The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

a comic monologue,” said Maurice, “and I can't pronounce difficult words like ‘marmalade’ and ‘lumbago’. But I'm pretty happy with basic repartee and simple wholesome conversation. Speaking as a cat, I'd like to know what the rat has got to say.”

“Mr Mayor?” said Keith, strolling up and twirling the new rat pipe in his fingers. “Don't you think it's time I sorted out your rat problem once and for all?”

“Sort it out? But—”

“All you have to do is talk to them. Get your town council together and talk to them. It's up to you, Mr Mayor. You can yell and shout and call out the dogs and people can run around and flail at the rats with brooms and, yes, they'll run away. But they won't run far. And they'll come back.” When he was standing next to the bewildered man he leaned towards him and whispered, “And they live under your floorboards, sir. They know how to use fire. They know all about poison. Oh, yes. So… listen to this rat.”

“Is it threatening us?” said the Mayor, looking down at Darktan.

“No, Mr Mayor,” said Darktan, “I'm offering you…” He glanced at Maurice, who nodded. “… a wonderful opportunity.”

“You really can talk? You can think?” said the mayor.

Darktan looked up at him. It had been a long night. He didn't want to remember any of it. And now it was going to be a longer, harder day. He took a deep breath. “Here's what I suggest,” he said. “You pretend that rats can think, and I'll promise to pretend that humans can think, too.”

CHAPTER 12

‘Well done, Ratty Rupert!’ cried the animals of Furry Bottom.

—From “Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure”

The crowd clustered into the Rathaus's council hall. Most of it had to stay outside, craning over other people's heads to see what was going on.

The town council was crammed around one end of their long table. A dozen or so of the senior rats were crouched at the other end.

And, in the middle, was Maurice. He was suddenly there, leaping up from the floor.

Hopwick the clockmaker glared at the other members of the council. “We're talking to rats!” he snapped, trying to make himself heard above the hubbub. “We'll be a laughing stock if this gets out! ‘The Town That Talked To Its Rats’. Can't you just see it?”

“Rats aren't there to be spoken to,” said Raufman the bootmaker, prodding the mayor with a finger. “A mayor who knew his business would send for the ratcatchers!”

“According to my daughter, they are locked in a cellar,” said the mayor. He stared at the finger.

“Locked in by your talking rats?” said Raufman.

“Locked in by my daughter,” said the mayor, calmly. “Take your finger away, Mr Raufman. She's taken the watchmen down there. She's making very serious allegations, Mr Raufman. She says there's a lot of food stored under their shed. She says they've been stealing it and selling it to the river traders. The head rat-catcher is your brother-in-law, isn't he, Mr Raufman? I remember you were very keen to see him appointed, weren't you?”

There was a commotion outside. Sergeant Doppelpunkt pushed his way through, grinning broadly, and laid a big sausage on the table.

“One sausage is hardly theft,” said Raufman.

There was rather more commotion in the crowd, which parted to reveal what was, strictly speaking, a very slowly moving Corporal Knopf. This fact only became clear, though, when he'd been stripped of three bags of grain, eight strings of sausages, a barrel of pickled beetroot and fifteen cabbages.

Sergeant Doppelpunkt saluted smartly, to the sound of muffled swearing and falling cabbages. “Requesting permission to take six men to help us bring up the rest of the stuff, sir!” he said, beaming happily.

“Where are the rat-catchers?” said the mayor.

“In deep… trouble, sir,” said the sergeant. “I asked them if they wanted to come out, but they said they'd like to stay in there a bit longer, thanks all the same, although they'd like a drink of water and some fresh trousers.”

“Was that all they said?”

Sergeant Doppelpunkt pulled out his notebook. “No, sir, they said quite a lot. They were crying, actually. They said they'd confess to everything in exchange for the fresh trousers. Also, sir, there was this.”

The sergeant stepped out and came back with a heavy box, which he thumped down onto the polished table. “Acting on information received from a rat, sir, we took a look under one of the floorboards. There must be more'n two hundred dollars in it. Ill-gotten gains, sir.”

“You got information from a rat?”

The sergeant pulled Sardines out of his pocket. The rat was eating a biscuit, but he raised his hat politely.

“Isn't that a bit… unhygienic?” said the mayor.

“No, guv, he's washed his hands,” said Sardines.

“I was talking to the sergeant!”

“No, sir. Nice little chap, sir. Very clean. Reminds me of a hamster I used to have when I was a lad, sir.”

“Well, thank you, sergeant, well done, please go and—”

“His name was Horace,” added the sergeant helpfully.

“Thank you, sergeant, and now—”

“Does me good to see little cheeks bulging with grub again, sir.”

“Thank you, sergeant!”

When the sergeant had left, the mayor turned and stared at Mr Raufman. The man had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I hardly know the man,” he said. “He's just somebody my sister married, that's all! I hardly ever see him!”

“I quite understand,” said the mayor. “And I've no intention of asking the sergeant to go and search your larder,” and he gave another little smile, and a sniff, and added, “yet. Now, where were we?”

“I was about to tell you a story,” said Maurice.

The town council stared at him.

“And your name is—?” said the mayor, who was feeling in quite a good mood now.

“Maurice,” said Maurice. “I'm a freelance negotiator, style of thing. I can see it's difficult for you to talk to rats, but humans like talking to cats, right?”

“Like in Dick Livingstone?” said Hopwick.

“Yeah, right, him yeah, and—” Maurice began.

“And Puss in Boots?” said Corporal Knopf.

“Yeah, right, books,” said Maurice, scowling. “Anyway… cats can talk to rats, OK? And I'm going to tell you a story. But first, I'm going to tell you that my clients, the rats, will all leave this town if you want them to, and they won't come back. Ever.”

The humans stared at him. So did the rats.

“Will we?” said Darktan.

“Will they?” said the mayor.

“Yes,” said Maurice. “And now, I'm going to tell you a story about the lucky town. I don't know its name yet. Let's suppose my clients leave here and move down river, shall we? There are lots of towns on this river, I'll be bound. And somewhere there's a town that'll say, why, we can do a deal with the rats.