They stayed there all day, too upset to think of eating, talking and talking to no conclusion. As dusk came on they did not light the gas. Exhausted, they lay down on the bed without undressing.
After a while there was a quiet scratching at the door.
"Don't let them in!" Norah whispered. Her teeth were chattering.
"I must, dear," he whispered back. "It isn't 'them,' I'm sure of it—it's just SK540 himself. I've been expecting him. We've got to reach some kind of understanding."
"With a rat?"
"With a super-rat. We have no choice."
Philip was right. SK540 alone stood there and sidled in as the door closed solidly again behind him.
How could one communicate with a rat? Philip could think of no way except to pick him up, place him where they were face to face, and talk.
"Are your—followers outside?" he asked.
A rodent's face can have no expression, but Philip caught a glance of contempt in the beady eyes. The slaves were doubtless bedded down in their hideaway, with strict orders to stay there and keep quiet.