is 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 t