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 almo