Immediately there was a great commotion inside the shirt. It appeared that the rat was running around the man’s body, being chased by the ferret. Six or seven times they went around, the small bulge chasing the larger one, gaining on it slightly each circuit and drawing closer and cl
oser until at last the two bulges seemed to come together and there was a scuffle and a series of shrill shrieks.
Throughout this performance the ratman had stood absolutely still with legs apart, arms hanging loosely, the dark eyes resting on Claud’s face. Now he reached one hand down into his shirt and pulled out the ferret; with the other he took out the dead rat. There were traces of blood around the white muzzle of the ferret.
‘Not sure I liked that very much.’
‘You never seen anythin’ like it before, I’ll bet you that.’
‘Can’t really say I have.’
‘Like as not you’ll get yourself a nasty little nip in the guts one of these days,’ Claud told him. But he was clearly impressed, and the ratman was becoming cocky again.
‘Want to see somethin’ far more amazn’n that?’ he asked. ‘You want to see somethin’ you’d never even believe unless you seen it with your own eyes?’
‘Well?’
We were standing in the driveway out in front of the pumps and it was one of those pleasant warm November mornings. Two cars pulled in for petrol, one right after the other, and Claud went over and gave them what they wanted.
‘You want to see?’ the ratman asked.
I glanced at Claud, slightly apprehensive. ‘Yes,’ Claud said. ‘Come on then, let’s see.’
The ratman slipped the dead rat back into one pocket, the ferret into the other. Then he reached down into his knapsack and produced – if you please – a second live rat.
‘Good Christ!’ Claud said.
‘Always got one or two rats about me somewhere,’ the man announced calmly. ‘You got to know rats on this job, and if you want to know ’em you got to have ’em round you. This is a sewer rat, this is. An old sewer rat, clever as buggery. See him watchin’ me all the time, wonderin’ what I’m goin’ to do? See him?’
‘Very unpleasant.’
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked. I had a feeling I was going to like this one even less than the last.
‘Fetch me a piece of string.’
Claud fetched him a piece of string.
With his left hand, the man looped the string around one of the rat’s hind legs. The rat struggled, trying to turn its head to see what was going on, but he held it tight around the neck with finger and thumb.
‘Now!’ he said, looking about him. ‘You got a table inside?’
‘We don’t want the rat inside the house,’ I said.
‘Well – I need a table. Or somethin’ flat like a table.’
‘What about the bonnet of that car?’ Claud said.
We walked over to the car and the man put the old sewer rat on the bonnet. He attached the string to the windshield wiper so that the rat was now tethered.
At first it crouched, unmoving and suspicious, a big-bodied grey rat with bright black eyes and a scaly tail that lay in a long curl upon the car’s bonnet. It was looking away from the ratman, but watching him sideways to see what he was going to do. The man stepped back a few paces and immediately the rat relaxed. It sat up on its haunches and began to lick the grey fur on its chest. Then it scratched its muzzle with both front paws. It seemed quite unconcerned about the three men standing near by.
‘Now – how about a little bet?’ the ratman asked.
‘We don’t bet,’ I said.
‘Just for fun. It’s more fun if you bet.’
‘What d’you want to bet on?’