CHAPTER XXI
“THE CHILDREN OF PAUL'S”

AN old gray rat came out of its hole, ran swiftly across
the floor, and, sitting up, crouched there, peering at
Nick. He thought its bare, scaly tail was not a pleasant
thing to see; yet he looked at it, with his elbows on his
knees, and his chin in his hands.

He had been locked in for two days now. They had
put in plenty of food, and he had eaten it all; for if he
starved to death he would certainly never get home.

It was quite warm, and the boards had been taken from
the window, so that there was plenty of light. The win-
dow faced the north, and in the night, wakened by some
outcry in the street below, Nick had leaned his log-pillow
against the wainscot, and, climbing up, looked out into the
sky. It was clear, for a wonder, and the stars were very
bright. The moon, like a smoky golden platter, rose
behind the eastern towers of the town, and in the north
hung the Great Wain pointing at the polar star.

Somewhere underneath those stars was Stratford. The
throstles would be singing in the orchard there now, when

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