oo, though he had no reason for knowing, but mere instinct.
He used to lie awake in the night and think it over and remember what
Loristan had said of the time coming when Marco might need a comrade in
his work. What was his work to be? It was to be something like "the
game." And they were being prepared for it. And though Marco often
lay awake on his bed when The Rat lay awake on his sofa, neither boy
spoke to the other of the thing his mind dwelt on. And Marco worked as
he had never worked before. The game was very exciting when he could
prove his prowess. The four gathered together at night in the back
sitting-room. Lazarus was obliged to be with them because a second
judge was needed. Loristan would mention the name of a place, perhaps
a street in Paris or a hotel in Vienna, and Marco would at once make a
rapid sketch of the face under whose photograph the name of the
locality had been written. It was not long before he could begin his
sketch without more than a moment's hesitation. And yet even when this
had become the case, they still played the game night after night.
There was a great hotel near the Place de la Concorde in Paris, of
which Marco felt he should never hear the name during all his life
without there starting up before his mental vision a tall woman with
fierce black eyes and a delicate high-bridged nose across which the
strong eyebrows almost met. In Vienna there was a palace which would
always bring back at once a pale cold-faced man with a heavy blonde
lock which fell over his forehead. A certain street in Munich meant a
stout genial old aristocrat with a sly smile; a village in Bavaria, a
peasant with a vacant and simple countenance. A curled and smoothed
man who looked like a hair-dresser brought up a place in an Austrian
mountain town. He knew them all as he knew his own face and No. 7
Philibert Place.

But still night after night the game was played.

Then came a night when, out of a deep sleep, he was awakened by Lazarus
touching him. He had so long been secretly ready to answer any call
that he sat up straight in bed at the first touch.

"Dress quickly and come down stairs," Lazarus said. "The Prince is
here and wishes to speak with you."

Marco made no answer but got out of bed and began to slip on his
clothes.

Lazarus touched The Rat.

The Rat was as ready as Marco and sat upright as he had done.

"Come down with the young Master," he commanded. "It is necessary t