ry of
the Lost Prince to begin with. It had been regarded by most people,
the article said, as a sort of legend. Now there was a definite rumor
that it was not a legend at all, but a part of the long past history of
Samavia. It was said that through the centuries there had always been
a party secretly loyal to the memory of this worshiped and lost
Fedorovitch. It was even said that from father to son, generation
after generation after generation, had descended the oath of fealty to
him and his descendants. The people had made a god of him, and now,
romantic as it seemed, it was beginning to be an open secret that some
persons believed that a descendant had been found--a Fedorovitch worthy
of his young ancestor--and that a certain Secret Party also held that,
if he were called back to the throne of Samavia, the interminable wars
and bloodshed would reach an end.

The Rat had begun to bite his nails fast.

"Do you believe he's found?" he asked feverishly. "DON'T YOU? I do!"

"I wonder where he is, if it's true? I wonder! Where?" exclaimed
Marco. He could say that, and he might seem as eager as he felt.

The Squad all began to jabber at once. "Yus, where wos'e? There is no
knowin'. It'd be likely to be in some o' these furrin places.
England'd be too far from Samavia. 'Ow far off wos Samavia? Wos it in
Roosha, or where the Frenchies were, or the Germans? But wherever 'e
wos, 'e'd be the right sort, an' 'e'd be the sort a chap'd turn and
look at in the street."

The Rat continued to bite his nails.

"He might be anywhere," he said, his small fierce face glowing.

"That's what I like to think about. He might be passing in the street
outside there; he might be up in one of those houses," jerking his head
over his shoulder toward the backs of the inclosing dwellings.
"Perhaps he knows he's a king, and perhaps he doesn't. He'd know if
what you said yesterday was true--about the king always being made
ready for Samavia."

"Yes, he'd know," put in Marco.

"Well, it'd be finer if he did," went on The Rat. "However poor and
shabby he was, he'd know the secret all the time. And if people
sneered at him, he'd sneer at them and laugh to himself. I dare say
he'd walk tremendously straight and hold his head up. If I was him,
I'd like to make people suspect a bit that I wasn't like the common lot
o' them." He put out his hand and pushed Marco excitedly. "Let's work
out plots for him!" he said. "That'd b