Then, as they stood at a little distance from the iron gates, a carriage drove through them and stopped before the big open door which was thrown open by two tall footmen in splendid livery.

“She is coming out,” said The Rat.

They would be able to see her plainly when she came, because the lights over the entrance were so bright.

Marco slipped from under his coat sleeve a carefully made sketch.

He looked at it and The Rat looked at it.

A footman stood erect on each side of the open door.  The footman who sat with the coachman had got down and was waiting by the carriage.  Marco and The Rat glanced again with furtive haste at the sketch.  A handsome woman appeared upon the threshold.  She paused and gave some order to the footman who stood on the right.  Then she came out in the full light and got into the carriage which drove out of the courtyard and quite near the place where the two boys waited.

When it was gone, Marco drew a long breath as he tore the sketch into very small pieces indeed.  He did not throw them away but put them into his pocket.

The Rat drew a long breath also.

“Yes,” he said positively.

“Yes,” said Marco.

When they were safely shut up in their room over the baker’s shop, they discussed the chances of their being able to pass her in such a way as would seem accidental.  Two common boys could not enter the courtyard.  There was a back entrance for tradespeople and messengers.  When she drove, she would always enter her carriage from the same place.  Unless she sometimes walked, they could not approach her.  What should be done?  The thing was difficult.  After they had talked some time, The Rat sat and gnawed his nails.

“To-morrow afternoon,” he broke out at last, “we’ll watch and see if her carriage drives in for her—­then, when she comes to the door, I’ll go in and begin to beg.  The servant will think I’m a foreigner and don’t know what I’m doing.  You can come after me to tell me to come away, because you know better than I do that I shall be ordered out.  She may be a good-natured woman and listen to us—­and you might get near her.”

“We might try it,” Marco answered.  “It might work.  We will try it.”

The Rat never failed to treat him as his leader.  He had begged Loristan to let him come with Marco as his servant, and his servant he had been more than willing to be.  When Loristan had said he should be his aide-de-camp, he had felt his trust lifted to a military dignity which uplifted him with it.  As his aide-de-camp he must serve him, watch him, obey his lightest wish, make everything easy for him.  Sometimes, Marco was troubled by the way in which he insisted on serving him, this queer, once dictatorial and cantankerous lad who had begun by throwing stones at him.

“You must not wait on me,” he said to him.  “I must wait upon myself.”

The Rat rather flushed.