"What makes you think I should believe you? I ought to have the pair of you killed here and now." The Persian queen stared down, seemingly unimpressed, at MacVitie and Mungojerrie, each of whom had a half-dozen henchcats surrounding him to ensure neither of the toms made a move. From the corner of his eye, Mack thought he spotted Gilbert, alias Genghis, but knew better than to try and get his attention. It was vital he and Jerrie should stick to the task at paw. And anyway, for all Mack could tell, Gilbert had shown that he cared more about saving his own neck than anything else. No doubt what caring or sympathy he'd had in his heart had died off along with his mate, Hecuba. Why should Cassandra be bothered with such a parent now? She was better off not knowing him at all. Just as Alonzo was better off not knowing his father. … It began to dawn on MacVitie that the Jellicles and the Henchcats were far more closely connected than he cared to think about. At least two of them had kits now living with the Jellicles— No, three. Whoever Carbuckety's father is…And then there's Griddlebone, assuming she's actually…

MacVitie suddenly realized Griddlebone was waiting impatiently for his answer. She had a nerve behaving like this when he'd only just burned a building for her and—for all she knew—burned up several Jellicles along with it. But she held the power here, and her skepticism was no more than he'd expected. What was Quaxo thinking? How would they ever convince Griddlebone they'd turned their backs on the Jellicles? Jerrie, perhaps, but for MacVitie the very idea was simply laughable. Yet according to Quaxo, Coricopat, and Tantomile, it was their only hope.

"For my part, I'm not expecting you to believe me at once—but only to allow me sufficient opportunity to prove it. Have my every move watched, if you like."

Griddlebone chuckled. "Oh, you'll prove it all right, and you'll certainly be watched every moment of your existence here—that's assuming I let you live long enough. You'll prove it thoroughly, else I'll have that one…" She jerked her head in Mungojerrie's direction. "…Tied up in a bag and dropped into the Thames. That's after I let the others have a bit of fun with him first." For the first time since their arrival, she turned and addressed Jerrie directly. "Would you like that, eh? Exactly what d'you have to say for yourself? Where's that useless sibling of yours? Dead, is she?"

Mungojerrie mumbled something incoherently. It occurred to MacVitie that Jerrie wouldn't have any trouble acting his 'part.' He was still as terror-stricken as ever by this gargantuan queen, and Mack hated to think what she'd done to him—and to Teazer—to make them so subservient.

"Speak up," Griddlebone snapped, "or are you feeling like a swim in the river immediately?"

"Please, Lady Mothah…" Jerrie's voice broke.

"Don't call me that," the Persian snarled, "I'm sick to death of hearing it. Always 'Lady Mothah' this, 'Lady Mothah' that, and you can't even say it properly thanks to that giant striped oaf, may he rot at the bottom of the river. Simply 'My Lady' will do from now on; d'you understand?"

"Ay, Lady Mo—milady. If y'please, milady, we on'y said it 'cause o' yer orders…"

"Are you questioning my orders now?"

Mungojerrie recoiled in horror. "N-no, milady!"

"Very well, then. Forget my previous orders. It was a mere pretense, and it's high time all pretenses are over." Jerrie's eyes widened at the word 'pretense,' but he dared not question her further, and only nodded mutely to show he understood. "Now—answer me. Where's the other one?"

"If y'please, milady, she…she wouldn' come wif me."

Griddlebone's eyes narrowed. "Rubbish. You mean to tell me that your twin, your bloody shadow, is alive and well but separated from you? You two have never been separated! Well," she added as an afterthought, with an amused smirk, "not willingly." The smirk disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. "So. This makes for an interesting development. Tell me, Stripes, is she spying on the Jellicles?" She spat at the word 'Jellicles,' and all her gang followed suit. Jerrie spat belatedly, and MacVitie failed to do so at all. At first this worried him; then he reflected that to follow all the henchcats' ways perfectly right off the bat would be a dead giveaway that he was a fake. He may have made the 'momentous decision' to switch loyalties, but he must still seem conflicted, the way anyone would be. Griddlebone caught his eye, an eyebrow raised and her lip curled in a sneer. Contempt, but not suspicion. So far he was behaving just about as she should expect. She turned back towards Jerrie. "Is she spying on them, or are you spying on me?"

"Milady knows I'd nevah dare spy on yew," Mungojerrie gulped. "An'…an' Teazah…she wouldn' tell me why she stayed…p'raps she's simply frighten'd." He glanced up appealingly at the Persian queen.

Griddlebone glared down at him. "Are you asking me not to drag her back here and punish her like the traitor she is, simply because she might be 'frightened'?"

"She means no'arm," Jerrie pleaded, "she on'y wan'ed…tha' is…preferred t'stay where she was, whilst I preferred to return 'ere."

"Preferred," sneered Griddlebone. "Since when does what you prefer come into it at all?"

"I prefer wotever 'tis yew wish," said Jerrie placatingly. "After…wot 'appen'd…'twas madness. Strange cats runnin' about. Didn't know where any'un was. Not knowin' wot else t'do, I fled. But I knew when it all settled down, ye'd wan' me back'ere, an' so 'ere I am, ready t'do yer bidding."

"I believe you. But divided loyalties are dangerous things, little tyke. Suppose your sister took it into her head to spy on me for our enemies? Suppose she were caught—no, not 'suppose,' no 'suppose' about it; if she attempts such a foolish trick, of course she'll be caught. Suppose I ordered you to kill her?"

Jerrie gulped. "I…I'd do it. Fer yew, milady."

Griddlebone stared searchingly into his face. Bravely, Jerrie returned the stare, though MacVitie fancied he saw one or two tears trickle down the younger tom's cheek. "I believe you," the queen repeated finally. "And not to worry; if there's any killing needs doing, it most likely won't be you I'll call on." She turned her glare on MacVitie once more. "You I don't believe. I know how you and your little friends tried to turn my own followers against me. No doubt you hoped that those who did for my poor Growltiger did for me as well." She didn't even pretend to look sorry about her mate's demise. "But you shall have your chance to prove yourself. You'll work nights; I'll think up plenty of tasks for you, rest assured. Meanwhile, you'll spend the daylight hours resting your paws—where I can keep an eye on you, not stuffed away in a basement where you can conspire unheard. Tumblebrutus!"

The patched tom—of whom Mack had got a glimpse at the pub—stepped forward. "Milady."

"You and Genghis will take it in turns to guard him," Griddlebone ordered. "It's no odds to me how you divide up the hours, but one of you must be with him at all times, and a second at the door. Escort him to the crate in my den."

Tumblebrutus nodded. "This way, Nappy," he growled. MacVitie followed, ignoring the snickers from the other henchcats and forcing himself not to look back at Mungojerrie. They were both alive; for now, that was what mattered. So far Quaxo had been right about how Griddlebone would behave. He only hoped the rest of it went as planned.