Spiff closed the book with a bang and looked at Knocker who was dying to smile and laugh and shout all at the same time but didn't want to in case he'd misunderstood.

Spiff winked and jerked his head in his crafty old way. "How would you like to be an Observer-Historian, Knocker? Never been one of those, have you?"

"No," said Knocker breathlessly, his heart thumping.

"Well, we need a quorum to approve the appointment, that's four in this case." Spiff gave a yell and the door opened and three stewards from houses further up the High Street entered the room. Without turning his head Spiff said, "All in favour say 'Aye.' "

"Aye," said the three Borribles together, then they did an about turn and left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Gotta keep it legal," said Spiff, jerking his head yet again.

He rose to his feet. "Right, Knocker, your clothes are in the cupboard, and a knapsack, everything's there, I did it myself. Get changed. Don't want you to miss the boat, eh? Ho, ho!"

Knocker dashed into the cupboard and threw off his every-day clothes and got into the set of expedition gear that was hanging ready behind the door. As he changed in great haste Spiff talked to him, for he had much to say before Knocker left.

"Don't worry," he began with a chuckle, "they don't know you're coming but they won't go without you. I sent Lightfinger down there with some cock-and-bull story. He won't let them away till you arrive." Spiff was silent for a minute or two, watching Knocker's preparation with more attention than the event deserved. "Do you want to know the real reason why you're going?" he asked at last.

Something in Spiff's manner made Knocker stop tying his bootlaces and he listened intently, observing that the steward's voice had lost its normal speechifying tone.

"Real reason?" he queried.

"Yes, the real reason. Look, you will have to be Historian, write it all down when you get back and all that load of old cobblers, but it don't really matter, see, long as it looks like you obey the rules, but as soon as they have won their names or look like winning their names, brother, you move."

"Move?"

"Double fast," Spiff said, his sharp expression getting sharper. "If you read the Rumble manuals really closely, like I have, and do, you find that they hint about some money they've got hidden somewhere, tons of it. We need that money down here, Knocker, and you're the Borrible to get it. You've gone through the same training as the others, you're a first-class shot with the catapult, you can run like a thirty-four tram, and you've got experience and expertise. You won't do anything rash, though you'll do what's needed when it is. Moreover, I know that you want a second name more than anything on earth. That's why you're going, Knocker, that's why I've been going through the Rule Book. Bring that money back here, son, where it belongs, but whatever you do, don't tell anyone what you're up to, especially Wazzisname Boot. He may be all right, he may not. I know that lot along the Wan-die. Above all, watch out for one called Flinthead. If you get on the wrong side of him, your life won't be worth a fart."

Knocker's face paled, not with fear but with anticipation. "But this is an Adventure within an Adventure," he said, coming closer to Spiff.

"That's right, Knocker, it is. I'll see you get your second name all right, but it's going to be bleedin' dangerous and don't think it isn't."

As Knocker checked the contents of his haversack, Spiff told him a lot more things, secret things that no one was to know but the two of them, and Spiff emphasised again and again that Knocker was to share these secrets with no other member of the expedition, otherwise disaster would surely follow.

At last Knocker struggled into his haversack straps and stood impatiently by the door.

"A second name, eh? I'd best be away then."

"That's about the size and shape of it," said the steward.

Knocker opened the door and saw outside the dark, exciting night. He looked round one last time. "Goodnight, Spiff, and thanks. Don't get caught."

"Don't you get bloody well caught," said the steward, gruffly, and then Knocker stepped out into the basement area and closed the door behind him.

Once in the street he looked up through a fine rain to the few stars in the sky and thanked his lucky ones. Then he took a deep breath and ran with a loping stride down the High Street and towards Battersea Church, the knapsack bumping on his back. The streets were empty and shone damply in the reflected light of the street lamps. The sound of his footsteps echoed energetically from the wet walls of the black buildings and Knocker's heart sang and bubbled within him; he could still not believe it. He was going, going on the best expedition he'd ever heard of.

About twenty yards from the churchyeard he stopped running and listened carefully. He didn't want any trouble at this stage. Lightfinger rose from behind a dustbin.

"Knocker," he whispered.

"Knocker," answered the chief lookout.

"It's okay, over here."

Knocker went forward and patted Lightfinger on the shoulder. "I'm going," he said.

"I know," answered Lightfinger. "You must have lost your marbles. This expedition is madness."

Knocker crossed the churchyard and climbed onto the wall and looked down at the water. The boat was there, rocking gently in the slight swell that came from midstream; the oars were out and Napoleon was giving gentle commands to keep the boat from banging against The Raven. The water lapped at the sides of The Silver Belle Flower and the scum and muck on the water grated against the embankment. Seven white faces and one black one looked up as Knocker jumped down into the boat. He saw the amazement there and his heart felt warm inside him. He wondered how they'd take it. He hoped they didn't mind him coming on their Adventure, but he didn't care. It was his Adventure, too, now. Whatever they said, whatever they thought, he was going.

Knocker had boarded at the stern, by the rudder, and he sat down and faced Napoleon, who was in the stroke seat.

"I'll row, you steer," said Knocker putting his face close to Napoleon's.

"What do you mean?" asked the Wandsworth Borrible, half rising.

"I mean," said Knocker, "that I'm coming with you."