"Sometimes we could pretend we knew nothing but English," he said. "Then, though The Rat could not understand, I could. I should always understand in each country. I know the cities and the places we should want to go to. I know how boys like us live, and so we should not do anything which would make the police angry or make people notice us. If any one asked questions, I would let them believe that I had met The Rat by chance, and we had made up our minds to travel together because people gave more money to a boy who sang if he was with a cripple. There was a boy who used to play the guitar in the streets of Rome, and he always had a lame girl with him, and every one knew it was for that reason. When he played, people looked at the girl and were sorry for her and gave her soldi. You remember." "Yes, I remember. And what you say is true," Loristan answered. Marco leaned forward across the table so that he came closer to him. The tone in which the words were said made his courage leap like a flame. To be allowed to go on with this boldness was to feel that he was being treated almost as if he were a man. If his father had wished to stop him, he could have done it with one quiet glance, without uttering a word. For some wonderful reason he did not wish him to cease talking. He was willing to hear what he had to say--he was even interested. "You are growing older," he had said the night he had revealed the marvelous secret. "Silence is still the order, but you are man enough to be told more." Was he man enough to be thought worthy to help Samavia in any small way--even with boyish fancies which might contain a germ of some thought which older and wiser minds might make useful? Was he being listened to because the plan, made as part of a game, was not an impossible one--if two boys who could be trusted could be found? He caught a deep breath as he went on, drawing still nearer and speaking so low that his tone was almost a whisper. "If the men of the Secret Party have been working and thinking for so many years--they have prepared everything. They know by this time exactly what must be done by the messengers who are to give the signal. They can tell them where to go and how to know the secret friends who must be warned. If the orders could be written and given to--to some one who has--who has learned to remember things!" He had begun to breathe so quickly that he stopped for a moment. Loristan looked up. He looked directly into his eyes. "Some one who has been _trained_ to remember things?" he said. "Some one who has been trained," Marco went on, catching his breath again. "Some one who does not forget--who would never forget--never! That one, even if he were only twelve--even if he were only ten--could go and do as he was told." Loristan put his hand on his shoulder. "Comrade," he said, "you are speaking as if you were ready to go yourself." Marco's eyes looked bravely straight into his, but he said not one word.