Why am I doing this? Maurice asked himself, as he squirmed along a pipe. Cats are not built for this stuff!

Because we are a kind person at heart, said his conscience.

No, I'm not, thought Maurice.

Actually, that's true, said his conscience. But we don't want to tell that to Dangerous Beans, do we? The little wobbly nose? He thinks we're a hero!

Well, I'm not, thought Maurice.

Then why are we scrabbling around underground trying to find him?

Well, obviously it's because he's the one with the big dream about finding the rat island and without him the rats won't co-operate and I won't get paid, said Maurice.

We're a cat! What does a cat need money for?

Because I have a Retirement Plan, thought Maurice. I'm four years old already! Once I've made a pile, it's me for a nice home with a big fire and a nice old lady giving me cream every day. I've got it all worked out, every detail.

Why should she give us a home? We're smelly, we've got ragged ears, we've got something nasty and itchy on our leg, we look like someone kicked us in the face… why should an old lady take us in instead of a fluffy little kitten?

Aha! But black cats are lucky, thought Maurice.

Really? Well, we don't want to be first with the bad news, but we're not black! We're a sort of mucky tabby!

There's such a thing as dyes, thought Maurice. A couple of packets of black dye, hold my breath for a minute, and it's “hello, cream and fish” for the rest of my life. Good plan, eh?

And what about the luck? said the conscience.

Ah! That's the clever bit. A black cat that brings in a gold coin every month or so, wouldn't you say that's a lucky cat to have?

His conscience fell silent. Probably amazed at the cleverness of the plan, Maurice told himself.

He had to admit that he was cleverer at plans than at underground navigation. He wasn't exactly lost, because cats never got lost. He merely didn't know where everything else was. There wasn't a lot of earth under the town, that was certain. Cellars and grating and pipeways and ancient sewers and crypts and bits of forgotten buildings formed a sort of honeycomb. Even humans could get around, Maurice thought. The rat-catchers certainly had.

He could smell rats everywhere. He'd wondered about calling out to Dangerous Beans, but decided against it. Calling out might help him find out where the little rat was, but it'd also alert… anyone else to where Maurice was. Those big rats had been, well, big, and nasty-looking. Even an idiot dog would have trouble with them.

Now he was in a small square tunnel with lead pipes in it. There was even a hiss of escaping steam, and here and there warm water dipped into a gutter that ran along the bottom of the tunnel. Up ahead was a grating leading up to the street. Faint light came through it.

The water in the gutter looked clean. At least, you could see through it. Maurice was thirsty. He leaned down, tongue out—

There was a thin, bright red streak curling gently in the water…

Hamnpork seemed confused and half asleep but he knew enough to hold on to Sardines' tail as the rats made their way back from the stables. It was a slow journey. Sardines didn't think the old rat would manage the washing lines. They skulked along gutters, and along drains, hiding in nothing more than the cloak of night.

A few rats were milling around in the cellar when they finally arrived. By then Darktan and Sardines were walking on either side of Hamnpork, who was barely moving his legs.

There was still a candle burning in the cellar. Darktan was surprised. But a lot of things had happened in the last hour.

They let Hamnpork sink to the floor, where he lay, breathing heavily. His body shook with each breath.

“Poison, guv?” whispered Sardines.

“I think it was just too much for him,” said Darktan. “Just too much.”

Hamnpork opened one eye. “Am… I… still… the… leader?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Darktan.

“Need… to… sleep…”

Darktan looked around the circle. Rats were creeping towards the group. He could see them whispering to one another. They kept looking at him. He stared around, trying to spot the pale figure of Dangerous Beans.

“Nourishing… tells me… you saw the… tunnel… of the… Big Rat…” said Hamnpork.

Darktan glared at Nourishing, who looked embarrassed. “I saw… something,” he said.

“Then I shall dream there and… never wake up,” said Hamnpork. His head sagged again. “This isn't… the way a… an old rat should die,” he mumbled. “Not… like this. Not… in the light.”

Darktan nodded urgently at Sardines, who snuffed out the candle with his hat. The damp, thick underground darkness closed in.

“Darktan,” Hamnpork whispered. “You need to know this…”

Sardines strained his ears to hear the old leader's last words to Darktan. Then, a few seconds later, he shivered. He could smell the change in the world.

There was movement in the darkness. A match burst into life and the candle flame grew again, bringing shadows back into the world.

Hamnpork was lying very still.

“Do we have to eat him now?” said someone.

“He's… gone,” said Darktan. Somehow, the idea of eating Hamnpork didn't feel right. “Bury him,” he said. “And mark the place so we know he's there.”

There was a sense of relief in the group. However much anyone might have respected Hamnpork, he was still a bit on the whiffy side, even for a rat.

A rat at the front of the crowd looked uncertain. “Er… when you say ‘mark the place’,” it said, “do you mean like we mark other places where we bury things?”

“He means by widdling on it,” said the rat beside him.

Darktan looked at Sardines, who shrugged. Darktan had a sinking feeling inside. When you were the leader, everyone waited to see what you said. And there was still no sign of the white rat.

He was on his own.

He thought hard for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes,” he said at last. “He'd like that. It's very… ratty. But do this, too. Draw it on the ground above him.”

He scraped a sign on the ground:

“‘He was a rat from a long line of rats and he thought about rats’,” said Sardines. “Good one, boss.”

“And will he come back like Darktan did?” said someone else.

“If he does, he'll get really mad if we've eaten him,” said a voice. There was some nervous laughter.

“Listen, I didn't—” Darktan began, but Sardines nudged him.

“Word in your ear, guv?” he said, raising his charred hat politely.

“Yes, yes…” Darktan was getting worried. He'd never had so many rats watching him so closely. He followed Sardines away from the group.

“You know I used to hang around in the theatre an' that,” said Sardines. “And you pick up stuff in the theatre. And the thing is… look, what I'm saying is, you're the leader, right? So you got to act like you know what you're doing, OK? If the leader doesn't know what he's doing, no-one else does, either.”

“I only know what I'm doing when I'm dismantling traps,” said Darktan.

“All right, think of the future as a great big trap,” said Sardines. “With no cheese.”

“That is not a lot of help!”

“And you should let them think what they like about you and… that scar you've got,” said Sardines. “That's my advice, guv.”

“But I didn't die, Sardines!”

“Something happened, didn't it? You were going to set fire to the place. I watched you. Something happened to you in the trap. Don't ask me what it was, I just do tap-dancing. I'm just a little rat. Always will be, boss. But there's big rats like Inbrine and Sellby and a bunch of others, boss, and now Hamnpork's dead they might think they should be the leader. Get my drift?”