history. He had learned to know them as men and +women because he had stood in the palaces they had been born in +and had played in as children, had died in at the end. He had +seen the dungeons they had been imprisoned in, the blocks on +which they had laid their heads, the battlements on which they +had fought to defend their fortressed towers, the thrones they +had sat upon, the crowns they had worn, and the jeweled scepters +they had held. He had stood before their portraits and had gazed +curiously at their ``Robes of Investiture,'' sewn with tens of +thousands of seed-pearls. To look at a man's face and feel his +pictured eyes follow you as you move away from him, to see the +strangely splendid garments he once warmed with his living flesh, +is to realize that history is not a mere lesson in a school-book, +but is a relation of the life stories of men and women who saw +strange and splendid days, and sometimes suffered strange and +terrible things. + +There were only a few people who were being led about sight- +seeing. The man in the ancient Beef-eaters' costume, who was +their guide, was good-natured, and evidently fond of talking. He +was a big and stout man, with a large face and a small, merry +eye. He was rather like pictures of Henry the Eighth, himself, +which Marco remembered having seen. He was specially talkative +when he stood by the tablet that marks the spot where stood the +block on which Lady Jane Grey had laid her young head. One of +the sightseers who knew little of English history had asked some +questions about the reasons for her execution. + +``If her father-in-law, the Duke of Northumberland, had left that + +young couple alone--her and her husband, Lord Guildford Dudley +--they'd have kept their heads on. He was bound to make her a +queen, and Mary Tudor was bound to be queen herself. The duke +wasn't clever enough to manage a conspiracy and work up the +people. These Samavians we're reading about in the papers would +have done it better. And they're half-savages.'' + +``They had a big battle outside Melzarr yesterday,'' the +sight-seer standing next to Marco said to the young woman who was +his companion. ``Thousands of 'em killed. I saw it in big +letters on the boards as I rode on the top of the bus. They're +just slaughtering each other, that's what they're doing.'' + +The talkative Beef-eater heard him. + +``They can't even bury their dead fast enough,'' he said. +``There'll be some sort of plague breaking out and sweeping into +the countries nearest them. It'll end by spreading all over +Europe as it did in the Middle Ages. What the civilized +countries have got to do is to make them choose a decent king and +begin to behave themselves.'' + +``I'll tell my father that too,'' Marco thought. ``It shows that +everybody is thinking and talking of Samavia, and that even the +common people know it must have a real king. This must be THE +TIME!'' And what he meant was that this must be the time for +which the Secret Party had waited and worked so long--the time +for the Rising. But his father was out when he went back to +Philibert Place, and Lazarus looked more silent than ever as he +stood behind his chair and waited on him through his +insignificant meal. However plain and scant the food they had to +eat, it was always served with as much care and ceremony as if it +had been a banquet. + +``A man can eat dry bread and drink cold water as if he were a +gentleman,'' his father had said long ago. ``And it is easy to +form careless habits. Even if one is hungry enough to feel +ravenous, a man who has been well bred will not allow himself to +look so. A dog may, a man may not. Just as a dog may howl when +he is angry or in pain and a man may not.'' + +It was only one of the small parts of the training which had +quietly made the boy, even as a child, self-controlled and +courteous, had taught him ease and grace of boyish carriage, the +habit of holding his body well and his head erect, and had given +him a certain look of young distinction which, though it assumed +nothing, set him apart from boys of carelessly awkward bearing. + +``Is there a newspaper here which tells of the battle, Lazarus?'' +he asked, after he had left the table. + +``Yes, sir,'' was the answer. ``Your father said that you might +read it. It is a black tale!'' he added, as he handed him the +paper. + +It was a black tale. As he read, Marco felt as if he could +scarcely bear it. It was as if Samavia swam in blood, and as if +the other countries must stand aghast before such furious +cruelties. + +``Lazarus,'' he said, springing to his feet at last, his eyes +burning, ``something must stop it! There must be something +strong enough. + +The time has come. The time has come.'' And he walked up and +down the room because he was too excited to stand still. + +How Lazarus watched him! What a strong and glowing feeling there +was in his own restrained face! + +``Yes, sir. Surely the time has come,'' he answered. But that +was all he said, and he turned and went out of the shabby back +sitting- room at once. It was as if he felt it were wiser to go +before he lost power over himself and said more. + +Marco made his way to the meeting-place of the Squad, to which +The Rat had in the past given the name of the Barracks. The Rat +was sitting among his followers, and he had been reading the +morning paper to them, the one which contained the account of the +battle of Melzarr. The Squad had become the Secret Party, and +each member of it was thrilled with the spirit of dark plot and +adventure. They all whispered when they spoke. + +``This is not the Barracks now,'' The Rat said. ``It is a +subterranean cavern. Under the floor of it thousands of swords +and guns are buried, and it is piled to the roof with them. +There is only a small place left for us to sit and plot in. We +crawl in through a hole, and the hole is hidden by bushes.'' + +To the rest of the boys this was only an exciting game, but Marco +knew that to The Rat it was more. Though The Rat knew none of +the things he knew, he saw that the whole story seemed to him a +real + +thing. The struggles of Samavia, as he had heard and read of +them in the newspapers, had taken possession of him. His passion +for soldiering and warfare and his curiously mature brain had led +him into following every detail he could lay hold of. He had +listened to all he had heard with remarkable results. He +remembered things older people forgot after they had mentioned +them. He forgot nothing. He had drawn on the flagstones a map +of Samavia which Marco saw was actually correct, and he had made +a rough sketch of Melzarr and the battle which had had such +disastrous results. + +``The Maranovitch had possession of Melzarr,'' he explained with +feverish eagerness. ``And the Iarovitch attacked them from +here,'' pointing with his finger. ``That was a mistake. I +should have attacked them from a place where they would not have +been expecting it. They expected attack on their fortifications, +and they were ready to defend them. I believe the enemy could +have stolen up in the night and rushed in here,'' pointing again. +Marco thought he was right. The Rat had argued it all out, and +had studied Melzarr as he might have studied a puzzle or an +arithmetical problem. He was very clever, and as sharp as his +queer face looked. + +``I believe you would make a good general if you were grown up,'' +said Marco. ``I'd like to show your maps to my father and ask +him if he doesn't think your stratagem would have been a good +one.'' + +``Does he know much about Samavia?'' asked The Rat. + +``He has to read the newspapers because he writes things,'' Marco +answered. ``And every one is thinking about the war. No one can +help it.'' + +The Rat drew a dingy, folded paper out of his pocket and looked +it over with an air of reflection. + +``I'll make a clean one,'' he said. ``I'd like a grown-up man to +look at it and see if it's all right. My father was more than +half- drunk when I was drawing this, so I couldn't ask him +questions. He'll kill himself before long. He had a sort of fit +last night.'' + +``Tell us, Rat, wot you an' Marco'll 'ave ter do. Let's 'ear wot +you've made up,'' suggested Cad. He drew closer, and so did the +rest of the circle, hugging their knees with their arms. + +``This is what we shall have to do,'' began The Rat, in the +hollow whisper of a Secret Party. ``THE HOUR HAS COME. To all +the Secret Ones in Samavia, and to the friends of the Secret +Party in every country, the sign must be carried. It must be +carried by some one who could not be suspected. Who would +suspect two boys--and one of them a cripple? The best thing of +all for us is that I am a cripple. Who would suspect a cripple? +When my father is drunk and beats me, he does it because I won't +go out and beg in the streets and bring him the money I get. He +says that people will nearly always give money to a cripple. I +won't be a beggar for him--the swine-- but I will be one for +Samavia and the Lost Prince. Marco shall pretend to be my +brother and take care of me. I say,'' speaking to Marco with a +sudden change of voice, ``can you sing anything? It doesn't +matter how you do it.'' + +``Yes, I can sing,'' Marco replied. + +``Then Marco will pretend he is singing to make people give him +money. I'll get a pair of crutches somewhere, and part of the +time I will go on crutches and part of the time on my platform. +We'll live like beggars and go wherever we want to. I can whiz +past a man and give the sign and no one will know. Some times +Marco can give it when people are dropping money into his cap. +We can pass from one country to another and rouse everybody who +is of the Secret Party. We'll work our way into Samavia, and +we'll be only two boys--and one a cripple--and nobody will think +we could be doing anything. We'll beg in great cities and on the +highroad.'' + +``Where'll you get the money to travel?'' said Cad. + +``The Secret Party will give it to us, and we sha'n't need much. +We could beg enough, for that matter. We'll sleep under the +stars, or under bridges, or archways, or in dark corners of +streets. I've done it myself many a time when my father drove me +out of doors. If it's cold weather, it's bad enough but if it's +fine weather, it's better than sleeping in the kind of place I'm +used to. Comrade,'' to Marco, ``are you ready?'' + +He said ``Comrade'' as Loristan did, and somehow Marco did not +resent it, because he was ready to labor for Samavia. It was +only a game, but it made them comrades--and was it really only a +game, after all? His excited voice and his strange, lined face +made it singularly unlike one. + +``Yes, Comrade, I am ready,'' Marco answered him. + +``We shall be in Samavia when the fighting for the Lost Prince +begins.'' The Rat carried on his story with fire. ``We may see +a battle. We might do something to help. We might carry +messages under a rain of bullets--a rain of bullets!'' The +thought so elated him that he forgot his whisper and his voice +rang out fiercely. ``Boys have been in battles before. We might +find the Lost King--no, the Found King--and ask him to let us be +his servants. He could send us where he couldn't send bigger +people. I could say to him, `Your Majesty, I am called ``The +Rat,'' because I can creep through holes and into corners and +dart about. Order me into any danger and I will obey you. Let +me die like a soldier if I can't live like one.' '' + +Suddenly he threw his ragged coat sleeve up across his eyes. He +had wrought himself up tremendously with the picture of the rain +of bullets. And he felt as if he saw the King who had at last +been found. The next moment he uncovered his face. + +``That's what we've got to do,'' he said. ``Just that, if you +want to know. And a lot more. There's no end to it!'' + +Marco's thoughts were in a whirl. It ought not to be nothing but +a game. He grew quite hot all over. If the Secret Party wanted +to send messengers no one would think of suspecting, who could be +more harmless-looking than two vagabond boys wandering about +picking up their living as best they could, not seeming to belong +to any one? And one a cripple. It was true--yes, it was true, +as The Rat said, that his being a cripple made him look safer +than any one else. Marco actually put his forehead in his hands +and pressed his temples. + +``What's the matter?'' exclaimed The Rat. ``What are you +thinking about?'' + +``I'm thinking what a general you would make. I'm thinking that +it might all be real--every word of it. It mightn't be a game at +all,'' said Marco. + +``No, it mightn't,'' The Rat answered. ``If I knew where the +Secret Party was, I'd like to go and tell them about it. What's +that!'' he said, suddenly turning his head toward the street. +``What are they calling out?'' + +Some newsboy with a particularly shrill voice was shouting out +something at the topmost of his lungs. + +Tense and excited, no member of the circle stirred or spoke for a +few seconds. The Rat listened, Marco listened, the whole Squad +listened, pricking up their ears. + +``Startling news from Samavia,'' the newsboy was shrilling out. +``Amazing story! Descendant of the Lost Prince found! +Descendant of the Lost Prince found!'' + +``Any chap got a penny?'' snapped The Rat, beginning to shuffle +toward the arched passage. + +``I have!'' answered Marco, following him. + +``Come on!'' The Rat yelled. ``Let's go and get a paper!'' And +he whizzed down the passage with his swiftest rat-like dart, +while the Squad followed him, shouting and tumbling over each +other. + + + +IX + +``IT IS NOT A GAME'' + +Loristan walked slowly up and down the back sitting-room and +listened to Marco, who sat by the small fire and talked. + +``Go on,'' he said, whenever the boy stopped. ``I want to hear +it all. He's a strange lad, and it's a splendid game.'' + +Marco was telling him the story of his second and third visits to +the inclosure behind the deserted church-yard. He had begun at +the beginning, and his father had listened with a deep interest. + +A year later, Marco recalled this evening as a thrilling memory, +and as one which would never pass away from him throughout his +life. He would always be able to call it all back. The small +and dingy back room, the dimness of the one poor gas-burner, +which was all they could afford to light, the iron box pushed +into the corner with its maps and plans locked safely in it, the +erect bearing and actual beauty of the tall form, which the +shabbiness of worn and mended clothes could not hide or dim. Not +even rags and tatters could have made Loristan seem insignificant +or undistinguished. He was always the same. His eyes seemed +darker and more wonderful than ever in their remote +thoughtfulness and interest as he spoke. + +``Go on,'' he said. ``It is a splendid game. And it is curious. +He has thought it out well. The lad is a born soldier.'' + +``It is not a game to him,'' Marco said. ``And it is not a game +to me. The Squad is only playing, but with him it's quite +different. He knows he'll never really get what he wants, but he +feels as if this was something near it. He said I might show you +the map he made. Father, look at it.'' + +He gave Loristan the clean copy of The Rat's map of Samavia. The +city of Melzarr was marked with certain signs. They were to show +at what points The Rat--if he had been a Samavian general --would +have attacked the capital. As Marco pointed them out, he +explained The Rat's reasons for his planning. + +Loristan held the paper for some minutes. He fixed his eyes on +it curiously, and his black brows drew themselves together. + +``This is very wonderful!'' he said at last. ``He is quite +right. They might have got in there, and for the very reasons he +hit on. + +How did he learn all this?'' + +``He thinks of nothing else now,'' answered Marco. ``He has +always thought of wars and made plans for battles. He's not like +the rest of the Squad. His father is nearly always drunk, but he +is very well educated, and, when he is only half drunk, he likes +to talk. + +The Rat asks him questions then, and leads him on until he finds +out a great deal. Then he begs old newspapers, and he hides +himself in corners and listens to what people are saying. He +says he lies awake at night thinking it out, and he thinks about +it all the day. That was why he got up the Squad.'' + +Loristan had continued examining the paper. + +``Tell him,'' he said, when he refolded and handed it back, +``that I studied his map, and he may be proud of it. You may +also tell him--'' and he smiled quietly as he spoke--``that in my +opinion he is right. The Iarovitch would have held Melzarr +to-day if he had led them.'' + +Marco was full of exultation. + +``I thought you would say he was right. I felt sure you would. +That is what makes me want to tell you the rest,'' he hurried on. + +``If you think he is right about the rest too--'' He stopped +awkwardly because of a sudden wild thought which rushed upon him. +``I don't know what you will think,'' he stammered. ``Perhaps it +will seem to you as if the game--as if that part of it +could--could only be a game.'' + +He was so fervent in spite of his hesitation that Loristan began +to watch him with sympathetic respect, as he always did when the +boy was trying to express something he was not sure of. One of +the great bonds between them was that Loristan was always +interested in his boyish mental processes--in the way in which +his thoughts led him to any conclusion. + +``Go on,'' he said again. ``I am like The Rat and I am like you. + +It has not seemed quite like a game to me, so far.'' + +He sat down at the writing-table and Marco, in his eagerness, +drew nearer and leaned against it, resting on his arms and +lowering his voice, though it was always their habit to speak at +such a pitch that no one outside the room they were in could +distinguish what they said. + +``It is The Rat's plan for giving the signal for a Rising,'' he +said. + +Loristan made a slight movement. + +``Does he think there will be a Rising?'' he asked. + +``He says that must be what the Secret Party has been preparing +for all these years. And it must come soon. The other nations +see that the fighting must be put an end to even if they have to +stop it themselves. And if the real King is found--but when The +Rat bought the newspaper there was nothing in it about where he +was. + +It was only a sort of rumor. Nobody seemed to know anything.'' +He stopped a few seconds, but he did not utter the words which +were in his mind. He did not say: ``But YOU know.'' + +``And The Rat has a plan for giving the signal?'' Loristan said. + +Marco forgot his first feeling of hesitation. He began to see +the plan again as he had seen it when The Rat talked. He began +to speak as The Rat had spoken, forgetting that it was a game. +He made even a clearer picture than The Rat had made of the two +vagabond boys--one of them a cripple--making their way from one +place to another, quite free to carry messages or warnings where +they chose, because they were so insignificant and poor-looking +that no one could think of them as anything but waifs and strays, +belonging to nobody and blown about by the wind of poverty and +chance. He felt as if he wanted to convince his father that the +plan was a possible one. He did not quite know why he felt so +anxious to win his approval of the scheme--as if it were real--as +if it could actually be done. But this feeling was what inspired +him to enter into new details and suggest possibilities. + +``A boy who was a cripple and one who was only a street singer +and a sort of beggar could get almost anywhere,'' he said. +``Soldiers would listen to a singer if he sang good songs--and +they might not be afraid to talk before him. A strolling singer +and a cripple would perhaps hear a great many things it might be +useful for the Secret Party to know. They might even hear +important things. Don't you think so?'' + +Before he had gone far with his story, the faraway look had +fallen upon Loristan's face--the look Marco had known so well all +his life. He sat turned a little sidewise from the boy, his +elbow resting on the table and his forehead on his hand. He +looked down at the worn carpet at his feet, and so he looked as +he listened to the end. It was as if some new thought were +slowly growing in his mind as Marco went on talking and enlarging +on The Rat's plan. He did not even look up or change his +position as he answered, ``Yes. I think so.'' + +But, because of the deep and growing thought in his face, Marco's + +courage increased. His first fear that this part of the planning +might seem so bold and reckless that it would only appear to +belong to a boyish game, gradually faded away for some strange +reason. His father had said that the first part of The Rat's +imaginings had not seemed quite like a game to him, and now--even +now--he was not listening as if he were listening to the details +of mere exaggerated fancies. It was as if the thing he was +hearing was not wildly impossible. Marco's knowledge of +Continental countries and of methods of journeying helped him to +enter into much detail and give realism to his plans. + +``Sometimes we could pretend we knew nothing but English,'' he +said. ``Then, though The Rat could not understand, I could. I +should always understand in each country. I know the cities and +the places we should want to go to. I know how boys like us +live, and so we should not do anything which would make the +police angry or make people notice us. If any one asked +questions, I would let them believe that I had met The Rat by +chance, and we had made up our minds to travel together because +people gave more money to a boy who sang if he was with a +cripple. There was a boy who used to play the guitar in the +streets of Rome, and he always had a lame girl with him, and +every one knew it was for that reason. When he played, people +looked at the girl and were sorry for her and gave her soldi. +You remember.'' + +``Yes, I remember. And what you say is true,'' Loristan +answered. + +Marco leaned forward across the table so that he came closer to +him. The tone in which the words were said made his courage leap +like a flame. To be allowed to go on with this boldness was to +feel that he was being treated almost as if he were a man. If +his father had wished to stop him, he could have done it with one +quiet glance, without uttering a word. For some wonderful reason +he did not wish him to cease talking. He was willing to hear +what he had to say--he was even interested. + +``You are growing older,'' he had said the night he had revealed +the marvelous secret. ``Silence is still the order, but you are +man enough to be told more.'' + +Was he man enough to be thought worthy to help Samavia in any +small way--even with boyish fancies which might contain a germ of +some thought which older and wiser minds might make useful? Was +he being listened to because the plan, made as part of a game, +was not an impossible one--if two boys who could be trusted could +be found? He caught a deep breath as he went on, drawing still +nearer and speaking so low that his tone was almost a whisper. + +``If the men of the Secret Party have been working and thinking +for so many years--they have prepared everything. They know by +this time exactly what must be done by the messengers who are to +give the signal. They can tell them where to go and how to know +the secret friends who must be warned. If the orders could be +written and given to--to some one who has--who has learned to +remember things!'' He had begun to breathe so quickly that he +stopped for a moment. + +Loristan looked up. He looked directly into his eyes. + +``Some one who has been TRAINED to remember things?'' he said. + +``Some one who has been trained,'' Marco went on, catching his +breath again. ``Some one who does not forget--who would never +forget--never! That one, even if he were only twelve--even if he +were only ten--could go and do as he was told.'' Loristan put +his hand on his shoulder. + +``Comrade,'' he said, ``you are speaking as if you were ready to +go yourself.'' + +Marco's eyes looked bravely straight into his, but he said not +one word. + +``Do you know what it would mean, Comrade?'' his father went on. +``You are right. It is not a game. And you are not thinking of +it as one. But have you thought how it would be if something +betrayed you--and you were set up against a wall to be SHOT?'' + +Marco stood up quite straight. He tried to believe he felt the +wall against his back. + +``If I were shot, I should be shot for Samavia,'' he said. ``And +for YOU, Father.'' + +Even as he was speaking, the front door-bell rang and Lazarus +evidently opened it. He spoke to some one, and then they heard +his footsteps approaching the back sitting-room. + +``Open the door,'' said Loristan, and Marco opened it. + +``There is a boy who is a cripple here, sir,'' the old soldier +said. ``He asked to see Master Marco.'' + +``If it is The Rat,'' said Loristan, ``bring him in here. I wish +to see him.'' + +Marco went down the passage to the front door. The Rat was +there, but he was not upon his platform. He was leaning upon an +old pair of crutches, and Marco thought he looked wild and +strange. He was white, and somehow the lines of his face seemed +twisted in a new way. Marco wondered if something had frightened +him, or if he felt ill. + +``Rat,'' he began, ``my father--'' + +``I've come to tell you about MY father,'' The Rat broke in +without waiting to hear the rest, and his voice was as strange as +his pale face. ``I don't know why I've come, but I--I just +wanted to. He's dead!'' + +``Your father?'' Marco stammered. ``He's--'' + +``He's dead,'' The Rat answered shakily. ``I told you he'd kill +himself. He had another fit and he died in it. I knew he would, +one of these days. I told him so. He knew he would himself. I +stayed with him till he was dead--and then I got a bursting +headache and I felt sick--and I thought about you.'' + +Marco made a jump at him because he saw he was suddenly shaking +as if he were going to fall. He was just in time, and Lazarus, +who had been looking on from the back of the passage, came +forward. Together they held him up. + +``I'm not going to faint,'' he said weakly, ``but I felt as if I +was. It was a bad fit, and I had to try and hold him. I was all +by myself. The people in the other attic thought he was only +drunk, and they wouldn't come in. He's lying on the floor there, +dead.'' + +``Come and see my father,'' Marco said. ``He'll tell us what do +do. Lazarus, help him.'' + +``I can get on by myself,'' said The Rat. ``Do you see my +crutches? I did something for a pawnbroker last night, and he +gave them to me for pay.'' + +But though he tried to speak carelessly, he had plainly been +horribly shaken and overwrought. His queer face was yellowish +white still, and he was trembling a little. + +Marco led the way into the back sitting-room. In the midst of +its shabby gloom and under the dim light Loristan was standing in +one of his still, attentive attitudes. He was waiting for them. + +``Father, this is The Rat,'' the boy began. The Rat stopped +short and rested on his crutches, staring at the tall, reposeful +figure with widened eyes. + +``Is that your father?'' he said to Marco. And then added, with +a jerky half-laugh, ``He's not much like mine, is he?'' + + + +X + +THE RAT-- AND SAMAVIA + +What The Rat thought when Loristan began to speak to him, Marco +wondered. Suddenly he stood in an unknown world, and it was +Loristan who made it so because its poverty and shabbiness had no +power to touch him. He looked at the boy with calm and clear +eyes, he asked him practical questions gently, and it was plain +that he understood many things without asking questions at all. +Marco thought that perhaps he had, at some time, seen drunken men +die, in his life in strange places. He seemed to know the +terribleness of the night through which The Rat had passed. He +made him sit down, and he ordered Lazarus to bring him some hot +coffee and simple food. + +``Haven't had a bite since yesterday,'' The Rat said, still +staring at him. ``How did you know I hadn't?'' + +``You have not had time,'' Loristan answered. + +Afterward he made him lie down on the sofa. + +``Look at my clothes,'' said The Rat. + +``Lie down and sleep,'' Loristan replied, putting his hand on his +shoulder and gently forcing him toward the sofa. ``You will +sleep a long time. You must tell me how to find the place where +your father died, and I will see that the proper authorities are +notified.'' + +``What are you doing it for?'' The Rat asked, and then he added, +``sir.'' + +``Because I am a man and you are a boy. And this is a terrible +thing,'' Loristan answered him. + +He went away without saying more, and The Rat lay on the sofa +staring at the wall and thinking about it until he fell asleep. +But, before this happened, Marco had quietly left him alone. So, +as Loristan had told him he would, he slept deeply and long; in +fact, he slept through all the night. + + +When he awakened it was morning, and Lazarus was standing by the +side of the sofa looking down at him. + +``You will want to make yourself clean,'' he said. ``It must be +done.'' + +``Clean!'' said The Rat, with his squeaky laugh. ``I couldn't +keep clean when I had a room to live in, and now where am I to +wash myself?'' He sat up and looked about him. + +``Give me my crutches,'' he said. ``I've got to go. They've let +me sleep here all night. They didn't turn me into the street. I +don't know why they didn't. Marco's father--he's the right sort. +He looks like a swell.'' + +``The Master,'' said Lazarus, with a rigid manner, ``the Master +is a great gentleman. He would turn no tired creature into the +street. He and his son are poor, but they are of those who give. +He desires to see and talk to you again. You are to have bread +and coffee with him and the young Master. But it is I who tell +you that you cannot sit at table with them until you are clean. +Come with me,'' and he handed him his crutches. His manner was +authoritative, but it was the manner of a soldier; his somewhat +stiff and erect movements were those of a soldier, also, and The +Rat liked them because they made him feel as if he were in +barracks. He did not know what was going to happen, but he got +up and followed him on his crutches. + +Lazarus took him to a closet under the stairs where a battered +tin bath was already full of hot water, which the old soldier +himself had brought in pails. There were soap and coarse, clean +towels on a wooden chair, and also there was a much worn but +cleanly suit of clothes. + +``Put these on when you have bathed,'' Lazarus ordered, pointing +to them. ``They belong to the young Master and will be large for +you, but they will be better than your own.'' And then he went +out of the closet and shut the door. + +It was a new experience for The Rat. So long as he remembered, +he had washed his face and hands--when he had washed them at +all--at an iron tap set in the wall of a back street or court in +some slum. His father and himself had long ago sunk into the +world where to wash one's self is not a part of every-day life. +They had lived amid dirt and foulness, and when his father had +been in a maudlin state, he had sometimes cried and talked of the +long-past days when he had shaved every morning and put on a +clean shirt. + +To stand even in the most battered of tin baths full of clean hot +water and to splash and scrub with a big piece of flannel and +plenty of soap was a marvelous thing. The Rat's tired body +responded to the novelty with a curious feeling of freshness and +comfort. + +``I dare say swells do this every day,'' he muttered. ``I'd do +it myself if I was a swell. Soldiers have to keep themselves so +clean they shine.'' + +When, after making the most of his soap and water, he came out of +the closet under the stairs, he was as fresh as Marco himself; +and, though his clothes had been built for a more stalwart body, +his recognition of their cleanliness filled him with pleasure. +He wondered if by any effort he could keep himself clean when he +went out into the world again and had to sleep in any hole the +police did not order him out of. + +He wanted to see Marco again, but he wanted more to see the tall +man with the soft dark eyes and that queer look of being a swell +in spite of his shabby clothes and the dingy place he lived in. +There was something about him which made you keep on looking at +him, and wanting to know what he was thinking of, and why you +felt as if you'd take orders from him as you'd take orders from +your general, if you were a soldier. He looked, somehow, like a +soldier, but as if he were something more--as if people had taken +orders from him all his life, and always would take orders from +him. And yet he had that quiet voice and those fine, easy +movements, and he was not a soldier at all, but only a poor man +who wrote things for papers which did not pay him well enough to +give him and his son a comfortable living. Through all the time +of his seclusion with the battered bath and the soap and water, +The Rat thought of him, and longed to have another look at him +and hear him speak again. He did not see any reason why he +should have let him sleep on his sofa or why he should give him a +breakfast before he turned him out to face the world. It was +first-rate of him to do it. The Rat felt that when he was turned +out, after he had had the coffee, he should want to hang about +the neighborhood just on the chance of seeing him pass by +sometimes. He did not know what he was going to do. The parish +officials would by this time have taken his dead father, and he +would not see him again. He did not want to see him again. He +had never seemed like a father. They had never cared anything +for each other. He had only been a wretched outcast whose best +hours had been when he had drunk too much to be violent and +brutal. Perhaps, The Rat thought, he would be driven to going +about on his platform on the pavements and begging, as his father +had tried to force him to do. Could he sell newspapers? What +could a crippled lad do unless he begged or sold papers? + +Lazarus was waiting for him in the passage. The Rat held back a +little. + +``Perhaps they'd rather not eat their breakfast with me,'' he +hesitated. ``I'm not--I'm not the kind they are. I could +swallow the coffee out here and carry the bread away with me. +And you could thank him for me. I'd want him to know I thanked +him.'' + +Lazarus also had a steady eye. The Rat realized that he was +looking him over as if he were summing him up. + +``You may not be the kind they are, but you may be of a kind the +Master sees good in. If he did not see something, he would not +ask you to sit at his table. You are to come with me.'' + +The Squad had seen good in The Rat, but no one else had. +Policemen had moved him on whenever they set eyes on him, the +wretched women of the slums had regarded him as they regarded his +darting, thieving namesake; loafing or busy men had seen in him a +young nuisance to be kicked or pushed out of the way. The Squad +had not called ``good'' what they saw in him. They would have +yelled with laughter if they had heard any one else call it so. +``Goodness'' was not considered an attraction in their world. + +The Rat grinned a little and wondered what was meant, as he +followed Lazarus into the back sitting-room. + +It was as dingy and gloomy as it had looked the night before, but +by the daylight The Rat saw how rigidly neat it was, how well +swept and free from any speck of dust, how the poor windows had +been cleaned and polished, and how everything was set in order. +The coarse linen cloth on the table was fresh and spotless, so +was the cheap crockery, the spoons shone with brightness. + +Loristan was standing on the hearth and Marco was near him. They +were waiting for their vagabond guest as if he had been a +gentleman. + +The Rat hesitated and shuffled at the door for a moment, and then +it suddenly occurred to him to stand as straight as he could and +salute. When he found himself in the presence of Loristan, he +felt as if he ought to do something, but he did not know what. + +Loristan's recognition of his gesture and his expression as he +moved forward lifted from The Rat's shoulders a load which he +himself had not known lay there. Somehow he felt as if something +new had happened to him, as if he were not mere ``vermin,'' after +all, as if he need not be on the defensive--even as if he need +not feel so much in the dark, and like a thing there was no place +in the world for. The mere straight and far-seeing look of this +man's eyes seemed to make a place somewhere for what he looked +at. And yet what he said was quite simple. + +``This is well,'' he said. ``You have rested. We will have some +food, and then we will talk together.'' He made a slight gesture +in the direction of the chair at the right hand of his own place. + +The Rat hesitated again. What a swell he was! With that wave of +the hand he made you feel as if you were a fellow like himself, +and he was doing you some honor. + +``I'm not--'' The Rat broke off and jerked his head toward +Marco. ``He knows--'' he ended, ``I've never sat at a table like +this before.'' + +``There is not much on it.'' Loristan made the slight gesture +toward the right-hand seat again and smiled. ``Let us sit +down.'' + +The Rat obeyed him and the meal began. There were only bread and +coffee and a little butter before them. But Lazarus presented +the cups and plates on a small japanned tray as if it were a +golden salver. When he was not serving, he stood upright behind +his master's chair, as though he wore royal livery of scarlet and +gold. To the boy who had gnawed a bone or munched a crust +wheresoever he found them, and with no thought but of the +appeasing of his own wolfish hunger, to watch the two with whom +he sat eat their simple food was a new thing. He knew nothing of +the every-day decencies of civilized people. The Rat liked to +look at them, and he found himself trying to hold his cup as +Loristan did, and to sit and move as Marco was sitting and +moving--taking his bread or butter, when it was held at his side +by Lazarus, as if it were a simple thing to be waited upon. +Marco had had things handed to him all his life, and it did not +make him feel awkward. The Rat knew that his own father had once +lived like this. He himself would have been at ease if chance +had treated him fairly. It made him scowl to think of it. But +in a few minutes Loristan began to talk about the copy of the map +of Samavia. Then The Rat forgot everything else and was ill at +ease no more. He did not know that Loristan was leading him on +to explain his theories about the country and the people and the +war. He found himself telling all that he had read, or +overheard, or THOUGHT as he lay awake in his garret. He had +thought out a great many things in a way not at all like a boy's. +His strangely concentrated and over-mature mind had been full of +military schemes which Loristan listened to with curiosity and +also with amazement. He had become extraordinarily clever in one +direction because he had fixed all his mental powers on one +thing. It seemed scarcely natural that an untaught vagabond lad +should know so much and reason so clearly. It was at least +extraordinarily interesting. There had been no skirmish, no +attack, no battle which he had not led and fought in his own +imagination, and he had made scores of rough queer plans of all +that had been or should have been done. Lazarus listened as +attentively as his master, and once Marco saw him exchange a +startled, rapid glance with Loristan. It was at a moment when +The Rat was sketching with his finger on the cloth an attack +which OUGHT to have been made but was not. And Marco knew at +once that the quickly exchanged look meant ``He is right! If it +had been done, there would have been victory instead of +disaster!'' + +It was a wonderful meal, though it was only of bread and coffee. +The Rat knew he should never be able to forget it. + +Afterward, Loristan told him of what he had done the night +before. He had seen the parish authorities and all had been done +which a city government provides in the case of a pauper's death. + +His father would be buried in the usual manner. ``We will follow +him,'' Loristan said in the end. ``You and I and Marco and +Lazarus.'' + +The Rat's mouth fell open. + +``You--and Marco--and Lazarus!'' he exclaimed, staring. ``And +me! Why should any of us go? I don't want to. He wouldn't have +followed me if I'd been the one.'' + +Loristan remained silent for a few moments. + +``When a life has counted for nothing, the end of it is a lonely +thing,'' he said at last. ``If it has forgotten all respect for +itself, pity is all that one has left to give. One would like to +give SOMETHING to anything so lonely.'' He said the last brief +sentence after a pause. + +``Let us go,'' Marco said suddenly; and he caught The Rat's hand. + +The Rat's own movement was sudden. He slipped from his crutches +to a chair, and sat and gazed at the worn carpet as if he were +not looking at it at all, but at something a long way off. After +a while he looked up at Loristan. + +``Do you know what I thought of, all at once?'' he said in a +shaky voice. ``I thought of that `Lost Prince' one. He only +lived once. Perhaps he didn't live a long time. Nobody knows. +But it's five hundred years ago, and, just because he was the +kind he was, every one that remembers him thinks of something +fine. It's queer, but it does you good just to hear his name. +And if he has been training kings for Samavia all these +centuries--they may have been poor and nobody may have known +about them, but they've been KINGS. That's what HE did--just by +being alive a few years. When I think of him and then think +of--the other--there's such an awful difference that --yes--I'm +sorry. For the first time. I'm his son and I can't care about +him; but he's too lonely--I want to go.'' + + +So it was that when the forlorn derelict was carried to the +graveyard where nameless burdens on the city were given to the +earth, a curious funeral procession followed him. There were two +tall and soldierly looking men and two boys, one of whom walked +on crutches, and behind them were ten other boys who walked two +by two. These ten were a queer, ragged lot; but they had +respectfully sober faces, held their heads and their shoulders +well, and walked with a remarkably regular marching step. + +It was the Squad; but they had left their ``rifles'' at home. + + + +XI + +``COME WITH ME'' + +When they came back from the graveyard, The Rat was silent all +the way. He was thinking of what had happened and of what lay +before him. He was, in fact, thinking chiefly that nothing lay +before him--nothing. The certainty of that gave his sharp, lined +face new lines and sharpness which made it look pinched and hard. + +He had nothing before but a corner in a bare garret in which he +could find little more than a leaking roof over his head--when he +was not turned out into the street. But, if policemen asked him +where he lived, he could say he lived in Bone Court with his +father. Now he couldn't say it. + +He got along very well on his crutches, but he was rather tired +when they reached the turn in the street which led in the +direction of his old haunts. At any rate, they were haunts he +knew, and he belonged to them more than he belonged elsewhere. +The Squad stopped at this particular corner because it led to +such homes as they possessed. They stopped in a body and looked +at The Rat, and The Rat stopped also. He swung himself to +Loristan's side, touching his hand to his forehead. + +``Thank you, sir,'' he said. ``Line and salute, you chaps!'' And +the Squad stood in line and raised their hands also. ``Thank +you, sir. Thank you, Marco. Good-by.'' + +``Where are you going?'' Loristan asked. + +``I don't know yet,'' The Rat answered, biting his lips. + +He and Loristan looked at each other a few moments in silence. +Both of them were thinking very hard. In The Rat's eyes there +was a kind of desperate adoration. He did not know what he +should do when this man turned and walked away from him. It +would be as if the sun itself had dropped out of the heavens--and +The Rat had not thought of what the sun meant before. + +But Loristan did not turn and walk away. He looked deep into the +lad's eyes as if he were searching to find some certainty. Then +he said in a low voice, ``You know how poor I am.'' + +``I--I don't care!'' said The Rat. ``You--you're like a king to +me. I'd stand up and be shot to bits if you told me to do it.'' + +``I am so poor that I am not sure I can give you enough dry bread +to eat--always. Marco and Lazarus and I are often hungry. +Sometimes you might have nothing to sleep on but the floor. But +I can find a PLACE for you if I take you with me,'' said +Loristan. ``Do you know what I mean by a PLACE?'' + +``Yes, I do,'' answered The Rat. ``It's what I've never had +before --sir.'' + +What he knew was that it meant some bit of space, out of all the +world, where he would have a sort of right to stand, howsoever +poor and bare it might be. + +``I'm not used to beds or to food enough,'' he said. But he did +not dare to insist too much on that ``place.'' It seemed too +great a thing to be true. + +Loristan took his arm. + +``Come with me,'' he said. ``We won't part. I believe you are +to be trusted.'' + +The Rat turned quite white in a sort of anguish of joy. He had +never cared for any one in his life. He had been a sort of young +Cain, his hand against every man and every man's hand against +him. And during the last twelve hours he had plunged into a +tumultuous ocean of boyish hero-worship. This man seemed like a +sort of god to him. What he had said and done the day before, in +what had been really The Rat's hours of extremity, after that +appalling night--the way he had looked into his face and +understood it all, the talk at the table when he had listened to +him seriously, comprehending and actually respecting his plans +and rough maps; his silent companionship as they followed the +pauper hearse together--these things were enough to make the lad +longingly ready to be any sort of servant or slave to him if he +might see and be spoken to by him even once or twice a day. + +The Squad wore a look of dismay for a moment, and Loristan saw +it. + +``I am going to take your captain with me,'' he said. ``But he +will come back to Barracks. So will Marco.'' + +``Will yer go on with the game?'' asked Cad, as eager spokesman. +``We want to go on being the `Secret Party.' '' + +``Yes, I'll go on,'' The Rat answered. ``I won't give it up. +There's a lot in the papers to-day.'' + +So they were pacified and went on their way, and Loristan and +Lazarus and Marco and The Rat went on theirs also. + +``Queer thing is,'' The Rat thought as they walked together, +``I'm a bit afraid to speak to him unless he speaks to me first. +Never felt that way before with any one.'' + +He had jeered at policemen and had impudently chaffed ``swells,'' +but he felt a sort of secret awe of this man, and actually liked +the feeling. + +``It's as if I was a private and he was commander-in-chief,'' he +thought. ``That's it.'' + +Loristan talked to him as they went. He was simple enough in +his statements of the situation. There was an old sofa in +Marco's bedroom. It was narrow and hard, as Marco's bed itself +was, but The Rat could sleep upon it. They would share what food +they had. There were newspapers and magazines to be read. There +were papers and pencils to draw new maps and plans of battles. +There was even an old map of Samavia of Marco's which the two +boys could study together as an aid to their game. The Rat's +eyes began to have points of fire in them. + +``If I could see the papers every morning, I could fight the +battles on paper by night,'' he said, quite panting at the +incredible vision of splendor. Were all the kingdoms of the +earth going to be given to him? Was he going to sleep without a +drunken father near him? + +Was he going to have a chance to wash himself and to sit at a +table and hear people say ``Thank you,'' and ``I beg pardon,'' as +if they were using the most ordinary fashion of speech? His own +father, before he had sunk into the depths, had lived and spoken +in this way. + +``When I have time, we will see who can draw up the best plans,'' +Loristan said. + +``Do you mean that you'll look at mine then--when you have +time?'' asked The Rat, hesitatingly. ``I wasn't expecting +that.'' + +``Yes,'' answered Loristan, ``I'll look at them, and we'll talk +them over.'' + +As they went on, he told him that he and Marco could do many +things together. They could go to museums and galleries, and +Marco could show him what he himself was familiar with. + +``My father said you wouldn't let him come back to Barracks when +you found out about it,'' The Rat said, hesitating again and +growing hot because he remembered so many ugly past days. +``But--but I swear I won't do him any harm, sir. I won't!'' + +``When I said I believed you could be trusted, I meant several +things,'' Loristan answered him. ``That was one of them. You're +a new recruit. You and Marco are both under a commanding +officer.'' He said the words because he knew they would elate +him and stir his blood. + + + +XII + +``ONLY TWO BOYS'' + +The words did elate him, and his blood was stirred by them every +time they returned to his mind. He remembered them through the +days and nights that followed. He sometimes, indeed, awakened +from his deep sleep on the hard and narrow sofa in Marco's room, +and found that he was saying them half aloud to himself. The +hardness of the sofa did not prevent his resting as he had never +rested before in his life. By contrast with the past he had +known, this poor existence was comfort which verged on luxury. +He got into the battered tin bath every morning, he sat at the +clean table, and could look at Loristan and speak to him and hear +his voice. His chief trouble was that he could hardly keep his +eyes off him, and he was a little afraid he might be annoyed. +But he could not bear to lose a look or a movement. + +At the end of the second day, he found his way, at some trouble, +to Lazarus's small back room at the top of the house. + +``Will you let me come in and talk a bit?'' he said. + +When he went in, he was obliged to sit on the top of Lazarus's +wooden box because there was nothing else for him. + +``I want to ask you,'' he plunged into his talk at once, ``do you +think he minds me looking at him so much? I can't help it--but +if he hates it--well--I'll try and keep my eyes on the table.'' + +``The Master is used to being looked at,'' Lazarus made answer. +``But it would be well to ask himself. He likes open speech.'' + +``I want to find out everything he likes and everything he +doesn't like,'' The Rat said. ``I want--isn't there +anything--anything you'd let me do for him? It wouldn't matter +what it was. And he needn't know you are not doing it. I know +you wouldn't be willing to give up anything particular. But you +wait on him night and day. Couldn't you give up something to +me?'' + +Lazarus pierced him with keen eyes. He did not answer for +several seconds. + +``Now and then,'' he said gruffly at last, ``I'll let you brush +his boots. But not every day--perhaps once a week.'' + +``When will you let me have my first turn?'' The Rat asked. + +Lazarus reflected. His shaggy eyebrows drew themselves down over +his eyes as if this were a question of state. + +``Next Saturday,'' he conceded. ``Not before. I'll tell him +when you brush them.'' + +``You needn't,'' said The Rat. ``It's not that I want him to +know. I want to know myself that I'm doing something for him. +I'll find out things that I can do without interfering with you. +I'll think them out.'' + +``Anything any one else did for him would be interfering with +me,'' said Lazarus. + +It was The Rat's turn to reflect now, and his face twisted itself +into new lines and wrinkles. + +``I'll tell you before I do anything,'' he said, after he had +thought it over. ``You served him first.'' + +``I have served him ever since he was born,'' said Lazarus. + +``He's--he's yours,'' said The Rat, still thinking deeply. + +``I am his,'' was Lazarus's stern answer. ``I am his--and the +young Master's.'' + +``That's it,'' The Rat said. Then a squeak of a half-laugh broke +from him. ``I've never been anybody's,'' he added. + +His sharp eyes caught a passing look on Lazarus's face. Such a +queer, disturbed, sudden look. Could he be rather sorry for him? + +Perhaps the look meant something like that. + +``If you stay near him long enough--and it needn't be long--you +will be his too. Everybody is.'' + +The Rat sat up as straight as he could. ``When it comes to +that,'' he blurted out, ``I'm his now, in my way. I was his two +minutes after he looked at me with his queer, handsome eyes. +They're queer because they get you, and you want to follow him. +I'm going to follow.'' + +That night Lazarus recounted to his master the story of the +scene. He simply repeated word for word what had been said, and +Loristan listened gravely. + +``We have not had time to learn much of him yet,'' he commented. +``But that is a faithful soul, I think.'' + +A few days later, Marco missed The Rat soon after their breakfast +hour. He had gone out without saying anything to the household. +He did not return for several hours, and when he came back he +looked tired. In the afternoon he fell asleep on his sofa in +Marco's room and slept heavily. No one asked him any questions +as he volunteered no explanation. The next day he went out again +in the same mysterious manner, and the next and the next. For an +entire week he went out and returned with the tired look; but he +did not explain until one morning, as he lay on his sofa before +getting up, he said to Marco: + +``I'm practicing walking with my crutches. I don't want to go +about like a rat any more. I mean to be as near like other +people as I can. I walk farther every morning. I began with two +miles. If I practice every day, my crutches will be like legs.'' + +``Shall I walk with you?'' asked Marco. + +``Wouldn't you mind walking with a cripple?'' + +``Don't call yourself that,'' said Marco. ``We can talk +together, and try to remember everything we see as we go along.'' + +``I want to learn to remember things. I'd like to train myself +in that way too,'' The Rat answered. ``I'd give anything to know +some of the things your father taught you. I've got a good +memory. I remember a lot of things I don't want to remember. +Will you go this morning?'' + +That morning they went, and Loristan was told the reason for +their walk. But though he knew one reason, he did not know all +about it. When The Rat was allowed his ``turn'' of the +boot-brushing, he told more to Lazarus. + +``What I want to do,'' he said, ``is not only walk as fast as +other people do, but faster. Acrobats train themselves to do +anything. It's training that does it. There might come a time +when he might need some one to go on an errand quickly, and I'm +going to be ready. I'm going to train myself until he needn't +think of me as if I were only a cripple who can't do things and +has to be taken care of. I want him to know that I'm really as +strong as Marco, and where Marco can go I can go.'' + +``He'' was what he always said, and Lazarus always understood +without explanation. + +`` `The Master' is your name for him,'' he had explained at the +beginning. ``And I can't call him just `Mister' Loristan. It +sounds like cheek. If he was called `General' or `Colonel' I +could stand it--though it wouldn't be quite right. Some day I +shall find a name. When I speak to him, I say `Sir.' '' + +The walks were taken every day, and each day were longer. Marco +found himself silently watching The Rat with amazement at his +determination and endurance. He knew that he must not speak of +what he could not fail to see as they walked. He must not tell +him that he looked tired and pale and sometimes desperately +fatigued. He had inherited from his father the tact which sees +what people do not wish to be reminded of. He knew that for some +reason of his own The Rat had determined to do this thing at any +cost to himself. Sometimes his face grew white and worn and he +breathed hard, but he never rested more than a few minutes, and +never turned back or shortened a walk they had planned. + +``Tell me something about Samavia, something to remember,'' he +would say, when he looked his worst. ``When I begin to try to +remember, I forget--other things.'' + +So, as they went on their way, they talked, and The Rat committed +things to memory. He was quick at it, and grew quicker every +day. They invented a game of remembering faces they passed. +Both would learn them by heart, and on their return home Marco +would draw them. They went to the museums and galleries and +learned things there, making from memory lists and descriptions +which at night they showed to Loristan, when he was not too busy +to talk to them. + +As the days passed, Marco saw that The Rat was gaining strength. +This exhilarated him greatly. They often went to Hampstead Heath +and walked in the wind and sun. There The Rat would go through +curious exercises which he believed would develop his muscles. +He began to look less tired during and after his journey. There +were even fewer wrinkles on his face, and his sharp eyes looked +less fierce. The talks between the two boys were long and +curious. Marco soon realized that The Rat wanted to +learn--learn--learn. + +``Your father can talk to you almost as if you were twenty years +old,'' he said once. ``He knows you can understand what he's +saying. If he were to talk to me, he'd always have to remember +that I was only a rat that had lived in gutters and seen nothing +else.'' + +They were talking in their room, as they nearly always did after +they went to bed and the street lamp shone in and lighted their +bare little room. They often sat up clasping their knees, Marco +on his poor bed, The Rat on his hard sofa, but neither of them +conscious either of the poorness or hardness, because to each one +the long unknown sense of companionship was such a satisfying +thing. Neither of them had ever talked intimately to another +boy, and now they were together day and night. They revealed +their thoughts to each other; they told each other things it had +never before occurred to either to think of telling any one. In +fact, they found out about themselves, as they talked, things +they had not quite known before. Marco had gradually discovered +that the admiration The Rat had for his father was an impassioned +and curious feeling which possessed him entirely. It seemed to +Marco that it was beginning to be like a sort of religion. He +evidently thought of him every moment. So when he spoke of +Loristan's knowing him to be only a rat of the gutter, Marco felt +he himself was fortunate in remembering something he could say. + +``My father said yesterday that you had a big brain and a strong +will,'' he answered from his bed. ``He said that you had a +wonderful memory which only needed exercising. He said it after +he looked over the list you made of the things you had seen in +the Tower.'' + +The Rat shuffled on his sofa and clasped his knees tighter. + +``Did he? Did he?'' he said. + +He rested his chin upon his knees for a few minutes and stared +straight before him. Then he turned to the bed. + +``Marco,'' he said, in a rather hoarse voice, a queer voice; +``are you jealous?'' + +``Jealous,'' said Marco; ``why?'' + +``I mean, have you ever been jealous? Do you know what it is +like?'' + +``I don't think I do,'' answered Marco, staring a little. + +``Are you ever jealous of Lazarus because he's always with your +father--because he's with him oftener than you are--and knows +about his work--and can do things for him you can't? I mean, are +you jealous of--your father?'' + +Marco loosed his arms from his knees and lay down flat on his +pillow. + +``No, I'm not. The more people love and serve him, the better,'' +he said. ``The only thing I care for is--is him. I just care +for HIM. Lazarus does too. Don't you?'' + +The Rat was greatly excited internally. He had been thinking of +this thing a great deal. The thought had sometimes terrified +him. He might as well have it out now if he could. If he could +get at the truth, everything would be easier. But would Marco +really tell him? + +``Don't you mind?'' he said, still hoarse and eager--``don't you +mind how much I care for him? Could it ever make you feel +savage? Could it ever set you thinking I was nothing but--what I +am--and that it was cheek of me to push myself in and fasten on +to a gentleman who only took me up for charity? Here's the +living truth,'' he ended in an outburst; ``if I were you and you +were me, that's what I should be thinking. I know it is. I +couldn't help it. I should see every low thing there was in you, +in your manners and your voice and your looks. I should see +nothing but the contrast between you and me and between you and +him. I should be so jealous that I should just rage. I should +HATE you--and I should DESPISE you!'' + +He had wrought himself up to such a passion of feeling that he +set Marco thinking that what he was hearing meant strange and +strong emotions such as he himself had never experienced. The +Rat had been thinking over all this in secret for some time, it +was evident. Marco lay still a few minutes and thought it over. +Then he found something to say, just as he had found something +before. + +``You might, if you were with other people who thought in the +same way,'' he said, ``and if you hadn't found out that it is +such a mistake to think in that way, that it's even stupid. But, +you see, if you were I, you would have lived with my father, and +he'd have told you what he knows--what he's been finding out all +his life.'' + +``What's he found out?'' + +``Oh!'' Marco answered, quite casually, ``just that you can't set +savage thoughts loose in the world, any more than you can let +loose savage beasts with hydrophobia. They spread a sort of +rabies, and they always tear and worry you first of all.'' + +``What do you mean?'' The Rat gasped out. + +``It's like this,'' said Marco, lying flat and cool on his hard +pillow and looking at the reflection of the street lamp on the +ceiling. ``That day I turned into your Barracks, without knowing +that you'd think I was spying, it made you feel savage, and you +threw the stone at me. If it had made me feel savage and I'd +rushed in and fought, what would have happened to all of us?'' + +The Rat's spirit of generalship gave the answer. + +``I should have called on the Squad to charge with fixed +bayonets. They'd have half killed you. You're a strong chap, +and you'd have hurt a lot of them.'' + +A note of terror broke into his voice. ``What a fool I should +have been!'' he cried out. ``I should never have come here! I +should never have known HIM!'' Even by the light of the street +lamp Marco could see him begin to look almost ghastly. + +``The Squad could easily have half killed me,'' Marco added. +``They could have quite killed me, if they had wanted to do it. +And who would have got any good out of it? It would only have +been a street- lads' row--with the police and prison at the end +of it.'' + +``But because you'd lived with him,'' The Rat pondered, ``you +walked in as if you didn't mind, and just asked why we did it, +and looked like a stronger chap than any of us--and +different--different. I wondered what was the matter with you, +you were so cool and steady. I know now. It was because you +were like him. He'd taught you. He's like a wizard.'' + +``He knows things that wizards think they know, but he knows them +better,'' Marco said. ``He says they're not queer and unnatural. +They're just simple laws of nature. You have to be either on one +side or the other, like an army. You choose your side. You +either build up or tear down. You either keep in the light where +you can see, or you stand in the dark and fight everything that +comes near you, because you can't see and you think it's an +enemy. No, you wouldn't have been jealous if you'd been I and +I'd been you.'' + +``And you're NOT?'' The Rat's sharp voice was almost hollow. +``You'll swear you're not?'' + +``I'm not,'' said Marco. + +The Rat's excitement even increased a shade as he poured forth +his confession. + +``I was afraid,'' he said. ``I've been afraid every day since I +came here. I'll tell you straight out. It seemed just natural +that you and Lazarus wouldn't stand me, just as I wouldn't have +stood you. It seemed just natural that you'd work together to +throw me out. I knew how I should have worked myself. Marco--I +said I'd tell you straight out--I'm jealous of you. I'm jealous +of Lazarus. It makes me wild when I see you both knowing all +about him, and fit and ready to do anything he wants done. I'm +not ready and I'm not fit.'' + +``You'd do anything he wanted done, whether you were fit and +ready or not,'' said Marco. ``He knows that.'' + +``Does he? Do you think he does?'' cried The Rat. ``I wish he'd +try me. I wish he would.'' + +Marco turned over on his bed and rose up on his elbow so that he +faced The Rat on his sofa. + +``Let us WAIT,'' he said in a whisper. ``Let us WAIT.'' + +There was a pause, and then The Rat whispered also. + +``For what?'' + +``For him to find out that we're fit to be tried. Don't you see +what fools we should be if we spent our time in being jealous, +either of us. We're only two boys. Suppose he saw we were only +two silly fools. When you are jealous of me or of Lazarus, just +go and sit down in a still place and think of HIM. Don't think +about yourself or about us. He's so quiet that to think about +him makes you quiet yourself. When things go wrong or when I'm +lonely, he's taught me to sit down and make myself think of +things I like--pictures, books, monuments, splendid places. It +pushes the other things out and sets your mind going properly. +He doesn't know I nearly always think of him. He's the best +thought himself. You try it. You're not really jealous. You +only THINK you are. You'll find that out if you always stop +yourself in time. Any one can be such a fool if he lets himself. +And he can always stop it if he makes up his mind. I'm not +jealous. You must let that thought alone. You're not jealous +yourself. Kick that thought into the street.'' + +The Rat caught his breath and threw his arms up over his eyes. +``Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!'' he said; ``if I'd lived near him always +as you have. If I just had.'' + +``We're both living near him now,'' said Marco. ``And here's +something to think of,'' leaning more forward on his elbow. +``The kings who were being made ready for Samavia have waited all +these years; WE can make ourselves ready and wait so that, if +just two boys are wanted to do something--just two boys--we can +step out of the ranks when the call comes and say `Here!' Now +let's lie down and think of it until we go to sleep.'' + + + + XIII + +LORISTAN ATTENDS A DRILL OF THE SQUAD, AND MARCO MEETS A SAMAVIAN + +The Squad was not forgotten. It found that Loristan himself +would have regarded neglect as a breach of military duty. + +``You must remember your men,'' he said, two or three days after +The Rat became a member of his household. ``You must keep up +their drill. Marco tells me it was very smart. Don't let them +get slack.'' + +``His men!'' The Rat felt what he could not have put into words. + +He knew he had worked, and that the Squad had worked, in their +hidden holes and corners. Only hidden holes and corners had been +possible for them because they had existed in spite of the +protest of their world and the vigilance of its policemen. They +had tried many refuges before they found the Barracks. No one +but resented the existence of a troop of noisy vagabonds. But +somehow this man knew that there had evolved from it something +more than mere noisy play, that he, The Rat, had MEANT order and +discipline. + +``His men!'' It made him feel as if he had had the Victoria +Cross fastened on his coat. He had brain enough to see many +things, and he knew that it was in this way that Loristan was +finding him his ``place.'' He knew how. + +When they went to the Barracks, the Squad greeted them with a +tumultuous welcome which expressed a great sense of relief. +Privately the members had been filled with fears which they had +talked over together in deep gloom. Marco's father, they +decided, was too big a swell to let the two come back after he +had seen the sort the Squad was made up of. He might be poor +just now, toffs sometimes lost their money for a bit, but you +could see what he was, and fathers like him weren't going to let +their sons make friends with ``such as us.'' He'd stop the drill +and the ``Secret Society'' game. That's what he'd do! + +But The Rat came swinging in on his secondhand crutches looking +as if he had been made a general, and Marco came with him; and +the drill the Squad was put through was stricter and finer than +any drill they had ever known. + +``I wish my father could have seen that,'' Marco said to The Rat. + +The Rat turned red and white and then red again, but he said not +a single word. The mere thought was like a flash of fire passing +through him. But no fellow could hope for a thing as big as +that. The Secret Party, in its subterranean cavern, surrounded +by its piled arms, sat down to read the morning paper. + +The war news was bad to read. The Maranovitch held the day for +the moment, and while they suffered and wrought cruelties in the +capital city, the Iarovitch suffered and wrought cruelties in the +country outside. So fierce and dark was the record that Europe +stood aghast. + +The Rat folded his paper when he had finished, and sat biting his +nails. Having done this for a few minutes, he began to speak in +his dramatic and hollow Secret Party whisper. + +``The hour has come,'' he said to his followers. ``The +messengers must go forth. They know nothing of what they go for; +they only know that they must obey. If they were caught and +tortured, they could betray nothing because they know nothing but +that, at certain places, they must utter a certain word. They +carry no papers. All commands they must learn by heart. When +the sign is given, the Secret Party will know what to do--where +to meet and where to attack.'' + +He drew plans of the battle on the flagstones, and he sketched an +imaginary route which the two messengers were to follow. But his +knowledge of the map of Europe was not worth much, and he turned +to Marco. + +``You know more about geography that I do. You know more about +everything,'' he said. ``I only know Italy is at the bottom and +Russia is at one side and England's at the other. How would the +Secret Messengers go to Samavia? Can you draw the countries +they'd have to pass through?'' + +Because any school-boy who knew the map could have done the same +thing, Marco drew them. He also knew the stations the Secret Two +would arrive at and leave by when they entered a city, the +streets they would walk through and the very uniforms they would +see; but of these things he said nothing. The reality his +knowledge gave to the game was, however, a thrilling thing. He +wished he could have been free to explain to The Rat the things +he knew. Together they could have worked out so many details of +travel and possible adventure that it would have been almost as +if they had set out on their journey in fact. + +As it was, the mere sketching of the route fired The Rat's +imagination. He forged ahead with the story of adventure, and +filled it with such mysterious purport and design that the Squad +at times gasped for breath. In his glowing version the Secret +Two entered cities by midnight and sang and begged at palace +gates where kings driving outward paused to listen and were given +the Sign. + +``Though it would not always be kings,'' he said. ``Sometimes it +would be the poorest people. Sometimes they might seem to be +beggars like ourselves, when they were only Secret Ones +disguised. A great lord might wear poor clothes and pretend to +be a workman, and we should only know him by the signs we had +learned by heart. When we were sent to Samavia, we should be +obliged to creep in through some back part of the country where +no fighting was being done and where no one would attack. Their +generals are not clever enough to protect the parts which are +joined to friendly countries, and they have not forces enough. +Two boys could find a way in if they thought it out.'' + +He became possessed by the idea of thinking it out on the spot. +He drew his rough map of Samavia on the flagstones with his +chalk. + +``Look here,'' he said to Marco, who, with the elated and +thrilled Squad, bent over it in a close circle of heads. +``Beltrazo is here and Carnolitz is here--and here is Jiardasia. +Beltrazo and Jiardasia are friendly, though they don't take +sides. All the fighting is going on in the country about +Melzarr. There is no reason why they should prevent single +travelers from coming in across the frontiers of friendly +neighbors. They're not fighting with the countries outside, they +are fighting with themselves.'' He paused a moment and thought. + +``The article in that magazine said something about a huge forest +on the eastern frontier. That's here. We could wander into a +forest and stay there until we'd planned all we wanted to do. +Even the people who had seen us would forget about us. What we +have to do is to make people feel as if we were +nothing--nothing.'' + +They were in the very midst of it, crowded together, leaning +over, stretching necks and breathing quickly with excitement, +when Marco lifted his head. Some mysterious impulse made him do +it in spite of himself. + +``There's my father!'' he said. + +The chalk dropped, everything dropped, even Samavia. The Rat was +up and on his crutches as if some magic force had swung him +there. How he gave the command, or if he gave it at all, not +even he himself knew. But the Squad stood at salute. + +Loristan was standing at the opening of the archway as Marco had +stood that first day. He raised his right hand in return salute +and came forward. + +``I was passing the end of the street and remembered the Barracks +was here,'' he explained. ``I thought I should like to look at +your men, Captain.'' + +He smiled, but it was not a smile which made his words really a +joke. He looked down at the chalk map drawn on the flagstones. + +``You know that map well,'' he said. ``Even I can see that it is +Samavia. What is the Secret Party doing?'' + +``The messengers are trying to find a way in,'' answered Marco. + +``We can get in there,'' said The Rat, pointing with a crutch. +``There's a forest where we could hide and find out things.'' + +``Reconnoiter,'' said Loristan, looking down. ``Yes. Two stray +boys could be very safe in a forest. It's a good game.'' + +That he should be there! That he should, in his own wonderful +way, have given them such a thing as this. That he should have +cared enough even to look up the Barracks, was what The Rat was +thinking. A batch of ragamuffins they were and nothing else, and +he standing looking at them with his fine smile. There was +something about him which made him seem even splendid. The Rat's +heart thumped with startled joy. + +``Father,'' said Marco, ``will you watch The Rat drill us? I +want you to see how well it is done.'' + +``Captain, will you do me that honor?'' Loristan said to The Rat, +and to even these words he gave the right tone, neither jesting +nor too serious. Because it was so right a tone, The Rat's +pulses beat only with exultation. This god of his had looked at +his maps, he had talked of his plans, he had come to see the +soldiers who were his work! The Rat began his drill as if he had +been reviewing an army. + +What Loristan saw done was wonderful in its mechanical exactness. + +The Squad moved like the perfect parts of a perfect machine. +That they could so do it in such space, and that they should have +accomplished such precision, was an extraordinary testimonial to +the military efficiency and curious qualities of this one +hunchbacked, vagabond officer. + +``That is magnificent!'' the spectator said, when it was over. +``It could not be better done. Allow me to congratulate you.'' + +He shook The Rat's hand as if it had been a man's, and, after he +had shaken it, he put his own hand lightly on the boy's shoulder +and let it rest there as he talked a few minutes to them all. + +He kept his talk within the game, and his clear comprehension of +it added a flavor which even the dullest member of the Squad was +elated by. Sometimes you couldn't understand toffs when they +made a shy at being friendly, but you could understand him, and +he stirred up your spirits. He didn't make jokes with you, +either, as if a chap had to be kept grinning. After the few +minutes were over, he went away. Then they sat down again in +their circle and talked about him, because they could talk and +think about nothing else. They stared at Marco furtively, +feeling as if he were a creature of another world because he had +lived with this man. They stared at The Rat in a new way also. +The wonderful-looking hand had rested on his shoulder, and he had +been told that what he had done was magnificent. + +``When you said you wished your father could have seen the +drill,'' said The Rat, ``you took my breath away. I'd never have +had the cheek to think of it myself--and I'd never have dared to +let you ask him, even if you wanted to do it. And he came +himself! It struck me dumb.'' + +``If he came,'' said Marco, ``it was because he wanted to see +it.'' + +When they had finished talking, it was time for Marco and The Rat +to go on their way. Loristan had given The Rat an errand. At a +certain hour he was to present himself at a certain shop and +receive a package. + +``Let him do it alone,'' Loristan said to Marco. ``He will be +better pleased. His desire is to feel that he is trusted to do +things alone.'' + +So they parted at a street corner, Marco to walk back to No. 7 +Philibert Place, The Rat to execute his commission. Marco turned +into one of the better streets, through which he often passed on +his way home. It was not a fashionable quarter, but it contained +some respectable houses in whose windows here and there were to +be seen neat cards bearing the word ``Apartments,'' which meant +that the owner of the house would let to lodgers his drawing-room +or sitting-room suite. + +As Marco walked up the street, he saw some one come out of the +door of one of the houses and walk quickly and lightly down the +pavement. It was a young woman wearing an elegant though quiet +dress, and a hat which looked as if it had been bought in Paris +or Vienna. She had, in fact, a slightly foreign air, and it was +this, indeed, which made Marco look at her long enough to see +that she was also a graceful and lovely person. He wondered what +her nationality was. Even at some yards' distance he could see +that she had long dark eyes and a curved mouth which seemed to be +smiling to itself. He thought she might be Spanish or Italian. + +He was trying to decide which of the two countries she belonged +to, as she drew near to him, but quite suddenly the curved mouth +ceased smiling as her foot seemed to catch in a break in the +pavement, and she so lost her balance that she would have fallen +if he had not leaped forward and caught her. + +She was light and slender, and he was a strong lad and managed to +steady her. An expression of sharp momentary anguish crossed her +face. + +``I hope you are not hurt,'' Marco said. + +She bit her lip and clutched his shoulder very hard with her slim +hand. + +``I have twisted my ankle,'' she answered. ``I am afraid I have +twisted it badly. Thank you for saving me. I should have had a +bad fall.'' + +Her long, dark eyes were very sweet and grateful. She tried to +smile, but there was such distress under the effort that Marco +was afraid she must have hurt herself very much. + +``Can you stand on your foot at all?'' he asked. + +``I can stand a little now,'' she said, ``but I might not be able +to stand in a few minutes. I must get back to the house while I +can bear to touch the ground with it. I am so sorry. I am +afraid I shall have to ask you to go with me. Fortunately it is +only a few yards away.'' + +``Yes,'' Marco answered. ``I saw you come out of the house. If +you will lean on my shoulder, I can soon help you back. I am +glad to do it. Shall we try now?'' + +She had a gentle and soft manner which would have appealed to any +boy. Her voice was musical and her enunciation exquisite. + +Whether she was Spanish or Italian, it was easy to imagine her a +person who did not always live in London lodgings, even of the +better class. + +``If you please,'' she answered him. ``It is very kind of you. +You are very strong, I see. But I am glad to have only a few +steps to go.'' + +She rested on his shoulder as well as on her umbrella, but it was +plain that every movement gave her intense pain. She caught her +lip with her teeth, and Marco thought she turned white. He could +not help liking her. She was so lovely and gracious and brave. +He could not bear to see the suffering in her face. + +``I am so sorry!'' he said, as he helped her, and his boy's voice +had something of the wonderful sympathetic tone of Loristan's. +The beautiful lady herself remarked it, and thought how unlike it +was to the ordinary boy-voice. + +``I have a latch-key,'' she said, when they stood on the low +step. + +She found the latch-key in her purse and opened the door. Marco +helped her into the entrance-hall. She sat down at once in a +chair near the hat-stand. The place was quite plain and +old-fashioned inside. + +``Shall I ring the front-door bell to call some one?'' Marco +inquired. + +``I am afraid that the servants are out,'' she answered. ``They +had a holiday. Will you kindly close the door? I shall be +obliged to ask you to help me into the sitting-room at the end of +the hall. I shall find all I want there--if you will kindly hand +me a few things. Some one may come in presently--perhaps one of +the other lodgers --and, even if I am alone for an hour or so, it +will not really matter.'' + +``Perhaps I can find the landlady,'' Marco suggested. The +beautiful person smiled. + +``She has gone to her sister's wedding. That is why I was going +out to spend the day myself. I arranged the plan to accommodate +her. How good you are! I shall be quite comfortable directly, +really. I can get to my easy-chair in the sitting-room now I +have rested a little.'' + +Marco helped her to her feet, and her sharp, involuntary +exclamation of pain made him wince internally. Perhaps it was a +worse sprain than she knew. + +The house was of the early-Victorian London order. A ``front +lobby'' with a dining-room on the right hand, and a ``back +lobby,'' after the foot of the stairs was passed, out of which +opened the basement kitchen staircase and a sitting-room looking +out on a gloomy flagged back yard inclosed by high walls. The +sitting-room was rather gloomy itself, but there were a few +luxurious things among the ordinary furnishings. There was an +easy-chair with a small table near it, and on the table were a +silver lamp and some rather elegant trifles. Marco helped his +charge to the easy-chair and put a cushion from the sofa under +her foot. He did it very gently, and, as he rose after doing it, +he saw that the long, soft dark eyes were looking at him in a +curious way. + +``I must go away now,'' he said, ``but I do not like to leave +you. May I go for a doctor?'' + +``How dear you are!'' she exclaimed. ``But I do not want one, +thank you. I know exactly what to do for a sprained ankle. And +perhaps mine is not really a sprain. I am going to take off my +shoe and see.'' + +``May I help you?'' Marco asked, and he kneeled down again and +carefully unfastened her shoe and withdrew it from her foot. It +was a slender and delicate foot in a silk stocking, and she bent +and gently touched and rubbed it. + +``No,'' she said, when she raised herself, ``I do not think it is +a sprain. Now that the shoe is off and the foot rests on the +cushion, it is much more comfortable, much more. Thank you, +thank you. If you had not been passing I might have had a +dangerous fall.'' + +``I am very glad to have been able to help you,'' Marco answered, +with an air of relief. ``Now I must go, if you think you will be +all right.'' + +``Don't go yet,'' she said, holding out her hand. ``I should +like to know you a little better, if I may. I am so grateful. I +should like to talk to you. You have such beautiful manners for +a boy,'' she + +ended, with a pretty, kind laugh, ``and I believe I know where +you got them from.'' + +``You are very kind to me,'' Marco answered, wondering if he did +not redden a little. ``But I must go because my father will--'' + +``Your father would let you stay and talk to me,'' she said, with +even a prettier kindliness than before. ``It is from him you +have inherited your beautiful manner. He was once a friend of +mine. I hope he is my friend still, though perhaps he has +forgotten me.'' + +All that Marco had ever learned and all that he had ever trained +himself to remember, quickly rushed back upon him now, because he +had a clear and rapidly working brain, and had not lived the +ordinary boy's life. Here was a beautiful lady of whom he knew +nothing at all but that she had twisted her foot in the street +and he had helped her back into her house. If silence was still +the order, it was not for him to know things or ask questions or +answer them. She might be the loveliest lady in the world and +his father her dearest friend, but, even if this were so, he +could best serve them both by obeying her friend's commands with +all courtesy, and forgetting no instruction he had given. + +``I do not think my father ever forgets any one,'' he answered. + +``No, I am sure he does not,'' she said softly. ``Has he been to +Samavia during the last three years?'' + +Marco paused a moment. + +``Perhaps I am not the boy you think I am,'' he said. ``My +father has never been to Samavia.'' + +``He has not? But--you are Marco Loristan?'' + +``Yes. That is my name.'' + +Suddenly she leaned forward and her long lovely eyes filled with +fire. + +``Then you are a Samavian, and you know of the disasters +overwhelming us. You know all the hideousness and barbarity of +what is being done. Your father's son must know it all!'' + +``Every one knows it,'' said Marco. + +``But it is your country--your own! Your blood must burn in your +veins!'' + +Marco stood quite still and looked at her. His eyes told whether +his blood burned or not, but he did not speak. His look was +answer enough, since he did not wish to say anything. + +``What does your father think? I am a Samavian myself, and I +think night and day. What does he think of the rumor about the +descendant of the Lost Prince? Does he believe it?'' + +Marco was thinking very rapidly. Her beautiful face was glowing +with emotion, her beautiful voice trembled. That she should be a +Samavian, and love Samavia, and pour her feeling forth even to a +boy, was deeply moving to him. But howsoever one was moved, one +must remember that silence was still the order. When one was +very young, one must remember orders first of all. + +``It might be only a newspaper story,'' he said. ``He says one +cannot trust such things. If you know him, you know he is very +calm.'' + +``Has he taught you to be calm too?'' she said pathetically. +``You are only a boy. Boys are not calm. Neither are women when +their hearts are wrung. Oh, my Samavia! Oh, my poor little +country! My brave, tortured country!'' and with a sudden sob she +covered her face with her hands. + +A great lump mounted to Marco's throat. Boys could not cry, but +he knew what she meant when he said her heart was wrung. + +When she lifted her head, the tears in her eyes made them softer +than ever. + +``If I were a million Samavians instead of one woman, I should +know what to do!'' she cried. ``If your father were a million +Samavians, he would know, too. He would find Ivor's descendant, +if he is on the earth, and he would end all this horror!'' + +``Who would not end it if they could?'' cried Marco, quite +fiercely. + +``But men like your father, men who are Samavians, must think +night and day about it as I do,'' she impetuously insisted. +``You see, I cannot help pouring my thoughts out even to a +boy--because he is a Samavian. Only Samavians care. Samavia +seems so little and unimportant to other people. They don't even +seem to know that the blood she is pouring forth pours from human +veins and beating human hearts. Men like your father must think, +and plan, and feel that they must--must find a way. Even a +woman feels it. Even a boy must. Stefan Loristan cannot be +sitting quietly at home, knowing that Samavian hearts are being +shot through and Samavian blood poured forth. He cannot think +and say NOTHING!'' + +Marco started in spite of himself. He felt as if his father had +been struck in the face. How dare she say such words! Big as he +was, suddenly he looked bigger, and the beautiful lady saw that +he did. + +``He is my father,'' he said slowly. + +She was a clever, beautiful person, and saw that she had made a +great mistake. + +``You must forgive me,'' she exclaimed. ``I used the wrong words +because I was excited. That is the way with women. You must see +that I meant that I knew he was giving his heart and strength, +his whole being, to Samavia, even though he must stay in +London.'' + +She started and turned her head to listen to the sound of some +one using the latch-key and opening the front door. The some one +came in with the heavy step of a man. + +``It is one of the lodgers,'' she said. ``I think it is the one +who lives in the third floor sitting-room.'' + +``Then you won't be alone when I go,'' said Marco. ``I am glad +some one has come. I will say good-morning. May I tell my +father your name?'' + +``Tell me that you are not angry with me for expressing myself so +awkwardly,'' she said. + +``You couldn't have meant it. I know that,'' Marco answered +boyishly. ``You couldn't.'' + +``No, I couldn't,'' she repeated, with the same emphasis on the +words. + +She took a card from a silver case on the table and gave it to +him. + +``Your father will remember my name,'' she said. ``I hope he +will let me see him and tell him how you took care of me.'' + +She shook his hand warmly and let him go. But just as he reached +the door she spoke again. + +``Oh, may I ask you to do one thing more before you leave me?'' +she said suddenly. ``I hope you won't mind. Will you run +up-stairs into the drawing-room and bring me the purple book from +the small table? I shall not mind being alone if I have +something to read.'' + +``A purple book? On a small table?'' said Marco. + +``Between the two long windows,'' she smiled back at him. + +The drawing-room of such houses as these is always to be reached +by one short flight of stairs. + +Marco ran up lightly. + + + +XIV + +MARCO DOES NOT ANSWER + +By the time he turned the corner of the stairs, the beautiful +lady had risen from her seat in the back room and walked into the +dining-room at the front. A heavily-built, dark-bearded man was +standing inside the door as if waiting for her. + +``I could do nothing with him,'' she said at once, in her soft +voice, speaking quite prettily and gently, as if what she said +was the most natural thing in the world. ``I managed the little +trick of the sprained foot really well, and got him into the +house. He is an amiable boy with perfect manners, and I thought +it might be easy to surprise him into saying more than he knew he +was saying. You can generally do that with children and young +things. But he either knows nothing or has been trained to hold +his tongue. He's not stupid, and he's of a high spirit. I made +a pathetic little scene about Samavia, because I saw he could be +worked up. It did work him up. I tried him with the Lost Prince +rumor; but, if there is truth in it, he does not or will not +know. I tried to make him lose his temper and betray something +in defending his father, whom he thinks a god, by the way. But I +made a mistake. I saw that. It's a pity. Boys can sometimes be +made to tell anything.'' She spoke very quickly under her +breath. The man spoke quickly too. + +``Where is he?'' he asked. + +``I sent him up to the drawing-room to look for a book. He will +look for a few minutes. Listen. He's an innocent boy. He sees +me only as a gentle angel. Nothing will SHAKE him so much as to +hear me tell him the truth suddenly. It will be such a shock to +him that perhaps you can do something with him then. He may lose +his hold on himself. He's only a boy.'' + +``You're right,'' said the bearded man. ``And when he finds out +he is not free to go, it may alarm him and we may get something +worth while.'' + +``If we could find out what is true, or what Loristan thinks is +true, we should have a clue to work from,'' she said. + +``We have not much time,'' the man whispered. ``We are ordered +to Bosnia at once. Before midnight we must be on the way.'' + +``Let us go into the other room. He is coming.'' + +When Marco entered the room, the heavily-built man with the +pointed dark beard was standing by the easy-chair. + +``I am sorry I could not find the book,'' he apologized. ``I +looked on all the tables.'' + +``I shall be obliged to go and search for it myself,'' said the +Lovely Person. + +She rose from her chair and stood up smiling. And at her first +movement Marco saw that she was not disabled in the least. + +``Your foot!'' he exclaimed. ``It's better?'' + +``It wasn't hurt,'' she answered, in her softly pretty voice and +with her softly pretty smile. ``I only made you think so.'' + +It was part of her plan to spare him nothing of shock in her +sudden transformation. Marco felt his breath leave him for a +moment. + +``I made you believe I was hurt because I wanted you to come into +the house with me,'' she added. ``I wished to find out certain +things I am sure you know.'' + +``They were things about Samavia,'' said the man. ``Your father +knows them, and you must know something of them at least. It is +necessary that we should hear what you can tell us. We shall not +allow you to leave the house until you have answered certain +questions I shall ask you.'' + +Then Marco began to understand. He had heard his father speak of +political spies, men and women who were paid to trace the people +that certain governments or political parties desired to have +followed and observed. He knew it was their work to search out +secrets, to disguise themselves and live among innocent people as +if they were merely ordinary neighbors. + +They must be spies who were paid to follow his father because he +was a Samavian and a patriot. He did not know that they had +taken the house two months before, and had accomplished several +things during their apparently innocent stay in it. They had +discovered Loristan and had learned to know his outgoings and +incomings, and also the outgoings and incomings of Lazarus, +Marco, and The Rat. But they meant, if possible, to learn other +things. If the boy could be startled and terrified into +unconscious revelations, it might prove well worth their while to +have played this bit of melodrama before they locked the front +door behind them and hastily crossed the Channel, leaving their +landlord to discover for himself that the house had been vacated. + +In Marco's mind strange things were happening. They were spies! +But that was not all. The Lovely Person had been right when she +said that he would receive a shock. His strong young chest +swelled. In all his life, he had never come face to face with +black treachery before. He could not grasp it. This gentle and +friendly being with the grateful soft voice and grateful soft +eyes had betrayed--BETRAYED him! It seemed impossible to believe +it, and yet the smile on herm curved mouth told him that it was +true. When he had sprung to help her, she had been playing a +trick! When he had been sorry for her pain and had winced at the +sound of her low exclamation, she had been deliberately laying a +trap to harm him. For a few seconds he was stunned--perhaps, if +he had not been his father's son, he might have been stunned +only. But he was more. When the first seconds had passed, there +arose slowly within him a sense of something like high, remote +disdain. It grew in his deep boy's eyes as he gazed directly +into the pupils of the long soft dark ones. His body felt as if +it were growing taller. + +``You are very clever,'' he said slowly. Then, after a second's +pause, he added, ``I was too young to know that there was any one +so--clever--in the world.'' + +The Lovely Person laughed, but she did not laugh easily. She +spoke to her companion. + +``A grand seigneur!'' she said. ``As one looks at him, one half +believes it is true.'' + +The man with the beard was looking very angry. His eyes were +savage and his dark skin reddened. Marco thought that he looked +at him as if he hated him, and was made fierce by the mere sight +of him, for some mysterious reason. + +``Two days before you left Moscow,'' he said, ``three men came to +see your father. They looked like peasants. They talked to him +for more than an hour. They brought with them a roll of +parchment. Is that not true?'' + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``Before you went to Moscow, you were in Budapest. You went +there from Vienna. You were there for three months, and your +father saw many people. Some of them came in the middle of the +night.'' + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``You have spent your life in traveling from one country to +another,'' persisted the man. ``You know the European languages +as if you were a courier, or the portier in a Viennese hotel. Do +you not?'' + +Marco did not answer. + +The Lovely Person began to speak to the man rapidly in Russian. + +``A spy and an adventurer Stefan Loristan has always been and +always will be,'' she said. ``We know what he is. The police in +every capital in Europe know him as a sharper and a vagabond, as +well as a spy. And yet, with all his cleverness, he does not +seem to have money. What did he do with the bribe the +Maranovitch gave him for betraying what he knew of the old +fortress? The boy doesn't even suspect him. Perhaps it's true +that he knows nothing. Or perhaps it is true that he has been so +ill-treated and flogged from his babyhood that he dare not speak. +There is a cowed look in his eyes in spite of his childish +swagger. He's been both starved and beaten.'' + +The outburst was well done. She did not look at Marco as she +poured forth her words. She spoke with the abruptness and +impetuosity of a person whose feelings had got the better of her. +If Marco was sensitive about his father, she felt sure that his +youth would make his face reveal something if his tongue did +not--if he understood Russian, which was one of the things it +would be useful to find out, because it was a fact which would +verify many other things. + +Marco's face disappointed her. No change took place in it, and +the blood did not rise to the surface of his skin. He listened +with an uninterested air, blank and cold and polite. Let them +say what they chose. + +The man twisted his pointed beard and shrugged his shoulders. + +``We have a good little wine-cellar downstairs,'' he said. ``You +are going down into it, and you will probably stay there for some +time if you do not make up your mind to answer my questions. You +think that nothing can happen to you in a house in a London +street where policemen walk up and down. But you are mistaken. +If you yelled now, even if any one chanced to hear you, they +would only think you were a lad getting a thrashing he deserved. +You can yell as much as you like in the black little wine-cellar, +and no one will hear at all. We only took this house for three +months, and we shall leave it to-night without mentioning the +fact to any + +one. If we choose to leave you in the wine-cellar, you will wait +there until somebody begins to notice that no one goes in and +out, and chances to mention it to the landlord--which few people +would take the trouble to do. Did you come here from Moscow?'' + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``You might remain in the good little black cellar an +unpleasantly long time before you were found,'' the man went on, +quite coolly. ``Do you remember the peasants who came to see +your father two nights before you left?'' + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``By the time it was discovered that the house was empty and +people came in to make sure, you might be too weak to call out +and attract their attention. Did you go to Budapest from Vienna, +and were you there for three months?'' asked the inquisitor. + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``You are too good for the little black cellar,'' put in the +Lovely Person. ``I like you. Don't go into it!'' + +``I know nothing,'' Marco answered, but the eyes which were like +Loristan's gave her just such a look as Loristan would have given +her, and she felt it. It made her uncomfortable. + +``I don't believe you were ever ill-treated or beaten,'' she +said. ``I tell you, the little black cellar will be a hard +thing. Don't go there!'' + +And this time Marco said nothing, but looked at her still as if +he were some great young noble who was very proud. + +He knew that every word the bearded man had spoken was true. To +cry out would be of no use. If they went away and left him +behind them, there was no knowing how many days would pass before +the people of the neighborhood would begin to suspect that the +place had been deserted, or how long it would be before it +occurred to some one to give warning to the owner. And in the +meantime, neither his father nor Lazarus nor The Rat would have +the faintest reason for guessing where he was. And he would be +sitting alone in the dark in the wine-cellar. He did not know in +the least what to do about this thing. He only knew that silence +was still the order. + +``It is a jet-black little hole,'' the man said. ``You might +crack your throat in it, and no one would hear. Did men come to +talk with your father in the middle of the night when you were in +Vienna?'' + +``I know nothing,'' said Marco. + +``He won't tell,'' said the Lovely Person. ``I am sorry for this +boy.'' + +``He may tell after he has sat in the good little black +wine-cellar for a few hours,'' said the man with the pointed +beard. ``Come with me!'' + +He put his powerful hand on Marco's shoulder and pushed him +before him. Marco made no struggle. He remembered what his +father had said about the game not being a game. It wasn't a +game now, but somehow he had a strong haughty feeling of not +being afraid. + +He was taken through the hallway, toward the rear, and down the +commonplace flagged steps which led to the basement. Then he was +marched through a narrow, ill-lighted, flagged passage to a door +in the wall. The door was not locked and stood a trifle ajar. +His companion pushed it farther open and showed part of a wine- +cellar which was so dark that it was only the shelves nearest the +door that Marco could faintly see. His captor pushed him in and +shut the door. It was as black a hole as he had described. +Marco stood still in the midst of darkness like black velvet. +His guard turned the key. + +``The peasants who came to your father in Moscow spoke Samavian +and were big men. Do you remember them?'' he asked from outside. + +``I know nothing,'' answered Marco. + +``You are a young fool,'' the voice replied. ``And I believe you +know even more than we thought. Your father will be greatly +troubled when you do not come home. I will come back to see you +in a few hours, if it is possible. I will tell you, however, +that I have had disturbing news which might make it necessary for +us to leave the house in a hurry. I might not have time to come +down here again before leaving.'' + +Marco stood with his back against a bit of wall and remained +silent. + +There was stillness for a few minutes, and then there was to be +heard the sound of footsteps marching away. + +When the last distant echo died all was quite silent, and Marco +drew a long breath. Unbelievable as it may appear, it was in one +sense almost a breath of relief. In the rush of strange feeling +which had swept over him when he found himself facing the +astounding situation up-stairs, it had not been easy to realize +what his thoughts really were; there were so many of them and +they came so fast. How could he quite believe the evidence of +his eyes and ears? A few minutes, only a few minutes, had +changed his prettily grateful and kindly acquaintance into a +subtle and cunning creature whose love for Samavia had been part +of a plot to harm it and to harm his father. + +What did she and her companion want to do--what could they do if +they knew the things they were trying to force him to tell? + +Marco braced his back against the wall stoutly. + +``What will it be best to think about first?'' + +This he said because one of the most absorbingly fascinating +things he and his father talked about together was the power of +the thoughts which human beings allow to pass through their +minds--the strange strength of them. When they talked of this, +Marco felt as if he were listening to some marvelous Eastern +story of magic which was true. In Loristan's travels, he had +visited the far Oriental countries, and he had seen and learned +many things which seemed marvels, and they had taught him deep +thinking. He had known, and reasoned through days with men who +believed that when they desired a thing, clear and exalted +thought would bring it to them. He had discovered why they +believed this, and had learned to understand their profound +arguments. + +What he himself believed, he had taught Marco quite simply from +his childhood. It was this: he himself--Marco, with the strong +boy-body, the thick mat of black hair, and the patched clothes-- +was the magician. He held and waved his wand himself--and his +wand was his own Thought. When special privation or anxiety +beset them, it was their rule to say, ``What will it be best to +think about first?'' which was Marco's reason for saying it to +himself now as he stood in the darkness which was like black +velvet. + +He waited a few minutes for the right thing to come to him. + +``I will think of the very old hermit who lived on the ledge of +the mountains in India and who let my father talk to him through +all one night,'' he said at last. This had been a wonderful +story and one of his favorites. Loristan had traveled far to see +this ancient Buddhist, and what he had seen and heard during that +one night had made changes in his life. The part of the story +which came back to Marco now was these words: + +``Let pass through thy mind, my son, only the image thou wouldst +desire to see a truth. Meditate only upon the wish of thy heart, +seeing first that it can injure no man and is not ignoble. Then +will it take earthly form and draw near to thee. This is the law +of that which creates.'' + +``I am not afraid,'' Marco said aloud. ``I shall not be afraid. +In some way I shall get out.'' + +This was the image he wanted most to keep steadily in his mind +--that nothing could make him afraid, and that in some way he +would get out of the wine-cellar. + +He thought of this for some minutes, and said the words over +several times. He felt more like himself when he had done it. + +``When my eyes are accustomed to the darkness, I shall see if +there is any little glimmer of light anywhere,'' he said next. + +He waited with patience, and it seemed for some time that he saw +no glimmer at all. He put out his hands on either side of him, +and found that, on the side of the wall against which he stood, +there seemed to be no shelves. Perhaps the cellar had been used +for other purposes than the storing of wine, and, if that was +true, there might be somewhere some opening for ventilation. The +air was not bad, but then the door had not been shut tightly when +the man opened it. + +``I am not afraid,'' he repeated. ``I shall not be afraid. In +some way I shall get out.'' + +He would not allow himself to stop and think about his father +waiting for his return. He knew that would only rouse his +emotions and weaken his courage. He began to feel his way +carefully along the wall. It reached farther than he had thought +it would. + +The cellar was not so very small. He crept round it gradually, +and, when he had crept round it, he made his way across it, +keeping his hands extended before him and setting down each foot +cautiously. Then he sat down on the stone floor and thought +again, and what he thought was of the things the old Buddhist had +told his father, and that there was a way out of this place for +him, and he should somehow find it, and, before too long a time +had passed, be walking in the street again. + +It was while he was thinking in this way that he felt a startling +thing. It seemed almost as if something touched him. It made +him jump, though the touch was so light and soft that it was +scarcely a touch at all, in fact he could not be sure that he had +not imagined it. He stood up and leaned against the wall again. +Perhaps the suddenness of his movement placed him at some angle +he had not reached before, or perhaps his eyes had become more +completely accustomed to the darkness, for, as he turned his head +to listen, he made a discovery: above the door there was a place +where the velvet blackness was not so dense. There was something +like a slit in the wall, though, as it did not open upon daylight +but upon the dark passage, it was not light it admitted so much +as a lesser shade of darkness. But even that was better than +nothing, and Marco drew another long breath. + +``That is only the beginning. I shall find a way out,'' he said. + +``I SHALL.'' + +He remembered reading a story of a man who, being shut by +accident in a safety vault, passed through such terrors before +his release that he believed he had spent two days and nights in +the place when he had been there only a few hours. + +``His thoughts did that. I must remember. I will sit down again +and begin thinking of all the pictures in the cabinet rooms of +the Art History Museum in Vienna. It will take some time, and +then there are the others,'' he said. + +It was a good plan. While he could keep his mind upon the game +which had helped him to pass so many dull hours, he could think +of nothing else, as it required close attention--and perhaps, as +the day went on, his captors would begin to feel that it was not +safe to run the risk of doing a thing as desperate as this would +be. They might think better of it before they left the house at +least. In any case, he had learned enough from Loristan to +realize that only harm could come from letting one's mind run +wild. + +``A mind is either an engine with broken and flying gear, or a +giant power under control,'' was the thing they knew. + +He had walked in imagination through three of the cabinet rooms +and was turning mentally into a fourth, when he found himself +starting again quite violently. This time it was not at a touch +but at a sound. Surely it was a sound. And it was in the cellar +with him. But it was the tiniest possible noise, a ghost of a +squeak and a suggestion of a movement. It came from the opposite +side of the cellar, the side where the shelves were. He looked +across in the darkness saw a light which there could be no +mistake about. It WAS a light, two lights indeed, two round +phosphorescent greenish balls. They were two eyes staring at +him. And then he heard another sound. Not a squeak this time, +but something so homely and comfortable that he actually burst +out laughing. It was a cat purring, a nice warm cat! And she +was curled up on one of the lower shelves purring to some +new-born kittens. He knew there were kittens because it was +plain now what the tiny squeak had been, and it was made plainer +by the fact that he heard another much more distinct one and then +another. They had all been asleep when he had come into the +cellar. If the mother had been awake, she had probably been very +much afraid. Afterward she had perhaps come down from her shelf +to investigate, and had passed close to him. The feeling of +relief which came upon him at this queer and simple discovery was +wonderful. It was so natural and comfortable an every-day thing +that it seemed to make spies and criminals unreal, and only +natural things possible. With a mother cat purring away among +her kittens, even a dark wine-cellar was not so black. He got up +and kneeled by the shelf. The greenish eyes did not shine in an +unfriendly way. He could feel that the owner of them was a nice +big cat, and he counted four round little balls of kittens. It +was a curious delight to stroke the soft fur and talk to the +mother cat. She answered with purring, as if she liked the sense +of friendly human nearness. Marco laughed to himself. + +``It's queer what a difference it makes!'' he said. ``It is +almost like finding a window.'' + +The mere presence of these harmless living things was +companionship. He sat down close to the low shelf and listened +to the motherly purring, now and then speaking and putting out +his hand to touch the warm fur. The phosphorescent light in the +green eyes was a comfort in itself. + +``We shall get out of this--both of us,'' he said. ``We shall +not be here very long, Puss-cat.'' + +He was not troubled by the fear of being really hungry for some +time. He was so used to eating scantily from necessity, and to +passing long hours without food during his journeys, that he had +proved to himself that fasting is not, after all, such a +desperate ordeal as most people imagine. If you begin by +expecting to feel famished and by counting the hours between your +meals, you will begin to be ravenous. But he knew better. + +The time passed slowly; but he had known it would pass slowly, +and he had made up his mind not to watch it nor ask himself +questions about it. He was not a restless boy, but, like his +father, could stand or sit or lie still. Now and then he could +hear distant rumblings of carts and vans passing in the street. +There was a certain degree of companionship in these also. He +kept his place near the cat and his hand where he could +occasionally touch her. He could lift his eyes now and then to +the place where the dim glimmer of something like light showed +itself. + +Perhaps the stillness, perhaps the darkness, perhaps the purring +of the mother cat, probably all three, caused his thoughts to +begin to travel through his mind slowly and more slowly. At last +they ceased and he fell asleep. The mother cat purred for some +time, and then fell asleep herself. + + +XV + +A SOUND IN A DREAM + +Marco slept peacefully for several hours. There was nothing to +awaken him during that time. But at the end of it, his sleep was +penetrated by a definite sound. He had dreamed of hearing a +voice at a distance, and, as he tried in his dream to hear what +it said, a brief metallic ringing sound awakened him outright. +It was over by the time he was fully conscious, and at once he +realized that the voice of his dream had been a real one, and was +speaking still. It was the Lovely Person's voice, and she was +speaking rapidly, as if she were in the greatest haste. She was +speaking through the door. + +``You will have to search for it,'' was all he heard. ``I have +not a moment!'' And, as he listened to her hurriedly departing +feet, there came to him with their hastening echoes the words, +``You are too good for the cellar. I like you!'' + +He sprang to the door and tried it, but it was still locked. The +feet ran up the cellar steps and through the upper hall, and the +front door closed with a bang. The two people had gone away, as +they had threatened. The voice had been excited as well as +hurried. Something had happened to frighten them, and they had +left the house in great haste. + +Marco turned and stood with his back against the door. The cat +had awakened and she was gazing at him with her green eyes. She +began to purr encouragingly. She really helped Marco to think. +He was thinking with all his might and trying to remember. + +``What did she come for? She came for something,'' he said to +himself. ``What did she say? I only heard part of it, because I +was asleep. The voice in the dream was part of it. The part I +heard was, `You will have to search for it. I have not a +moment.' And as she ran down the passage, she called back, `You +are too good for the cellar. I like you.' '' He said the words +over and over again and tried to recall exactly how they had +sounded, and also to recall the voice which had seemed to be part +of a dream but had been a real thing. Then he began to try his +favorite experiment. As he often tried the experiment of +commanding his mind to go to sleep, so he frequently experimented +on commanding it to work for him --to help him to remember, to +understand, and to argue about things clearly. + +``Reason this out for me,'' he said to it now, quite naturally +and calmly. ``Show me what it means.'' + +What did she come for? It was certain that she was in too great +a hurry to be able, without a reason, to spare the time to come. +What was the reason? She had said she liked him. Then she came +because she liked him. If she liked him, she came to do +something which was not unfriendly. The only good thing she +could do for him was something which would help him to get out of +the cellar. She had said twice that he was too good for the +cellar. If he had been awake, he would have heard all she said +and have understood what she wanted him to do or meant to do for +him. He must not stop even to think of that. The first words he +had heard--what had they been? They had been less clear to him +than her last because he had heard them only as he was awakening. +But he thought he was sure that they had been, ``You will have to +search for it.'' Search for it. For what? He thought and +thought. What must he search for? + +He sat down on the floor of the cellar and held his head in his +hands, pressing his eyes so hard that curious lights floated +before them. + +``Tell me! Tell me!'' he said to that part of his being which +the Buddhist anchorite had said held all knowledge and could tell +a man everything if he called upon it in the right spirit. + +And in a few minutes, he recalled something which seemed so much +a part of his sleep that he had not been sure that he had not +dreamed it. The ringing sound! He sprang up on his feet with a +little gasping shout. The ringing sound! It had been the ring +of metal, striking as it fell. Anything made of metal might have +sounded like that. She had thrown something made of metal into +the cellar. She had thrown it through the slit in the bricks +near the door. She liked him, and said he was too good for his +prison. She had thrown to him the only thing which could set him +free. She had thrown him the KEY of the cellar! + +For a few minutes the feelings which surged through him were so +full of strong excitement that they set his brain in a whirl. He +knew what his father would say--that would not do. If he was to +think, he must hold himself still and not let even joy overcome +him. The key was in the black little cellar, and he must find it +in the dark. Even the woman who liked him enough to give him a +chance of freedom knew that she must not open the door and let +him out. There must be a delay. He would have to find the key +himself, and it would be sure to take time. The chances were +that they would be at a safe enough distance before he could get +out. + +``I will kneel down and crawl on my hands and knees,'' he said. + +``I will crawl back and forth and go over every inch of the floor +with my hands until I find it. If I go over every inch, I shall +find it.'' + +So he kneeled down and began to crawl, and the cat watched him +and purred. + +``We shall get out, Puss-cat,'' he said to her. ``I told you we +should.'' + +He crawled from the door to the wall at the side of the shelves, +and then he crawled back again. The key might be quite a small +one, and it was necessary that he should pass his hands over +every inch, as he had said. The difficulty was to be sure, in +the darkness, that he did not miss an inch. Sometimes he was not +sure enough, and then he went over the ground again. He crawled +backward and forward, and he crawled forward and backward. He +crawled crosswise and lengthwise, he crawled diagonally, and he +crawled round and round. But he did not find the key. If he had +had only a little light, but he had none. He was so absorbed in +his search that he did not know he had been engaged in it for +several hours, and that it was the middle of the night. But at +last he realized that he must stop for a rest, because his knees +were beginning to feel bruised, and the skin of his hands was +sore as a result of the rubbing on the flags. The cat and her +kittens had gone to sleep and awakened again two or three times. + +``But it is somewhere!'' he said obstinately. ``It is inside the +cellar. I heard something fall which was made of metal. That +was the ringing sound which awakened me.'' + +When he stood up, he found his body ached and he was very tired. +He stretched himself and exercised his arms and legs. + +``I wonder how long I have been crawling about,'' he thought. +``But the key is in the cellar. It is in the cellar.'' + +He sat down near the cat and her family, and, laying his arm on +the shelf above her, rested his head on it. He began to think of +another experiment. + +``I am so tired, I believe I shall go to sleep again. `Thought +which Knows All' ''--he was quoting something the hermit had said +to Loristan in their midnight talk--``Thought which Knows All! +Show me this little thing. Lead me to it when I awake.'' + +And he did fall asleep, sound and fast. + + +He did not know that he slept all the rest of the night. But he +did. When he awakened, it was daylight in the streets, and the +milk-carts were beginning to jingle about, and the early postmen +were knocking big double-knocks at front doors. The cat may have +heard the milk-carts, but the actual fact was that she herself +was hungry and wanted to go in search of food. Just as Marco +lifted his head from his arm and sat up, she jumped down from her +shelf and went to the door. She had expected to find it ajar as +it had been before. When she found it shut, she scratched at it +and was disturbed to find this of no use. Because she knew Marco +was in the cellar, she felt she had a friend who would assist +her, and she miauled appealingly. + +This reminded Marco of the key. + +``I will when I have found it,'' he said. ``It is inside the +cellar.'' + +The cat miauled again, this time very anxiously indeed. The +kittens heard her and began to squirm and squeak piteously. + +``Lead me to this little thing,'' said Marco, as if speaking to +Something in the darkness about him, and he got up. + +He put his hand out toward the kittens, and it touched something +lying not far from them. It must have been lying near his elbow +all night while he slept. + +It was the key! It had fallen upon the shelf, and not on the +floor at all. + +Marco picked it up and then stood still a moment. He made the +sign of the cross. + +Then he found his way to the door and fumbled until he found the +keyhole and got the key into it. Then he turned it and pushed +the door open--and the cat ran out into the passage before him. + + + +XVI + +THE RAT TO THE RESCUE + +Marco walked through the passage and into the kitchen part of the +basement. The doors were all locked, and they were solid doors. +He ran up the flagged steps and found the door at the top shut +and bolted also, and that too was a solid door. His jailers had +plainly made sure that it should take time enough for him to make +his way into the world, even after he got out of the wine-cellar. + +The cat had run away to some part of the place where mice were +plentiful. Marco was by this time rather gnawingly hungry +himself. If he could get into the kitchen, he might find some +fragments of food left in a cupboard; but there was no moving the +locked door. He tried the outlet into the area, but that was +immov- able. Then he saw near it a smaller door. It was +evidently the entrance to the coal-cellar under the pavement. +This was proved by the fact that trodden coal-dust marked the +flagstones, and near it stood a scuttle with coal in it. + +This coal-scuttle was the thing which might help him! Above the +area door was a small window which was supposed to light the +entry. He could not reach it, and, if he reached it, he could +not open it. He could throw pieces of coal at the glass and +break it, and then he could shout for help when people passed by. +They might not notice or understand where the shouts came from at +first, but, if he kept them up, some one's attention would be +attracted in the end. + +He picked a large-sized solid piece of coal out of the heap in +the scuttle, and threw it with all his force against the grimy +glass. It smashed through and left a big hole. He threw +another, and the entire pane was splintered and fell outside into +the area. Then he saw it was broad daylight, and guessed that he +had been shut up a good many hours. There was plenty of coal in +the scuttle, and he had a strong arm and a good aim. He smashed +pane after pane, until only the framework remained. When he +shouted, there would be nothing between his voice and the street. +No one could see him, but if he could do something which would +make people slacken their pace to listen, then he could call out +that he was in the basement of the house with the broken window. + +``Hallo!'' he shouted. ``Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!'' + +But vehicles were passing in the street, and the passers-by were +absorbed in their own business. If they heard a sound, they did +not stop to inquire into it. + +``Hallo! Hallo! I am locked in!'' yelled Marco, at the topmost +power of his lungs. ``Hallo! Hallo!'' + +After half an hour's shouting, he began to think that he was +wasting his strength. + +``They only think it is a boy shouting,'' he said. ``Some one +will notice in time. At night, when the streets are quiet, I +might make a policeman hear. But my father does not know where +I am. He will be trying to find me--so will Lazarus--so will The +Rat. One of them might pass through this very street, as I did. +What can I do!'' + +A new idea flashed light upon him. + +``I will begin to sing a Samavian song, and I will sing it very +loud. People nearly always stop a moment to listen to music and +find out where it comes from. And if any of my own people came +near, they would stop at once--and now and then I will shout for +help.'' + +Once when they had stopped to rest on Hampstead Heath, he had +sung a valiant Samavian song for The Rat. The Rat had wanted to +hear how he would sing when they went on their secret journey. +He wanted him to sing for the Squad some day, to make the thing +seem real. The Rat had been greatly excited, and had begged for +the song often. It was a stirring martial thing with a sort of +trumpet call of a chorus. Thousands of Samavians had sung it +together on their way to the battle-field, hundreds of years ago. + +He drew back a step or so, and, putting his hands on his hips, +began to sing, throwing his voice upward that it might pass +through the broken window. He had a splendid and vibrant young +voice, though he knew nothing of its fine quality. Just now he +wanted only to make it loud. + +In the street outside very few people were passing. An irritable +old gentleman who was taking an invalid walk quite jumped with +annoyance when the song suddenly trumpeted forth. Boys had no +right to yell in that manner. He hurried his step to get away +from the sound. Two or three other people glanced over their +shoulders, but had not time to loiter. A few others listened +with pleasure as they drew near and passed on. + +``There's a boy with a fine voice,'' said one. + +``What's he singing?'' said his companion. ``It sounds +foreign.'' + +``Don't know,'' was the reply as they went by. But at last a +young man who was a music-teacher, going to give a lesson, +hesitated and looked about him. The song was very loud and +spirited just at this moment. The music-teacher could not +understand where it came from, and paused to find out. The fact +that he stopped attracted the attention of the next comer, who +also paused. + +``Who's singing?'' he asked. ``Where is he singing?'' + +``I can't make out,'' the music-teacher laughed. ``Sounds as if +it came out of the ground.'' + +And, because it was queer that a song should seem to be coming +out of the ground, a costermonger stopped, and then a little boy, +and then a workingwoman, and then a lady. + +There was quite a little group when another person turned the +corner of the street. He was a shabby boy on crutches, and he +had a frantic look on his face. + +And Marco actually heard, as he drew near to the group, the +tap-tap-tap of crutches. + +``It might be,'' he thought. ``It might be!'' + +And he sang the trumpet-call of the chorus as if it were meant to +reach the skies, and he sang it again and again. And at the end +of it shouted, ``Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!'' + +The Rat swung himself into the group and looked as if he had gone +crazy. He hurled himself against the people. + +``Where is he! Where is he!'' he cried, and he poured out some +breathless words; it was almost as if he sobbed them out. + +``We've been looking for him all night!'' he shouted. ``Where is +he! Marco! Marco! No one else sings it but him. Marco! +Marco!'' And out of the area, as it seemed, came a shout of +answer. + +``Rat! Rat! I'm here in the cellar--locked in. I'm here!'' and +a big piece of coal came hurtling through the broken window and +fell crashing on the area flags. The Rat got down the steps into +the area as if he had not been on crutches but on legs, and +banged on the door, shouting back: + +``Marco! Marco! Here I am! Who locked you in? How can I get +the door open?'' + +Marco was close against the door inside. It was The Rat! It was + +The Rat! And he would be in the street again in a few minutes. +``Call a policeman!'' he shouted through the keyhole. ``The +people locked me in on purpose and took away the keys.'' + +Then the group of lookers-on began to get excited and press +against the area railings and ask questions. They could not +understand what had happened to cause the boy with the crutches +to look as if he were crazy with terror and relief at the same +time. + +And the little boy ran delightedly to fetch a policeman, and +found one in the next street, and, with some difficulty, +persuaded him that it was his business to come and get a door +open in an empty house where a boy who was a street singer had +got locked up in a cellar. + + + +XVII + +``IT IS A VERY BAD SIGN'' + +The policeman was not so much excited as out of temper. He did +not know what Marco knew or what The Rat knew. Some common lad +had got himself locked up in a house, and some one would have to +go to the landlord and get a key from him. He had no intention +of laying himself open to the law by breaking into a private +house with his truncheon, as The Rat expected him to do. + +``He got himself in through some of his larks, and he'll have to +wait till he's got out without smashing locks,'' he growled, +shaking the area door. ``How did you get in there?'' he shouted. + +It was not easy for Marco to explain through a keyhole that he +had come in to help a lady who had met with an accident. The +policeman thought this mere boy's talk. As to the rest of the +story, Marco knew that it could not be related at all without +saying things which could not be explained to any one but his +father. He quickly made up his mind that he must let it be +believed that he had been locked in by some queer accident. It +must be supposed that the people had not remembered, in their +haste, that he had not yet left the house. + +When the young clerk from the house agency came with the keys, he +was much disturbed and bewildered after he got inside. + +``They've made a bolt of it,'' he said. ``That happens now and +then, but there's something queer about this. What did they lock +these doors in the basement for, and the one on the stairs? What +did they say to you?'' he asked Marco, staring at him +suspiciously. + +``They said they were obliged to go suddenly,'' Marco answered. + +``What were you doing in the basement?'' + +``The man took me down.'' + +``And left you there and bolted? He must have been in a hurry.'' + ``The lady said they had not a moment's time.'' + +``Her ankle must have got well in short order,'' said the young +man. + +``I knew nothing about them,'' answered Marco. ``I had never +seen them before.'' + +``The police were after them,'' the young man said. ``That's +what I should say. They paid three months' rent in advance, and +they have only been here two. Some of these foreign spies +lurking about London; that's what they were.'' + +The Rat had not waited until the keys arrived. He had swung +himself at his swiftest pace back through the streets to No. 7 +Philibert Place. People turned and stared at his wild pale face +as he almost shot past them. + +He had left himself barely breath enough to speak with when he +reached the house and banged on the door with his crutch to save +time. + +Both Loristan and Lazarus came to answer. + +The Rat leaned against the door gasping. + +``He's found! He's all right!'' he panted. ``Some one had +locked him in a house and left him. They've sent for the keys. +I'm going back. Brandon Terrace, No. 10.'' + +Loristan and Lazarus exchanged glances. Both of them were at the +moment as pale as The Rat. + +``Help him into the house,'' said Loristan to Lazarus. ``He must +stay here and rest. We will go.'' The Rat knew it was an order. + +He did not like it, but he obeyed. + +``This is a bad sign, Master,'' said Lazarus, as they went out +together. + +``It is a very bad one,'' answered Loristan. + +``God of the Right, defend us!'' Lazarus groaned. + +``Amen!'' said Loristan. ``Amen!'' + +The group had become a small crowd by the time they reached +Brandon Terrace. Marco had not found it easy to leave the place +because he was being questioned. Neither the policeman nor the +agent's clerk seemed willing to relinquish the idea that he could +give them some information about the absconding pair. + +The entrance of Loristan produced its usual effect. The agent's +clerk lifted his hat, and the policeman stood straight and made +salute. Neither of them realized that the tall man's clothes +were worn and threadbare. They felt only that a personage was +before them, and that it was not possible to question his air of +absolute and serene authority. He laid his hand on Marco's +shoulder and held it there as he spoke. When Marco looked up at +him and felt the closeness of his touch, it seemed as if it were +an embrace-- as if he had caught him to his breast. + +``My boy knew nothing of these people,'' he said. ``That I can +guarantee. He had seen neither of them before. His entering the +house was the result of no boyish trick. He has been shut up in +this place for nearly twenty-four hours and has had no food. I +must take him home. This is my address.'' He handed the young +man a card. + +Then they went home together, and all the way to Philibert Place +Loristan's firm hand held closely to his boy's shoulder as if he +could not endure to let him go. But on the way they said very +little. + +``Father,'' Marco said, rather hoarsely, when they first got away +from the house in the terrace, ``I can't talk well in the street. +For one thing, I am so glad to be with you again. It seemed as +if--it might turn out badly.'' + +``Beloved one,'' Loristan said the words in their own Samavian, +``until you are fed and at rest, you shall not talk at all.'' + +Afterward, when he was himself again and was allowed to tell his +strange story, Marco found that both his father and Lazarus had +at once had suspicions when he had not returned. They knew no +ordinary event could have kept him. They were sure that he must +have been detained against his will, and they were also sure +that, if he had been so detained, it could only have been for +reasons they could guess at. + +``This was the card that she gave me,'' Marco said, and he handed +it to Loristan. ``She said you would remember the name.'' +Loristan looked at the lettering with an ironic half-smile. + +``I never heard it before,'' he replied. ``She would not send me +a name I knew. Probably I have never seen either of them. But I +know the work they do. They are spies of the Maranovitch, and +suspect that I know something of the Lost Prince. They believed +they could terrify you into saying things which would be a clue. +Men and women of their class will use desperate means to gain +their end.'' + +``Might they--have left me as they threatened?'' Marco asked him. + +``They would scarcely have dared, I think. Too great a hue and +cry would have been raised by the discovery of such a crime. Too +many detectives would have been set at work to track them.'' + +But the look in his father's eyes as he spoke, and the pressure +of the hand he stretched out to touch him, made Marco's heart +thrill. He had won a new love and trust from his father. When +they sat together and talked that night, they were closer to each +other's souls than they had ever been before. + +They sat in the firelight, Marco upon the worn hearth-rug, and +they talked about Samavia--about the war and its heart-rending +struggles, and about how they might end. + +``Do you think that some time we might be exiles no longer?'' the +boy said wistfully. ``Do you think we might go there together +--and see it--you and I, Father?'' + +There was a silence for a while. Loristan looked into the +sinking bed of red coal. + +``For years--for years I have made for my soul that image,'' he +said slowly. ``When I think of my friend on the side of the +Himalayan Mountains, I say, `The Thought which Thought the World +may give us that also!' '' + + + +XVIII + +``CITIES AND FACES'' + +The hours of Marco's unexplained absence had been terrible to +Loristan and to Lazarus. They had reason for fears which it was +not possible for them to express. As the night drew on, the +fears took stronger form. They forgot the existence of The Rat, +who sat biting his nails in the bedroom, afraid to go out lest he +might lose the chance of being given some errand to do but also +afraid to show himself lest he should seem in the way. + +``I'll stay upstairs,'' he had said to Lazarus. ``If you just +whistle, I'll come.'' + +The anguish he passed through as the day went by and Lazarus went +out and came in and he himself received no orders, could not +have been expressed in any ordinary words. He writhed in his +chair, he bit his nails to the quick, he wrought himself into a +frenzy of misery and terror by recalling one by one all the +crimes his knowledge of London police-courts supplied him with. +He was doing nothing, yet he dare not leave his post. It was his +post after all, though they had not given it to him. He must do +something. + +In the middle of the night Loristan opened the door of the back +sitting-room, because he knew he must at least go upstairs and +throw himself upon his bed even if he could not sleep. + +He started back as the door opened. The Rat was sitting huddled +on the floor near it with his back against the wall. He had a +piece of paper in his hand and his twisted face was a weird thing +to see. + +``Why are you here?'' Loristan asked. + +``I've been here three hours, sir. I knew you'd have to come out +sometime and I thought you'd let me speak to you. Will you-- +will you?'' + +``Come into the room,'' said Loristan. ``I will listen to +anything you want to say. What have you been drawing on that +paper?'' as The Rat got up in the wonderful way he had taught +himself. The paper was covered with lines which showed it to be +another of his plans. + +``Please look at it,'' he begged. ``I daren't go out lest you +might want to send me somewhere. I daren't sit doing nothing. I +began remembering and thinking things out. I put down all the +streets and squares he MIGHT have walked through on his way home. +I've not missed one. If you'll let me start out and walk through +every one of them and talk to the policemen on the beat and look +at the houses--and think out things and work at them--I'll not +miss an inch--I'll not miss a brick or a flagstone--I'll--'' His +voice had a hard sound but it shook, and he himself shook. + +Loristan touched his arm gently. + +``You are a good comrade,'' he said. ``It is well for us that +you are here. You have thought of a good thing.'' + +``May I go now?'' said The Rat. + +``This moment, if you are ready,'' was the answer. The Rat swung +himself to the door. + +Loristan said to him a thing which was like the sudden lighting +of a great light in the very center of his being. + +``You are one of us. Now that I know you are doing this I may +even sleep. You are one of us.'' And it was because he was +following this plan that The Rat had turned into Brandon Terrace +and heard the Samavian song ringing out from the locked basement +of Number 10. + +``Yes, he is one of us,'' Loristan said, when he told this part +of the story to Marco as they sat by the fire. ``I had not been +sure before. I wanted to be very sure. Last night I saw into +the depths of him and KNEW. He may be trusted.'' + +From that day The Rat held a new place. Lazarus himself, +strangely enough, did not resent his holding it. The boy was +allowed to be near Loristan as he had never dared to hope to be +near. It was not merely that he was allowed to serve him in many +ways, but he was taken into the intimacy which had before +enclosed only the three. Loristan talked to him as he talked to +Marco, drawing him within the circle which held so much that was +comprehended without speech. The Rat knew that he was being +trained and observed and he realized it with exaltation. His +idol had said that he was ``one of them'' and he was watching and +putting him to tests so that he might find out how much he was +one of them. And he was doing it for some grave reason of his +own. This thought possessed The Rat's whole mind. Perhaps he +was wondering if he should find out that he was to be trusted, as +a rock is to be trusted. That he should even think that perhaps +he might find that he was like a rock, was inspiration enough. + +``Sir,'' he said one night when they were alone together, because +The Rat had been copying a road-map. His voice was very low-- +``do you think that--sometime--you could trust me as you trust +Marco? Could it ever be like that--ever?'' + +``The time has come,'' and Loristan's voice was almost as low as +his own, though strong and deep feeling underlay its quiet-- +``the time has come when I can trust you with Marco--to be his +companion--to care for him, to stand by his side at any moment. +And Marco is--Marco is my son.'' That was enough to uplift The +Rat to the skies. But there was more to follow. + +``It may not be long before it may be his part to do work in +which he will need a comrade who can be trusted--as a rock can be +trusted.'' + +He had said the very words The Rat's own mind had given to him. + +``A Rock! A Rock!'' the boy broke out. ``Let me show you, sir. +Send me with him for a servant. The crutches are nothing. +You've seen that they're as good as legs, haven't you? I've +trained myself.'' + +``I know, I know, dear lad.'' Marco had told him all of it. He +gave him a gracious smile which seemed as if it held a sort of +fine secret. ``You shall go as his aide-de-camp. It shall be +part of the game.'' + +He had always encouraged ``the game,'' and during the last weeks +had even found time to help them in their plannings for the +mysterious journey of the Secret Two. He had been so interested +that once or twice he had called on Lazarus as an old soldier and +Samavian to give his opinions of certain routes--and of the +customs and habits of people in towns and villages by the way. +Here they would find simple pastoral folk who danced, sang after +their day's work, and who would tell all they knew; here they +would find those who served or feared the Maranovitch and who +would not talk at all. In one place they would meet with +hospitality, in another with unfriendly suspicion of all +strangers. Through talk and stories The Rat began to know the +country almost as Marco knew it. That was part of the game +too--because it was always ``the game,'' they called it. Another +part was The Rat's training of his memory, and bringing home his +proofs of advance at night when he returned from his walk and +could describe, or recite, or roughly sketch all he had seen in +his passage from one place to another. Marco's part was to +recall and sketch faces. Loristan one night gave him a number of +photographs of people to commit to memory. Under each face was +written the name of a place. + +``Learn these faces,'' he said, ``until you would know each one +of them at once wheresoever you met it. Fix them upon your mind, +so that it will be impossible for you to forget them. You must +be able to sketch any one of them and recall the city or town or +neighborhood connected with it.'' + +Even this was still called ``the game,'' but Marco began to know +in his secret heart that it was so much more, that his hand +sometimes trembled with excitement as he made his sketches over +and over again. To make each one many times was the best way to +imbed it in his memory. The Rat knew, too, though he had no +reason for knowing, but mere instinct. He used to lie awake in +the night and think it over and remember what Loristan had said +of the time coming when Marco might need a comrade in his work. +What was his work to be? It was to be something like ``the +game.'' And they were being prepared for it. And though Marco +often lay awake on his bed when The Rat lay awake on his sofa, +neither boy spoke to the other of the thing his mind dwelt on. +And Marco worked as he had never worked before. The game was +very exciting when he could prove his prowess. The four gathered +together at night in the back sitting-room. Lazarus was obliged +to be with them because a second judge was needed. Loristan +would mention the name of a place, perhaps a street in Paris or a +hotel in Vienna, and Marco would at once make a rapid sketch of +the face under whose photograph the name of the locality had been +written. It was not long before he could begin his sketch +without more than a moment's hesitation. And yet even when this +had become the case, they still played the game night after +night. There was a great hotel near the Place de la Concorde in +Paris, of which Marco felt he should never hear the name during +all his life without there starting up before his mental vision a +tall woman with fierce black eyes and a delicate high-bridged +nose across which the strong eyebrows almost met. In Vienna +there was a palace which would always bring back at once a pale +cold-faced man with a heavy blonde lock which fell over his +forehead. A certain street in Munich meant a stout genial old +aristocrat with a sly smile; a village in Bavaria, a peasant with +a vacant and simple countenance. A curled and smoothed man who +looked like a hair-dresser brought up a place in an Austrian +mountain town. He knew them all as he knew his own face and No. +7 Philibert Place. + +But still night after night the game was played. + +Then came a night when, out of a deep sleep, he was awakened by +Lazarus touching him. He had so long been secretly ready to +answer any call that he sat up straight in bed at the first +touch. + +``Dress quickly and come down stairs,'' Lazarus said. ``The +Prince is here and wishes to speak with you.'' + +Marco made no answer but got out of bed and began to slip on his +clothes. + +Lazarus touched The Rat. + +The Rat was as ready as Marco and sat upright as he had done. + +``Come down with the young Master,'' he commanded. ``It is +necessary that you should be seen and spoken to.'' And having +given the order he went away. + +No one heard the shoeless feet of the two boys as they stole down +the stairs. + +An elderly man in ordinary clothes, but with an unmistakable +face, was sitting quietly talking to Loristan who with a gesture +called both forward. + +``The Prince has been much interested in what I have told him of +your game,'' he said in his lowest voice. ``He wishes to see you +make your sketches, Marco.'' + +Marco looked very straight into the Prince's eyes which were +fixed intently on him as he made his bow. + +``His Highness does me honor,'' he said, as his father might have +said it. He went to the table at once and took from a drawer his +pencils and pieces of cardboard. + +``I should know he was your son and a Samavian,'' the Prince +remarked. + +Then his keen and deep-set eyes turned themselves on the boy with +the crutches. + +``This,'' said Loristan, ``is the one who calls himself The Rat. +He is one of us.'' + +The Rat saluted. + +``Please tell him, sir,'' he whispered, ``that the crutches don't +matter.'' + +``He has trained himself to an extraordinary activity,'' Loristan +said. ``He can do anything.'' + +The keen eyes were still taking The Rat in. + +``They are an advantage,'' said the Prince at last. + +Lazarus had nailed together a light, rough easel which Marco used +in making his sketches when the game was played. Lazarus was +standing in state at the door, and he came forward, brought the +easel from its corner, and arranged the necessary drawing +materials upon it. + +Marco stood near it and waited the pleasure of his father and his +visitor. They were speaking together in low tones and he waited +several minutes. What The Rat noticed was what he had noticed +before--that the big boy could stand still in perfect ease and +silence. It was not necessary for him to say things or to ask +questions-- to look at people as if he felt restless if they did +not speak to or notice him. He did not seem to require notice, +and The Rat felt vaguely that, young as he was, this very freedom +from any anxiety to be looked at or addressed made him somehow +look like a great gentleman. + +Loristan and the Prince advanced to where he stood. + +``L'Hotel de Marigny,'' Loristan said. + +Marco began to sketch rapidly. He began the portrait of the +handsome woman with the delicate high-bridged nose and the black +brows which almost met. As he did it, the Prince drew nearer and +watched the work over his shoulder. It did not take very long +and, when it was finished, the inspector turned, and after giving +Loristan a long and strange look, nodded twice. + +``It is a remarkable thing,'' he said. ``In that rough sketch +she is not to be mistaken.'' + +Loristan bent his head. + +Then he mentioned the name of another street in another place +--and Marco sketched again. This time it was the peasant with +the simple face. The Prince bowed again. Then Loristan gave +another name, and after that another and another; and Marco did +his work until it was at an end, and Lazarus stood near with a +handful of sketches which he had silently taken charge of as each +was laid aside. + +``You would know these faces wheresoever you saw them?'' said the +Prince. ``If you passed one in Bond Street or in the Marylebone +Road, you would recognize it at once?'' + +``As I know yours, sir,'' Marco answered. + +Then followed a number of questions. Loristan asked them as he +had often asked them before. They were questions as to the +height and build of the originals of the pictures, of the color +of their hair and eyes, and the order of their complexions. +Marco answered them all. He knew all but the names of these +people, and it was plainly not necessary that he should know +them, as his father had never uttered them. + +After this questioning was at an end the Prince pointed to The +Rat who had leaned on his crutches against the wall, his eyes +fiercely eager like a ferret's. + +``And he?'' the Prince said. ``What can he do?'' + +``Let me try,'' said The Rat. ``Marco knows.'' + +Marco looked at his father. + +``May I help him to show you?'' he asked. + +``Yes,'' Loristan answered, and then, as he turned to the Prince, +he said again in his low voice: ``HE IS ONE OF US.'' + +Then Marco began a new form of the game. He held up one of the +pictured faces before The Rat, and The Rat named at once the city +and place connected with it, he detailed the color of eyes and +hair, the height, the build, all the personal details as Marco +himself had detailed them. To these he added descriptions of the +cities, and points concerning the police system, the palaces, the +people. His face twisted itself, his eyes burned, his voice +shook, but he was amazing in his readiness of reply and his +exactness of memory. + +``I can't draw,'' he said at the end. ``But I can remember. I +didn't want any one to be bothered with thinking I was trying to +learn it. So only Marco knew.'' + +This he said to Loristan with appeal in his voice. + +``It was he who invented `the game,' '' said Loristan. ``I +showed you his strange maps and plans.'' + +``It is a good game,'' the Prince answered in the manner of a man +extraordinarily interested and impressed. ``They know it well. +They can be trusted.'' + +``No such thing has ever been done before,'' Loristan said. ``It +is as new as it is daring and simple.'' + +``Therein lies its safety,'' the Prince answered. + +``Perhaps only boyhood,'' said Loristan, ``could have dared to +imagine it.'' + +``The Prince thanks you,'' he said after a few more words spoken +aside to his visitor. ``We both thank you. You may go back to +your beds.'' + +And the boys went. + + + +XIX + +``THAT IS ONE!'' + +A week had not passed before Marco brought to The Rat in their +bedroom an envelope containing a number of slips of paper on each +of which was written something. + +``This is another part of the game,'' he said gravely. ``Let us +sit down together by the table and study it.'' + +They sat down and examined what was written on the slips. At the +head of each was the name of one of the places with which Marco +had connected a face he had sketched. Below were clear and +concise directions as to how it was to be reached and the words +to be said when each individual was encountered. + +``This person is to be found at his stall in the market,'' was +written of the vacant-faced peasant. ``You will first attract +his attention by asking the price of something. When he is +looking at you, touch your left thumb lightly with the forefinger +of your right hand. Then utter in a low distinct tone the words +`The Lamp is lighted.' That is all you are to do.'' + +Sometimes the directions were not quite so simple, but they were +all instructions of the same order. The originals of the +sketches were to be sought out--always with precaution which +should conceal that they were being sought at all, and always in +such a manner as would cause an encounter to appear to be mere +chance. Then certain words were to be uttered, but always +without attracting the attention of any bystander or passer-by. + +The boys worked at their task through the entire day. They +concentrated all their powers upon it. They wrote and re-wrote +--they repeated to each other what they committed to memory as if +it were a lesson. Marco worked with the greater ease and more +rapidly, because exercise of this order had been his practice and +entertainment from his babyhood. The Rat, however, almost kept +pace with him, as he had been born with a phenomenal memory and +his eagerness and desire were a fury. + +But throughout the entire day neither of them once referred to +what they were doing as anything but ``the game.'' + +At night, it is true, each found himself lying awake and +thinking. It was The Rat who broke the silence from his sofa. + +``It is what the messengers of the Secret Party would be ordered +to do when they were sent out to give the Sign for the Rising,'' +he said. ``I made that up the first day I invented the party, +didn't I?'' + +``Yes,'' answered Marco. + +After a third day's concentration they knew by heart everything +given to them to learn. That night Loristan put them through an +examination. + +``Can you write these things?'' he asked, after each had repeated +them and emerged safely from all cross-questioning. + +Each boy wrote them correctly from memory. + +``Write yours in French--in German--in Russian--in Samavian,'' +Loristan said to Marco. + +``All you have told me to do and to learn is part of myself, +Father,'' Marco said in the end. ``It is part of me, as if it +were my hand or my eyes--or my heart.'' + +``I believe that is true,'' answered Loristan. + +He was pale that night and there was a shadow on his face. His +eyes held a great longing as they rested on Marco. It was a +yearning which had a sort of dread in it. + +Lazarus also did not seem quite himself. He was red instead of +pale, and his movements were uncertain and restless. He cleared +his throat nervously at intervals and more than once left his +chair as if to look for something. + +It was almost midnight when Loristan, standing near Marco, put +his arm round his shoulders. + +``The Game''--he began, and then was silent a few moments while +Marco felt his arm tighten its hold. Both Marco and The Rat felt +a hard quick beat in their breasts, and, because of this and +because the pause seemed long, Marco spoke. + +``The Game--yes, Father?'' he said. + +``The Game is about to give you work to do--both of you,'' +Loristan answered. + +Lazarus cleared his throat and walked to the easel in the corner +of the room. But he only changed the position of a piece of +drawing- paper on it and then came back. + +``In two days you are to go to Paris--as you,'' to The Rat, +``planned in the game.'' + +``As I planned?'' The Rat barely breathed the words. + +``Yes,'' answered Loristan. ``The instructions you have learned +you will carry out. There is no more to be done than to manage +to approach certain persons closely enough to be able to utter +certain words to them.'' + +``Only two young strollers whom no man could suspect,'' put in +Lazarus in an astonishingly rough and shaky voice. ``They could +pass near the Emperor himself without danger. The young +Master--'' his voice became so hoarse that he was obligated to +clear it loudly--``the young Master must carry himself less +finely. It would be well to shuffle a little and slouch as if he +were of the common people.'' + +``Yes,'' said The Rat hastily. ``He must do that. I can teach +him. He holds his head and his shoulders like a gentleman. He +must look like a street lad.'' + +``I will look like one,'' said Marco, with determination. + +``I will trust you to remind him,'' Loristan said to The Rat, and +he said it with gravity. ``That will be your charge.'' + +As he lay upon his pillow that night, it seemed to Marco as if a +load had lifted itself from his heart. It was the load of +uncertainty and longing. He had so long borne the pain of +feeling that he was too young to be allowed to serve in any way. +His dreams had never been wild ones--they had in fact always been +boyish and modest, howsoever romantic. But now no dream which +could have passed through his brain would have seemed so +wonderful as this--that the hour had come--the hour had come--and +that he, Marco, was to be its messenger. He was to do no +dramatic deed and be announced by no flourish of heralds. No one +would know what he did. What he achieved could only be attained +if he remained obscure and unknown and seemed to every one only a +common ordinary boy who knew nothing whatever of important +things. But his father had given to him a gift so splendid that +he trembled with awe and joy as he thought of it. The Game had +become real. He and The Rat were to carry with them The Sign, +and it would be like carrying a tiny lamp to set aflame lights +which would blaze from one mountain-top to another until half the +world seemed on fire. + +As he had awakened out of his sleep when Lazarus touched him, so +he awakened in the middle of the night again. But he was not +aroused by a touch. When he opened his eyes he knew it was a +look which had penetrated his sleep--a look in the eyes of his +father who was standing by his side. In the road outside there +was the utter silence he had noticed the night of the Prince's +first visit--the only light was that of the lamp in the street, +but he could see Loristan's face clearly enough to know that the +mere intensity of his gaze had awakened him. The Rat was +sleeping profoundly. Loristan spoke in Samavian and under his +breath. + +``Beloved one,'' he said. ``You are very young. Because I am +your father--just at this hour I can feel nothing else. I have +trained you for this through all the years of your life. I am +proud of your young maturity and strength but--Beloved--you are a +child! Can I do this thing!'' + +For the moment, his face and his voice were scarcely like his +own. + +He kneeled by the bedside, and, as he did it, Marco half sitting +up caught his hand and held it hard against his breast. + +``Father, I know!'' he cried under his breath also. ``It is +true. I am a child but am I not a man also? You yourself said +it. I always knew that you were teaching me to be one--for some +reason. It was my secret that I knew it. I learned well because +I never forgot it. And I learned. Did I not?'' + +He was so eager that he looked more like a boy than ever. But +his young strength and courage were splendid to see. Loristan +knew him through and through and read every boyish thought of +his. + +``Yes,'' he answered slowly. ``You did your part--and now if I +--drew back--you would feel that I HAD FAILED YOU-FAILED YOU.'' + +``You!'' Marco breathed it proudly. ``You COULD not fail even +the weakest thing in the world.'' + +There was a moment's silence in which the two pairs of eyes dwelt +on each other with the deepest meaning, and then Loristan rose to +his feet. + +``The end will be all that our hearts most wish,'' he said. +``To- morrow you may begin the new part of `the Game.' You may +go to Paris.'' + + +When the train which was to meet the boat that crossed from Dover +to Calais steamed out of the noisy Charing Cross Station, it +carried in a third-class carriage two shabby boys. One of them +would have been a handsome lad if he had not carried himself +slouchingly and walked with a street lad's careless shuffling +gait. The other was a cripple who moved slowly, and apparently +with difficulty, on crutches. There was nothing remarkable or +picturesque enough about them to attract attention. They sat in +the corner of the carriage and neither talked much nor seemed to +be particularly interested in the journey or each other. When +they went on board the steamer, they were soon lost among the +commoner passengers and in fact found for themselves a secluded +place which was not advantageous enough to be wanted by any one +else. + +``What can such a poor-looking pair of lads be going to Paris +for?'' some one asked his companion. + +``Not for pleasure, certainly; perhaps to get work,'' was the +casual answer. + +In the evening they reached Paris, and Marco led the way to a +small cafe in a side-street where they got some cheap food. In +the same side-street they found a bed they could share for the +night in a tiny room over a baker's shop. + +The Rat was too much excited to be ready to go to bed early. He +begged Marco to guide him about the brilliant streets. They went +slowly along the broad Avenue des Champs Elysees under the lights +glittering among the horse-chestnut trees. The Rat's sharp eyes +took it all in--the light of the cafes among the embowering +trees, the many carriages rolling by, the people who loitered and +laughed or sat at little tables drinking wine and listening to +music, the broad stream of life which flowed on to the Arc de +Triomphe and back again. + +``It's brighter and clearer than London,'' he said to Marco. +``The people look as if they were having more fun than they do in +England.'' + +The Place de la Concorde spreading its stately spaces--a world of +illumination, movement, and majestic beauty--held him as though +by a fascination. He wanted to stand and stare at it, first from +one point of view and then from another. It was bigger and more +wonderful than he had been able to picture it when Marco had +described it to him and told him of the part it had played in the +days of the French Revolution when the guillotine had stood in it +and the tumbrils had emptied themselves at the foot of its steps. + +He stood near the Obelisk a long time without speaking. + +``I can see it all happening,'' he said at last, and he pulled +Marco away. + +Before they returned home, they found their way to a large house +which stood in a courtyard. In the iron work of the handsome +gates which shut it in was wrought a gilded coronet. The gates +were closed and the house was not brightly lighted. + +They walked past it and round it without speaking, but, when they +neared the entrance for the second time, The Rat said in a low +tone: + +``She is five feet seven, has black hair, a nose with a high +bridge, her eyebrows are black and almost meet across it, she has +a pale olive skin and holds her head proudly.'' + +``That is the one,'' Marco answered. + +They were a week in Paris and each day passed this big house. +There were certain hours when great ladies were more likely to go +out and come in than they were at others. Marco knew this, and +they managed to be within sight of the house or to pass it at +these hours. For two days they saw no sign of the person they +wished to see, but one morning the gates were thrown open and +they saw flowers and palms being taken in. + +``She has been away and is coming back,'' said Marco. The next +day they passed three times--once at the hour when fashionable +women drive out to do their shopping, once at the time when +afternoon visiting is most likely to begin, and once when the +streets were brilliant with lights and the carriages had begun to +roll by to dinner- parties and theaters. + +Then, as they stood at a little distance from the iron gates, a +carriage drove through them and stopped before the big open door +which was thrown open by two tall footmen in splendid livery. + +``She is coming out,'' said The Rat. + +They would be able to see her plainly when she came, because the +lights over the entrance were so bright. + +Marco slipped from under his coat sleeve a carefully made sketch. + +He looked at it and The Rat looked at it. + +A footman stood erect on each side of the open door. The footman +who sat with the coachman had got down and was waiting by the +carriage. Marco and The Rat glanced again with furtive haste at +the sketch. A handsome woman appeared upon the threshold. She +paused and gave some order to the footman who stood on the right. +Then she came out in the full light and got into the carriage +which drove out of the courtyard and quite near the place where +the two boys waited. + +When it was gone, Marco drew a long breath as he tore the sketch +into very small pieces indeed. He did not throw them away but +put them into his pocket. + +The Rat drew a long breath also. + +``Yes,'' he said positively. + +``Yes,'' said Marco. + +When they were safely shut up in their room over the baker's +shop, they discussed the chances of their being able to pass her +in such a way as would seem accidental. Two common boys could +not enter the courtyard. There was a back entrance for +tradespeople and messengers. When she drove, she would always +enter her carriage from the same place. Unless she sometimes +walked, they could not approach her. What should be done? The +thing was difficult. After they had talked some time, The Rat +sat and gnawed his nails. + +``To-morrow afternoon,'' he broke out at last, ``we'll watch and +see if her carriage drives in for her--then, when she comes to +the door, I'll go in and begin to beg. The servant will think +I'm a foreigner and don't know what I'm doing. You can come +after me to tell me to come away, because you know better than I +do that I shall be ordered out. She may be a good-natured woman +and listen to us --and you might get near her.'' + +``We might try it,'' Marco answered. ``It might work. We will +try it.'' + +The Rat never failed to treat him as his leader. He had begged +Loristan to let him come with Marco as his servant, and his +servant he had been more than willing to be. When Loristan had +said he should be his aide-de-camp, he had felt his trust lifted +to a military dignity which uplifted him with it. As his +aide-de-camp he must serve him, watch him, obey his lightest +wish, make everything easy for him. Sometimes, Marco was +troubled by the way in which he insisted on serving him, this +queer, once dictatorial and cantankerous lad who had begun by +throwing stones at him. + +``You must not wait on me,'' he said to him. ``I must wait upon +myself.'' + +The Rat rather flushed. + +``He told me that he would let me come with you as your aide-de +camp,'' he said. ``It--it's part of the game. It makes things +easier if we keep up the game.'' + +It would have attracted attention if they had spent too much time +in the vicinity of the big house. So it happened that the next +afternoon the great lady evidently drove out at an hour when they +were not watching for her. They were on their way to try if they +could carry out their plan, when, as they walked together along +the Rue Royale, The Rat suddenly touched Marco's elbow. + +``The carriage stands before the shop with lace in the windows,'' +he whispered hurriedly. + +Marco saw and recognized it at once. The owner had evidently +gone into the shop to buy something. This was a better chance +than they had hoped for, and, when they approached the carriage +itself, they saw that there was another point in their favor. +Inside were no less than three beautiful little Pekingese +spaniels that looked exactly alike. They were all trying to look +out of the window and were pushing against each other. They were +so perfect and so pretty that few people passed by without +looking at them. What better excuse could two boys have for +lingering about a place? + +They stopped and, standing a little distance away, began to look +at and discuss them and laugh at their excited little antics. +Through the shop-window Marco caught a glimpse of the great lady. + +``She does not look much interested. She won't stay long,'' he +whispered, and added aloud, ``that little one is the master. See +how he pushes the others aside! He is stronger than the other +two, though he is so small.'' + +``He can snap, too,'' said The Rat. + +``She is coming now,'' warned Marco, and then laughed aloud as if +at the Pekingese, which, catching sight of their mistress at the +shop-door, began to leap and yelp for joy. + +Their mistress herself smiled, and was smiling as Marco drew near +her. + +``May we look at them, Madame?'' he said in French, and, as she +made an amiable gesture of acquiescence and moved toward the +carriage with him, he spoke a few words, very low but very +distinctly, in Russian. + +``The Lamp is lighted,'' he said. + +The Rat was looking at her keenly, but he did not see her face +change at all. What he noticed most throughout their journey was +that each person to whom they gave the Sign had complete control +over his or her countenance, if there were bystanders, and never +betrayed by any change of expression that the words meant +anything unusual. + +The great lady merely went on smiling, and spoke only of the +dogs, allowing Marco and himself to look at them through the +window of the carriage as the footman opened the door for her to +enter. + +``They are beautiful little creatures,'' Marco said, lifting his +cap, and, as the footman turned away, he uttered his few Russian +words once more and moved off without even glancing at the lady +again. + +``That is ONE!'' he said to The Rat that night before they went +to sleep, and with a match he burned the scraps of the sketch he +had torn and put into his pocket. + + + +XX + +MARCO GOES TO THE OPERA + +Their next journey was to Munich, but the night before they left +Paris an unexpected thing happened. + +To reach the narrow staircase which led to their bedroom it was +necessary to pass through the baker's shop itself. + +The baker's wife was a friendly woman who liked the two boy +lodgers who were so quiet and gave no trouble. More than once +she had given them a hot roll or so or a freshly baked little +tartlet with fruit in the center. When Marco came in this +evening, she greeted him with a nod and handed him a small parcel +as he passed through. + +``This was left for you this afternoon,'' she said. ``I see you +are making purchases for your journey. My man and I are very +sorry you are going.'' + +``Thank you, Madame. We also are sorry,'' Marco answered, taking +the parcel. ``They are not large purchases, you see.'' + +But neither he nor The Rat had bought anything at all, though the +ordinary-looking little package was plainly addressed to him and +bore the name of one of the big cheap shops. It felt as if it +contained something soft. + +When he reached their bedroom, The Rat was gazing out of the +window watching every living thing which passed in the street +below. He who had never seen anything but London was absorbed by +the spell of Paris and was learning it by heart. + +``Something has been sent to us. Look at this,'' said Marco. + +The Rat was at his side at once. ``What is it? Where did it +come from?'' + +They opened the package and at first sight saw only several pairs +of quite common woolen socks. As Marco took up the sock in the +middle of the parcel, he felt that there was something inside +it-- something laid flat and carefully. He put his hand in and +drew out a number of five-franc notes--not new ones, because new +ones would have betrayed themselves by crackling. These were old +enough to be soft. But there were enough of them to amount to a +substantial sum. + +``It is in small notes because poor boys would have only small +ones. No one will be surprised when we change these,'' The Rat +said. + +Each of them believed the package had been sent by the great +lady, but it had been done so carefully that not the slightest +clue was furnished. + +To The Rat, part of the deep excitement of ``the Game'' was the +working out of the plans and methods of each person concerned. +He could not have slept without working out some scheme which +might have been used in this case. It thrilled him to +contemplate the difficulties the great lady might have found +herself obliged to overcome. + +``Perhaps,'' he said, after thinking it over for some time, ``she + +went to a big common shop dressed as if she were an ordinary +woman and bought the socks and pretended she was going to carry +them home herself. She would do that so that she could take them +into some corner and slip the money in. Then, as she wanted to +have them sent from the shop, perhaps she bought some other +things and asked the people to deliver the packages to different +places. The socks were sent to us and the other things to some +one else. She would go to a shop where no one knew her and no +one would expect to see her and she would wear clothes which +looked neither rich nor too poor.'' + +He created the whole episode with all its details and explained +them to Marco. It fascinated him for the entire evening and he +felt relieved after it and slept well. + +Even before they had left London, certain newspapers had swept +out of existence the story of the descendant of the Lost Prince. +This had been done by derision and light handling--by treating it +as a romantic legend. + +At first, The Rat had resented this bitterly, but one day at a +meal, when he had been producing arguments to prove that the +story must be a true one, Loristan somehow checked him by his own +silence. + +``If there is such a man,'' he said after a pause, ``it is well +for him that his existence should not be believed in--for some +time at least.'' + +The Rat came to a dead stop. He felt hot for a moment and then +felt cold. He saw a new idea all at once. He had been making a +mistake in tactics. + +No more was said but, when they were alone afterwards, he poured +himself forth to Marco. + +``I was a fool!'' he cried out. ``Why couldn't I see it for +myself! Shall I tell you what I believe has been done? There is +some one who has influence in England and who is a friend to +Samavia. They've got the newspapers to make fun of the story so +that it won't be believed. If it was believed, both the +Iarovitch and the Maranovitch would be on the lookout, and the +Secret Party would lose their chances. What a fool I was not to +think of it! There's some one watching and working here who is a +friend to Samavia.'' + +``But there is some one in Samavia who has begun to suspect that +it might be true,'' Marco answered. ``If there were not, I +should not have been shut in the cellar. Some one thought my +father knew something. The spies had orders to find out what it +was.'' + +``Yes. Yes. That's true, too!'' The Rat answered anxiously. +``We shall have to be very careful.'' + +In the lining of the sleeve of Marco's coat there was a slit into +which he could slip any small thing he wished to conceal and also +wished to be able to reach without trouble. In this he had +carried the sketch of the lady which he had torn up in Paris. +When they walked in the streets of Munich, the morning after +their arrival, he carried still another sketch. It was the one +picturing the genial- looking old aristocrat with the sly smile. + +One of the things they had learned about this one was that his +chief characteristic was his passion for music. He was a patron +of musicians and he spent much time in Munich because he loved +its musical atmosphere and the earnestness of its opera-goers. + +``The military band plays in the Feldherrn-halle at midday. When +something very good is being played, sometimes people stop their +carriages so that they can listen. We will go there,'' said +Marco. + +``It's a chance,'' said The Rat. ``We mustn't lose anything like +a chance.'' + +The day was brilliant and sunny, the people passing through the +streets looked comfortable and homely, the mixture of old streets +and modern ones, of ancient corners and shops and houses of the +day was picturesque and cheerful. The Rat swinging through the +crowd on his crutches was full of interest and exhilaration. He +had begun to grow, and the change in his face and expression +which had begun in London had become more noticeable. He had +been given his ``place,'' and a work to do which entitled him to +hold it. + +No one could have suspected them of carrying a strange and vital +secret with them as they strolled along together. They seemed +only two ordinary boys who looked in at shop windows and talked +over their contents, and who loitered with upturned faces in the +Marien- Platz before the ornate Gothic Rathaus to hear the eleven +o'clock chimes play and see the painted figures of the King and +Queen watch from their balcony the passing before them of the +automatic tournament procession with its trumpeters and tilting +knights. When the show was over and the automatic cock broke +forth into his lusty farewell crow, they laughed just as any +other boys would have laughed. Sometimes it would have been easy +for The Rat to forget that there was anything graver in the world +than the new places and new wonders he was seeing, as if he were +a wandering minstrel in a story. + +But in Samavia bloody battles were being fought, and bloody plans +were being wrought out, and in anguished anxiety the Secret Party +and the Forgers of the Sword waited breathlessly for the Sign for +which they had waited so long. And inside the lining of Marco's +coat was hidden the sketched face, as the two unnoticed lads made +their way to the Feldherrn-halle to hear the band play and see +who might chance to be among the audience. + +Because the day was sunny, and also because the band was playing +a specially fine programme, the crowd in the square was larger +than usual. Several vehicles had stopped, and among them were +one or two which were not merely hired cabs but were the +carriages of private persons. + +One of them had evidently arrived early, as it was drawn up in a +good position when the boys reached the corner. It was a big +open carriage and a grand one, luxuriously upholstered in green. +The footman and coachman wore green and silver liveries and +seemed to know that people were looking at them and their master. + +He was a stout, genial-looking old aristocrat with a sly smile, +though, as he listened to the music, it almost forgot to be sly. +In the carriage with him were a young officer and a little boy, +and they also listened attentively. Standing near the carriage +door were several people who were plainly friends or +acquaintances, as they occasionally spoke to him. Marco touched +The Rat's coat sleeve as the two boys approached. + +``It would not be easy to get near him,'' he said. ``Let us go +and stand as close to the carriage as we can get without pushing. +Perhaps we may hear some one say something about where he is +going after the music is over.'' + +Yes, there was no mistaking him. He was the right man. Each of +them knew by heart the creases on his stout face and the sweep of +his gray moustache. But there was nothing noticeable in a boy +looking for a moment at a piece of paper, and Marco sauntered a +few steps to a bit of space left bare by the crowd and took a +last glance at his sketch. His rule was to make sure at the +final moment. The music was very good and the group about the +carriage was evidently enthusiastic. There was talk and praise +and comment, and the old aristocrat nodded his head repeatedly in +applause. + +``The Chancellor is music mad,'' a looker-on near the boys said +to another. ``At the opera every night unless serious affairs +keep him away! There you may see him nodding his old head and +bursting his gloves with applauding when a good thing is done. +He ought to have led an orchestra or played a 'cello. He is too +big for first violin.'' + +There was a group about the carriage to the last, when the music +came to an end and it drove away. There had been no possible +opportunity of passing close to it even had the presence of the +young officer and the boy not presented an insurmountable +obstacle. + +Marco and The Rat went on their way and passed by the Hof- +Theater and read the bills. ``Tristan and Isolde'' was to be +presented at night and a great singer would sing Isolde. + +``He will go to hear that,'' both boys said at once. ``He will +be sure to go.'' + +It was decided between them that Marco should go on his quest +alone when night came. One boy who hung around the entrance of +the Opera would be observed less than two. + +``People notice crutches more than they notice legs,'' The Rat +said. ``I'd better keep out of the way unless you need me. My +time hasn't come yet. Even if it doesn't come at all I've--I've +been on duty. I've gone with you and I've been ready- that's what +an aide-de- camp does.'' + +He stayed at home and read such English papers as he could lay +hands on and he drew plans and re-fought battles on paper. + +Marco went to the opera. Even if he had not known his way to the +square near the place where the Hof-Theater stood, he could +easily have found it by following the groups of people in the +streets who all seemed walking in one direction. There were +students in their odd caps walking three or four abreast, there +were young couples and older ones, and here and there whole +families; there were soldiers of all ages, officers and privates; +and, when talk was to be heard in passing, it was always talk +about music. + +For some time Marco waited in the square and watched the +carriages roll up and pass under the huge pillared portico to +deposit their contents at the entrance and at once drive away in +orderly sequence. He must make sure that the grand carriage with +the green and silver liveries rolled up with the rest. If it +came, he would buy a cheap ticket and go inside. + +It was rather late when it arrived. People in Munich are not +late for the opera if it can be helped, and the coachman drove up +hurriedly. The green and silver footman leaped to the ground and +opened the carriage door almost before it stopped. The +Chancellor got out looking less genial than usual because he was +afraid that he might lose some of the overture. A rosy-cheeked +girl in a white frock was with him and she was evidently trying +to soothe him. + +``I do not think we are really late, Father,'' she said. ``Don't +feel cross, dear. It will spoil the music for you.'' + +This was not a time in which a man's attention could be attracted +quietly. Marco ran to get the ticket which would give him a +place among the rows of young soldiers, artists, male and female +students, and musicians who were willing to stand four or five +deep throughout the performance of even the longest opera. He +knew that, unless they were in one of the few boxes which +belonged only to the court, the Chancellor and his rosy-cheeked +daughter would be in the best seats in the front curve of the +balcony which were the most desirable of the house. He soon saw +them. They had secured the central places directly below the +large royal box where two quiet princesses and their attendants +were already seated. + +When he found he was not too late to hear the overture, the +Chancellor's face become more genial than ever. He settled +himself down to an evening of enjoyment and evidently forgot +everything else in the world. Marco did not lose sight of him. +When the audience went out between acts to promenade in the +corridors, he might go also and there might be a chance to pass +near to him in the crowd. He watched him closely. Sometimes his +fine old face saddened at the beautiful woe of the music, +sometimes it looked enraptured, and it was always evident that +every note reached his soul. + +The pretty daughter who sat beside him was attentive but not so +enthralled. After the first act two glittering young officers +appeared and made elegant and low bows, drawing their heels +together as they kissed her hand. They looked sorry when they +were obliged to return to their seats again. + +After the second act the Chancellor sat for a few minutes as if +he were in a dream. The people in the seats near him began to +rise from their seats and file out into the corridors. The young +officers were to be seen rising also. The rosy daughter leaned +forward and touched her father's arm gently. + +``She wants him to take her out,'' Marco thought. ``He will take +her because he is good-natured.'' + +He saw him recall himself from his dream with a smile and then he +rose and, after helping to arrange a silvery blue scarf round the +girl's shoulders, gave her his arm just as Marco skipped out of +his fourth-row standing-place. + +It was a rather warm night and the corridors were full. By the +time Marco had reached the balcony floor, the pair had issued +from the little door and were temporarily lost in the moving +numbers. + +Marco quietly made his way among the crowd trying to look as if +he belonged to somebody. Once or twice his strong body and his +dense black eyes and lashes made people glance at him, but he +was not the only boy who had been brought to the opera so he felt +safe enough to stop at the foot of the stairs and watch those who +went up and those who passed by. Such a miscellaneous crowd as +it was made up of--good unfashionable music-lovers mixed here and +there with grand people of the court and the gay world. + +Suddenly he heard a low laugh and a moment later a hand lightly +touched him. + +``You DID get out, then?'' a soft voice said. + +When he turned he felt his muscles stiffen. He ceased to slouch +and did not smile as he looked at the speaker. What he felt was +a wave of fierce and haughty anger. It swept over him before he +had time to control it. + +A lovely person who seemed swathed in several shades of soft +violet drapery was smiling at him with long, lovely eyes. + +It was the woman who had trapped him into No. 10 Brandon Terrace. + + + +XXI + +``HELP!'' + +Did it take you so long to find it? asked the Lovely Person with +the smile. ``Of course I knew you would find it in the end. But +we had to give ourselves time. How long did it take?'' + +Marco removed himself from beneath the touch of her hand. It was +quietly done, but there was a disdain in his young face which +made her wince though she pretended to shrug her shoulders +amusedly. + +``You refuse to answer?'' she laughed. + +``I refuse.'' + +At that very moment he saw at the curve of the corridor the +Chancellor and his daughter approaching slowly. The two young +officers were talking gaily to the girl. They were on their way +back to their box. Was he going to lose them? Was he? + +The delicate hand was laid on his shoulder again, but this time +he felt that it grasped him firmly. + +``Naughty boy!'' the soft voice said. ``I am going to take you +home with me. If you struggle I shall tell these people that you +are my bad boy who is here without permission. What will you +answer? My escort is coming down the staircase and will help me. +Do you see?'' And in fact there appeared in the crowd at the +head of the staircase the figure of the man he remembered. + +He did see. A dampness broke out on the palms of his hands. If +she did this bold thing, what could he say to those she told her +lie to? How could he bring proof or explain who he was--and what +story dare he tell? His protestations and struggles would merely +amuse the lookers-on, who would see in them only the impotent +rage of an insubordinate youngster. + +There swept over him a wave of remembrance which brought back, as +if he were living through it again, the moment when he had stood +in the darkness of the wine cellar with his back against the door +and heard the man walk away and leave him alone. He felt again +as he had done then--but now he was in another land and far away +from his father. He could do nothing to help himself unless +Something showed him a way. + +He made no sound, and the woman who held him saw only a flame +leap under his dense black lashes. + +But something within him called out. It was as if he heard it. +It was that strong self--the self that was Marco, and it +called--it called as if it shouted. + +``Help!'' it called--to that Unknown Stranger Thing which had +made worlds and which he and his father so often talked of and in +whose power they so believed. ``Help!'' + +The Chancellor was drawing nearer. Perhaps! Should he--? + +``You are too proud to kick and shout,'' the voice went on. +``And people would only laugh. Do you see?'' + +The stairs were crowded and the man who was at the head of them +could only move slowly. But he had seen the boy. + +Marco turned so that he could face his captor squarely as if he +were going to say something in answer to her. But he was not. + +Even as he made the movement of turning, the help he had called +for came and he knew what he should do. And he could do two +things at once--save himself and give his Sign--because, the Sign +once given, the Chancellor would understand. + +``He will be here in a moment. He has recognized you,'' the +woman said. + +As he glanced up the stairs, the delicate grip of her hand +unconsciously slackened. + +Marco whirled away from her. The bell rang which was to warn the +audience that they must return to their seats and he saw the +Chancellor hasten his pace. + +A moment later, the old aristocrat found himself amazedly looking +down at the pale face of a breathless lad who spoke to him in +German and in such a manner that he could not but pause and +listen . + +``Sir,'' he was saying, ``the woman in violet at the foot of the +stairs is a spy. She trapped me once and she threatens to do it +again. Sir, may I beg you to protect me?'' + +He said it low and fast. No one else could hear his words. + +``What! What!'' the Chancellor exclaimed. + +And then, drawing a step nearer and quite as low and rapidly but +with perfect distinctness, Marco uttered four words: + +``The Lamp is lighted.'' + +The Help cry had been answered instantly. Marco saw it at once +in the old man's eyes, notwithstanding that he turned to look at +the woman at the foot of the staircase as if she only concerned +him. + +``What! What!'' he said again, and made a movement toward her, +pulling his large moustache with a fierce hand. + +Then Marco recognized that a curious thing happened. The Lovely +Person saw the movement and the gray moustache, and that instant +her smile died away and she turned quite white--so white, that +under the brilliant electric light she was almost green and +scarcely looked lovely at all. She made a sign to the man on the +staircase and slipped through the crowd like an eel. She was a +slim flexible creature and never was a disappearance more +wonderful in its rapidity. Between stout matrons and their thin +or stout escorts and families she made her way and lost +herself--but always making toward the exit. In two minutes there +was no sight of her violet draperies to be seen. She was gone +and so, evidently, was her male companion. + +It was plain to Marco that to follow the profession of a spy was +not by any means a safe thing. The Chancellor had recognized +her-- she had recognized the Chancellor who turned looking +ferociously angry and spoke to one of the young officers. + +``She and the man with her are two of the most dangerous spies in +Europe, She is a Rumanian and he is a Russian. What they wanted +of this innocent lad I don't pretend to know. What did she +threaten?'' to Marco. + +Marco was feeling rather cold and sick and had lost his healthy +color for the moment. + +``She said she meant to take me home with her and would pretend I +was her son who had come here without permission,'' he answered. +``She believes I know something I do not.'' He made a hesitating +but grateful bow. ``The third act, sir--I must not keep you. +Thank you! Thank you!'' + +The Chancellor moved toward the entrance door of the balcony +seats, but he did it with his hand on Marco's shoulder. + +``See that he gets home safely,'' he said to the younger of the +two officers. ``Send a messenger with him. He's young to be +attacked by creatures of that kind.'' + +Polite young officers naturally obey the commands of Chancellors +and such dignitaries. This one found without trouble a young +private who marched with Marco through the deserted streets to +his lodgings. He was a stolid young Bavarian peasant and seemed +to have no curiosity or even any interest in the reason for the +command given him. He was in fact thinking of his sweetheart who +lived near Konigsee and who had skated with him on the frozen +lake last winter. He scarcely gave a glance to the schoolboy he +was to escort, he neither knew nor wondered why. + +The Rat had fallen asleep over his papers and lay with his head +on his folded arms on the table. But he was awakened by Marco's +coming into the room and sat up blinking his eyes in the effort +to get them open. + +``Did you see him? Did you get near enough?'' he drowsed. + +``Yes,'' Marco answered. ``I got near enough.' + +The Rat sat upright suddenly. + +``It's not been easy,'' he exclaimed. ``I'm sure something +happened --something went wrong.'' + +``Something nearly went wrong--VERY nearly,'' answered Marco. +But as he spoke he took the sketch of the Chancellor out of the +slit in his sleeve and tore it and burned it with a match. ``But +I did get near enough. And that's TWO.'' + +They talked long, before they went to sleep that night. The Rat +grew pale as he listened to the story of the woman in violet. + +``I ought to have gone with you!'' he said. ``I see now. An +aide- de-camp must always be in attendance. It would have been +harder for her to manage two than one. I must always be near to +watch, even if I am not close by you. If you had not come +back--if you had not come back!'' He struck his clenched hands +together fiercely. ``What should I have done!'' + +When Marco turned toward him from the table near which he was +standing, he looked like his father. + +``You would have gone on with the Game just as far as you +could,'' he said. ``You could not leave it. You remember the +places, and the faces, and the Sign. There is some money; and +when it was all gone, you could have begged, as we used to +pretend we should. + +We have not had to do it yet; and it was best to save it for +country places and villages. But you could have done it if you +were obliged to. The Game would have to go on.'' + +The Rat caught at his thin chest as if he had been struck +breathless. + +``Without you?'' he gasped. ``Without you?'' + +``Yes,'' said Marco. ``And we must think of it, and plan in case +anything like that should happen.'' + +He stopped himself quite suddenly, and sat down, looking straight +before him, as if at some far away thing he saw. + +``Nothing will happen,'' he said. ``Nothing can.'' + +``What are you thinking of?'' The Rat gulped, because his breath +had not quite come back. ``Why will nothing happen?'' + +``Because--'' the boy spoke in an almost matter-of-fact tone--in +quite an unexalted tone at all events, ``you see I can always +make a strong call, as I did tonight.'' + +``Did you shout?'' The Rat asked. ``I didn't know you shouted.'' + +``I didn't. I said nothing aloud. But I--the myself that is in +me,'' Marco touched himself on the breast, ``called out, `Help! +Help!' with all its strength. And help came.'' + +The Rat regarded him dubiously. + +``What did it call to?'' he asked. + +``To the Power--to the Strength-place--to the Thought that does +things. The Buddhist hermit, who told my father about it, called +it `The Thought that thought the World.' '' + +A reluctant suspicion betrayed itself in The Rat's eyes. + +``Do you mean you prayed?'' he inquired, with a slight touch of +disfavor. + +Marco's eyes remained fixed upon him in vague thoughtfulness for +a moment or so of pause. + +``I don't know,'' he said at last. ``Perhaps it's the same +thing-- when you need something so much that you cry out loud for +it. But it's not words, it's a strong thing without a name. I +called like that when I was shut in the wine-cellar. I +remembered some of the things the old Buddhist told my father.'' + +The Rat moved restlessly. + +``The help came that time,'' he admitted. ``How did it come to- +night?'' + +``In that thought which flashed into my mind almost the next +second. It came like lightning. All at once I knew if I ran to +the Chancellor and said the woman was a spy, it would startle him +into listening to me; and that then I could give him the Sign; +and that when I gave him the Sign, he would know I was speaking +the truth and would protect me.'' + +``It was a splendid thought!'' The Rat said. ``And it was quick. + +But it was you who thought of it.'' + +``All thinking is part of the Big Thought,'' said Marco slowly. +``It KNOWS--It KNOWS. And the outside part of us somehow broke +the chain that linked us to It. And we are always trying to mend +the chain, without knowing it. That is what our thinking +is--trying to mend the chain. But we shall find out how to do it +sometime. The old Buddhist told my father so--just as the sun +was rising from behind a high peak of the Himalayas.'' Then he +added hastily, ``I am only telling you what my father told me, +and he only told me what the old hermit told him.'' + +``Does your father believe what he told him?'' The Rat's +bewilderment had become an eager and restless thing. + +``Yes, he believes it. He always thought something like it, +himself. That is why he is so calm and knows so well how to +wait.'' + +``Is THAT it!'' breathed The Rat. ``Is that why? Has--has he +mended the chain?'' And there was awe in his voice, because of +this one man to whom he felt any achievement was possible. + +``I believe he has,'' said Marco. ``Don't you think so +yourself?'' + +``He has done something,'' The Rat said. + +He seemed to be thinking things over before he spoke again-- and +then even more slowly than Marco. + +``If he could mend the chain,'' he said almost in a whisper, ``he +could find out where the descendant of the Lost Prince is. He +would know what to do for Samavia!'' + +He ended the words with a start, and his whole face glowed with a +new, amazed light. + +``Perhaps he does know!'' he cried. ``If the help comes like +thoughts --as yours did--perhaps his thought of letting us give +the Sign was part of it. We--just we two every-day boys--are +part of it!'' + +``The old Buddhist said--'' began Marco. + +``Look here!'' broke in The Rat. ``Tell me the whole story. I +want to hear it.'' + +It was because Loristan had heard it, and listened and believed, +that The Rat had taken fire. His imagination seized upon the +idea, as it would have seized on some theory of necromancy proved +true and workable. + +With his elbows on the table and his hands in his hair, he leaned +forward, twisting a lock with restless fingers. His breath +quickened. + +``Tell it,'' he said, ``I want to hear it all!'' + +``I shall have to tell it in my own words,'' Marco said. ``And +it won't be as wonderful as it was when my father told it to me. +This is what I remember: + +``My father had gone through much pain and trouble. A great load +was upon him, and he had been told he was going to die before his +work was done. He had gone to India, because a man he was +obliged to speak to had gone there to hunt, and no one knew when +he would return. My father followed him for months from one wild +place to another, and, when he found him, the man would not hear +or believe what he had come so far to say. Then he had +jungle-fever and almost died. Once the natives left him for dead +in a bungalow in the forest, and he heard the jackals howling +round him all the night. Through all the hours he was only alive +enough to be conscious of two things--all the rest of him seemed +gone from his body: his thought knew that his work was +unfinished--and his body heard the jackals howl!'' + +``Was the work for Samavia?'' The Rat put in quickly. ``If he +had died that night, the descendant of the Lost Prince never +would have been found--never!'' The Rat bit his lip so hard that +a drop of blood started from it. + +``When he was slowly coming alive again, a native, who had gone +back and stayed to wait upon him, told him that near the summit +of a mountain, about fifty miles away, there was a ledge which +jutted out into space and hung over the valley, which was +thousands of feet below. On the ledge there was a hut in which +there lived an ancient Buddhist, who was a holy man, as they +called him, and who had been there during time which had not +been measured. They said that their grandparents and +great-grandparents had known of him, though very few persons had +ever seen him. It was told that the most savage beast was tame +before him. They said that a man- eating tiger would stop to +salute him, and that a thirsty lioness would bring her whelps to +drink at the spring near his hut.'' + +``That was a lie,'' said The Rat promptly. + +Marco neither laughed nor frowned. + +``How do we KNOW?'' he said. ``It was a native's story, and it +might be anything. My father neither said it was true nor false. +He listened to all that was told him by natives. They said that +the holy man was the brother of the stars. He knew all things +past and to come, and could heal the sick. But most people, +especially those who had sinful thoughts, were afraid to go near +him.'' + +``I'd like to have seen--'' The Rat pondered aloud, but he did +not finish. + +``Before my father was well, he had made up his mind to travel to +the ledge if he could. He felt as if he must go. He thought +that if he were going to die, the hermit might tell him some wise +thing to do for Samavia.'' + +``He might have given him a message to leave to the Secret +Ones,'' said The Rat. + +``He was so weak when he set out on his journey that he wondered +if he would reach the end of it. Part of the way he traveled by +bullock cart, and part, he was carried by natives. But at last +the bearers came to a place more than halfway up the mountain, +and would go no further. Then they went back and left him to +climb the rest of the way himself. They had traveled slowly and +he had got more strength, but he was weak yet. The forest was +more wonderful than anything he had ever seen. There were +tropical trees with foliage like lace, and some with huge leaves, +and some of them seemed to reach the sky. Sometimes he could +barely see gleams of blue through them. And vines swung down +from their high branches, and caught each other, and matted +together; and there were hot scents, and strange flowers, and +dazzling birds darting about, and thick moss, and little +cascades bursting out. The path grew narrower and steeper, and +the flower scents and the sultriness made it like walking in a +hothouse. He heard rustlings in the undergrowth, which might +have been made by any kind of wild animal; once he stepped across +a deadly snake without seeing it. But it was asleep and did not +hurt him. He knew the natives had been convinced that he would +not reach the ledge; but for some strange reason he believed he +should. He stopped and rested many times, and he drank some milk +he had brought in a canteen. The higher he climbed, the more +wonderful everything was, and a strange feeling began to fill +him. He said his body stopped being tired and began to feel very +light. And his load lifted itself from his heart, as if it were +not his load any more but belonged to something stronger. Even +Samavia seemed to be safe. As he went higher and higher, and +looked down the abyss at the world below, it appeared as if it +were not real but only a dream he had wakened from--only a +dream.'' + +The Rat moved restlessly. + +``Perhaps he was light-headed with the fever,'' he suggested. + +``The fever had left him, and the weakness had left him,'' Marco +answered. ``It seemed as if he had never really been ill at +all-- as if no one could be ill, because things like that were +only dreams, just as the world was.'' + +``I wish I'd been with him! Perhaps I could have thrown these +away--down into the abyss!'' And The Rat shook his crutches +which rested against the table. ``I feel as if I was climbing, +too. Go on.'' + +Marco had become more absorbed than The Rat. He had lost himself +in the memory of the story. + +``I felt that _I_ was climbing, when he told me,'' he said. ``I +felt as if I were breathing in the hot flower-scents and pushing +aside the big leaves and giant ferns. There had been a rain, and +they were wet and shining with big drops, like jewels, that +showered over him as he thrust his way through and under them. +And the stillness and the height--the stillness and the height! +I can't make it real to you as he made it to me! I can't! I was +there. He took me. And it was so high--and so still--and so +beautiful that I could scarcely bear it.'' + +But the truth was, that with some vivid boy-touch he had carried +his hearer far. The Rat was deadly quiet. Even his eyes had not +moved. He spoke almost as if he were in a sort of trance. +``It's real,'' he said. ``I'm there now. As high as you--go +on--go on. I want to climb higher.'' + +And Marco, understanding, went on. + +``The day was over and the stars were out when he reached the +place were the ledge was. He said he thought that during the +last part of the climb he never looked on the earth at all. The +stars were so immense that he could not look away from them. +They seemed to be drawing him up. And all overhead was like +violet velvet, and they hung there like great lamps of radiance. +Can you see them? You must see them. My father saw them all +night long. They were part of the wonder.'' + +``I see them,'' The Rat answered, still in his trance-like voice +and without stirring, and Marco knew he did. + +``And there, with the huge stars watching it, was the hut on the +ledge. And there was no one there. The door was open. And +outside it was a low bench and table of stone. And on the table +was a meal of dates and rice, waiting. Not far from the hut was +a deep spring, which ran away in a clear brook. My father drank +and bathed his face there. Then he went out on the ledge, and +sat down and waited, with his face turned up to the stars. He +did not lie down, and he thought he saw the stars all the time he +waited. He was sure he did not sleep. He did not know how long +he sat there alone. But at last he drew his eyes from the stars, +as if he had been commanded to do it. And he was not alone any +more. A yard or so away from him sat the holy man. He knew it +was the hermit because his eyes were different from any human +eyes he had ever beheld. They were as still as the night was, +and as deep as the shadows covering the world thousands of feet +below, and they had a far, far look, and a strange light was in +them.'' + +``What did he say?'' asked The Rat hoarsely. + +``He only said, `Rise, my son. I awaited thee. Go and eat the +food I prepared for thee, and then we will speak together.' He +didn't move or speak again until my father had eaten the meal. +He only sat on the moss and let his eyes rest on the shadows over +the abyss. When my father went back, he made a gesture which +meant that he should sit near him. + +``Then he sat still for several minutes, and let his eyes rest on +my father, until he felt as if the light in them were set in the +midst of his own body and his soul. Then he said, `I cannot tell +thee all thou wouldst know. That I may not do.' He had a +wonderful gentle voice, like a deep soft bell. `But the work +will be done. Thy life and thy son's life will set it on its +way.' + +``They sat through the whole night together. And the stars hung +quite near, as if they listened. And there were sounds in the +bushes of stealthy, padding feet which wandered about as if the +owners of them listened too. And the wonderful, low, peaceful +voice of the holy man went on and on, telling of wonders which +seemed like miracles but which were to him only the `working of +the Law.' '' + +``What is the Law?'' The Rat broke in. + +``There were two my father wrote down, and I learned them. The +first was the law of The One. I'll try to say that,'' and he +covered his eyes and waited through a moment of silence. + +It seemed to The Rat as if the room held an extraordinary +stillness. + +``Listen!'' came next. ``This is it: + +`` `There are a myriad worlds. There is but One Thought out of +which they grew. Its Law is Order which cannot swerve. Its +creatures are free to choose. Only they can create Disorder, +which in itself is Pain and Woe and Hate and Fear. These they +alone can bring forth. The Great One is a Golden Light. It is +not remote but near. Hold thyself within its glow and thou wilt +behold all things clearly. First, with all thy breathing being, +know one thing! That thine own thought--when so thou +standest--is one with That which thought the Worlds!' '' + +``What?'' gasped The Rat. ``MY thought--the things _I_ think!'' + +``Your thoughts--boys' thoughts--anybody's thoughts.'' + +``You're giving me the jim-jams!'' + +``He said it,'' answered Marco. ``And it was then he spoke about +the broken Link--and about the greatest books in the world--that +in all their different ways, they were only saying over and over +again one thing thousands of times. Just this thing--`Hate not, +Fear not, Love.' And he said that was Order. And when it was +disturbed, suffering came--poverty and misery and catastrophe and +wars.'' + +``Wars!'' The Rat said sharply. ``The World couldn't do without +war--and armies and defences! What about Samavia?'' + +``My father asked him that. And this is what he answered. I +learned that too. Let me think again,'' and he waited as he had +waited before. Then he lifted his head. ``Listen! This is it: + +`` `Out of the blackness of Disorder and its outpouring of human +misery, there will arise the Order which is Peace. When Man +learns that he is one with the Thought which itself creates all +beauty, all power, all splendor, and all repose, he will not fear +that his brother can rob him of his heart's desire. He will +stand in the Light and draw to himself his own.' '' + +``Draw to himself?'' The Rat said. ``Draw what he wants? I +don't believe it!'' + +``Nobody does,'' said Marco. ``We don't know. He said we stood +in the dark of the night--without stars--and did not know that +the broken chain swung just above us.'' + +``I don't believe it!'' said The Rat. ``It's too big!'' + +Marco did not say whether he believed it or not. He only went on +speaking. + +``My father listened until he felt as if he had stopped +breathing. Just at the stillest of the stillness the Buddhist +stopped speaking. And there was a rustling of the undergrowth a +few yards away, as if something big was pushing its way +through--and there was the soft pad of feet. The Buddhist turned +his head and my father heard him say softly: `Come forth, +Sister.' + +``And a huge leopardess with two cubs walked out on to the ledge +and came to him and threw herself down with a heavy lunge near +his feet.'' + +``Your father saw that!'' cried out The Rat. ``You mean the old +fellow knew something that made wild beasts afraid to touch him +or any one near him?'' + +``Not afraid. They knew he was their brother, and that he was +one with the Law. He had lived so long with the Great Thought +that all darkness and fear had left him forever. He had mended +the Chain.'' + +The Rat had reached deep waters. He leaned forward--his hands +burrowing in his hair, his face scowling and twisted, his eyes +boring into space. He had climbed to the ledge at the +mountain-top; he had seen the luminous immensity of the stars, +and he had looked down into the shadows filling the world +thousands of feet below. Was there some remote deep in him from +whose darkness a slow light was rising? All that Loristan had +said he knew must be true. But the rest of it--? + +Marco got up and came over to him. He looked like his father +again. + +``If the descendant of the Lost Prince is brought back to rule +Samavia, he will teach his people the Law of the One. It was for +that the holy man taught my father until the dawn came.'' + +``Who will--who will teach the Lost Prince--the new King--when he +is found?'' The Rat cried. ``Who will teach him?'' + +``The hermit said my father would. He said he would also teach +his son--and that son would teach his son--and he would teach +his. And through such as they were, the whole world would come +to know the Order and the Law.'' + +Never had The Rat looked so strange and fierce a thing. A whole +world at peace! No tactics--no battles--no slaughtered heroes +--no clash of arms, and fame! It made him feel sick. And yet-- +something set his chest heaving. + +``And your father would teach him that--when he was found! So +that he could teach his sons. Your father BELIEVES in it?'' + +``Yes,'' Marco answered. He said nothing but ``Yes.'' The Rat +threw himself forward on the table, face downward. + +``Then,'' he said, ``he must make me believe it. He must teach +me--if he can.'' + +They heard a clumping step upon the staircase, and, when it +reached the landing, it stopped at their door. Then there was a +solid knock. + +When Marco opened the door, the young soldier who had escorted +him from the Hof-Theater was standing outside. He looked as +uninterested and stolid as before, as he handed in a small flat +package. + +``You must have dropped it near your seat at the Opera,'' he +said. ``I was to give it into your own hands. It is your +purse.'' + +After he had clumped down the staircase again, Marco and The Rat +drew a quick breath at one and the same time. + +``I had no seat and I had no purse,'' Marco said. ``Let us open +it.'' + +There was a flat limp leather note-holder inside. In it was a +paper, at the head of which were photographs of the Lovely Person +and her companion. Beneath were a few lines which stated that +they were the well known spies, Eugenia Karovna and Paul Varel, +and that the bearer must be protected against them. It was +signed by the Chief of the Police. On a separate sheet was +written the command: ``Carry this with you as protection.'' + +``That is help,'' The Rat said. ``It would protect us, even in +another country. The Chancellor sent it--but you made the strong +call --and it's here!'' + +There was no street lamp to shine into their windows when they +went at last to bed. When the blind was drawn up, they were +nearer the sky than they had been in the Marylebone Road. The +last thing each of them saw, as he went to sleep, was the +stars--and in their dreams, they saw them grow larger and larger, +and hang like lamps of radiance against the violet--velvet sky +above a ledge of a Himalayan Mountain, where they listened to the +sound of a low voice going on and on and on. + + + +XXII + +A NIGHT VIGIL + +On a hill in the midst of a great Austrian plain, around which +high Alps wait watching through the ages stands a venerable +fortress, almost more beautiful than anything one has ever seen. +Perhaps, if it were not for the great plain flowering broadly +about it with its wide-spread beauties of meadow-land, and wood, +and dim toned buildings gathered about farms, and its dream of a +small ancient city at its feet, it might--though it is to be +doubted--seem something less a marvel of medieval +picturesqueness. But out of the plain rises the low hill, and +surrounding it at a stately distance stands guard the giant +majesty of Alps, with shoulders in the clouds and god-like heads +above them, looking on--always looking on--sometimes themselves +ethereal clouds of snow-whiteness, some times monster bare crags +which pierce the blue, and whose unchanging silence seems to know +the secret of the everlasting. And on the hill which this august +circle holds in its embrace, as though it enclosed a treasure, +stands the old, old, towered fortress built as a citadel for the +Prince Archbishops, who were kings in their domain in the long +past centuries when the splendor and power of ecclesiastical +princes was among the greatest upon earth. + +And as you approach the town--and as you leave it--and as you +walk through its streets, the broad calm empty-looking ones, or +the narrow thoroughfares whose houses seem so near to each other, +whether you climb or descend--or cross bridges, or gaze at +churches, or step out on your balcony at night to look at the +mountains and the moon--always it seems that from some point you +can see it gazing down at you--the citadel of Hohen-Salzburg. + +It was to Salzburg they went next, because at Salzburg was to be +found the man who looked like a hair-dresser and who worked in a +barber's shop. Strange as it might seem, to him also must be +carried the Sign. + +``There may be people who come to him to be shaved--soldiers, or +men who know things,'' The Rat worked it out, ``and he can speak +to them when he is standing close to them. It will be easy to +get near him. You can go and have your hair cut.'' + +The journey from Munich was not a long one, and during the latter +part of it they had the wooden-seated third-class carriage to +themselves. Even the drowsy old peasant who nodded and slept in +one corner got out with his bundles at last. To Marco the +mountains were long-known wonders which could never grow old. +They had always and always been so old! Surely they had been the +first of the world! Surely they had been standing there waiting +when it was said ``Let there be Light.'' The Light had known it +would find them there. They were so silent, and yet it seemed as +if they said some amazing thing--something which would take your +breath from you if you could hear it. And they never changed. +The clouds changed, they wreathed them, and hid them, and trailed +down them, and poured out storm torrents on them, and thundered +against them, and darted forked lightnings round them. But the +mountains stood there afterwards as if such things had not been +and were not in the world. Winds roared and tore at them, +centuries passed over them--centuries of millions of lives, of +changing of kingdoms and empires, of battles and world-wide fame +which grew and died and passed away; and temples crumbled, and +kings' tombs were forgotten, and cities were buried and others +built over them after hundreds of years--and perhaps a few stones +fell from a mountain side, or a fissure was worn, which the +people below could not even see. And that was all. There they +stood, and perhaps their secret was that they had been there for +ever and ever. That was what the mountains said to Marco, which +was why he did not want to talk much, but sat and gazed out of +the carriage window. + +The Rat had been very silent all the morning. He had been silent +when they got up, and he had scarcely spoken when they made their +way to the station at Munich and sat waiting for their train. It +seemed to Marco that he was thinking so hard that he was like a +person who was far away from the place he stood in. His brows +were drawn together and his eyes did not seem to see the people +who passed by. Usually he saw everything and made shrewd remarks +on almost all he saw. But to-day he was somehow otherwise +absorbed. He sat in the train with his forehead against the +window and stared out. He moved and gasped when he found himself +staring at the Alps, but afterwards he was even strangely still. +It was not until after the sleepy old peasant had gathered his +bundles and got out at a station that he spoke, and he did it +without turning his head. + +``You only told me one of the two laws,'' he said. ``What was +the other one?'' + +Marco brought himself back from his dream of reaching the highest +mountain-top and seeing clouds float beneath his feet in the sun. +He had to come back a long way. + +``Are you thinking of that? I wondered what you had been +thinking of all the morning,'' he said. + +``I couldn't stop thinking of it. What was the second one?'' +said The Rat, but he did not turn his head. + +``It was called the Law of Earthly Living. It was for every +day,'' said Marco. ``It was for the ordering of common +things--the small things we think don't matter, as well as the +big ones. I always remember that one without any trouble. This +was it: + +`` `Let pass through thy mind, my son, only the image thou +wouldst desire to see become a truth. Meditate only upon the +wish of thy heart--seeing first that it is such as can wrong no +man and is not ignoble. Then will it take earthly form and draw +near to thee. + +`` `This is the Law of That which Creates.' '' + +Then The Rat turned round. He had a shrewdly reasoning mind. + +``That sounds as if you could get anything you wanted, if you +think about it long enough and in the right way,'' he said. +``But perhaps it only means that, if you do it, you'll be happy +after you're dead. My father used to shout with laughing when he +was drunk and talked about things like that and looked at his +rags.'' + +He hugged his knees for a few minutes. He was remembering the +rags, and the fog-darkened room in the slums, and the loud, +hideous laughter. + +``What if you want something that will harm somebody else?'' he +said next. ``What if you hate some one and wish you could kill +him?'' + +``That was one of the questions my father asked that night on the +ledge. The holy man said people always asked it,'' Marco +answered. ``This was the answer: + +`` `Let him who stretcheth forth his hand to draw the lightning +to his brother recall that through his own soul and body will +pass the bolt.' '' + +``Wonder if there's anything in it?'' The Rat pondered. ``It'd +make a chap careful if he believed it! Revenging yourself on a +man would be like holding him against a live wire to kill him and +getting all the volts through yourself.'' + +A sudden anxiety revealed itself in his face. + +``Does your father believe it?'' he asked. ``Does he?'' + +``He knows it is true,'' Marco said. + +``I'll own up,'' The Rat decided after further reflection--``I'll +own up I'm glad that there isn't any one left that I've a grudge +against. There isn't any one--now.'' + +Then he fell again into silence and did not speak until their +journey was at an end. As they arrived early in the day, they +had plenty of time to wander about the marvelous little old city. +But through the wide streets and through the narrow ones, under +the archways into the market gardens, across the bridge and into +the square where the ``glockenspiel'' played its old tinkling +tune, everywhere the Citadel looked down and always The Rat +walked on in his dream. + +They found the hair-dresser's shop in one of the narrow streets. +There were no grand shops there, and this particular shop was a +modest one. They walked past it once, and then went back. It +was a shop so humble that there was nothing remarkable in two +common boys going into it to have their hair cut. An old man +came forward to receive them. He was evidently glad of their +modest patronage. He undertook to attend to The Rat himself, +but, having arranged him in a chair, he turned about and called +to some one in the back room. + +``Heinrich,'' he said. + +In the slit in Marco's sleeve was the sketch of the man with +smooth curled hair, who looked like a hair-dresser. They had +found a corner in which to take their final look at it before +they turned back to come in. Heinrich, who came forth from the +small back room, had smooth curled hair. He looked extremely +like a hair- dresser. He had features like those in the +sketch--his nose and mouth and chin and figure were like what +Marco had drawn and committed to memory. But-- + +He gave Marco a chair and tied the professional white covering +around his neck. Marco leaned back and closed his eyes a moment. + +``That is NOT the man!'' he was saying to himself. ``He is NOT +the man.'' + +How he knew he was not, he could not have explained, but he felt +sure. It was a strong conviction. But for the sudden feeling, +nothing would have been easier than to give the Sign. And if he +could not give it now, where was the one to whom it must be +spoken, and what would be the result if that one could not be +found? And if there were two who were so much alike, how could +he be sure? + +Each owner of each of the pictured faces was a link in a powerful +secret chain; and if a link were missed, the chain would be +broken. Each time Heinrich came within the line of his vision, +he recorded every feature afresh and compared it with the +remembered sketch. Each time the resemblance became more close, +but each time some persistent inner conviction repeated, ``No; +the Sign is not for him!'' + +It was disturbing, also, to find that The Rat was all at once as +restless as he had previously been silent and preoccupied. He +moved in his chair, to the great discomfort of the old +hair-dresser. He kept turning his head to talk. He asked Marco +to translate divers questions he wished him to ask the two men. +They were questions about the Citadel--about the Monchsberg--the +Residenz--the Glockenspiel--the mountains. He added one query to +another and could not sit still. + +``The young gentleman will get an ear snipped,'' said the old man +to Marco. ``And it will not be my fault.'' + +``What shall I do?'' Marco was thinking. ``He is not the man.'' + +He did not give the Sign. He must go away and think it out, +though where his thoughts would lead him he did not know. This +was a more difficult problem than he had ever dreamed of facing. +There was no one to ask advice of. Only himself and The Rat, who +was nervously wriggling and twisting in his chair. + +``You must sit still,'' he said to him. ``The hair-dresser is +afraid you will make him cut you by accident.'' + +``But I want to know who lives at the Residenz?'' said The Rat. +``These men can tell us things if you ask them.'' + +``It is done now,'' said the old hair-dresser with a relieved +air. ``Perhaps the cutting of his hair makes the young gentleman +nervous. It is sometimes so.'' + +The Rat stood close to Marco's chair and asked questions until +Heinrich also had done his work. Marco could not understand his +companion's change of mood. He realized that, if he had wished +to give the Sign, he had been allowed no opportunity. He could +not have given it. The restless questioning had so directed the +older man's attention to his son and Marco that nothing could +have been said to Heinrich without his observing it. + +``I could not have spoken if he had been the man,'' Marco said to +himself. + +Their very exit from the shop seemed a little hurried. When they +were fairly in the street, The Rat made a clutch at Marco's arm. + +``You didn't give it?'' he whispered breathlessly. ``I kept +talking and talking to prevent you.'' + +Marco tried not to feel breathless, and he tried to speak in a +low and level voice with no hint of exclamation in it. + +``Why did you say that?'' he asked. + +The Rat drew closer to him. + +``That was not the man!'' he whispered. ``It doesn't matter how +much he looks like him, he isn't the right one.'' + +He was pale and swinging along swiftly as if he were in a hurry. + +``Let's get into a quiet place,'' he said. ``Those queer things +you've been telling me have got hold of me. How did I know? How +could I know--unless it's because I've been trying to work that +second law? I've been saying to myself that we should be told +the right things to do--for the Game and for your father-- and so +that I could be the right sort of aide-de-camp. I've been +working at it, and, when he came out, I knew he was not the man +in spite of his looks. And I couldn't be sure you knew, and I +thought, if I kept on talking and interrupting you with silly +questions, you could be prevented from speaking.'' + +``There's a place not far away where we can get a look at the +mountains. Let's go there and sit down,'' said Marco. ``I knew +it was not the right one, too. It's the Help over again.'' + +``Yes, it's the Help--it's the Help--it must be,'' muttered The +Rat, walking fast and with a pale, set face. ``It could not be +anything else.'' + +They got away from the streets and the people and reached the +quiet place where they could see the mountains. There they sat +down by the wayside. The Rat took off his cap and wiped his +forehead, but it was not only the quick walking which had made it +damp. + +``The queerness of it gave me a kind of fright,'' he said. +``When he came out and he was near enough for me to see him, a +sudden strong feeling came over me. It seemed as if I knew he +wasn't the man. Then I said to myself--`but he looks like +him'--and I began to get nervous. And then I was sure again--and +then I wanted to try to stop you from giving him the Sign. And +then it all seemed foolishness--and the next second all the +things you had told me rushed back to me at once--and I +remembered what I had been thinking ever since--and I +said--`Perhaps it's the Law beginning to work,' and the palms of +my hands got moist.'' + +Marco was very quiet. He was looking at the farthest and highest +peaks and wondering about many things. + +``It was the expression of his face that was different,'' he +said. ``And his eyes. They are rather smaller than the right +man's are. The light in the shop was poor, and it was not until +the last time he bent over me that I found out what I had not +seen before. His eyes are gray--the other ones are brown.'' + +``Did you see that!'' The Rat exclaimed. ``Then we're sure! +We're safe!'' + +``We're not safe till we've found the right man,'' Marco said. +``Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?'' + +He said the words dreamily and quietly, as if he were lost in +thought--but also rather as if he expected an answer. And he +still looked at the far-off peaks. The Rat, after watching him a +moment or so, began to look at them also. They were like a +loadstone to him too. There was something stilling about them, +and when your eyes had rested upon them a few moments they did +not want to move away. + +``There must be a ledge up there somewhere,'' he said at last. + +``Let's go up and look for it and sit there and think and think-- +about finding the right man.'' + +There seemed nothing fantastic in this to Marco. To go into some +quiet place and sit and think about the thing he wanted to +remember or to find out was an old way of his. To be quiet was +always the best thing, his father had taught him. It was like +listening to something which could speak without words. + +``There is a little train which goes up the Gaisberg,'' he said. +``When you are at the top, a world of mountains spreads around +you. Lazarus went once and told me. And we can lie out on the +grass all night. Let us go, Aide-de-camp.'' + +So they went, each one thinking the same thought, and each +boy-mind holding its own vision. Marco was the calmer of the +two, because his belief that there was always help to be found +was an accustomed one and had ceased to seem to partake of the +supernatural. He believed quite simply that it was the working +of a law, not the breaking of one, which gave answer and led him +in his quests. The Rat, who had known nothing of laws other than +those administered by police-courts, was at once awed and +fascinated by the suggestion of crossing some borderland of the +Unknown. The law of the One had baffled and overthrown him, with +its sweeping away of the enmities of passions which created wars +and called for armies. But the Law of Earthly Living seemed to +offer practical benefits if you could hold on to yourself enough +to work it. + +``You wouldn't get everything for nothing, as far as I can make +out,'' he had said to Marco. ``You'd have to sweep all the +rubbish out of your mind--sweep it as if you did it with a +broom--and then keep on thinking straight and believing you were +going to get things--and working for them--and they'd come.'' + +Then he had laughed a short ugly laugh because he recalled +something. + +``There was something in the Bible that my father used to jeer +about--something about a man getting what he prayed for if he +believed it,'' he said. + +``Oh, yes, it's there,'' said Marco. ``That if a man pray +believing he shall receive what he asks it shall be given him. +All the books say something like it. It's been said so often it +makes you believe it.'' + +``He didn't believe it, and I didn't,'' said The Rat. + +``Nobody does--really,'' answered Marco, as he had done once +before. ``It's because we don't know.'' + +They went up the Gaisberg in the little train, which pushed and +dragged and panted slowly upward with them. It took them with it +stubbornly and gradually higher and higher until it had left +Salzburg and the Citadel below and had reached the world of +mountains which rose and spread and lifted great heads behind +each other and beside each other and beyond each other until +there seemed no other land on earth but that on mountain sides +and backs and shoulders and crowns. And also one felt the +absurdity of living upon flat ground, where life must be an +insignificant thing. + +There were only a few sight-seers in the small carriages, and +they were going to look at the view from the summit. They were +not in search of a ledge. + +The Rat and Marco were. When the little train stopped at the +top, they got out with the rest. They wandered about with them +over the short grass on the treeless summit and looked out from +this viewpoint and the other. The Rat grew more and more silent, +and his silence was not merely a matter of speechlessness but of +expression. He LOOKED silent and as if he were no longer aware +of the earth. They left the sight-seers at last and wandered +away by themselves. They found a ledge where they could sit or +lie and where even the world of mountains seemed below them. +They had brought some simple food with them, and they laid it +behind a jutting bit of rock. When the sight-seers boarded the +laboring little train again and were dragged back down the +mountain, their night of vigil would begin. + +That was what it was to be. A night of stillness on the heights, +where they could wait and watch and hold themselves ready to hear +any thought which spoke to them. + +The Rat was so thrilled that he would not have been surprised if +he had heard a voice from the place of the stars. But Marco only +believed that in this great stillness and beauty, if he held his +boy-soul quiet enough, he should find himself at last thinking of +something that would lead him to the place which held what it was +best that he should find. The people returned to the train and +it set out upon its way down the steepness. + +They heard it laboring on its way, as though it was forced to +make as much effort to hold itself back as it had made to drag +itself upward. + +Then they were alone, and it was a loneness such as an eagle +might feel when it held itself poised high in the curve of blue. +And they sat and watched. They saw the sun go down and, shade by +shade, deepen and make radiant and then draw away with it the +last touches of color--rose-gold, rose-purple, and rose-gray. + +One mountain-top after another held its blush a few moments and +lost it. It took long to gather them all but at length they were +gone and the marvel of night fell. + +The breath of the forests below was sweet about them, and +soundlessness enclosed them which was of unearthly peace. The +stars began to show themselves, and presently the two who waited +found their faces turned upward to the sky and they both were +speaking in whispers. + +``The stars look large here,'' The Rat said. + +``Yes,'' answered Marco. ``We are not as high as the Buddhist +was, but it seems like the top of the world.'' + +``There is a light on the side of the mountain yonder which is +not a star,'' The Rat whispered. + +``It is a light in a hut where the guides take the climbers to +rest and to spend the night,'' answered Marco. + +``It is so still,'' The Rat whispered again after a silence, and +Marco whispered back: + +``It is so still.'' + +They had eaten their meal of black bread and cheese after the +setting of the sun, and now they lay down on their backs and +looked up until the first few stars had multiplied themselves +into myriads. They began a little low talk, but the +soundlessness was stronger than themselves. + +``How am I going to hold on to that second law?'' The Rat said +restlessly. `` `Let pass through thy mind only the image thou +wouldst see become a truth.' The things that are passing through +my mind are not the things I want to come true. What if we don't +find him --don't find the right one, I mean!'' + +``Lie still--still--and look up at the stars,'' whispered Marco. +``They give you a SURE feeling.'' + +There was something in the curious serenity of him which calmed +even his aide-de-camp. The Rat lay still and looked--and +looked--and thought. And what he thought of was the desire of +his heart. The soundlessness enwrapped him and there was no +world left. That there was a spark of light in the +mountain-climbers' rest-hut was a thing forgotten. + +They were only two boys, and they had begun their journey on the +earliest train and had been walking about all day and thinking of +great and anxious things. + +``It is so still,'' The Rat whispered again at last. + +``It is so still,'' whispered Marco. + +And the mountains rising behind each other and beside each other +and beyond each other in the night, and also the myriads of stars +which had so multiplied themselves, looking down knew that they +were asleep--as sleep the human things which do not watch +forever. + +``Some one is smoking,'' Marco found himself saying in a dream. +After which he awakened and found that the smoke was not part of +a dream at all. It came from the pipe of a young man who had an +alpenstock and who looked as if he had climbed to see the sun +rise. He wore the clothes of a climber and a green hat with a +tuft at the back. He looked down at the two boys, surprised. + +``Good day,'' he said. ``Did you sleep here so that you could +see the sun get up?'' + +``Yes,'' answered Marco. + +``Were you cold?'' + +``We slept too soundly to know. And we brought our thick +coats.'' + +``I slept half-way down the mountains,'' said the smoker. ``I am + +a guide in these days, but I have not been one long enough to +miss a sunrise it is no work to reach. My father and brother +think I am mad about such things. They would rather stay in +their beds. Oh! he is awake, is he?'' turning toward The Rat, +who had risen on one elbow and was staring at him. ``What is the +matter? You look as if you were afraid of me.'' + +Marco did not wait for The Rat to recover his breath and speak. + +``I know why he looks at you so,'' he answered for him. ``He is +startled. Yesterday we went to a hair-dresser's shop down below +there, and we saw a man who was almost exactly like you--only +--'' he added, looking up, ``his eyes were gray and yours are +brown.'' + +``He was my twin brother,'' said the guide, puffing at his pipe +cheerfully. ``My father thought he could make hair-dressers of +us both, and I tried it for four years. But I always wanted to +be climbing the mountains and there were not holidays enough. So +I cut my hair, and washed the pomade out of it, and broke away. +I don't look like a hair-dresser now, do I?'' + +He did not. Not at all. But Marco knew him. He was the man. +There was no one on the mountain-top but themselves, and the sun +was just showing a rim of gold above the farthest and highest +giant's shoulders. One need not be afraid to do anything, since +there was no one to see or hear. Marco slipped the sketch out of +the slit in his sleeve. He looked at it and he looked at the +guide, and then he showed it to him. + +``That is not your brother. It is you!'' he said. + +The man's face changed a little--more than any other face had +changed when its owner had been spoken to. On a mountain-top as +the sun rises one is not afraid. + +``The Lamp is lighted,'' said Marco. ``The Lamp is lighted.'' + +``God be thanked!'' burst forth the man. And he took off his hat +and bared his head. Then the rim behind the mountain's shoulder +leaped forth into a golden torrent of splendor. + +And The Rat stood up, resting his weight on his crutches in utter +silence, and stared and stared. + +``That is three!'' said Marco. + + + +XXIII + +THE SILVER HORN + +During the next week, which they spent in journeying towards +Vienna, they gave the Sign to three different persons at places +which were on the way. In a village across the frontier in +Bavaria they found a giant of an old man sitting on a bench under +a tree before his mountain ``Gasthaus'' or inn; and when the four +words were uttered, he stood up and bared his head as the guide +had done. When Marco gave the Sign in some quiet place to a man +who was alone, he noticed that they all did this and said their +``God be thanked'' devoutly, as if it were part of some religious +ceremony. In a small town a few miles away he had to search some +hours before he found a stalwart young shoemaker with bright + +red hair and a horseshoe-shaped scar on his forehead. He was not +in his workshop when the boys first passed it, because, as they +found out later, he had been climbing a mountain the day before, +and had been detained in the descent because his companion had +hurt himself. + +When Marco went in and asked him to measure him for a pair of +shoes, he was quite friendly and told them all about it. + +``There are some good fellows who should not climb,'' he said. +``When they find themselves standing on a bit of rock jutting out +over emptiness, their heads begin to whirl round--and then, if +they don't turn head over heels a few thousand feet, it is +because some comrade is near enough to drag them back. There can +be no ceremony then and they sometimes get hurt--as my friend did +yesterday.'' + +``Did you never get hurt yourself?'' The Rat asked. + +``When I was eight years old I did that,'' said the young +shoemaker, touching the scar on his forehead. ``But it was not +much. My father was a guide and took me with him. He wanted me +to begin early. There is nothing like it--climbing. I shall be +at it again. This won't do for me. I tried shoemaking because I +was in love with a girl who wanted me to stay at home. She +married another man. I am glad of it. Once a guide, always a +guide.'' He knelt down to measure Marco's foot, and Marco bent a +little forward. + +``The Lamp is lighted,'' he said. + +There was no one in the shop, but the door was open and people +were passing in the narrow street; so the shoemaker did not lift +his red head. He went on measuring. + +``God be thanked!'' he said, in a low voice. ``Do you want these +shoes really, or did you only want me to take your measure?'' + +``I cannot wait until they are made,'' Marco answered. ``I must +go on.'' + +``Yes, you must go on,'' answered the shoemaker. ``But I'll tell +you what I'll do--I'll make them and keep them. Some great day +might come when I shall show them to people and swagger about +them.'' He glanced round cautiously, and then ended, still +bending over his measuring. ``They will be called the shoes of +the Bearer of the Sign. And I shall say, `He was only a lad. +This was the size of his foot.' '' Then he stood up with a great +smile. + +``There'll be climbing enough to be done now,'' he said, ``and I +look to see you again somewhere.'' + +When the boys went away, they talked it over. + +``The hair-dresser didn't want to be a hair-dresser, and the +shoemaker didn't want to make shoes,'' said The Rat. ``They both +wanted to be mountain-climbers. There are mountains in Samavia +and mountains on the way to it. You showed them to me on the +map. + +``Yes; and secret messengers who can climb anywhere, and cross +dangerous places, and reconnoiter from points no one else can +reach, can find out things and give signals other men cannot,'' +said Marco. + +``That's what I thought out,'' The Rat answered. ``That was what +he meant when he said, `There will be climbing enough to be done +now.' '' + +Strange were the places they went to and curiously unlike each +other were the people to whom they carried their message. The +most singular of all was an old woman who lived in so remote a +place that the road which wound round and round the mountain, +wound round it for miles and miles. It was not a bad road and it +was an amazing one to travel, dragged in a small cart by a mule, +when one could be dragged, and clambering slowly with rests +between when one could not: the tree-covered precipices one +looked down, the tossing whiteness of waterfalls, or the green +foaming of rushing streams, and the immensity of farm- and +village- scattered plains spreading themselves to the feet of +other mountains shutting them in were breath-taking beauties to +look down on, as the road mounted and wound round and round and +higher and higher. + +``How can any one live higher than this?'' said The Rat as they +sat on the thick moss by the wayside after the mule and cart had +left them. ``Look at the bare crags looming up above there. Let +us look at her again. Her picture looked as if she were a +hundred years old.'' + +Marco took out his hidden sketch. It seemed surely one of the +strangest things in the world that a creature as old as this one +seemed could reach such a place, or, having reached it, could +ever descend to the world again to give aid to any person or +thing. + +Her old face was crossed and recrossed with a thousand wrinkles. +Her profile was splendid yet and she had been a beauty in her +day. Her eyes were like an eagle's--and not an old eagle's. And +she had a long neck which held her old head high. + +``How could she get here?'' exclaimed The Rat. + +``Those who sent us know, though we don't,'' said Marco. ``Will +you sit here and rest while I go on further?'' + +``No!'' The Rat answered stubbornly. ``I didn't train myself to +stay behind. But we shall come to bare-rock climbing soon and +then I shall be obliged to stop,'' and he said the last bitterly. +He knew that, if Marco had come alone, he would have ridden in no +cart but would have trudged upward and onward sturdily to the end +of his journey. + +But they did not reach the crags, as they had thought must be +inevitable. Suddenly half-way to the sky, as it seemed, they +came to a bend in the road and found themselves mounting into a +new green world--an astonishing marvel of a world, with green +velvet slopes and soft meadows and thick woodland, and cows +feeding in velvet pastures, and--as if it had been snowed down +from the huge bare mountain crags which still soared above into +heaven-- a mysterious, ancient, huddled village which, being thus +snowed down, might have caught among the rocks and rested there +through all time. + +There it stood. There it huddled itself. And the monsters in +the blue above it themselves looked down upon it as if it were an +incredible thing--this ancient, steep-roofed, hanging-balconied, +crumbling cluster of human nests, which seemed a thousand miles +from the world. Marco and The Rat stood and stared at it. Then +they sat down and stared at it. + +``How did it get here?'' The Rat cried. + +Marco shook his head. He certainly could see no explanation of +its being there. Perhaps some of the oldest villages could tell +stories of how its first chalets had gathered themselves +together. + +An old peasant driving a cow came down a steep path. He looked +with a dull curiosity at The Rat and his crutches; but when Marco +advanced and spoke to him in German, he did not seem to +understand, but shook his head saying something in a sort of +dialect Marco did not know. + +``If they all speak like that, we shall have to make signs when +we want to ask anything,'' The Rat said. ``What will she +speak?'' + +``She will know the German for the Sign or we should not have +been sent here,'' answered Marco. ``Come on.'' + +They made their way to the village, which huddled itself together +evidently with the object of keeping itself warm when through the +winter months the snows strove to bury it and the winds roared +down from the huge mountain crags and tried to tear it from among +its rocks. The doors and windows were few and small, and +glimpses of the inside of the houses showed earthen floors and +dark rooms. It was plain that it was counted a more comfortable +thing to live without light than to let in the cold. + +It was easy enough to reconnoiter. The few people they saw were +evidently not surprised that strangers who discovered their +unexpected existence should be curious and want to look at them +and their houses. + +The boys wandered about as if they were casual explorers, who +having reached the place by chance were interested in all they +saw. They went into the little Gasthaus and got some black bread +and sausage and some milk. The mountaineer owner was a brawny +fellow who understood some German. He told them that few +strangers knew of the village but that bold hunters and climbers +came for sport. In the forests on the mountain sides were bears +and, in the high places, chamois. Now and again, some great +gentlemen came with parties of the daring kind--very great +gentlemen indeed, he said, shaking his head with pride. There +was one who had castles in other mountains, but he liked best to +come here. Marco began to wonder if several strange things might +not be true if great gentlemen sometimes climbed to the +mysterious place. But he had not been sent to give the Sign to a +great gentleman. He had been sent to give it to an old woman +with eyes like an eagle which was young. + +He had a sketch in his sleeve, with that of her face, of her +steep-roofed, black-beamed, balconied house. If they walked +about a little, they would be sure to come upon it in this tiny +place. Then he could go in and ask her for a drink of water. + +They roamed about for an hour after they left the Gasthaus. They +went into the little church and looked at the graveyard and +wondered if it was not buried out of all sight in the winter. +After they had done this, they sauntered out and walked through +the huddled clusters of houses, examining each one as they drew +near it and passed. + +``I see it!'' The Rat exclaimed at last. ``It is that very old- +looking one standing a little way from the rest. It is not as +tumbled down as most of them. And there are some red flowers on +the balcony.'' + +``Yes! That's it!'' said Marco. + +They walked up to the low black door and, as he stopped on the +threshold, Marco took off his cap. He did this because, sitting +in the doorway on a low wooden chair, the old, old woman with the +eagle eyes was sitting knitting. + +There was no one else in the room and no one anywhere within +sight. When the old, old woman looked up at him with her young +eagle's eyes, holding her head high on her long neck, Marco knew +he need not ask for water or for anything else. + +``The Lamp is lighted,'' he said, in his low but strong and clear +young voice. + +She dropped her knitting upon her knees and gazed at him a moment +in silence. She knew German it was clear, for it was in German +she answered him. + +``God be thanked!'' she said. ``Come in, young Bearer of the +Sign, and bring your friend in with you. I live alone and not a +soul is within hearing.'' + +She was a wonderful old woman. Neither Marco nor The Rat would +live long enough to forget the hours they spent in her strange +dark house. She kept them and made them spend the night with +her. + +``It is quite safe,'' she said. ``I live alone since my man fell +into the crevasse and was killed because his rope broke when he +was trying to save his comrade. So I have two rooms to spare and +sometimes climbers are glad to sleep in them. Mine is a good +warm house and I am well known in the village. You are very +young,'' she added shaking her head. ``You are very young. You +must have good blood in your veins to be trusted with this.'' + +``I have my father's blood,'' answered Marco. + +``You are like some one I once saw,'' the old woman said, and her +eagle eyes set themselves hard upon him. ``Tell me your name.'' + +There was no reason why he should not tell it to her. + +``It is Marco Loristan,'' he said. + +``What! It is that!'' she cried out, not loud but low. + +To Marco's amazement she got up from her chair and stood before +him, showing what a tall old woman she really was. There was a +startled, even an agitated, look in her face. And suddenly she +actually made a sort of curtsey to him--bending her knee as +peasants do when they pass a shrine. + +``It is that!'' she said again. ``And yet they dare let you go +on a journey like this! That speaks for your courage and for +theirs.'' + +But Marco did not know what she meant. Her strange obeisance +made him feel awkward. He stood up because his training had told +him that when a woman stands a man also rises. + +``The name speaks for the courage,'' he said, ``because it is my +father's.'' + +She watched him almost anxiously. + +``You do not even know!'' she breathed--and it was an exclamation +and not a question. + +``I know what I have been told to do,'' he answered. ``I do not +ask anything else.'' + +``Who is that?'' she asked, pointing to The Rat. + +``He is the friend my father sent with me,'' said Marco smiling. +``He called him my aide-de-camp. It was a sort of joke because +we had played soldiers together.'' + +It seemed as if she were obliged to collect her thoughts. She +stood with her hand at her mouth, looking down at the earth +floor. + +``God guard you!'' she said at last. ``You are very--very +young!'' + +``But all his years,'' The Rat broke in, ``he has been in +training for just this thing. He did not know it was training, +but it was. A soldier who had been trained for thirteen years +would know his work.'' + +He was so eager that he forgot she could not understand English. +Marco translated what he said into German and added: ``What he +says is true.'' + +She nodded her head, still with questioning and anxious eyes. + +``Yes. Yes,'' she muttered. ``But you are very young.'' Then +she asked in a hesitating way: + +``Will you not sit down until I do?'' + +``No,'' answered Marco. ``I would not sit while my mother or +grandmother stood.'' + +``Then I must sit--and forget,'' she said. + +She passed her hand over her face as though she were sweeping +away the sudden puzzled trouble in her expression. Then she sat +down, as if she had obliged herself to become again the old +peasant she had been when they entered. + +``All the way up the mountain you wondered why an old woman +should be given the Sign,'' she said. ``You asked each other how +she could be of use.'' + +Neither Marco nor The Rat said anything. + +``When I was young and fresh,'' she went on. ``I went to a +castle over the frontier to be foster-mother to a child who was +born a great noble--one who was near the throne. He loved me and +I loved him. He was a strong child and he grew up a great hunter +and climber. When he was not ten years old, my man taught him to +climb. He always loved these mountains better than his own. He +comes to see me as if he were only a young mountaineer. He +sleeps in the room there,'' with a gesture over her shoulder into +the darkness. ``He has great power and, if he chooses to do a +thing, he will do it--just as he will attack the biggest bear or +climb the most dangerous peak. He is one who can bring things +about. It is very safe to talk in this room.'' + +Then all was quite clear. Marco and The Rat understood. + +No more was said about the Sign. It had been given and that was +enough. The old woman told them that they must sleep in one of +her bedrooms. The next morning one of her neighbors was going +down to the valley with a cart and he would help them on their +way. The Rat knew that she was thinking of his crutches and he +became restless. + +``Tell her,'' he said to Marco, ``how I have trained myself until +I can do what any one else can. And tell her I am growing +stronger every day. Tell her I'll show her what I can do. Your +father wouldn't have let me come as your aide if I hadn't proved +to him that I wasn't a cripple. Tell her. She thinks I'm no +use.'' + +Marco explained and the old woman listened attentively. When The +Rat got up and swung himself about up and down the steep path +near her house she seemed relieved. His extraordinary dexterity +and firm swiftness evidently amazed her and gave her a confidence +she had not felt at first. + +``If he has taught himself to be like that just for love of your +father, he will go to the end,'' she said. ``It is more than one +could believe, that a pair of crutches could do such things.'' + +The Rat was pacified and could afterwards give himself up to +watching her as closely as he wished to. He was soon ``working +out'' certain things in his mind. What he watched was her way of +watching Marco. It was as if she were fascinated and could not +keep her eyes from him. She told them stories about the +mountains and the strangers who came to climb with guides or to +hunt. She told them about the storms, which sometimes seemed +about to put an end to the little world among the crags. She +described the winter when the snow buried them and the strong +ones were forced to dig out the weak and some lived for days +under the masses of soft whiteness, glad to keep their cows or +goats in their rooms that they might share the warmth of their +bodies. The villages were forced to be good neighbors to each +other, for the man who was not ready to dig out a hidden chimney +or buried door to-day might be left to freeze and starve in his +snow tomb next week. Through the worst part of the winter no +creature from the world below could make way to them to find out +whether they were all dead or alive. + +While she talked, she watched Marco as if she were always asking +herself some question about him. The Rat was sure that she liked +him and greatly admired his strong body and good looks. It was +not necessary for him to carry himself slouchingly in her +presence and he looked glowing and noble. There was a sort of +reverence in her manner when she spoke to him. She reminded him +of Lazarus more than once. When she gave them their evening +meal, she insisted on waiting on him with a certain respectful +ceremony. She would not sit at table with him, and The Rat began +to realize that she felt that he himself should be standing to +serve him. + +``She thinks I ought to stand behind your chair as Lazarus stands +behind your father's,'' he said to Marco. ``Perhaps an aide +ought to do it. Shall I? I believe it would please her.'' + +``A Bearer of the Sign is not a royal person,'' answered Marco. +``My father would not like it--and I should not. We are only two +boys.'' + +It was very wonderful when, after their supper was over, they all +three sat together before the fire. + +The red glow of the bed of wood-coal and the orange yellow of the +flame from the big logs filled the room with warm light, which +made a mellow background for the figure of the old woman as she +sat in her low chair and told them more and more enthralling +stories. + +Her eagle eyes glowed and her long neck held her head splendidly +high as she described great feats of courage and endurance or +almost superhuman daring in aiding those in awesome peril, and, +when she glowed most in the telling, they always knew that the +hero of the adventure had been her foster-child who was the baby +born a great noble and near the throne. To her, he was the most +splendid and adorable of human beings. Almost an emperor, but so +warm and tender of heart that he never forgot the long- past days +when she had held him on her knee and told him tales of chamois- +and bear-hunting, and of the mountain-tops in mid- winter. He +was her sun-god. + +``Yes! Yes!'' she said. `` `Good Mother,' he calls me. And I +bake him a cake on the hearth, as I did when he was ten years old +and my man was teaching him to climb. And when he chooses that a +thing shall be done--done it is! He is a great lord.'' + +The flames had died down and only the big bed of red coal made +the room glow, and they were thinking of going to bed when the +old woman started very suddenly, turning her head as if to +listen. + +Marco and The Rat heard nothing, but they saw that she did and +they sat so still that each held his breath. So there was utter +stillness for a few moments. Utter stillness. + +Then they did hear something--a clear silver sound, piercing the +pure mountain air. + +The old woman sprang upright with the fire of delight in her +eyes. + +``It is his silver horn!'' she cried out striking her hands +together. ``It is his own call to me when he is coming. He has +been hunting somewhere and wants to sleep in his good bed here. +Help me to put on more faggots,'' to The Rat, ``so that he will +see the flame of them through the open door as he comes.'' + +``Shall we be in the way?'' said Marco. ``We can go at once.'' + +She was going towards the door to open it and she stopped a +moment and turned. + +``No, no!'' she said. ``He must see your face. He will want to +see it. I want him to see--how young you are.'' + +She threw the door wide open and they heard the silver horn send +out its gay call again. The brushwood and faggots The Rat had +thrown on the coals crackled and sparkled and roared into fine +flames, which cast their light into the road and threw out in +fine relief the old figure which stood on the threshold and +looked so tall. + +And in but a few minutes her great lord came to her. And in his +green hunting-suit with its green hat and eagle's feather he was +as splendid as she had said he was. He was big and royal- +looking and laughing and he bent and kissed her as if he had been +her own son. + +``Yes, good Mother,'' they heard him say. ``I want my warm bed +and one of your good suppers. I sent the others to the +Gasthaus.'' + +He came into the redly glowing room and his head almost touched +the blackened rafters. Then he saw the two boys. + +``Who are these, good Mother?'' he asked. + +She lifted his hand and kissed it. + +``They are the Bearers of the Sign,'' she said rather softly. `` +`The Lamp is lighted.' '' + +Then his whole look changed. His laughing face became quite +grave and for a moment looked even anxious. Marco knew it was +because he was startled to find them only boys. He made a step +forward to look at them more closely. + +``The Lamp is lighted! And you two bear the Sign!'' he +exclaimed. Marco stood out in the fire glow that he might see +him well. He saluted with respect. + +``My name is Marco Loristan, Highness,'' he said. ``And my +father sent me.'' + +The change which came upon his face then was even greater than at +first. For a second, Marco even felt that there was a flash of +alarm in it. But almost at once that passed. + +``Loristan is a great man and a great patriot,'' he said. ``If +he sent you, it is because he knows you are the one safe +messenger. He has worked too long for Samavia not to know what +he does.'' + +Marco saluted again. He knew what it was right to say next. + +``If we have your Highness's permission to retire,'' he said, +``we will leave you and go to bed. We go down the mountain at +sunrise.'' + +``Where next?'' asked the hunter, looking at him with curious +intentness. + +``To Vienna, Highness,'' Marco answered. + +His questioner held out his hand, still with the intent interest +in his eyes. + +``Good night, fine lad,'' he said. ``Samavia has need to vaunt +itself on its Sign-bearer. God go with you.'' + +He stood and watched him as he went toward the room in which he +and his aide-de-camp were to sleep. The Rat followed him +closely. At the little back door the old, old woman stood, +having opened it for them. As Marco passed and bade her good +night, he saw that she again made the strange obeisance, bending +the knee as he went by. + + + +XXIV + +``HOW SHALL WE FIND HIM?'' + +In Vienna they came upon a pageant. In celebration of a +century-past victory the Emperor drove in state and ceremony to +attend at the great cathedral and to do honor to the ancient +banners and laurel-wreathed statue of a long-dead soldier-prince. +The broad pavements of the huge chief thoroughfare were crowded +with a cheering populace watching the martial pomp and splendor +as it passed by with marching feet, prancing horses, and glitter +of scabbard and chain, which all seemed somehow part of music in +triumphant bursts. + +The Rat was enormously thrilled by the magnificence of the +imperial place. Its immense spaces, the squares and gardens, +reigned over by statues of emperors, and warriors, and queens +made him feel that all things on earth were possible. The +palaces and stately piles of architecture, whose surmounting +equestrian bronzes ramped high in the air clear cut and beautiful +against the sky, seemed to sweep out of his world all atmosphere +but that of splendid cities down whose broad avenues emperors +rode with waving banners, tramping, jangling soldiery before and +behind, and golden trumpets blaring forth. It seemed as if it +must always be like this--that lances and cavalry and emperors +would never cease to ride by. ``I should like to stay here a +long time,'' he said almost as if he were in a dream. ``I should +like to see it all.'' + +He leaned on his crutches in the crowd and watched the glitter of +the passing pageant. Now and then he glanced at Marco, who +watched also with a steady eye which, The Rat saw, nothing would +escape: How absorbed he always was in the Game! How impossible +it was for him to forget it or to remember it only as a boy +would! Often it seemed that he was not a boy at all. And the +Game, The Rat knew in these days, was a game no more but a thing +of deep and deadly earnest--a thing which touched kings and +thrones, and concerned the ruling and swaying of great countries. +And they--two lads pushed about by the crowd as they stood and +stared at the soldiers--carried with them that which was even now +lighting the Lamp. The blood in The Rat's veins ran quickly and +made him feel hot as he remembered certain thoughts which had +forced themselves into his mind during the past weeks. As his +brain had the trick of ``working things out,'' it had, during the +last fortnight at least, been following a wonderful even if +rather fantastic and feverish fancy. A mere trifle had set it at +work, but, its labor once begun, things which might have once +seemed to be trifles appeared so no longer. When Marco was +asleep, The Rat lay awake through thrilled and sometimes almost +breathless midnight hours, looking backward and recalling every +detail of their lives since they had known each other. Sometimes +it seemed to him that almost everything he remembered--the Game +from first to last above all--had pointed to but one thing. And +then again he would all at once feel that he was a fool and had +better keep his head steady. Marco, he knew, had no wild +fancies. He had learned too much and his mind was too well +balanced. He did not try to ``work out things.'' He only +thought of what he was under orders to do. + +``But,'' said The Rat more than once in these midnight hours, +``if it ever comes to a draw whether he is to be saved or I am, +he is the one that must come to no harm. Killing can't take +long-- and his father sent me with him.'' + +This thought passed through his mind as the tramping feet went +by. As a sudden splendid burst of approaching music broke upon +his ear, a queer look twisted his face. He realized the contrast +between this day and that first morning behind the churchyard, +when he had sat on his platform among the Squad and looked up and +saw Marco in the arch at the end of the passage. And because he +had been good-looking and had held himself so well, he had thrown +a stone at him. Yes--blind gutter-bred fool that he'd been:--his +first greeting to Marco had been a stone, just because he was +what he was. As they stood here in the crowd in this far-off +foreign city, it did not seem as if it could be true that it was +he who had done it. + +He managed to work himself closer to Marco's side. ``Isn't it +splendid?'' he said, ``I wish I was an emperor myself. I'd have +these fellows out like this every day.'' He said it only because +he wanted to say something, to speak, as a reason for getting +closer to him. He wanted to be near enough to touch him and feel +that they were really together and that the whole thing was not a +sort of magnificent dream from which he might awaken to find +himself lying on his heap of rags in his corner of the room in +Bone Court. + +The crowd swayed forward in its eagerness to see the principal +feature of the pageant--the Emperor in his carriage. The Rat +swayed forward with the rest to look as it passed. + +A handsome white-haired and mustached personage in splendid +uniform decorated with jeweled orders and with a cascade of +emerald-green plumes nodding in his military hat gravely saluted +the shouting people on either side. By him sat a man uniformed, +decorated, and emerald-plumed also, but many years younger. + +Marco's arm touched The Rat's almost at the same moment that his +own touched Marco. Under the nodding plumes each saw the rather +tired and cynical pale face, a sketch of which was hidden in the +slit in Marco's sleeve. + +``Is the one who sits with the Emperor an Archduke?'' Marco asked +the man nearest to him in the crowd. The man answered amiably +enough. No, he was not, but he was a certain Prince, a +descendant of the one who was the hero of the day. He was a +great favorite of the Emperor's and was also a great personage, +whose palace contained pictures celebrated throughout Europe. + +``He pretends it is only pictures he cares for,'' he went on, +shrugging his shoulders and speaking to his wife, who had begun +to listen, ``but he is a clever one, who amuses himself with +things he professes not to concern himself about--big things. +It's his way to look bored, and interested in nothing, but it's +said he's a wizard for knowing dangerous secrets.'' + +``Does he live at the Hofburg with the Emperor?'' asked the +woman, craning her neck to look after the imperial carriage. + +``No, but he's often there. The Emperor is lonely and bored too, +no doubt, and this one has ways of making him forget his +troubles. It's been told me that now and then the two dress +themselves roughly, like common men, and go out into the city to +see what it's like to rub shoulders with the rest of the world. +I daresay it's true. I should like to try it myself once in a +while, if I had to sit on a throne and wear a crown.'' + +The two boys followed the celebration to its end. They managed +to get near enough to see the entrance to the church where the +service was held and to get a view of the ceremonies at the +banner-draped and laurel-wreathed statue. They saw the man with +the pale face several times, but he was always so enclosed that +it was not possible to get within yards of him. It happened +once, however, that he looked through a temporary break in the +crowding + +people and saw a dark strong-featured and remarkably intent boy's +face, whose vivid scrutiny of him caught his eye. There was +something in the fixedness of its attention which caused him to +look at it curiously for a few seconds, and Marco met his gaze +squarely. + +``Look at me! Look at me!'' the boy was saying to him mentally. +``I have a message for you. A message!'' + +The tired eyes in the pale face rested on him with a certain +growing light of interest and curiosity, but the crowding people +moved and the temporary break closed up, so that the two could +see each other no more. Marco and The Rat were pushed backward +by those taller and stronger than themselves until they were on +the outskirts of the crowd. + +``Let us go to the Hofburg,'' said Marco. ``They will come back +there, and we shall see him again even if we can't get near.'' + +To the Hofburg they made their way through the less crowded +streets, and there they waited as near to the great palace as +they could get. They were there when, the ceremonies at an end, +the imperial carriages returned, but, though they saw their man +again, they were at some distance from him and he did not see +them. + +Then followed four singular days. They were singular days +because they were full of tantalizing incidents. Nothing seemed +easier than to hear talk of, and see the Emperor's favorite, but +nothing was more impossible than to get near to him. He seemed +rather a favorite with the populace, and the common people of the +shopkeeping or laboring classes were given to talking freely of +him--of where he was going and what he was doing. To-night he +would be sure to be at this great house or that, at this ball or +that banquet. There was no difficulty in discovering that he +would be sure to go to the opera, or the theatre, or to drive to +Schonbrunn with his imperial master. Marco and The Rat heard +casual speech of him again and again, and from one part of the +city to the other they followed and waited for him. But it was +like chasing a will-o'-the-wisp. He was evidently too brilliant +and important a person to be allowed to move about alone. There +were always people with him who seemed absorbed in his languid +cynical talk. Marco thought that he never seemed to care much +for his companions, though they on their part always seemed +highly entertained by what he was saying. It was noticeable that +they laughed a great deal, though he himself scarcely even +smiled. + +``He's one of those chaps with the trick of saying witty things +as if he didn't see the fun in them himself,'' The Rat summed him +up. ``Chaps like that are always cleverer than the other kind.'' + +``He's too high in favor and too rich not to be followed about,'' +they heard a man in a shop say one day, ``but he gets tired of +it. Sometimes, when he's too bored to stand it any longer, he +gives it out that he's gone into the mountains somewhere, and all +the time he's shut up alone with his pictures in his own +palace.'' + +That very night The Rat came in to their attic looking pale and +disappointed. He had been out to buy some food after a long and +arduous day in which they had covered much ground, had seen their +man three times, and each time under circumstances which made him +more inaccessible than ever. They had come back to their poor +quarters both tired and ravenously hungry. + +The Rat threw his purchase on to the table and himself into a +chair. + +``He's gone to Budapest,'' he said. ``NOW how shall we find +him?'' + +Marco was rather pale also, and for a moment he looked paler. +The day had been a hard one, and in their haste to reach places +at a long distance from each other they had forgotten their need +of food. + +They sat silent for a few moments because there seemed to be +nothing to say. ``We are too tired and hungry to be able to +think well,'' Marco said at last. ``Let us eat our supper and +then go to sleep. Until we've had a rest, we must `let go.' '' + +``Yes. There's no good in talking when you're tired,'' The Rat +answered a trifle gloomily. ``You don't reason straight. We +must `let go.' '' + +Their meal was simple but they ate well and without words. + +Even when they had finished and undressed for the night, they +said very little. + +``Where do our thoughts go when we are asleep,'' The Rat inquired +casually after he was stretched out in the darkness. ``They must +go somewhere. Let's send them to find out what to do next.'' + +``It's not as still as it was on the Gaisberg. You can hear the +city roaring,'' said Marco drowsily from his dark corner. ``We +must make a ledge--for ourselves.'' + +Sleep made it for them--deep, restful, healthy sleep. If they +had been more resentful of their ill luck and lost labor, it +would have come less easily and have been less natural. In their +talks of strange things they had learned that one great secret of +strength and unflagging courage is to know how to ``let go''--to +cease thinking over an anxiety until the right moment comes. It +was their habit to ``let go'' for hours sometimes, and wander +about looking at places and things--galleries, museums, palaces, +giving themselves up with boyish pleasure and eagerness to all +they saw. Marco was too intimate with the things worth seeing, +and The Rat too curious and feverishly wide-awake to allow of +their missing much. + +The Rat's image of the world had grown until it seemed to know no +boundaries which could hold its wealth of wonders. He wanted to +go on and on and see them all. + +When Marco opened his eyes in the morning, he found The Rat lying +looking at him. Then they both sat up in bed at the same time. + +``I believe we are both thinking the same thing,'' Marco said. + +They frequently discovered that they were thinking the same +things. + +``So do I,'' answered The Rat. ``It shows how tired we were that +we didn't think of it last night.'' + +``Yes, we are thinking the same thing,'' said Marco. ``We have +both remembered what we heard about his shutting himself up alone +with his pictures and making people believe he had gone away.'' + +``He's in his palace now,'' The Rat announced. + +``Do you feel sure of that, too?'' asked Marco. ``Did you wake +up and feel sure of it the first thing?'' + +``Yes,'' answered The Rat. ``As sure as if I'd heard him say it +himself.'' + +``So did I,'' said Marco. + +``That's what our thoughts brought back to us,'' said The Rat, +``when we `let go' and sent them off last night.'' He sat up +hugging his knees and looking straight before him for some time +after this, and Marco did not interrupt his meditations. + +The day was a brilliant one, and, though their attic had only one +window, the sun shone in through it as they ate their breakfast. +After it, they leaned on the window's ledge and talked about the +Prince's garden. They talked about it because it was a place +open to the public and they had walked round it more than once. +The palace, which was not a large one, stood in the midst of it. +The Prince was good-natured enough to allow quiet and +well-behaved people to saunter through. It was not a fashionable +promenade but a pleasant retreat for people who sometimes took +their work or books and sat on the seats placed here and there +among the shrubs and flowers. + +``When we were there the first time, I noticed two things,'' +Marco said. ``There is a stone balcony which juts out from the +side of the palace which looks on the Fountain Garden. That day +there were chairs on it as if the Prince and his visitors +sometimes sat there. Near it, there was a very large evergreen +shrub and I saw that there was a hollow place inside it. If some +one wanted to stay in the gardens all night to watch the windows +when they were lighted and see if any one came out alone upon the +balcony, he could hide himself in the hollow place and stay there +until the morning.'' + +``Is there room for two inside the shrub?'' The Rat asked. + +``No. I must go alone,'' said Marco. + + + +XXV + +A VOICE IN THE NIGHT + +Late that afternoon there wandered about the gardens two quiet, +inconspicuous, rather poorly dressed boys. They looked at the +palace, the shrubs, and the flower-beds, as strangers usually +did, and they sat on the seats and talked as people were +accustomed to seeing boys talk together. It was a sunny day and +exceptionally warm, and there were more saunterers and sitters +than usual, which was perhaps the reason why the portier at the +entrance gates gave such slight notice to the pair that he did +not observe that, though two boys came in, only one went out. He +did not, in fact, remember, when he saw The Rat swing by on his +crutches at closing-time, that he had entered in company with a +dark-haired lad who walked without any aid. It happened that, +when The Rat passed out, the portier at the entrance was much +interested in the aspect of the sky, which was curiously +threatening. There had been heavy clouds hanging about all day +and now and then blotting out the sunshine entirely, but the sun +had refused to retire altogether. Just now, however, the clouds +had piled themselves in thunderous, purplish mountains, and the +sun had been forced to set behind them. + +``It's been a sort of battle since morning,'' the portier said. +``There will be some crashes and cataracts to-night.'' That was +what The Rat had thought when they had sat in the Fountain Garden +on a seat which gave them a good view of the balcony and the big +evergreen shrub, which they knew had the hollow in the middle, +though its circumference was so imposing. ``If there should be a +big storm, the evergreen will not save you much, though it may +keep off the worst,'' The Rat said. ``I wish there was room for +two.'' + +He would have wished there was room for two if he had seen Marco +marching to the stake. As the gardens emptied, the boys rose and +walked round once more, as if on their way out. By the time they +had sauntered toward the big evergreen, nobody was in the +Fountain Garden, and the last loiterers were moving toward the +arched stone entrance to the streets. + +When they drew near one side of the evergreen, the two were +together. When The Rat swung out on the other side of it, he was +alone! No one noticed that anything had happened; no one looked +back. So The Rat swung down the walks and round the flower-beds +and passed into the street. And the portier looked at the sky +and made his remark about the ``crashes'' and ``cataracts.'' + +As the darkness came on, the hollow in the shrub seemed a very +safe place. It was not in the least likely that any one would +enter the closed gardens; and if by rare chance some servant +passed through, he would not be in search of people who wished to +watch all night in the middle of an evergreen instead of going to +bed and to sleep. The hollow was well inclosed with greenery, +and there was room to sit down when one was tired of standing. + +Marco stood for a long time because, by doing so, he could see +plainly the windows opening on the balcony if he gently pushed +aside some flexible young boughs. He had managed to discover in +his first visit to the gardens that the windows overlooking the +Fountain Garden were those which belonged to the Prince's own +suite of rooms. Those which opened on to the balcony lighted his +favorite apartment, which contained his best-loved books and +pictures and in which he spent most of his secluded leisure +hours. + +Marco watched these windows anxiously. If the Prince had not +gone to Budapest,--if he were really only in retreat, and hiding +from his gay world among his treasures,--he would be living in +his favorite rooms and lights would show themselves. And if +there were lights, he might pass before a window because, since +he was inclosed in his garden, he need not fear being seen. The +twilight deepened into darkness and, because of the heavy clouds, +it was very dense. Faint gleams showed themselves in the lower +part of the palace, but none was lighted in the windows Marco +watched. He waited so long that it became evident that none was +to be lighted at all. At last he loosed his hold on the young +boughs and, after standing a few moments in thought, sat down +upon the earth in the midst of his embowered tent. The Prince +was not in his retreat; he was probably not in Vienna, and the +rumor of his journey to Budapest had no doubt been true. So much +time lost through making a mistake--but it was best to have made +the venture. Not to have made it would have been to lose a +chance. The entrance was closed for the night and there was no +getting out of the gardens until they were opened for the next +day. He must stay in his hiding- place until the time when +people began to come and bring their books and knitting and sit +on the seats. Then he could stroll out without attracting +attention. But he had the night before him to spend as best he +could. That would not matter at all. He could tuck his cap +under his head and go to sleep on the ground. He could command +himself to waken once every half-hour and look for the lights. +He would not go to sleep until it was long past midnight--so long +past that there would not be one chance in a hundred that +anything could happen. But the clouds which made the night so +dark were giving forth low rumbling growls. At intervals a +threatening gleam of light shot across them and a sudden swish of +wind rushed through the trees in the garden. This happened +several times, and then Marco began to hear the patter of +raindrops. They were heavy and big drops, but few at first, and +then there was a new and more powerful rush of wind, a jagged +dart of light in the sky, and a tremendous crash. After that the +clouds tore themselves open and poured forth their contents in +floods. After the protracted struggle of the day it all seemed +to happen at once, as if a horde of huge lions had at one moment +been let loose: flame after flame of lightning, roar and crash +and sharp reports of thunder, shrieks of hurricane wind, torrents +of rain, as if some tidal-wave of the skies had gathered and +rushed and burst upon the earth. It was such a storm as people +remember for a lifetime and which in few lifetimes is seen at +all. + +Marco stood still in the midst of the rage and flooding, blinding +roar of it. After the first few minutes he knew he could do +nothing to shield himself. Down the garden paths he heard +cataracts rushing. He held his cap pressed against his eyes +because he seemed to stand in the midst of darting flames. The +crashes, cannon reports and thunderings, and the jagged streams +of light came so close to one another that he seemed deafened as +well as blinded. He wondered if he should ever be able to hear +human voices again when it was over. That he was drenched to the +skin and that the water poured from his clothes as if he were +himself a cataract was so small a detail that he was scarcely +aware of it. He stood still, bracing his body, and waited. If +he had been a Samavian soldier in the trenches and such a storm +had broken upon him and his comrades, they could only have braced +themselves and waited. This was what he found himself thinking +when the tumult and downpour were at their worst. There were men +who had waited in the midst of a rain of bullets. + +It was not long after this thought had come to him that there +occurred the first temporary lull in the storm. Its fury perhaps +reached its height and broke at that moment. A yellow flame had +torn its jagged way across the heavens, and an earth-rending +crash had thundered itself into rumblings which actually died +away before breaking forth again. Marco took his cap from his +eyes and drew a long breath. He drew two long breaths. It was +as he began drawing a third and realizing the strange feeling of +the almost stillness about him that he heard a new kind of sound +at the side of the garden nearest his hiding-place. It sounded +like the creak of a door opening somewhere in the wall behind the +laurel hedge. Some one was coming into the garden by a private +entrance. He pushed aside the young boughs again and tried to +see, but the darkness was too dense. Yet he could hear if the +thunder would not break again. There was the sound of feet on +the wet gravel, the footsteps of more than one person coming +toward where he stood, but not as if afraid of being heard; +merely as if they were at liberty to come in by what entrance +they chose. Marco remained very still. A sudden hope gave him a +shock of joy. If the man with the tired face chose to hide +himself from his acquaintances, he might choose to go in and out +by a private entrance. The footsteps drew near, crushing the wet +gravel, passed by, and seemed to pause somewhere near the +balcony; and them flame lit up the sky again and the thunder +burst forth once more. + +But this was its last greal peal. The storm was at an end. Only +fainter and fainter rumblings and mutterings and paler and paler +darts followed. Even they were soon over, and the cataracts in +the paths had rushed themselves silent. But the darkness was +still deep. + +It was deep to blackness in the hollow of the evergreen. Marco +stood in it, streaming with rain, but feeling nothing because he +was full of thought. He pushed aside his greenery and kept his +eyes on the place in the blackness where the windows must be, +though he could not see them. It seemed that he waited a long +time, but he knew it only seemed so really. He began to breathe +quickly because he was waiting for something. + +Suddenly he saw exactly where the windows were--because they were +all lighted! + +His feeling of relief was great, but it did not last very long. +It was true that something had been gained in the certainty that +his man had not left Vienna. But what next? It would not be so +easy to follow him if he chose only to go out secretly at night. +What next? To spend the rest of the night watching a lighted +window was not enough. To-morrow night it might not be lighted. +But he kept his gaze fixed upon it. He tried to fix all his will +and thought-power on the person inside the room. Perhaps he +could reach him and make him listen, even though he would not +know that any one was speaking to him. He knew that thoughts +were strong things. If angry thoughts in one man's mind will +create anger in the mind of another, why should not sane messages +cross the line? + +``I must speak to you. I must speak to you!'' he found himself +saying in a low intense voice. ``I am outside here waiting. +Listen! I must speak to you!'' + +He said it many times and kept his eyes fixed upon the window +which opened on to the balcony. Once he saw a man's figure cross +the room, but he could not be sure who it was. The last distant +rumblings of thunder had died away and the clouds were breaking. +It was not long before the dark mountainous billows broke apart, +and a brilliant full moon showed herself sailing in the rift, +suddenly flooding everything with light. Parts of the garden +were silver white, and the tree shadows were like black velvet. +A silvery lance pierced even into the hollow of Marco's evergreen +and struck across his face. + +Perhaps it was this sudden change which attracted the attention +of those inside the balconied room. A man's figure appeared at +the long windows. Marco saw now that it was the Prince. He +opened the windows and stepped out on to the balcony. + +``It is all over,'' he said quietly. And he stood with his face +lifted, looking at the great white sailing moon. + +He stood very still and seemed for the moment to forget the world +and himself. It was a wonderful, triumphant queen of a moon. +But something brought him back to earth. A low, but strong and +clear, boy-voice came up to him from the garden path below. + +``The Lamp is lighted. The Lamp is lighted,'' it said, and the +words sounded almost as if some one were uttering a prayer. They +seemed to call to him, to arrest him, to draw him. + +He stood still a few seconds in dead silence. Then he bent over +the balustrade. The moonlight had not broken the darkness below. + +``That is a boy's voice,'' he said in a low tone, ``but I cannot +see who is speaking.'' + +``Yes, it is a boy's voice,'' it answered, in a way which somehow +moved him, because it was so ardent. ``It is the son of Stefan +Loristan. The Lamp is lighted.'' + +``Wait. I am coming down to you,'' the Prince said. + +In a few minutes Marco heard a door open gently not far from +where he stood. Then the man he had been following so many days +appeared at his side. + +``How long have you been here?'' he asked. + +``Before the gates closed. I hid myself in the hollow of the big +shrub there, Highness,'' Marco answered. + +``Then you were out in the storm?'' + +``Yes, Highness.'' + +The Prince put his hand on the boy's shoulder. ``I cannot see +you --but it is best to stand in the shadow. You are drenched to +the skin.'' + +``I have been able to give your Highness--the Sign,'' Marco +whispered. ``A storm is nothing.'' + +There was a silence. Marco knew that his companion was pausing +to turn something over in his mind. + +``So-o?'' he said slowly, at length. ``The Lamp is lighted, And +YOU are sent to bear the Sign.'' Something in his voice made +Marco feel that he was smiling. + +``What a race you are! What a race--you Samavian Loristans!'' + +He paused as if to think the thing over again. + +``I want to see your face,'' he said next. ``Here is a tree with +a shaft of moonlight striking through the branches. Let us step +aside and stand under it.'' + +Marco did as he was told. The shaft of moonlight fell upon his +uplifted face and showed its young strength and darkness, quite +splendid for the moment in a triumphant glow of joy in obstacles +overcome. Raindrops hung on his hair, but he did not look +draggled, only very wet and picturesque. He had reached his man. +He had given the Sign. + +The Prince looked him over with interested curiosity. + +``Yes,'' he said in his cool, rather dragging voice. ``You are +the son of Stefan Loristan. Also you must be taken care of. You +must come with me. I have trained my household to remain in its +own quarters until I require its service. I have attached to my +own apartments a good safe little room where I sometimes keep +people. + +You can dry your clothes and sleep there. When the gardens are +opened again, the rest will be easy.'' + +But though he stepped out from under the trees and began to move +towards the palace in the shadow, Marco noticed that he moved +hesitatingly, as if he had not quite decided what he should do. +He stopped rather suddenly and turned again to Marco, who was +following him. + +``There is some one in the room I just now left,'' he said, ``an +old man--whom it might interest to see you. It might also be a +good thing for him to feel interest in you. I choose that he +shall see you --as you are.'' + +``I am at your command, Highness,'' Marco answered. He knew his +companion was smiling again. + +``You have been in training for more centuries than you know,'' +he said; ``and your father has prepared you to encounter the +unexpected without surprise.'' + +They passed under the balcony and paused at a low stone doorway +hidden behind shrubs. The door was a beautiful one, Marco saw +when it was opened, and the corridor disclosed was beautiful +also, though it had an air of quiet and aloofness which was not +so much secret as private. A perfect though narrow staircase +mounted from it to the next floor. After ascending it, the +Prince led the way through a short corridor and stopped at the +door at the end of it. ``We are going in here,'' he said. + +It was a wonderful room--the one which opened on to the balcony. +Each piece of furniture in it, the hangings, the tapestries, and +pictures on the wall were all such as might well have found +themselves adorning a museum. Marco remembered the common report +of his escort's favorite amusement of collecting wonders and +furnishing his house with the things others exhibited only as +marvels of art and handicraft. The place was rich and mellow +with exquisitely chosen beauties. + +In a massive chair upon the heart sat a figure with bent head. +It was a tall old man with white hair and moustache. His elbows +rested upon the arm of his chair and he leaned his forehead on +his hand as if he were weary. + +Marco's companion crossed the room and stood beside him, speaking +in a lowered voice. Marco could not at first hear what he said. +He himself stood quite still, waiting. The white-haired man +lifted his head and listened. It seemed as though almost at once +he was singularly interested. The lowered voice was slightly +raised at last and Marco heard the last two sentences: + +``The only son of Stefan Loristan. Look at him.'' + +The old man in the chair turned slowly and looked, steadily, and +with questioning curiosity touched with grave surprise. He had +keen and clear blue eyes. + +Then Marco, still erect and silent, waited again. The Prince had +merely said to him, ``an old man whom it might interest to see +you.'' He had plainly intended that, whatsoever happened, he +must make no outward sign of seeing more than he had been told he +would see --``an old man.'' It was for him to show no +astonishment or recognition. He had been brought here not to see +but to be seen. The power of remaining still under scrutiny, +which The Rat had often envied him, stood now in good stead +because he had seen the white head and tall form not many days +before, surmounted by brilliant emerald plumes, hung with jeweled +decorations, in the royal carriage, escorted by banners, and +helmets, and following troops whose tramping feet kept time to +bursts of military music while the populace bared their heads and +cheered. + +``He is like his father,'' this personage said to the Prince. +``But if any one but Loristan had sent him--His looks please +me.'' Then suddenly to Marco, ``You were waiting outside while +the storm was going on?'' + +``Yes, sir,'' Marco answered. + +Then the two exchanged some words still in the lowered voice. + +``You read the news as you made your journey?'' he was asked. +``You know how Samavia stands?'' + +``She does not stand,'' said Marco. ``The Iarovitch and the +Maranovitch have fought as hyenas fight, until each has torn the +other into fragments--and neither has blood or strength left.'' + +The two glanced at each other. + +``A good simile,'' said the older person. ``You are right. If a +strong party rose--and a greater power chose not to +interfere--the country might see better days.'' He looked at him +a few moments longer and then waved his hand kindly. + +``You are a fine Samavian,'' he said. ``I am glad of that. You +may go. Good night.'' + +Marco bowed respectfully and the man with the tired face led him +out of the room. + +It was just before he left him in the small quiet chamber in +which he was to sleep that the Prince gave him a final curious +glance. ``I remember now,'' he said. ``In the room, when you +answered the question about Samavia, I was sure that I had seen +you before. It was the day of the celebration. There was a +break in the crowd and I saw a boy looking at me. It was you.'' + +``Yes,'' said Marco, ``I have followed you each time you have +gone out since then, but I could never get near enough to speak. +To- night seemed only one chance in a thousand.'' + +``You are doing your work more like a man than a boy,'' was the +next speech, and it was made reflectively. ``No man could have +behaved more perfectly than you did just now, when discretion and +composure were necessary.'' Then, after a moment's pause, ``He +was deeply interested and deeply pleased. Good night.'' + + +When the gardens had been thrown open the next morning and people +were passing in and out again, Marco passed out also. He was +obliged to tell himself two or three times that he had not +wakened from an amazing dream. He quickened his pace after he +had crossed the street, because he wanted to get home to the +attic and talk to The Rat. There was a narrow side-street it was +necessary for him to pass through if he wished to make a short +cut. As he turned into it, he saw a curious figure leaning on +crutches against a wall. It looked damp and forlorn, and he +wondered if it could be a beggar. It was not. It was The Rat, +who suddenly saw who was approaching and swung forward. His face +was pale and haggard and he looked worn and frightened. He +dragged off his cap and spoke in a voice which was hoarse as a +crow's. + +``God be thanked!'' he said. ``God be thanked!'' as people +always said it when they received the Sign, alone. But there was +a kind of anguish in his voice as well as relief. + +``Aide-de-camp!'' Marco cried out--The Rat had begged him to call +him so. ``What have you been doing? How long have you been +here?'' + +``Ever since I left you last night,'' said The Rat clutching +tremblingly at his arm as if to make sure he was real. ``If +there was not room for two in the hollow, there was room for one +in the street. + +Was it my place to go off duty and leave you alone--was it?'' + +``You were out in the storm?'' + +``Weren't you?'' said The Rat fiercely. ``I huddled against the +wall as well as I could. What did I care? Crutches don't +prevent a fellow waiting. I wouldn't have left you if you'd +given me orders. And that would have been mutiny. When you did +not come out as soon as the gates opened, I felt as if my head +got on fire. How could I know what had happened? I've not the +nerve and backbone you have. I go half mad.'' For a second or +so Marco did not answer. But when he put his hand on the damp +sleeve, The Rat actually started, because it seemed as though he +were looking into the eyes of Stefan Loristan. + +``You look just like your father!'' he exclaimed, in spite of +himself. ``How tall you are!'' + +``When you are near me,'' Marco said, in Loristan's own voice, +``when you are near me, I feel--I feel as if I were a royal +prince attended by an army. You ARE my army.'' And he pulled +off his cap with quick boyishness and added, ``God be thanked!'' + +The sun was warm in the attic window when they reached their +lodging, and the two leaned on the rough sill as Marco told his +story. It took some time to relate; and when he ended, he took +an envelope from his pocket and showed it to The Rat. It +contained a flat package of money. + +``He gave it to me just before he opened the private door,'' +Marco explained. ``And he said to me, `It will not be long now. +After Samavia, go back to London as quickly as you can--AS +QUICKLY AS YOU CAN!' '' + +``I wonder--what he meant?'' The Rat said, slowly. A tremendous +thought had shot through his mind. But it was not a thought he +could speak of to Marco. + +``I cannot tell. I thought that it was for some reason he did +not expect me to know,'' Marco said. ``We will do as he told us. +As quickly as we can.'' They looked over the newspapers, as they +did every day. All that could be gathered from any of them was +that the opposing armies of Samavia seemed each to have reached +the culmination of disaster and exhaustion. Which party had the +power left to take any final step which could call itself a +victory, it was impossible to say. Never had a country been in a +more desperate case. + +``It is the time!'' said The Rat, glowering over his map. ``If +the Secret Party rises suddenly now, it can take Melzarr almost +without a blow. It can sweep through the country and disarm both +armies. + +They're weakened--they're half starved--they're bleeding to +death; they WANT to be disarmed. Only the Iarovitch and the +Maranovitch keep on with the struggle because each is fighting +for the power to tax the people and make slaves of them. If the +Secret Party does not rise, the people will, and they'll rush on +the palaces and kill every Maranovitch and Iarovitch they find. +And serve them right!'' + +``Let us spend the rest of the day in studying the road-map +again,'' said Marco. ``To-night we must be on the way to +Samavia!'' + + + +XXVI + +ACROSS THE FRONTIER + +That one day, a week later, two tired and travel- worn +boy-mendicants should drag themselves with slow and weary feet +across the frontier line between Jiardasia and Samavia, was not +an incident to awaken suspicion or even to attract attention. +War and hunger and anguish had left the country stunned and +broken. Since the worst had happened, no one was curious as to +what would befall them next. If Jiardasia herself had become a +foe, instead of a friendly neighbor, and had sent across the +border galloping hordes of soldiery, there would only have been +more shrieks, and home-burnings, and slaughter which no one dare +resist. But, so far, Jiardasia had remained peaceful. The two +boys--one of them on crutches--had evidently traveled far on +foot. Their poor clothes were dusty and travel-stained, and they +stopped and asked for water at the first hut across the line. +The one who walked without crutches had some coarse bread in a +bag slung over his shoulder, and they sat on the roadside and ate +it as if they were hungry. The old grandmother who lived alone +in the hut sat and stared at them without any curiosity. She may +have vaguely wondered why any one crossed into Samavia in these +days. But she did not care to know their reason. Her big son +had lived in a village which belonged to the Maranovitch and he +had been called out to fight for his lords. He had not wanted to +fight and had not known what the quarrel was about, but he was +forced to obey. He had kissed his handsome wife and four sturdy +children, blubbering aloud when he left them. His village and +his good crops and his house must be left behind. Then the +Iarovitch swept through the pretty little cluster of homesteads +which belonged to their enemy. They were mad with rage because +they had met with great losses in a battle not far away, and, as +they swooped through, they burned and killed, and trampled down +fields and vineyards. The old woman's son never saw either the +burned walls of his house or the bodies of his wife and children, +because he had been killed himself in the battle for which the +Iarovitch were revenging themselves. Only the old grandmother +who lived in the hut near the frontier line and stared vacantly +at the passers-by remained alive. She wearily gazed at people +and wondered why she did not hear news from her son and her +grandchildren. But that was all. + +When the boys were over the frontier and well on their way along +the roads, it was not difficult to keep out of sight if it seemed +necessary. The country was mountainous and there were deep and +thick forests by the way--forests so far-reaching and with such +thick undergrowth that full-grown men could easily have hidden +themselves. It was because of this, perhaps, that this part of +the country had seen little fighting. There was too great +opportunity for secure ambush for a foe. As the two travelers +went on, they heard of burned villages and towns destroyed, but +they were towns and villages nearer Melzarr and other +fortress-defended cities, or they were in the country surrounding +the castles and estates of powerful nobles and leaders. It was +true, as Marco had said to the white-haired personage, that the +Maranovitch and Iarovitch had fought with the savageness of +hyenas until at last the forces of each side lay torn and +bleeding, their strength, their resources, their supplies +exhausted. + +Each day left them weaker and more desperate. Europe looked on +with small interest in either party but with growing desire that +the disorder should end and cease to interfere with commerce. +All this and much more Marco and The Rat knew, but, as they made +their cautious way through byways of the maimed and tortured +little country, they learned other things. They learned that the +stories of its beauty and fertility were not romances. Its +heaven-reaching mountains, its immense plains of rich verdure on +which flocks and herds might have fed by thousands, its splendor +of deep forest and broad clear rushing rivers had a primeval +majesty such as the first human creatures might have found on +earth in the days of the Garden of Eden. The two boys traveled +through forest and woodland when it was possible to leave the +road. It was safe to thread a way among huge trees and tall +ferns and young saplings. It was not always easy but it was +safe. Sometimes they saw a charcoal-burner's hut or a shelter +where a shepherd was hiding with the few sheep left to him. Each +man they met wore the same look of stony suffering in his face; +but, when the boys begged for bread and water, as was their +habit, no one refused to share the little he had. It soon became +plain to them that they were thought to be two young fugitives +whose homes had probably been destroyed and who were wandering +about with no thought but that of finding safety until the worst +was over. That one of them traveled on crutches added to their +apparent helplessness, and that he could not speak the language +of the country made him more an object of pity. The peasants did +not know what language he spoke. Sometimes a foreigner came to +find work in this small town or that. The poor lad might have +come to the country with his father and mother and then have been +caught in the whirlpool of war and tossed out on the world +parent-less. But no one asked questions. Even in their +desolation they were silent and noble people who were too +courteous for curiosity. + +``In the old days they were simple and stately and kind. All +doors were open to travelers. The master of the poorest hut +uttered a blessing and a welcome when a stranger crossed his +threshold. It was the custom of the country,'' Marco said. ``I +read about it in a book of my father's. About most of the doors +the welcome was carved in stone. It was this--`The Blessing of +the Son of God, and Rest within these Walls.' '' + +``They are big and strong,'' said The Rat. ``And they have good +faces. They carry themselves as if they had been drilled--both +men and women.'' + +It was not through the blood-drenched part of the unhappy land +their way led them, but they saw hunger and dread in the villages +they passed. Crops which should have fed the people had been +taken from them for the use of the army; flocks and herds had +been driven away, and faces were gaunt and gray. Those who had +as yet only lost crops and herds knew that homes and lives might +be torn from them at any moment. Only old men and women and +children were left to wait for any fate which the chances of war +might deal out to them. + +When they were given food from some poor store, Marco would offer +a little money in return. He dare not excite suspicion by +offering much. He was obliged to let it be imagined that in his +flight from his ruined home he had been able to snatch at and +secrete some poor hoard which might save him from starvation. +Often the women would not take what he offered. Their journey +was a hard and hungry one. They must make it all on foot and +there was little food to be found. But each of them knew how to +live on scant fare. They traveled mostly by night and slept +among the ferns and undergrowth through the day. They drank from +running brooks and bathed in them. Moss and ferns made soft and +sweet-smelling beds, and trees roofed them. Sometimes they lay +long and talked while they rested. And at length a day came when +they knew they were nearing their journey's end. + +``It is nearly over now,'' Marco said, after they had thrown +themselves down in the forest in the early hours of one dewy +morning. ``He said `After Samavia, go back to London as quickly +as you can --AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN.' He said it twice. As +if--something were going to happen.'' + +``Perhaps it will happen more suddenly than we think--the thing +he meant,'' answered The Rat. + +Suddenly he sat up on his elbow and leaned towards Marco. + +``We are in Samavia!'' he said ``We two are in Samavia! And we +are near the end!'' + +Marco rose on his elbow also. He was very thin as a result of +hard travel and scant feeding. His thinness made his eyes look +immense and black as pits. But they burned and were beautiful +with their own fire. + +``Yes,'' he said, breathing quickly. ``And though we do not know +what the end will be, we have obeyed orders. The Prince was next +to the last one. There is only one more. The old priest.'' + +``I have wanted to see him more than I have wanted to see any of +the others,'' The Rat said. + +``So have I,'' Marco answered. ``His church is built on the side +of this mountain. I wonder what he will say to us.'' + +Both had the same reason for wanting to see him. In his youth he +had served in the monastery over the frontier--the one which, +till it was destroyed in a revolt, had treasured the +five-hundred-year-old story of the beautiful royal lad brought to +be hidden among the brotherhood by the ancient shepherd. In the +monastery the memory of the Lost Prince was as the memory of a +saint. It had been told that one of the early brothers, who was +a decorator and a painter, had made a picture of him with a faint +halo shining about his head. The young acolyte who had served +there must have heard wonderful legends. But the monastery had +been burned, and the young acolyte had in later years crossed the +frontier and become the priest of a few mountaineers whose little +church clung to the mountain side. He had worked hard and +faithfully and was worshipped by his people. Only the secret +Forgers of the Sword knew that his most ardent worshippers were +those with whom he prayed and to whom he gave blessings in dark +caverns under the earth, where arms piled themselves and men with +dark strong faces sat together in the dim light and laid plans +and wrought schemes. + +This Marco and The Rat did not know as they talked of their +desire to see him. + +``He may not choose to tell us anything,'' said Marco. ``When we +have given him the Sign, he may turn away and say nothing as some +of the others did. He may have nothing to say which we should +hear. Silence may be the order for him, too.'' + +It would not be a long or dangerous climb to the little church on +the rock. They could sleep or rest all day and begin it at +twilight. So after they had talked of the old priest and had +eaten their black bread, they settled themselves to sleep under +cover of the thick tall ferns. + +It was a long and deep sleep which nothing disturbed. So few +human beings ever climbed the hill, except by the narrow rough +path leading to the church, that the little wild creatures had +not learned to be afraid of them. Once, during the afternoon, a +hare hopping along under the ferns to make a visit stopped by +Marco's head, and, after looking at him a few seconds with his +lustrous eyes, began to nibble the ends of his hair. He only did +it from curiosity and because he wondered if it might be a new +kind of grass, but he did not like it and stopped nibbling almost +at once, after which he looked at it again, moving the soft +sensitive end of his nose rapidly for a second or so, and then +hopped away to attend to his own affairs. A very large and +handsome green stag-beetle crawled from one end of The Rat's +crutches to the other, but, having done it, he went away also. +Two or three times a bird, searching for his dinner under the +ferns, was surprised to find the two sleeping figures, but, as +they lay so quietly, there seemed nothing to be frightened about. +A beautiful little field mouse running past discovered that there +were crumbs lying about and ate all she could find on the moss. +After that she crept into Marco's pocket and found some excellent +ones and had quite a feast. But she disturbed nobody and the +boys slept on. + +It was a bird's evening song which awakened them both. The bird +alighted on the branch of a tree near them and her trill was +rippling clear and sweet. The evening air had freshened and was +fragrant with hillside scents. When Marco first rolled over and +opened his eyes, he thought the most delicious thing on earth was +to waken from sleep on a hillside at evening and hear a bird +singing. It seemed to make exquisitely real to him the fact that +he was in Samavia--that the Lamp was lighted and his work was +nearly done. The Rat awakened when he did, and for a few minutes +both lay on their backs without speaking. At last Marco said, +``The stars are coming out. We can begin to climb, +Aide-de-camp.'' + +Then they both got up and looked at each other. + +``The last one!'' The Rat said. ``To-morrow we shall be on our +way back to London--Number 7 Philibert Place. After all the +places we've been to--what will it look like?'' + +``It will be like wakening out of a dream,'' said Marco. ``It's +not beautiful--Philibert Place. But HE will be there,'' And it +was as if a light lighted itself in his face and shone through +the very darkness of it. + +And The Rat's face lighted in almost exactly the same way. And +he pulled off his cap and stood bare-headed. ``We've obeyed +orders,'' he said. ``We've not forgotten one. No one has +noticed us, no one has thought of us. We've blown through the +countries as if we had been grains of dust.'' + +Marco's head was bared, too, and his face was still shining. +``God be thanked!'' he said. ``Let us begin to climb.'' + +They pushed their way through the ferns and wandered in and out +through trees until they found the little path. The hill was +thickly clothed with forest and the little path was sometimes +dark and steep; but they knew that, if they followed it, they +would at last come out to a place where there were scarcely any +trees at all, and on a crag they would find the tiny church +waiting for them. The priest might not be there. They might +have to wait for him, but he would be sure to come back for +morning Mass and for vespers, wheresoever he wandered between +times. + +There were many stars in the sky when at last a turn of the path +showed them the church above them. It was little and built of +rough stone. It looked as if the priest himself and his +scattered flock might have broken and carried or rolled bits of +the hill to put it together. It had the small, round, +mosque-like summit the Turks had brought into Europe in centuries +past. It was so tiny that it would hold but a very small +congregation--and close to it was a shed-like house, which was of +course the priest's. + +The two boys stopped on the path to look at it. + +``There is a candle burning in one of the little windows,'' said +Marco. + +``There is a well near the door--and some one is beginning to +draw water,'' said The Rat, next. ``It is too dark to see who it +is. Listen!'' + +They listened and heard the bucket descend on the chains, and +splash in the water. Then it was drawn up, and it seemed some +one drank long. Then they saw a dim figure move forward and +stand still. Then they heard a voice begin to pray aloud, as if +the owner, being accustomed to utter solitude, did not think of +earthly hearers. + +``Come,'' Marco said. And they went forward. + +Because the stars were so many and the air so clear, the priest +heard their feet on the path, and saw them almost as soon as he +heard them. He ended his prayer and watched them coming. A lad +on crutches, who moved as lightly and easily as a bird--and a lad +who, even yards away, was noticeable for a bearing of his body +which was neither haughty nor proud but set him somehow aloof +from every other lad one had ever seen. A magnificent +lad--though, as he drew near, the starlight showed his face thin +and his eyes hollow as if with fatigue or hunger. + +``And who is this one?'' the old priest murmured to himself. +``WHO?'' + +Marco drew up before him and made a respectful reverence. Then +he lifted his black head, squared his shoulders and uttered his +message for the last time. + +``The Lamp is lighted, Father,'' he said. ``The Lamp is +lighted.'' + +The old priest stood quite still and gazed into his face. The +next moment he bent his head so that he could look at him +closely. It + +seemed almost as if he were frightened and wanted to make sure of +something. At the moment it flashed through The Rat's mind that +the old, old woman on the mountain-top had looked frightened in +something the same way. + +``I am an old man,'' he said. ``My eyes are not good. If I had +a light''--and he glanced towards the house. + +It was The Rat who, with one whirl, swung through the door and +seized the candle. He guessed what he wanted. He held it +himself so that the flare fell on Marco's face. + +The old priest drew nearer and nearer. He gasped for breath. +``You are the son of Stefan Loristan!'' he cried. ``It is HIS +SON who brings the Sign.'' + +He fell upon his knees and hid his face in his hands. Both the +boys heard him sobbing and praying--praying and sobbing at once. + +They glanced at each other. The Rat was bursting with +excitement, but he felt a little awkward also and wondered what +Marco would do. An old fellow on his knees, crying, made a chap +feel as if he didn't know what to say. Must you comfort him or +must you let him go on? + +Marco only stood quite still and looked at him with understanding +and gravity. + +``Yes, Father, he said. ``I am the son of Stefan Loristan, and I +have given the Sign to all. You are the last one. The Lamp is +lighted. I could weep for gladness, too.'' + +The priest's tears and prayers ended. He rose to his feet--a +rugged-faced old man with long and thick white hair which fell on +his shoulders--and smiled at Marco while his eyes were still wet. + +``You have passed from one country to another with the message?'' +he said. ``You were under orders to say those four words?'' + +``Yes, Father,'' answered Marco. + +``That was all? You were to say no more?'' + +``I know no more. Silence has been the order since I took my +oath of allegiance when I was a child. I was not old enough to +fight, or serve, or reason about great things. All I could do +was to be silent, and to train myself to remember, and be ready +when I was called. When my father saw I was ready, he trusted +me to go out and give the Sign. He told me the four words. +Nothing else.'' + +The old man watched him with a wondering face. + +``If Stefan Loristan does not know best,'' he said, ``who does?'' + +``He always knows,'' answered Marco proudly. ``Always.'' He +waved his hand like a young king toward The Rat. He wanted each +man they met to understand the value of The Rat. ``He chose for +me this companion,'' he added. ``I have done nothing alone.'' + +``He let me call myself his aide-de-camp!'' burst forth The Rat. +``I would be cut into inch-long strips for him.'' + +Marco translated. + +Then the priest looked at The Rat and slowly nodded his head. +``Yes,'' he said. ``He knew best. He always knows best. That I +see.'' + +``How did you know I was my father's son?'' asked Marco. ``You +have seen him?'' + +``No,'' was the answer; ``but I have seen a picture which is said +to be his image--and you are the picture's self. It is, indeed, +a strange thing that two of God's creatures should be so alike. +There is a purpose in it.'' He led them into his bare small +house and made them rest, and drink goat's milk, and eat food. +As he moved about the hut-like place, there was a mysterious and +exalted look on his face. + +``You must be refreshed before we leave here,'' he said at last. +``I am going to take you to a place hidden in the mountains where +there are men whose hearts will leap at the sight of you. To see +you will give them new power and courage and new resolve. To- +night they meet as they or their ancestors have met for +centuries, but now they are nearing the end of their waiting. +And I shall bring them the son of Stefan Loristan, who is the +Bearer of the Sign!'' + +They ate the bread and cheese and drank the goat's milk he gave +them, but Marco explained that they did not need rest as they had +slept all day. They were prepared to follow him when he was +ready. + +The last faint hint of twilight had died into night and the stars +were at their thickest when they set out together. The +white-haired old man took a thick knotted staff in his hand and +led the way. He knew it well, though it was a rugged and steep +one with no track to mark it. Sometimes they seemed to be +walking around the mountain, sometimes they were climbing, +sometimes they dragged themselves over rocks or fallen trees, or +struggled through almost impassable thickets; more than once they +descended into ravines and, almost at the risk of their lives, +clambered and drew themselves with the aid of the undergrowth up +the other side. The Rat was called upon to use all his prowess, +and sometimes Marco and the priest helped him across obstacles +with the aid of his crutch. + +``Haven't I shown to-night whether I'm a cripple or not?'' he +said once to Marco. ``You can tell HIM about this, can't you? +And that the crutches helped instead of being in the way?'' + +They had been out nearly two hours when they came to a place +where the undergrowth was thick and a huge tree had fallen +crashing down among it in some storm. Not far from the tree was +an outcropping rock. Only the top of it was to be seen above the +heavy tangle. + +They had pushed their way through the jungle of bushes and young +saplings, led by their companion. They did not know where they +would be led next and were supposed to push forward further when +the priest stopped by the outcropping rock. He stood silent a +few minutes--quite motionless--as if he were listening to the +forest and the night. But there was utter stillness. There was +not even a breeze to stir a leaf, or a half-wakened bird to +sleepily chirp. + +He struck the rock with his staff--twice, and then twice again. + +Marco and The Rat stood with bated breath. + +They did not wait long. Presently each of them found himself +leaning forward, staring with almost unbelieving eyes, not at the +priest or his staff, but at THE ROCK ITSELF! + +It was moving! Yes, it moved. The priest stepped aside and it +slowly turned, as if worked by a lever. As it turned, it +gradually revealed a chasm of darkness dimly lighted, and the +priest spoke to Marco. ``There are hiding-places like this all +through Samavia,'' he said. ``Patience and misery have waited +long in them. They are the caverns of the Forgers of the Sword. +Come!'' + + + +XXVII + +``IT IS THE LOST PRINCE! IT IS IVOR!'' + +Many times since their journey had begun the boys had found their +hearts beating with the thrill and excitement of things. The +story of which their lives had been a part was a pulse-quickening +experience. But as they carefully made their way down the steep +steps leading seemingly into the bowels of the earth, both Marco +and The Rat felt as though the old priest must hear the thudding +in their young sides. + +`` `The Forgers of the Sword.' Remember every word they say,'' +The Rat whispered, ``so that you can tell it to me afterwards. +Don't forget anything! I wish I knew Samavian.'' + +At the foot of the steps stood the man who was evidently the +sentinel who worked the lever that turned the rock. He was a big +burly peasant with a good watchful face, and the priest gave him +a greeting and a blessing as he took from him the lantern he held +out. + +They went through a narrow and dark passage, and down some more +steps, and turned a corner into another corridor cut out of rock +and earth. It was a wider corridor, but still dark, so that +Marco and The Rat had walked some yards before their eyes became +sufficiently accustomed to the dim light to see that the walls +themselves seemed made of arms stacked closely together. + +``The Forgers of the Sword!'' The Rat was unconsciously mumbling +to himself, ``The Forgers of the Sword!'' + +It must have taken years to cut out the rounding passage they +threaded their way through, and longer years to forge the solid, +bristling walls. But The Rat remembered the story the stranger +had told his drunken father, of the few mountain herdsmen who, in +their savage grief and wrath over the loss of their prince, had +banded themselves together with a solemn oath which had been +handed down from generation to generation. The Samavians were a +long-memoried people, and the fact that their passion must be +smothered had made it burn all the more fiercely. Five hundred +years ago they had first sworn their oath; and kings had come and +gone, had died or been murdered, and dynasties had changed, but +the Forgers of the Sword had not changed or forgotten their oath +or wavered in their belief that some time--some time, even after +the long dark years--the soul of their Lost Prince would be among +them once more, and that they would kneel at the feet and kiss +the hands of him for whose body that soul had been reborn. And +for the last hundred years their number and power and their +hiding places had so increased that Samavia was at last +honeycombed with them. And they only waited, breathless,--for +the Lighting of the Lamp. + +The old priest knew how breathlessly, and he knew what he was +bringing them. Marco and The Rat, in spite of their fond boy- +imaginings, were not quite old enough to know how fierce and full +of flaming eagerness the breathless waiting of savage full-grown +men could be. But there was a tense-strung thrill in knowing +that they who were being led to them were the Bearers of the +Sign. The Rat went hot and cold; he gnawed his fingers as he +went. He could almost have shrieked aloud, in the intensity of +his excitement, when the old priest stopped before a big black +door! + +Marco made no sound. Excitement or danger always made him look +tall and quite pale. He looked both now. + +The priest touched the door, and it opened. + +They were looking into an immense cavern. Its walls and roof +were lined with arms--guns, swords, bayonets, javelins, daggers, +pistols, every weapon a desperate man might use. The place was +full of men, who turned towards the door when it opened. They +all made obeisance to the priest, but Marco realized almost at +the same instant that they started on seeing that he was not +alone. + +They were a strange and picturesque crowd as they stood under +their canopy of weapons in the lurid torchlight. Marco saw at +once that they were men of all classes, though all were alike +roughly dressed. They were huge mountaineers, and plainsmen +young and mature in years. Some of the biggest were men with +white hair but with bodies of giants, and with determination in +their strong jaws. There were many of these, Marco saw, and in +each man's eyes, whether he were young or old, glowed a steady +unconquered flame. They had been beaten so often, they had been +oppressed and robbed, but in the eyes of each one was this +unconquered flame which, throughout all the long tragedy of years +had been handed down from father to son. It was this which had +gone on through centuries, keeping its oath and forging its +swords in the caverns of the earth, and which to-day +was--waiting. + +The old priest laid his hand on Marco's shoulder, and gently +pushed him before him through the crowd which parted to make way +for them. He did not stop until the two stood in the very midst +of the circle, which fell back gazing wonderingly. Marco looked +up at the old man because for several seconds he did not speak. +It was plain that he did not speak because he also was excited, +and could not. He opened his lips and his voice seemed to fail +him. Then he tried again and spoke so that all could hear--even +the men at the back of the gazing circle. + +``My children,'' he said, ``this is the son of Stefan Loristan, +and he comes to bear the Sign. My son,'' to Marco, ``speak!'' + +Then Marco understood what he wished, and also what he felt. He +felt it himself, that magnificent uplifting gladness, as he +spoke, holding his black head high and lifting his right hand. + +``The Lamp is Lighted, brothers!'' he cried. ``The Lamp is +Lighted!'' + +Then The Rat, who stood apart, watching, thought that the strange +world within the cavern had gone mad! Wild smothered cries broke +forth, men caught each other in passionate embrace, they fell +upon their knees, they clutched one another sobbing, they wrung +each other's hands, they leaped into the air. It was as if they +could not bear the joy of hearing that the end of their waiting +had come at last. They rushed upon Marco, and fell at his feet. +The Rat saw big peasants kissing his shoes, his hands, every +scrap of his clothing they could seize. The wild circle swayed +and closed upon him until The Rat was afraid. He did not know +that, overpowered by this frenzy of emotion, his own excitement +was making him shake from head to foot like a leaf, and that +tears were streaming down his cheeks. The swaying crowd hid +Marco from him, and he began to fight his way towards him because +his excitement increased with fear. The ecstasy-frenzied crowd +of men seemed for the moment to have almost ceased to be sane. +Marco was only a boy. They did not know how fiercely they were +pressing upon him and keeping away the very air. + +``Don't kill him! Don't kill him!'' yelled The Rat, struggling +forward. ``Stand back, you fools! I'm his aide-de-camp! Let me +pass!'' + +And though no one understood his English, one or two suddenly +remembered they had seen him enter with the priest and so gave +way. But just then the old priest lifted his hand above the +crowd, and spoke in a voice of stern command. + +``Stand back, my children!'' he cried. ``Madness is not the +homage you must bring to the son of Stefan Loristan. Obey! +Obey!'' His voice had a power in it that penetrated even the +wildest herdsmen. The frenzied mass swayed back and left space +about Marco, whose face The Rat could at last see. It was very +white with emotion, and in his eyes there was a look which was +like awe. + +The Rat pushed forward until he stood beside him. He did not +know that he almost sobbed as he spoke. + +``I'm your aide-de-camp,'' he said. ``I'm going to stand here! +Your father sent me! I'm under orders! I thought they'd crush +you to death.'' + +He glared at the circle about them as if, instead of worshippers +distraught with adoration, they had been enemies. The old priest +seeing him, touched Marco's arm. + +``Tell him he need not fear,'' he said. ``It was only for the +first few moments. The passion of their souls drove them wild. +They are your slaves.'' + +``Those at the back might have pushed the front ones on until +they trampled you under foot in spite of themselves!'' The Rat +persisted. + +``No,'' said Marco. ``They would have stopped if I had spoken.'' + + +``Why didn't you speak then?'' snapped The Rat. + +``All they felt was for Samavia, and for my father,'' Marco said, +``and for the Sign. I felt as they did.'' + +The Rat was somewhat softened. It was true, after all. How +could he have tried to quell the outbursts of their worship of +Loristan-- of the country he was saving for them--of the Sign +which called them to freedom? He could not. + +Then followed a strange and picturesque ceremonial. The priest +went about among the encircling crowd and spoke to one man after +another--sometimes to a group. A larger circle was formed. As +the pale old man moved about, The Rat felt as if some religious +ceremony were going to be performed. Watching it from first to +last, he was thrilled to the core. + +At the end of the cavern a block of stone had been cut out to +look like an altar. It was covered with white, and against the +wall above it hung a large picture veiled by a curtain. From the +roof there swung before it an ancient lamp of metal suspended by +chains. In front of the altar was a sort of stone dais. There +the priest asked Marco to stand, with his aide-de-camp on the +lower level in attendance. A knot of the biggest herdsmen went +out and returned. Each carried a huge sword which had perhaps +been of the earliest made in the dark days gone by. The bearers +formed themselves into a line on either side of Marco. They +raised their swords and formed a pointed arch above his head and +a passage twelve men long. When the points first clashed +together The Rat struck himself hard upon his breast. His +exultation was too keen to endure. He gazed at Marco standing +still--in that curiously splendid way in which both he and his +father COULD stand still--and wondered how he could do it. He +looked as if he were prepared for any strange thing which could +happen to him--because he was ``under orders.'' The Rat knew +that he was doing whatsoever he did merely for his father's sake. +It was as if he felt that he was representing his father, though +he was a mere boy; and that because of this, boy as he was, he +must bear himself nobly and remain outwardly undisturbed. + +At the end of the arch of swords, the old priest stood and gave a +sign to one man after another. When the sign was given to a man +he walked under the arch to the dais, and there knelt and, +lifting Marco's hand to his lips, kissed it with passionate +fervor. Then he returned to the place he had left. One after +another passed up the aisle of swords, one after another knelt, +one after the other kissed the brown young hand, rose and went +away. Sometimes The Rat heard a few words which sounded almost +like a murmured prayer, sometimes he heard a sob as a shaggy head +bent, again and again he saw eyes wet with tears. Once or twice +Marco spoke a few Samavian words, and the face of the man spoken +to flamed with joy. The Rat had time to see, as Marco had seen, +that many of the faces were not those of peasants. Some of them +were clear cut and subtle and of the type of scholars or nobles. +It took a long time for them all to kneel and kiss the lad's +hand, but no man omitted the ceremony; and when at last it was at +an end, a strange silence filled the cavern. They stood and +gazed at each other with burning eyes. + +The priest moved to Marco's side, and stood near the altar. He +leaned forward and took in his hand a cord which hung from the +veiled picture--he drew it and the curtain fell apart. There +seemed to stand gazing at them from between its folds a tall +kingly youth with deep eyes in which the stars of God were stilly +shining, and with a smile wonderful to behold. Around the heavy +locks of his black hair the long dead painter of missals had set +a faint glow of light like a halo. + +``Son of Stefan Loristan,'' the old priest said, in a shaken +voice, ``it is the Lost Prince! It is Ivor!'' + +Then every man in the room fell on his knees. Even the men who +had upheld the archway of swords dropped their weapons with a +crash and knelt also. He was their saint--this boy! Dead for +five hundred years, he was their saint still. + +``Ivor! Ivor!'' the voices broke into a heavy murmur. ``Ivor! +Ivor!'' as if they chanted a litany. + +Marco started forward, staring at the picture, his breath caught +in his throat, his lips apart. + +``But--but--'' he stammered, ``but if my father were as young as +he is--he would be LIKE him!'' + +``When you are as old as he is, YOU will be like him--YOU!'' said +the priest. And he let the curtain fall. + +The Rat stood staring with wide eyes from Marco to the picture +and from the picture to Marco. And he breathed faster and faster +and gnawed his finger ends. But he did not utter a word. He +could not have done it, if he tried. + +Then Marco stepped down from the dais as if he were in a dream, +and the old man followed him. The men with swords sprang to +their feet and made their archway again with a new clash of +steel. The old man and the boy passed under it together. Now +every man's eyes were fixed on Marco. At the heavy door by which +he had entered, he stopped and turned to meet their glances. He +looked very young and thin and pale, but suddenly his father's +smile was lighted in his face. He said a few words in Samavian +clearly and gravely, saluted, and passed out. + +``What did you say to them?'' gasped The Rat, stumbling after him +as the door closed behind them and shut in the murmur of +impassioned sound. + +``There was only one thing to say,'' was the answer. ``They are +men--I am only a boy. I thanked them for my father, and told +them he would never--never forget.'' + + + +XXVIII + +``EXTRA! EXTRA! EXTRA!'' + +It was raining in London--pouring. It had been raining for two +weeks, more or less, generally more. When the train from Dover +drew in at Charing Cross, the weather seemed suddenly to have +considered that it had so far been too lenient and must express +itself much more vigorously. So it had gathered together its +resources and poured them forth in a deluge which surprised even +Londoners. + +The rain so beat against and streamed down the windows of the +third-class carriage in which Marco and The Rat sat that they +could not see through them. + +They had made their homeward journey much more rapidly than they +had made the one on which they had been outward bound. It had +of course taken them some time to tramp back to the frontier, but +there had been no reason for stopping anywhere after they had +once reached the railroads. They had been tired sometimes, but +they had slept heavily on the wooden seats of the railway +carriages. Their one desire was to get home. No. 7 Philibert +Place rose before them in its noisy dinginess as the one +desirable spot on earth. To Marco it held his father. And it +was Loristan alone that The Rat saw when he thought of it. +Loristan as he would look when he saw him come into the room with +Marco, and stand up and salute, and say: ``I have brought him +back, sir. He has carried out every single order you gave +him--every single one. So have I.'' So he had. He had been +sent as his companion and attendant, and he had been faithful in +every thought. If Marco would have allowed him, he would have +waited upon him like a servant, and have been proud of the +service. But Marco would never let him forget that they were +only two boys and that one was of no more importance than the +other. He had secretly even felt this attitude to be a sort of +grievance. It would have been more like a game if one of them +had been the mere servitor of the other, and if that other had +blustered a little, and issued commands, and demanded sacrifices. +If the faithful vassal could have been wounded or cast into a +dungeon for his young commander's sake, the adventure would have +been more complete. But though their journey had been full of +wonders and rich with beauties, though the memory of it hung in +The Rat's mind like a background of tapestry embroidered in all +the hues of the earth with all the splendors of it, there had +been no dungeons and no wounds. After the adventure in Munich +their unimportant boyishness had not even been observed by such +perils as might have threatened them. As The Rat had said, they +had ``blown like grains of dust'' through Europe and had been as +nothing. And this was what Loristan had planned, this was what +his grave thought had wrought out. If they had been men, they +would not have been so safe. + +From the time they had left the old priest on the hillside to +begin their journey back to the frontier, they both had been +given to long silences as they tramped side by side or lay on the +moss in the forests. Now that their work was done, a sort of +reaction had set in. There were no more plans to be made and no +more uncertainties to contemplate. They were on their way back +to No. 7 Philibert Place--Marco to his father, The Rat to the man +he worshipped. Each of them was thinking of many things. Marco +was full of longing to see his father's face and hear his voice +again. He wanted to feel the pressure of his hand on his +shoulder--to be sure that he was real and not a dream. This last +was because during this homeward journey everything that had +happened often seemed to be a dream. It had all been so +wonderful--the climber standing looking down at them the morning +they awakened on the Gaisburg; the mountaineer shoemaker +measuring his foot in the small shop; the old, old woman and her +noble lord; the Prince with his face turned upward as he stood on +the balcony looking at the moon; the old priest kneeling and +weeping for joy; the great cavern with the yellow light upon the +crowd of passionate faces; the curtain which fell apart and +showed the still eyes and the black hair with the halo about it! +Now that they were left behind, they all seemed like things he +had dreamed. But he had not dreamed them; he was going back to +tell his father about them. And how GOOD it would be to feel his +hand on his shoulder! + +The Rat gnawed his finger ends a great deal. His thoughts were +more wild and feverish than Marco's. They leaped forward in +spite of him. It was no use to pull himself up and tell himself +that he was a fool. Now that all was over, he had time to be as +great a fool as he was inclined to be. But how he longed to +reach London and stand face to face with Loristan! The sign was +given. The Lamp was lighted. What would happen next? His +crutches were under his arms before the train drew up. + +``We're there! We're there!'' he cried restlessly to Marco. +They had no luggage to delay them. They took their bags and +followed the crowd along the platform. The rain was rattling +like bullets against the high glassed roof. People turned to +look at Marco, seeing the glow of exultant eagerness in his face. +They thought he must be some boy coming home for the holidays and +going to make a visit at a place he delighted in. The rain was +dancing on the pavements when they reached the entrance. + +``A cab won't cost much,'' Marco said, ``and it will take us +quickly.'' + +They called one and got into it. Each of them had flushed +cheeks, and Marco's eyes looked as if he were gazing at something +a long way off--gazing at it, and wondering. + +``We've come back!'' said The Rat, in an unsteady voice. ``We've +been--and we've come back!'' Then suddenly turning to look at +Marco, ``Does it ever seem to you as if, perhaps, it--it wasn't +true?'' + +``Yes,'' Marco answered, ``but it was true. And it's done.'' +Then he added after a second or so of silence, just what The Rat +had said to himself, ``What next?'' He said it very low. + +The way to Philibert Place was not long. When they turned into +the roaring, untidy road, where the busses and drays and carts +struggled past each other with their loads, and the tired-faced +people hurried in crowds along the pavement, they looked at them +all feeling that they had left their dream far behind indeed. +But they were at home. + +It was a good thing to see Lazarus open the door and stand +waiting before they had time to get out of the cab. Cabs stopped +so seldom before houses in Philibert Place that the inmates were +always prompt to open their doors. When Lazarus had seen this +one stop at the broken iron gate, he had known whom it brought. +He had kept an eye on the windows faithfully for many a day--even +when he knew that it was too soon, even if all was well, for any +travelers to return. + +He bore himself with an air more than usually military and his +salute when Marco crossed the threshold was formal stateliness +itself. But his greeting burst from his heart. + +``God be thanked!'' he said in his deep growl of joy. ``God be +thanked!'' + +When Marco put forth his hand, he bent his grizzled head and +kissed it devoutly. + +``God be thanked!'' he said again. + +``My father?'' Marco began, ``my father is out?'' If he had been +in the house, he knew he would not have stayed in the back +sitting-room. + +``Sir,'' said Lazarus, ``will you come with me into his room? +You, too, sir,'' to The Rat. He had never said ``sir'' to him +before. + +He opened the door of the familiar room, and the boys entered. +The room was empty. + +Marco did not speak; neither did The Rat. They both stood still +in the middle of the shabby carpet and looked up at the old +soldier. Both had suddenly the same feeling that the earth had +dropped from beneath their feet. Lazarus saw it and spoke fast +and with tremor. He was almost as agitated as they were. + +``He left me at your service--at your command''--he began. + +``Left you?'' said Marco. + +``He left us, all three, under orders--to WAIT,'' said Lazarus. +``The Master has gone.'' + +The Rat felt something hot rush into his eyes. He brushed it +away that he might look at Marco's face. The shock had changed +it very much. Its glowing eager joy had died out, it had turned +paler and his brows were drawn together. For a few seconds he +did not speak at all, and, when he did speak, The Rat knew that +his voice was steady only because he willed that it should be so. + +``If he has gone,'' he said, ``it is because he had a strong +reason. It was because he also was under orders.'' + +``He said that you would know that,'' Lazarus answered. ``He was +called in such haste that he had not a moment in which to do more +than write a few words. He left them for you on his desk +there.'' + +Marco walked over to the desk and opened the envelope which was +lying there. There were only a few lines on the sheet of paper +inside and they had evidently been written in the greatest haste. +They were these: + +``The Life of my life--for Samavia.'' + +``He was called--to Samavia,'' Marco said, and the thought sent +his blood rushing through his veins. ``He has gone to Samavia!'' + +Lazarus drew his hand roughly across his eyes and his voice shook +and sounded hoarse. + +``There has been great disaffection in the camps of the +Maranovitch,'' he said. ``The remnant of the army has gone mad. +Sir, silence is still the order, but who knows--who knows? God +alone.'' + +He had not finished speaking before he turned his head as if +listening to sounds in the road. They were the kind of sounds +which had broken up The Squad, and sent it rushing down the +passage into the street to seize on a newspaper. There was to be +heard a commotion of newsboys shouting riotously some startling +piece of news which had called out an ``Extra.'' + +The Rat heard it first and dashed to the front door. As he +opened it a newsboy running by shouted at the topmost power of +his lungs the news he had to sell: ``Assassination of King +Michael Maranovitch by his own soldiers! Assassination of the +Maranovitch! Extra! Extra! Extra!'' + +When The Rat returned with a newspaper, Lazarus interposed +between him and Marco with great and respectful ceremony. +``Sir,'' he said to Marco, ``I am at your command, but the Master +left me with an order which I was to repeat to you. He requested +you NOT to read the newspapers until he himself could see you +again.'' + +Both boys fell back. + +``Not read the papers!'' they exclaimed together. + +Lazarus had never before been quite so reverential and +ceremonious. + +``Your pardon, sir,'' he said. ``I may read them at your orders, +and report such things as it is well that you should know. There +have been dark tales told and there may be darker ones. He asked +that you would not read for yourself. If you meet again--when +you meet again''--he corrected himself hastily--``when you meet +again, he says you will understand. I am your servant. I will +read and answer all such questions as I can.'' + +The Rat handed him the paper and they returned to the back room +together. + +``You shall tell us what he would wish us to hear,'' Marco said. + +The news was soon told. The story was not a long one as exact +details had not yet reached London. It was briefly that the head +of the Maranovitch party had been put to death by infuriated +soldiers of his own army. It was an army drawn chiefly from a +peasantry which did not love its leaders, or wish to fight, and +suffering and brutal treatment had at last roused it to furious +revolt. + +``What next?'' said Marco. + +``If I were a Samavian--'' began The Rat and then he stopped. + +Lazarus stood biting his lips, but staring stonily at the carpet. +Not The Rat alone but Marco also noted a grim change in him. It +was grim because it suggested that he was holding himself under +an iron control. It was as if while tortured by anxiety he had +sworn not to allow himself to look anxious and the resolve set +his jaw hard and carved new lines in his rugged face. Each boy +thought this in secret, but did not wish to put it into words. +If he was anxious, he could only be so for one reason, and each +realized what the reason must be. Loristan had gone to +Samavia--to the torn and bleeding country filled with riot and +danger. If he had gone, it could only have been because its +danger called him and he went to face it at its worst. Lazarus +had been left behind to watch over them. Silence was still the +order, and what he knew he could not tell them, and perhaps he +knew little more than that a great life might be lost. + +Because his master was absent, the old soldier seemed to feel +that he must comfort himself with a greater ceremonial reverance +than he had ever shown before. He held himself within call, and +at Marco's orders, as it had been his custom to hold himself with +regard to Loristan. The ceremonious service even extended itself +to The Rat, who appeared to have taken a new place in his mind. +He also seemed now to be a person to be waited upon and replied +to with dignity and formal respect. + +When the evening meal was served, Lazarus drew out Loristan's +chair at the head of the table and stood behind it with a +majestic air. + +``Sir,'' he said to Marco, ``the Master requested that you take +his seat at the table until--while he is not with you.'' + +Marco took the seat in silence. + + +At two o'clock in the morning, when the roaring road was still, +the light from the street lamp, shining into the small bedroom, +fell on two pale boy faces. The Rat sat up on his sofa bed in +the old way with his hands clasped round his knees. Marco lay +flat on his hard pillow. Neither of them had been to sleep and +yet they had not talked a great deal. Each had secretly guessed +a good deal of what the other did not say. + +``There is one thing we must remember,'' Marco had said, early in +the night. ``We must not be afraid.'' + +``No,'' answered The Rat, almost fiercely, ``we must not be +afraid.'' + +``We are tired; we came back expecting to be able to tell it all +to him. We have always been looking forward to that. We never +thought once that he might be gone. And he WAS gone. Did you +feel as if--'' he turned towards the sofa, ``as if something had +struck you on the chest?'' + +``Yes,'' The Rat answered heavily. ``Yes.'' + +``We weren't ready,'' said Marco. ``He had never gone before; +but we ought to have known he might some day be--called. He went +because he was called. He told us to wait. We don't know what +we are waiting for, but we know that we must not be afraid. To +let ourselves be AFRAID would be breaking the Law.'' + +``The Law!'' groaned The Rat, dropping his head on his hands, +``I'd forgotten about it.'' + +``Let us remember it,'' said Marco. ``This is the time. `Hate +not. FEAR not!' '' He repeated the last words again and again. +``Fear not! Fear not,'' he said. ``NOTHING can harm him.'' + +The Rat lifted his head, and looked at the bed sideways. + +``Did you think--'' he said slowly--``did you EVER think that +perhaps HE knew where the descendant of the Lost Prince was?'' + +Marco answered even more slowly. + +``If any one knew--surely he might. He has known so much,'' he +said. + +``Listen to this!'' broke forth The Rat. ``I believe he has gone +to TELL the people. If he does--if he could show them--all the +country would run mad with joy. It wouldn't be only the Secret +Party. All Samavia would rise and follow any flag he chose to +raise. They've prayed for the Lost Prince for five hundred +years, and if they believed they'd got him once more, they'd +fight like madmen for him. But there would not be any one to +fight. They'd ALL want the same thing! If they could see the +man with Ivor's blood in his veins, they'd feel he had come back +to them--risen from the dead. They'd believe it!'' + +He beat his fists together in his frenzy of excitement. ``It's +the time! It's the time!'' he cried. ``No man could let such a +chance go by! He MUST tell them--he MUST. That MUST be what he's +gone for. He knows --he knows--he's always known!'' And he +threw himself back on his sofa and flung his arms over his face, +lying there panting. + +``If it is the time,'' said Marco in a low, strained voice--``if +it is, and he knows--he will tell them.'' And he threw his arms +up over his own face and lay quite still. + +Neither of them said another word, and the street lamp shone in +on them as if it were waiting for something to happen. But +nothing happened. In time they were asleep. + + + +XXIX + +'TWIXT NIGHT AND MORNING + +After this, they waited. They did not know what they waited for, +nor could they guess even vaguely how the waiting would end. All +that Lazarus could tell them he told. He would have been willing +to stand respectfully for hours relating to Marco the story of +how the period of their absence had passed for his Master and +himself. He told how Loristan had spoken each day of his son, +how he had often been pale with anxiousness, how in the evenings +he had walked to and fro in his room, deep in thought, as he +looked down unseeingly at the carpet. + +``He permitted me to talk of you, sir,'' Lazarus said. ``I saw +that he wished to hear your name often. I reminded him of the +times when you had been so young that most children of your age +would have been in the hands of nurses, and yet you were strong +and silent and sturdy and traveled with us as if you were not a +child at all--never crying when you were tired and were not +properly fed. As if you understood--as if you understood,'' he +added, proudly. ``If, through the power of God a creature can be +a man at six years old, you were that one. Many a dark day I +have looked into your solemn, watching eyes, and have been half +afraid; because that a child should answer one's gaze so gravely +seemed almost an unearthly thing.'' + +``The chief thing I remember of those days,'' said Marco, ``is +that he was with me, and that whenever I was hungry or tired, I +knew he must be, too.'' + +The feeling that they were ``waiting'' was so intense that it +filled the days with strangeness. When the postman's knock was +heard at the door, each of them endeavored not to start. A +letter might some day come which would tell them--they did not +know what. But no letters came. When they went out into the +streets, they found themselves hurrying on their way back in +spite of themselves. Something might have happened. Lazarus +read the papers faithfully, and in the evening told Marco and The +Rat all the news it was ``well that they should hear.'' But the +disorders of Samavia had ceased to occupy much space. They had +become an old story, and after the excitement of the +assassination of Michael Maranovitch had died out, there seemed +to be a lull in events. Michael's son had not dared to try to +take his father's place, and there were rumors that he also had +been killed. The head of the Iarovitch had declared himself king +but had not been crowned because of disorders in his own party. +The country seemed existing in a nightmare of suffering, famine +and suspense. + +``Samavia is `waiting' too,'' The Rat broke forth one night as +they talked together, ``but it won't wait long--it can't. If I +were a Samavian and in Samavia--'' + +``My father is a Samavian and he is in Samavia,'' Marco's grave +young voice interposed. The Rat flushed red as he realized what +he had said. ``What a fool I am!'' he groaned. ``I--I beg your +pardon-- sir.'' He stood up when he said the last words and +added the ``sir'' as if he suddenly realized that there was a +distance between them which was something akin to the distance +between youth and maturity-- but yet was not the same. + +``You are a good Samavian but--you forget,'' was Marco's answer. + +Lazarus' intense grimness increased with each day that passed. +The ceremonious respectfulness of his manner toward Marco +increased also. It seemed as if the more anxious he felt the +more formal and stately his bearing became. It was as though he +braced his own courage by doing the smallest things life in the +back sitting- room required as if they were of the dignity of +services performed in a much larger place and under much more +imposing circumstances. The Rat found himself feeling almost as +if he were an equerry in a court, and that dignity and ceremony +were necessary on his own part. He began to experience a sense +of being somehow a person of rank, for whom doors were opened +grandly and who had vassals at his command. The watchful +obedience of fifty vassals embodied itself in the manner of +Lazarus. + +``I am glad,'' The Rat said once, reflectively, ``that, after all +my father was once--different. It makes it easier to learn +things perhaps. If he had not talked to me about people +who--well, who had never seen places like Bone Court--this might +have been harder for me to understand.'' + +When at last they managed to call The Squad together, and went to +spend a morning at the Barracks behind the churchyard, that body +of armed men stared at their commander in great and amazed +uncertainty. They felt that something had happened to him. They +did not know what had happened, but it was some experience which +had made him mysteriously different. He did not look like Marco, +but in some extraordinary way he seemed more akin to him. They +only knew that some necessity in Loristan's affairs had taken the +two away from London and the Game. Now they had come back, and +they seemed older. + +At first, The Squad felt awkward and shuffled its feet +uncomfortably. After the first greetings it did not know +exactly what to say. It was Marco who saved the situation. + +``Drill us first,'' he said to The Rat, ``then we can talk about +the Game.'' + +`` 'Tention!'' shouted The Rat, magnificently. And then they +forgot everything else and sprang into line. After the drill was +ended, and they sat in a circle on the broken flags, the Game +became more resplendent than it had ever been. + +``I've had time to read and work out new things,'' The Rat said. +``Reading is like traveling.'' + +Marco himself sat and listened, enthralled by the adroitness of +the imagination he displayed. Without revealing a single +dangerous fact he built up, of their journeyings and experiences, +a totally new structure of adventures which would have fired the +whole being of any group of lads. It was safe to describe places +and people, and he so described them that The Squad squirmed in +its delight at feeling itself marching in a procession attending +the Emperor in Vienna; standing in line before palaces; climbing, +with knapsacks strapped tight, up precipitous mountain roads; +defending mountain- fortresses; and storming Samavian castles. + +The Squad glowed and exulted. The Rat glowed and exulted +himself. Marco watched his sharp-featured, burning-eyed face +with wonder and admiration. This strange power of making things +alive was, he knew, what his father would call ``genius.'' + +``Let's take the oath of 'legiance again,'' shouted Cad, when the +Game was over for the morning. + +``The papers never said nothin' more about the Lost Prince, but +we are all for him yet! Let's take it!'' So they stood in line +again, Marco at the head, and renewed their oath. + +``The sword in my hand--for Samavia! + +``The heart in my breast--for Samavia! + +``The swiftness of my sight, the thought of my brain, the life of +my life--for Samavia. + +``Here grow twelve men--for Samavia. + +``God be thanked!'' + +It was more solemn than it had been the first time. The Squad +felt it tremendously. Both Cad and Ben were conscious that +thrills ran down their spines into their boots. When Marco and +The Rat left them, they first stood at salute and then broke out +into a ringing cheer. + +On their way home, The Rat asked Marco a question. + +``Did you see Mrs. Beedle standing at the top of the basement +steps and looking after us when we went out this morning?'' + +Mrs. Beedle was the landlady of the lodgings at No. 7 Philibert +Place. She was a mysterious and dusty female, who lived in the +``cellar kitchen'' part of the house and was seldom seen by her +lodgers. + +``Yes,'' answered Marco, ``I have seen her two or three times +lately, and I do not think I ever saw her before. My father has +never seen her, though Lazarus says she used to watch him round +corners. Why is she suddenly so curious about us?'' + +``I'd like to know,'' said The Rat. ``I've been trying to work +it out. Ever since we came back, she's been peeping round the +door of the kitchen stairs, or over balustrades, or through the +cellar- kitchen windows. I believe she wants to speak to you, +and knows Lazarus won't let her if he catches her at it. When +Lazarus is about, she always darts back.'' + +``What does she want to say?'' said Marco. + +``I'd like to know,'' said The Rat again. + +When they reached No. 7 Philibert Place, they found out, because +when the door opened they saw at the top of cellar-kitchen stairs +at the end of the passage, the mysterious Mrs. Beedle, in her +dusty black dress and with a dusty black cap on, evidently having +that minute mounted from her subterranean hiding-place. She had +come up the steps so quickly that Lazarus had not yet seen her. + +``Young Master Loristan!'' she called out authoritatively. +Lazarus wheeled about fiercely. + +``Silence!'' he commanded. ``How dare you address the young +Master?'' + +She snapped her fingers at him, and marched forward folding her +arms tightly. ``You mind your own business,'' she said. ``It's +young Master Loristan I'm speaking to, not his servant. It's +time he was talked to about this.'' + +``Silence, woman!'' shouted Lazarus. + +``Let her speak,'' said Marco. ``I want to hear. What is it you +wish to say, Madam? My father is not here.'' + +``That's just what I want to find out about,'' put in the woman. +``When is he coming back?'' + +``I do not know,'' answered Marco. + +``That's it,'' said Mrs. Beedle. ``You're old enough to +understand that two big lads and a big fellow like that can't +have food and lodgin's for nothing. You may say you don't live +high--and you don't--but lodgin's are lodgin's and rent is rent. +If your father's coming back and you can tell me when, I mayn't +be obliged to let the rooms over your heads; but I know too much +about foreigners to let bills run when they are out of sight. +Your father's out of sight. He,'' jerking her head towards +Lazarus, ``paid me for last week. How do I know he will pay me +for this week!'' + +``The money is ready,'' roared Lazarus. + +The Rat longed to burst forth. He knew what people in Bone Court +said to a woman like that; he knew the exact words and phrases. +But they were not words and phrases an aide-de-camp might deliver +himself of in the presence of his superior officer; they were not +words and phrases an equerry uses at court. He dare not ALLOW +himself to burst forth. He stood with flaming eyes and a flaming +face, and bit his lips till they bled. He wanted to strike with +his crutches. The son of Stefan Loristan! The Bearer of the +Sign! There sprang up before his furious eyes the picture of the +luridly lighted cavern and the frenzied crowd of men kneeling at +this same boy's feet, kissing them, kissing his hands, his +garments, the very earth he stood upon, worshipping him, while +above the altar the kingly young face looked on with the nimbus +of light like a halo above it. If he dared speak his mind now, +he felt he could have endured it better. But being an +aide-de-camp he could not. + +``Do you want the money now?'' asked Marco. ``It is only the +beginning of the week and we do not owe it to you until the week +is over. Is it that you want to have it now?'' + +Lazarus had become deadly pale. He looked huge in his fury, and +he looked dangerous. + +``Young Master,'' he said slowly, in a voice as deadly as his +pallor, and he actually spoke low, ``this woman--'' + +Mrs. Beedle drew back towards the cellar-kitchen steps. + +``There's police outside,'' she shrilled. ``Young Master +Loristan, order him to stand back.'' + +``No one will hurt you,'' said Marco. ``If you have the money +here, Lazarus, please give it to me.'' + +Lazarus literally ground his teeth. But he drew himself up and +saluted with ceremony. He put his hand in his breast pocket and +produced an old leather wallet. There were but a few coins in +it. He pointed to a gold one. + +``I obey you, sir--since I must--'' he said, breathing hard. +``That one will pay her for the week.'' + +Marco took out the sovereign and held it out to the woman. + +``You hear what he says,'' he said. ``At the end of this week if +there is not enough to pay for the next, we will go.'' + +Lazarus looked so like a hyena, only held back from springing by +chains of steel, that the dusty Mrs. Beedle was afraid to take +the money. + +``If you say that I shall not lose it, I'll wait until the week's +ended,'' she said. ``You're nothing but a lad, but you're like +your father. You've got a way that a body can trust. If he was +here and said he hadn't the money but he'd have it in time, I'd +wait if it was for a month. He'd pay it if he said he would. +But he's gone; and two boys and a fellow like that one don't seem +much to depend on. But I'll trust YOU.'' + +``Be good enough to take it,'' said Marco. And he put the coin +in her hand and turned into the back sitting-room as if he did +not see her. + +The Rat and Lazarus followed him. + +``Is there so little money left?'' said Marco. ``We have always +had very little. When we had less than usual, we lived in poorer +places and were hungry if it was necessary. We know how to go +hungry. One does not die of it.'' + +The big eyes under Lazarus' beetling brows filled with tears. + +``No, sir,'' he said, ``one does not die of hunger. But the +insult --the insult! That is not endurable.'' + +``She would not have spoken if my father had been here,'' Marco +said. ``And it is true that boys like us have no money. Is +there enough to pay for another week?'' + +``Yes, sir,'' answered Lazarus, swallowing hard as if he had a +lump in his throat, ``perhaps enough for two--if we eat but +little. If--if the Master would accept money from those who +would give it, he would alway have had enough. But how could +such a one as he? How could he? When he went away, he +thought--he thought that --'' but there he stopped himself +suddenly. + +``Never mind,'' said Marco. ``Never mind. We will go away the +day we can pay no more.'' + +``I can go out and sell newspapers,'' said The Rat's sharp voice. + +``I've done it before. Crutches help you to sell them. The +platform would sell 'em faster still. I'll go out on the +platform.'' + +``I can sell newspapers, too,'' said Marco. + +Lazarus uttered an exclamation like a groan. + +``Sir,'' he cried, ``no, no! Am I not here to go out and look +for work? I can carry loads. I can run errands.'' + +``We will all three begin to see what we can do,'' Marco said. + +Then--exactly as had happened on the day of their return from +their journey--there arose in the road outside the sound of +newsboys shouting. This time the outcry seemed even more excited +than before. The boys were running and yelling and there seemed +more of them than usual. And above all other words was heard +``Samavia! Samavia!'' But to-day The Rat did not rush to the +door at the first cry. He stood still--for several seconds they +all three stood still --listening. Afterwards each one +remembered and told the others that he had stood still because +some strange, strong feeling held him WAITING as if to hear some +great thing. + + +It was Lazarus who went out of the room first and The Rat and +Marco followed him. + +One of the upstairs lodgers had run down in haste and opened the +door to buy newspapers and ask questions. The newsboys were wild +with excitement and danced about as they shouted. The piece of +news they were yelling had evidently a popular quality. + +The lodger bought two papers and was handing out coppers to a lad +who was talking loud and fast. + +``Here's a go!'' he was saying. ``A Secret Party's risen up and +taken Samavia! 'Twixt night and mornin' they done it! That +there Lost Prince descendant 'as turned up, an' they've CROWNED +him--'twixt night and mornin' they done it! Clapt 'is crown on +'is 'ead, so's they'd lose no time.'' And off he bolted, +shouting, `` 'Cendant of Lost Prince! 'Cendant of Lost Prince +made King of Samavia!'' + +It was then that Lazarus, forgetting even ceremony, bolted also. +He bolted back to the sitting-room, rushed in, and the door fell +to behind him. + +Marco and The Rat found it shut when, having secured a newspaper, +they went down the passage. At the closed door, Marco stopped. +He did not turn the handle. From the inside of the room there +came the sound of big convulsive sobs and passionate Samavian +words of prayer and worshipping gratitude. + +``Let us wait,'' Marco said, trembling a little. ``He will not +want any one to see him. Let us wait.'' + +His black pits of eyes looked immense, and he stood at his +tallest, but he was trembling slightly from head to foot. The +Rat had begun to shake, as if from an ague. His face was +scarcely human in its fierce unboyish emotion. + +``Marco! Marco!'' his whisper was a cry. ``That was what he +went for--BECAUSE HE KNEW!'' + +``Yes,'' answered Marco, ``that was what he went for.'' And his +voice was unsteady, as his body was. + +Presently the sobs inside the room choked themselves back +suddenly. Lazarus had remembered. They had guessed he had been +leaning against the wall during his outburst. Now it was evident +that he stood upright, probably shocked at the forgetfulness of +his frenzy. + +So Marco turned the handle of the door and went into the room. +He shut the door behind him, and they all three stood together. + +When the Samavian gives way to his emotions, he is emotional +indeed. Lazarus looked as if a storm had swept over him. He had +choked back his sobs, but tears still swept down his cheeks. + +``Sir,'' he said hoarsely, ``your pardon! It was as if a +convulsion seized me. I forgot everything--even my duty. +Pardon, pardon!'' And there on the worn carpet of the dingy back +sitting-room in the Marylebone Road, he actually went on one knee +and kissed the boy's hand with adoration. + +``You mustn't ask pardon,'' said Marco. ``You have waited so +long, good friend. You have given your life as my father has. +You have known all the suffering a boy has not lived long enough +to understand. Your big heart--your faithful heart--'' his voice +broke and he stood and looked at him with an appeal which seemed +to ask him to remember his boyhood and understand the rest. + +``Don't kneel,'' he said next. ``You mustn't kneel.'' And +Lazarus, kissing his hand again, rose to his feet. + +``Now--we shall HEAR!'' said Marco. ``Now the waiting will soon +be over.'' + +``Yes, sir. Now, we shall receive commands!'' Lazarus answered. + +The Rat held out the newspapers. + +``May we read them yet?'' he asked. + +``Until further orders, sir,'' said Lazarus hurriedly and +apologetically --``until further orders, it is still better that +I should read them first.'' + + + +XXX + +THE GAME IS AT AN END + +So long as the history of Europe is written and read, the +unparalleled story of the Rising of the Secret Party in Samavia +will stand out as one of its most startling and romantic records. +Every detail connected with the astonishing episode, from +beginning to end, was romantic even when it was most productive +of realistic results. When it is related, it always begins with +the story of the tall and kingly Samavian youth who walked out of +the palace in the early morning sunshine singing the herdsmen's +song of beauty of old days. Then comes the outbreak of the +ruined and revolting populace; then the legend of the morning on +the mountain side, and the old shepherd coming out of his cave +and finding the apparently dead body of the beautiful young +hunter. Then the secret nursing in the cavern; then the jolting +cart piled with sheepskins crossing the frontier, and ending its +journey at the barred entrance of the monastery and leaving its +mysterious burden behind. And then the bitter hate and struggle +of dynasties, and the handful of shepherds and herdsmen meeting +in their cavern and binding themselves and their unborn sons and +sons' sons by an oath never to be broken. Then the passing of +generations and the slaughter of peoples and the changing of +kings,--and always that oath remembered, and the Forgers of the +Sword, at their secret work, hidden in forests and caves. Then +the strange story of the uncrowned kings who, wandering in other +lands, lived and died in silence and seclusion, often laboring +with their hands for their daily bread, but never forgetting that +they must be kings, and ready,--even though Samavia never called. +Perhaps the whole story would fill too many volumes to admit of +it ever being told fully. + +But history makes the growing of the Secret Party clear,--though +it seems almost to cease to be history, in spite of its efforts +to be brief and speak only of dull facts, when it is forced to +deal with the Bearing of the Sign by two mere boys, who, being +blown as unremarked as any two grains of dust across Europe, lit +the Lamp whose flame so flared up to the high heavens that as if +from the earth itself there sprang forth Samavians by the +thousands ready to feed it-- Iarovitch and Maranovitch swept +aside forever and only Samavians remaining to cry aloud in ardent +praise and worship of the God who had brought back to them their +Lost Prince. The battle-cry of his name had ended every battle. +Swords fell from hands because swords were not needed. The +Iarovitch fled in terror and dismay; the Maranovitch were nowhere +to be found. Between night and morning, as the newsboy had said, +the standard of Ivor was raised and waved from palace and citadel +alike. From mountain, forest and plain, from city, village and +town, its followers flocked to swear allegiance; broken and +wounded legions staggered along the roads to join and kneel to +it; women and children followed, weeping with joy and chanting +songs of praise. The Powers held out their scepters to the +lately prostrate and ignored country. Train-loads of food and +supplies of all things needed began to cross the frontier; the +aid of nations was bestowed. Samavia, at peace to till its land, +to raise its flocks, to mine its ores, would be able to pay all +back. Samavia in past centuries had been rich enough to make +great loans, and had stored such harvests as warring countries +had been glad to call upon. The story of the crowning of the +King had been the wildest of all--the multitude of ecstatic +people, famished, in rags, and many of them weak with wounds, +kneeling at his feet, praying, as their one salvation and +security, that he would go attended by them to their bombarded +and broken cathedral, and at its high altar let the crown be +placed upon his head, so that even those who perhaps must die of +their past sufferings would at least have paid their poor homage +to the King Ivor who would rule their children and bring back to +Samavia her honor and her peace. + +``Ivor! Ivor!'' they chanted like a prayer,--``Ivor! Ivor!'' in +their houses, by the roadside, in the streets. + +``The story of the Coronation in the shattered Cathedral, whose +roof had been torn to fragments by bombs,'' said an important +London paper, ``reads like a legend of the Middle Ages. But, +upon the whole, there is in Samavia's national character, +something of the mediaeval, still.'' + + +Lazarus, having bought and read in his top floor room every +newspaper recording the details which had reached London, +returned to report almost verbatim, standing erect before Marco, +the eyes under his shaggy brows sometimes flaming with +exultation, sometimes filled with a rush of tears. He could not +be made to sit down. His whole big body seemed to have become +rigid with magnificence. Meeting Mrs. Beedle in the passage, he +strode by her with an air so thunderous that she turned and +scuttled back to her cellar kitchen, almost falling down the +stone steps in her nervous terror. In such a mood, he was not a +person to face without something like awe. + +In the middle of the night, The Rat suddenly spoke to Marco as if +he knew that he was awake and would hear him. + +``He has given all his life to Samavia!'' he said. ``When you +traveled from country to country, and lived in holes and corners, +it was because by doing it he could escape spies, and see the +people who must be made to understand. No one else could have +made them listen. An emperor would have begun to listen when he +had seen his face and heard his voice. And he could be silent, +and wait for the right time to speak. He could keep still when +other men could not. He could keep his face still--and his +hands--and his eyes. Now all Samavia knows what he has done, and +that he has been the greatest patriot in the world. We both saw +what Samavians were like that night in the cavern. They will go +mad with joy when they see his face!'' + +``They have seen it now,'' said Marco, in a low voice from his +bed. + +Then there was a long silence, though it was not quite silence +because The Rat's breathing was so quick and hard. + +``He--must have been at that coronation!'' he said at last. +``The King--what will the King do to--repay him?'' + +Marco did not answer. His breathing could be heard also. His +mind was picturing that same coronation--the shattered, roofless +cathedral, the ruins of the ancient and magnificent high altar, +the multitude of kneeling, famine-scourged people, the +battle-worn, wounded and bandaged soldiery! And the King! And +his father! Where had his father stood when the King was +crowned? Surely, he had stood at the King's right hand, and the +people had adored and acclaimed them equally! + +``King Ivor!'' he murmured as if he were in a dream. ``King +Ivor!'' + +The Rat started up on his elbow. + +``You will see him,'' he cried out. ``He's not a dream any +longer. The Game is not a game now--and it is ended--it is won! +It was real--HE was real! Marco, I don't believe you hear.'' + +``Yes, I do,'' answered Marco, ``but it is almost more a dream +than when it was one.'' + +``The greatest patriot in the world is like a king himself!'' +raved The Rat. ``If there is no bigger honor to give him, he +will be made a prince--and Commander-in-Chief--and Prime +Minister! Can't you hear those Samavians shouting, and singing, +and praying? You'll see it all! Do you remember the mountain +climber who was going to save the shoes he made for the Bearer of +the Sign? He said a great day might come when one could show +them to the people. It's come! He'll show them! I know how +they'll take it!'' His voice suddenly dropped--as if it dropped +into a pit. ``You'll see it all. But I shall not.'' + +Then Marco awoke from his dream and lifted his head. ``Why +not?'' he demanded. It sounded like a demand. + +``Because I know better than to expect it!'' The Rat groaned. +``You've taken me a long way, but you can't take me to the palace +of a king. I'm not such a fool as to think that, even of your +father--'' + +He broke off because Marco did more than lift his head. He sat +upright. + +``You bore the Sign as much as I did,'' he said. ``We bore it +together.'' + +``Who would have listened to ME?'' cried The Rat. ``YOU were the +son of Stefan Loristan.'' + +``You were the friend of his son,'' answered Marco. ``You went +at the command of Stefan Loristan. You were the ARMY of the son +of Stefan Loristan. That I have told you. Where I go, you will +go. We will say no more of this--not one word.'' + +And he lay down again in the silence of a prince of the blood. +And The Rat knew that he meant what he said, and that Stefan +Loristan also would mean it. And because he was a boy, he began +to wonder what Mrs. Beedle would do when she heard what had +happened--what had been happening all the time a tall, shabby +``foreigner'' had lived in her dingy back sitting-room, and been +closely watched lest he should go away without paying his rent, +as shabby foreigners sometimes did. The Rat saw himself managing +to poise himself very erect on his crutches while he told her +that the shabby foreigner was--well, was at least the friend of a +King, and had given him his crown--and would be made a prince and +a Commander-in-Chief--and a Prime Minister--because there was no +higher rank or honor to give him. And his son--whom she had +insulted-- was Samavia's idol because he had borne the Sign. And +also that if she were in Samavia, and Marco chose to do it he +could batter her wretched lodging-house to the ground and put her +in a prison--``and serve her jolly well right!'' + +The next day passed, and the next; and then there came a letter. +It was from Loristan, and Marco turned pale when Lazarus handed +it to him. Lazarus and The Rat went out of the room at once, and +left him to read it alone. It was evidently not a long letter, +because it was not many minutes before Marco called them again +into the room. + +``In a few days, messengers--friends of my father's--will come to +take us to Samavia. You and I and Lazarus are to go,'' he said +to The Rat. + +``God be thanked!'' said Lazarus. ``God be thanked!'' + +Before the messengers came, it was the end of the week. Lazarus +had packed their few belongings, and on Saturday Mrs. Beedle was +to be seen hovering at the top of the celler steps, when Marco +and The Rat left the back sitting-room to go out. + +``You needn't glare at me!'' she said to Lazarus, who stood +glowering at the door which he had opened for them. ``Young +Master Loristan, I want to know if you've heard when your father +is coming back?'' + +``He will not come back,'' said Marco. + +``He won't, won't he? Well, how about next week's rent?'' said +Mrs. Beedle. ``Your man's been packing up, I notice. He's not +got much to carry away, but it won't pass through that front door +until I've got what's owing me. People that can pack easy think +they can get away easy, and they'll bear watching. The week's up +to-day.'' + +Lazarus wheeled and faced her with a furious gesture. ``Get back +to your cellar, woman,'' he commanded. ``Get back under ground +and stay there. Look at what is stopping before your miserable +gate.'' + +A carriage was stopping--a very perfect carriage of dark brown. +The coachman and footman wore dark brown and gold liveries, and +the footman had leaped down and opened the door with respectful +alacrity. ``They are friends of the Master's come to pay their +respects to his son,'' said Lazarus. ``Are their eyes to be +offended by the sight of you?'' + +``Your money is safe,'' said Marco. ``You had better leave us.'' + +Mrs. Beedle gave a sharp glance at the two gentlemen who had +entered the broken gate. They were of an order which did not +belong to Philibert Place. They looked as if the carriage and +the dark brown and gold liveries were every-day affairs to them. + +``At all events, they're two grown men, and not two boys without +a penny,'' she said. ``If they're your father's friends, they'll +tell me whether my rent's safe or not.'' + +The two visitors were upon the threshold. They were both men of +a certain self-contained dignity of type; and when Lazarus opened +wide the door, they stepped into the shabby entrance hall as if +they did not see it. They looked past its dinginess, and past +Lazarus, and The Rat, and Mrs. Beedle--THROUGH them, as it +were,--at Marco. + +He advanced towards them at once. + +``You come from my father!'' he said, and gave his hand first to +the elder man, then to the younger. + +``Yes, we come from your father. I am Baron Rastka--and this is +the Count Vorversk,'' said the elder man, bowing. + +``If they're barons and counts, and friends of your father's, +they are well-to-do enough to be responsible for you,'' said Mrs. +Beedle, rather fiercely, because she was somewhat over-awed and +resented the fact. ``It's a matter of next week's rent, +gentlemen. I want to know where it's coming from.'' + +The elder man looked at her with a swift cold glance. He did not +speak to her, but to Lazarus. ``What is she doing here?'' he +demanded. + +Marco answered him. ``She is afraid we cannot pay our rent,'' he +said. ``It is of great importance to her that she should be +sure.'' + +``Take her away,'' said the gentleman to Lazarus. He did not +even glance at her. He drew something from his coat-pocket and +handed it to the old soldier. ``Take her away,'' he repeated. +And because it seemed as if she were not any longer a person at +all, Mrs. Beedle actually shuffled down the passage to the +cellar-kitchen steps. Lazarus did not leave her until he, too, +had descended into the cellar kitchen, where he stood and towered +above her like an infuriated giant. + +``To-morrow he will be on his way to Samavia, miserable woman!'' +he said. ``Before he goes, it would be well for you to implore +his pardon.'' + +But Mrs. Beedle's point of view was not his. She had recovered +some of her breath. + +``I don't know where Samavia is,'' she raged, as she struggled to +set her dusty, black cap straight. ``I'll warrant it's one of +these little foreign countries you can scarcely see on the +map--and not a decent English town in it! He can go as soon as +he likes, so long as he pays his rent before he does it. +Samavia, indeed! You talk as if he was Buckingham Palace!'' + + + +XXXI + +``THE SON OF STEFAN LORISTAN '' + +When a party composed of two boys attended by a big soldierly +man-servant and accompanied by two distinguished-looking, elderly +men, of a marked foreign type, appeared on the platform of +Charing Cross Station they attracted a good deal of attention. +In fact, the good looks and strong, well-carried body of the +handsome lad with the thick black hair would have caused eyes to +turn towards him even if he had not seemed to be regarded as so +special a charge by those who were with him. But in a country +where people are accustomed to seeing a certain manner and +certain forms observed in the case of persons--however young--who +are set apart by the fortune of rank and distinction, and where +the populace also rather enjoys the sight of such demeanor, it +was inevitable that more than one quick-sighted looker-on should +comment on the fact that this was not an ordinary group of +individuals. + +``See that fine, big lad over there!'' said a workman, whose +head, with a pipe in its mouth, stuck out of a third-class +smoking carriage window. ``He's some sort of a young swell, I'll +lay a shillin'! Take a look at him,'' to his mate inside. + +The mate took a look. The pair were of the decent, polytechnic- +educated type, and were shrewd at observation. + +``Yes, he's some sort of young swell,'' he summed him up. ``But +he's not English by a long chalk. He must be a young Turk, or +Russian, sent over to be educated. His suite looks like it. All +but the ferret-faced chap on crutches. Wonder what he is!'' + +A good-natured looking guard was passing, and the first man +hailed him. + +``Have we got any swells traveling with us this morning?'' he +asked, jerking his head towards the group. ``That looks like it. +Any one leaving Windsor or Sandringham to cross from Dover +to-day?'' + +The man looked at the group curiously for a moment and then shook +his head. + +``They do look like something or other,'' he answered, ``but no +one knows anything about them. Everybody's safe in Buckingham +Palace and Marlborough House this week. No one either going or +coming.'' + +No observer, it is true, could have mistaken Lazarus for an +ordinary attendant escorting an ordinary charge. If silence had +not still been strictly the order, he could not have restrained +himself. As it was, he bore himself like a grenadier, and stood +by Marco as if across his dead body alone could any one approach +the lad. + +``Until we reach Melzarr,'' he had said with passion to the two +gentlemen,--``until I can stand before my Master and behold him +embrace his son--BEHOLD him--I implore that I may not lose sight +of him night or day. On my knees, I implore that I may travel, +armed, at his side. I am but his servant, and have no right to +occupy a place in the same carriage. But put me anywhere. I +will be deaf, dumb, blind to all but himself. Only permit me to +be near enough to give my life if it is needed. Let me say to +my Master, `I never left him.' '' + +``We will find a place for you,'' the elder man said, ``and if +you are so anxious, you may sleep across his threshold when we +spend the night at a hotel.'' + +``I will not sleep!'' said Lazarus. ``I will watch. Suppose +there should be demons of Maranovitch loose and infuriated in +Europe? Who knows!'' + +``The Maranovitch and Iarovitch who have not already sworn +allegiance to King Ivor are dead on battlefields. The remainder +are now Fedorovitch and praising God for their King,'' was the +answer Baron Rastka made him. + +But Lazarus kept his guard unbroken. When he occupied the next +compartment to the one in which Marco traveled, he stood in the +corridor throughout the journey. When they descended at any +point to change trains, he followed close at the boy's heels, his +fierce eyes on every side at once and his hand on the weapon +hidden in his broad leather belt. When they stopped to rest in +some city, he planted himself in a chair by the bedroom door of +his charge, and if he slept he was not aware that nature had +betrayed him into doing so. + +If the journey made by the young Bearers of the Sign had been a +strange one, this was strange by its very contrast. Throughout +that pilgrimage, two uncared-for waifs in worn clothes had +traveled from one place to another, sometimes in third- or +fourth-class continental railroad carriages, sometimes in jolting +diligences, sometimes in peasants' carts, sometimes on foot by +side roads and mountain paths, and forest ways. Now, two +well-dressed boys in the charge of two men of the class whose +orders are obeyed, journeyed in compartments reserved for them, +their traveling appurtenances supplying every comfort that luxury +could provide. + +The Rat had not known that there were people who traveled in such +a manner; that wants could be so perfectly foreseen; that +railroad officials, porters at stations, the staff of +restaurants, could be by magic transformed into active and eager +servants. To lean against the upholstered back of a railway +carriage and in luxurious ease look through the window at passing +beauties, and then to find books at your elbow and excellent +meals appearing at regular hours, these unknown perfections made +it necessary for him at times to pull himself together and give +all his energies to believing that he was quite awake. Awake he +was, and with much on his mind ``to work out,''--so much, indeed, +that on the first day of the journey he had decided to give up +the struggle, and wait until fate made clear to him such things +as he was to be allowed to understand of the mystery of Stefan +Loristan. + +What he realized most clearly was that the fact that the son of +Stefan Loristan was being escorted in private state to the +country his father had given his life's work to, was never for a +moment forgotten. The Baron Rastka and Count Vorversk were of +the dignity and courteous reserve which marks men of distinction. +Marco was not a mere boy to them, he was the son of Stefan +Loristan; and they were Samavians. They watched over him, not as +Lazarus did, but with a gravity and forethought which somehow +seemed to encircle him with a rampart. Without any air of +subservience, they constituted themselves his attendants. His +comfort, his pleasure, even his entertainment, were their private +care. The Rat felt sure they intended that, if possible, he +should enjoy his journey, and that he should not be fatigued by +it. They conversed with him as The Rat had not known that men +ever conversed with boys,--until he had met Loristan. It was +plain that they knew what he would be most interested in, and +that they were aware he was as familiar with the history of +Samavia as they were themselves. When he showed a disposition to +hear of events which had occurred, they were as prompt to follow +his lead as they would have been to follow the lead of a man. +That, The Rat argued with himself, was because Marco had lived so +intimately with his father that his life had been more like a +man's than a boy's and had trained him in mature thinking. He +was very quiet during the journey, and The Rat knew he was +thinking all the time. + +The night before they reached Melzarr, they slept at a town some +hours distant from the capital. They arrived at midnight and +went to a quiet hotel. + +``To-morrow,'' said Marco, when The Rat had left him for the +night, ``to-morrow, we shall see him! God be thanked!'' + +``God be thanked!'' said The Rat, also. And each saluted the +other before they parted. + +In the morning, Lazarus came into the bedroom with an air so +solemn that it seemed as if the garments he carried in his hands +were part of some religious ceremony. + +``I am at your command, sir,'' he said. ``And I bring you your +uniform.'' + +He carried, in fact, a richly decorated Samavian uniform, and the +first thing Marco had seen when he entered was that Lazarus +himself was in uniform also. His was the uniform of an officer +of the King's Body Guard. + +``The Master,'' he said, ``asks that you wear this on your +entrance to Melzarr. I have a uniform, also, for your +aide-de-camp.'' + +When Rastka and Vorversk appeared, they were in uniforms also. +It was a uniform which had a touch of the Orient in its +picturesque splendor. A short fur-bordered mantle hung by a +jeweled chain from the shoulders, and there was much magnificent +embroidery of color and gold. + +``Sir, we must drive quickly to the station,'' Baron Rastka said +to Marco. ``These people are excitable and patriotic, and His +Majesty wishes us to remain incognito, and avoid all chance of +public demonstration until we reach the capital.'' They passed +rather hurriedly through the hotel to the carriage which awaited +them. The Rat saw that something unusual was happening in the +place. Servants were scurrying round corners, and guests were +coming out of their rooms and even hanging over the balustrades. + +As Marco got into his carriage, he caught sight of a boy about +his own age who was peeping from behind a bush. Suddenly he +darted away, and they all saw him tearing down the street towards +the station as fast as his legs would carry him. + +But the horses were faster than he was. The party reached the +station, and was escorted quickly to its place in a special +saloon- carriage which awaited it. As the train made its way out +of the station, Marco saw the boy who had run before them rush on +to the platform, waving his arms and shouting something with wild +delight. The people who were standing about turned to look at +him, and the next instant they had all torn off their caps and +thrown them up in the air and were shouting also. But it was not +possible to hear what they said. + +``We were only just in time,'' said Vorversk, and Baron Rastka +nodded. + +The train went swiftly, and stopped only once before they reached +Melzarr. This was at a small station, on the platform of which +stood peasants with big baskets of garlanded flowers and +evergreens. They put them on the train, and soon both Marco and +The Rat saw that something unusual was taking place. At one +time, a man standing on the narrow outside platform of the +carriage was plainly seen to be securing garlands and handing up +flags to men who worked on the roof. + +``They are doing something with Samavian flags and a lot of +flowers and green things!'' cried The Rat, in excitement. + +``Sir, they are decorating the outside of the carriage,'' +Vorversk said. ``The villagers on the line obtained permission +from His Majesty. The son of Stefan Loristan could not be +allowed to pass their homes without their doing homage.'' + +``I understand,'' said Marco, his heart thumping hard against his +uniform. ``It is for my father's sake.'' + + +At last, embowered, garlanded, and hung with waving banners, the +train drew in at the chief station at Melzarr. + +``Sir,'' said Rastka, as they were entering, ``will you stand up +that the people may see you? Those on the outskirts of the crowd +will have the merest glimpse, but they will never forget.'' + +Marco stood up. The others grouped themselves behind him. There +arose a roar of voices, which ended almost in a shriek of joy +which was like the shriek of a tempest. Then there burst forth +the blare of brazen instruments playing the National Hymn of +Samavia, and mad voices joined in it. + +If Marco had not been a strong boy, and long trained in self- +control, what he saw and heard might have been almost too much to +be borne. When the train had come to a full stop, and the door +was thrown open, even Rastka's dignified voice was unsteady as he +said, ``Sir, lead the way. It is for us to follow.'' + +And Marco, erect in the doorway, stood for a moment, looking out +upon the roaring, acclaiming, weeping, singing and swaying +multitude-- and saluted just as he had saluted The Squad, looking +just as much a boy, just as much a man, just as much a thrilling +young human being. + +Then, at the sight of him standing so, it seemed as if the crowd +went mad--as the Forgers of the Sword had seemed to go mad on the +night in the cavern. The tumult rose and rose, the crowd rocked, +and leapt, and, in its frenzy of emotion, threatened to crush +itself to death. But for the lines of soldiers, there would have +seemed no chance for any one to pass through it alive. + +``I am the son of Stefan Loristan,'' Marco said to himself, in +order to hold himself steady. ``I am on my way to my father.'' + +Afterward, he was moving through the line of guarding soldiers to +the entrance, where two great state-carriages stood; and there, +outside, waited even a huger and more frenzied crowd than that +left behind. He saluted there again, and again, and again, on +all sides. It was what they had seen the Emperor do in Vienna. +He was not an Emperor, but he was the son of Stefan Loristan who +had brought back the King. + +``You must salute, too,'' he said to The Rat, when they got into +the state carriage. ``Perhaps my father has told them. It seems +as if they knew you.'' + +The Rat had been placed beside him on the carriage seat. He was +inwardly shuddering with a rapture of exultation which was almost +anguish. The people were looking at him--shouting at him--surely +it seemed like it when he looked at the faces nearest in the +crowd. Perhaps Loristan-- + +``Listen!'' said Marco suddenly, as the carriage rolled on its +way. ``They are shouting to us in Samavian, `The Bearers of the +Sign!' + +That is what they are saying now. `The Bearers of the Sign.' '' + +They were being taken to the Palace. That Baron Rastka and Count +Vorversk had explained in the train. His Majesty wished to +receive them. Stefan Loristan was there also. + +The city had once been noble and majestic. It was somewhat +Oriental, as its uniforms and national costumes were. There were +domed and pillared structures of white stone and marble, there +were great arches, and city gates, and churches. But many of +them were half in ruins through war, and neglect, and decay. +They passed the half-unroofed cathedral, standing in the sunshine +in its great square, still in all its disaster one of the most +beautiful structures in Europe. In the exultant crowd were still +to be seen haggard faces, men with bandaged limbs and heads or +hobbling on sticks and crutches. The richly colored native +costumes were most of them worn to rags. But their wearers had +the faces of creatures plucked from despair to be lifted to +heaven. + +``Ivor! Ivor!'' they cried; ``Ivor! Ivor!'' and sobbed with +rapture. + +The Palace was as wonderful in its way as the white cathedral. +The immensely wide steps of marble were guarded by soldiers. The +huge square in which it stood was filled with people whom the +soldiers held in check. + +``I am his son,'' Marco said to himself, as he descended from the +state carriage and began to walk up the steps which seemed so +enormously wide that they appeared almost like a street. Up he +mounted, step by step, The Rat following him. And as he turned +from side to side, to salute those who made deep obeisance as he +passed, he began to realize that he had seen their faces before. + +``These who are guarding the steps,'' he said, quickly under his +breath to The Rat, ``are the Forgers of the Sword!'' + +There were rich uniforms everywhere when he entered the palace, +and people who bowed almost to the ground as he passed. He was +very young to be confronted with such an adoring adulation and +royal ceremony; but he hoped it would not last too long, and that +after he had knelt to the King and kissed his hand, he would see +his father and hear his voice. Just to hear his voice again, and +feel his hand on his shoulder! + +Through the vaulted corridors, to the wide-opened doors of a +magnificent room he was led at last. The end of it seemed a long +way off as he entered. There were many richly dressed people who +stood in line as he passed up toward the canopied dais. He felt +that he had grown pale with the strain of excitement, and he had +begun to feel that he must be walking in a dream, as on each side +people bowed low and curtsied to the ground. + +He realized vaguely that the King himself was standing, awaiting +his approach. But as he advanced, each step bearing him nearer +to the throne, the light and color about him, the strangeness and +magnificence, the wildly joyous acclamation of the populace +outside the palace, made him feel rather dazzled, and he did not +clearly see any one single face or thing. + +``His Majesty awaits you,'' said a voice behind him which seemed +to be Baron Rastka's. ``Are you faint, sir? You look pale.'' + +He drew himself together, and lifted his eyes. For one full +moment, after he had so lifted them, he stood quite still and +straight, looking into the deep beauty of the royal face. Then +he knelt and kissed the hands held out to him--kissed them both +with a passion of boy love and worship. + +The King had the eyes he had longed to see--the King's hands were +those he had longed to feel again upon his shoulder--the King was +his father! the ``Stefan Loristan'' who had been the last of +those who had waited and labored for Samavia through five hundred +years, and who had lived and died kings, though none of them till +now had worn a crown! + +His father was the King! + +It was not that night, nor the next, nor for many nights that the +telling of the story was completed. The people knew that their +King and his son were rarely separated from each other; that the +Prince's suite of apartments were connected by a private passage +with his father's. The two were bound together by an affection +of singular strength and meaning, and their love for their people +added to their feeling for each other. In the history of what +their past had been, there was a romance which swelled the +emotional Samavian heart near to bursting. By mountain fires, in +huts, under the stars, in fields and in forests, all that was +known of their story was told and retold a thousand times, with +sobs of joy and prayer breaking in upon the tale. + +But none knew it as it was told in a certain quiet but stately +room in the palace, where the man once known only as ``Stefan +Loristan,'' but whom history would call the first King Ivor of +Samavia, told his share of it to the boy whom Samavians had a +strange and superstitious worship for, because he seemed so +surely their Lost Prince restored in body and soul--almost the +kingly lad in the ancient portrait--some of them half believed +when he stood in the sunshine, with the halo about his head. + +It was a wonderful and intense story, that of the long wanderings +and the close hiding of the dangerous secret. Among all those +who had known that a man who was an impassioned patriot was +laboring for Samavia, and using all the power of a great mind and +the delicate ingenuity of a great genius to gain friends and +favor for his unhappy country, there had been but one who had +known that Stefan Loristan had a claim to the Samavian throne. +He had made no claim, he had sought--not a crown--but the final +freedom of the nation for which his love had been a religion. + +``Not the crown!'' he said to the two young Bearers of the Sign +as they sat at his feet like schoolboys--``not a throne. `The +Life of my life--for Samavia.' That was what I worked for--what +we have all worked for. If there had risen a wiser man in +Samavia's time of need, it would not have been for me to remind +them of their Lost Prince. I could have stood aside. But no man +arose. The crucial moment came--and the one man who knew the +secret, revealed it. Then--Samavia called, and I answered.'' + +He put his hand on the thick, black hair of his boy's head. + +``There was a thing we never spoke of together,'' he said. ``I +believed always that your mother died of her bitter fears for me +and the unending strain of them. She was very young and loving, +and knew that there was no day when we parted that we were sure +of seeing each other alive again. When she died, she begged me +to promise that your boyhood and youth should not be burdened by +the knowledge she had found it so terrible to bear. I should +have kept the secret from you, even if she had not so implored +me. I had never meant that you should know the truth until you +were a man. If I had died, a certain document would have been +sent to you which would have left my task in your hands and made +my plans clear. You would have known then that you also were a +Prince Ivor, who must take up his country's burden and be ready +when Samavia called. I tried to help you to train yourself for +any task. You never failed me.'' + +``Your Majesty,'' said The Rat, ``I began to work it out, and +think it must be true that night when we were with the old woman +on the top of the mountain. It was the way she looked at--at His +Highness.'' + +``Say `Marco,' '' threw in Prince Ivor. ``It's easier. He was +my army, Father.'' + +Stefan Loristan's grave eyes melted. + +``Say `Marco,' '' he said. ``You were his army--and more--when +we both needed one. It was you who invented the Game!'' + +``Thanks, Your Majesty,'' said The Rat, reddening scarlet. ``You +do me great honor! But he would never let me wait on him when we +were traveling. He said we were nothing but two boys. I suppose +that's why it's hard to remember, at first. But my mind went on +working until sometimes I was afraid I might let something out at +the wrong time. When we went down into the cavern, and I saw the +Forgers of the Sword go mad over him--I KNEW it must be true. +But I didn't dare to speak. I knew you meant us to wait; so I +waited.'' + +``You are a faithful friend,'' said the King, ``and you have +always obeyed orders!'' + +A great moon was sailing in the sky that night--just such a moon +as had sailed among the torn rifts of storm clouds when the +Prince at Vienna had come out upon the balcony and the boyish +voice had startled him from the darkness of the garden below. +The clearer light of this night's splendor drew them out on a +balcony also--a broad balcony of white marble which looked like +snow. The pure radiance fell upon all they saw spread before +them--the lovely but half-ruined city, the great palace square +with its broken statues and arches, the splendid ghost of the +unroofed cathedral whose High Altar was bare to the sky. + +They stood and looked at it. There was a stillness in which all +the world might have ceased breathing. + +``What next?'' said Prince Ivor, at last speaking quietly and +low. ``What next, Father?'' + +``Great things which will come, one by one,'' said the King, ``if +we hold ourselves ready.'' + +Prince Ivor turned his face from the lovely, white, broken city, +and put his brown hand on his father's arm. + +``Upon the ledge that night--'' he said, ``Father, you remember +--?'' The King was looking far away, but he bent his head: + +``Yes. That will come, too,'' he said. ``Can you repeat it?'' + +``Yes,'' said Ivor, ``and so can the aide-de-camp. We've said it +a hundred times. We believe it's true. `If the descendant of +the Lost Prince is brought back to rule in Samavia, he will teach +his people the Law of the One, from his throne. He will teach +his son, and that son will teach his son, and he will teach his. +And through such as these, the whole world will learn the Order +and the Law.' '' + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lost Prince, by Burnett + |