ings 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 a