One of the things they had learned about this one was that his chief characteristic was his passion for music.  He was a patron of musicians and he spent much time in Munich because he loved its musical atmosphere and the earnestness of its opera-goers.

“The military band plays in the Feldherrn-halle at midday.  When something very good is being played, sometimes people stop their carriages so that they can listen.  We will go there,” said Marco.

“It’s a chance,” said The Rat.  “We mustn’t lose anything like a chance.”

The day was brilliant and sunny, the people passing through the streets looked comfortable and homely, the mixture of old streets and modern ones, of ancient corners and shops and houses of the day was picturesque and cheerful.  The Rat swinging through the crowd on his crutches was full of interest and exhilaration.  He had begun to grow, and the change in his face and expression which had begun in London had become more noticeable.  He had been given his “place,” and a work to do which entitled him to hold it.

No one could have suspected them of carrying a strange and vital secret with them as they strolled along together.  They seemed only two ordinary boys who looked in at shop windows and talked over their contents, and who loitered with upturned faces in the Marien-Platz before the ornate Gothic Rathaus to hear the eleven o’clock chimes play and see the painted figures of the King and Queen watch from their balcony the passing before them of the automatic tournament procession with its trumpeters and tilting knights.  When the show was over and the automatic cock broke forth into his lusty farewell crow, they laughed just as any other boys would have laughed.  Sometimes it would have been easy for The Rat to forget that there was anything graver in the world than the new places and new wonders he was seeing, as if he were a wandering minstrel in a story.

But in Samavia bloody battles were being fought, and bloody plans were being wrought out, and in anguished anxiety the Secret Party and the Forgers of the Sword waited breathlessly for the Sign for which they had waited so long.  And inside the lining of Marco’s coat was hidden the sketched face, as the two unnoticed lads made their way to the Feldherrn-halle to hear the band play and see who might chance to be among the audience.

Because the day was sunny, and also because the band was playing a specially fine programme, the crowd in the square was larger than usual.  Several vehicles had stopped, and among them were one or two which were not merely hired cabs but were the carriages of private persons.

One of them had evidently arrived early, as it was drawn up in a good position when the boys reached the corner.  It was a big open carriage and a grand one, luxuriously upholstered in green.  The footman and coachman wore green and silver liveries and seemed to know that people were looking at them and their master.