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