You also had to be rich. This took some explaining to the rats, but Maurice had roamed the city and learned how things worked and money, he said, was the key to everything.

And then one day he’d seen the stupid-looking kid playing the flute with his cap in front of him for pennies, and he’d had an idea. An amazing idea. It just turned up, bang, all at once. Rats, flute, stupid-looking kid …

And he’d said, ‘Hey, stupid-looking kid! How would you like to make your fortu— nah, kid, I’m down here …’

Dawn was breaking when the highwayman’s horse came out of the forests, over a pass, and was reined to a halt in a convenient wood.

The river valley stretched out below, with a town hunched up against the cliffs.

Maurice clambered out of the saddle-bag, and stretched. The stupid-looking kid helped the rats out of the other bag. They’d spent the journey hunched up on the money, although they were too polite to say that this was because no one wanted to sleep in the same bag as a cat.

‘What’s the name of the town, kid?’ Maurice said, sitting on a rock and looking down at the town. Behind them, the rats were counting the money again, stacking it in piles beside its leather bag. They did this every day. Even though he had no pockets, there was something about Maurice that made everyone want to check their change as often as possible.

‘’s called Bad Blintz,’ said the kid, referring to the guide-book.

‘Ahem … should we be going there, if it’s bad?’ said Peaches, looking up from the counting.

‘Hah, it’s not called Bad because it’s bad,’ said Maurice. ‘That’s foreign language for bath, see?’

‘So it’s really called Bath Blintz?’ said Donut Enter.

‘Nah, nah, they call it Bath because …’ The Amazing Maurice hesitated, but only for a moment, ‘because they got a bath, see? Very backward place, this. Not many baths around. But they’ve got one, and they’re very proud of it, so they want everyone to know. You prob’ly have to buy tickets even to have a look at it.’

‘Is that true, Maurice?’ said Dangerous Beans. He asked the question quite politely, but it was clear that what he was really saying was ‘I don’t think that is true, Maurice.’

Ah, yes … Dangerous Beans. Dangerous Beans was difficult to deal with. Really, he shouldn’t be. Back in the old days, Maurice thought, he wouldn’t even have eaten a rat so small and pale and generally ill-looking. He stared down at the little albino rat, with his snow-white fur and pinky eyes. Dangerous Beans did not stare back, because he was too shortsighted. Of course, being nearly blind was not too much of a drawback to a species that spent most of its time in the darkness and had a sense of smell that was, as far as Maurice could understand it, almost as good as sight and sound and speech all put together. For example, the rat always turned to face Maurice and looked directly at him when he spoke. It was uncanny. Maurice had known a blind cat that walked into doors a lot, but Dangerous Beans never did that.