It said:

The kid was staring at it.

“They must really want to get rid of their rats here,” said Maurice, cheerfully.

“No-one has ever offered a reward of half a dollar a tail!” said the kid.

“I told you this would be the big one,” said Maurice. “We'll be sitting on a pile of gold before the week's out!”

“What's a rat house?” said the kid, doubtfully. “It can't be a house for rats, can it? And why is everyone staring at you?”

“I'm a handsome-looking cat,” said Maurice. Even so, it was a little surprising. People were nudging one another and pointing at him. “You'd think they'd never seen a cat before,” he muttered, staring at the big building across the street. It was a big, square building, surrounded by people, and the sign said: RATHAUS. “Rathouse's just the local word for… like the council house, the town hall,” he said. “It's nothing to do with rats, amusing though it may be.”

“You really know a lot of words, Maurice,” said the kid, admiringly.

“I amaze myself, sometimes,” said Maurice.

A queue of people were standing in front of one huge open door. Other people, who had presumably done whatever it was the queue was queuing to do, were emerging from another doorway in ones and twos. They were all carrying loaves of bread.

“Shall we queue up too?” said the kid.

“I shouldn't think so,” said Maurice, carefully.

“Why not?”

“See those men on the door? They look like watchmen. They've got big truncheons. And everyone's showing them a bit of paper as they go past. I don't like the look of that,” said Maurice. “That looks like government to me.”