ce 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