Аннотация
1
The swirling rain-clouds rushed on revealing the bright moon and the two Borribles dodged behind the bushes and kept as quiet as they could. There was danger in the air and they could feel it. It would pay to be cautious.
"Strewth," said Knocker, the chief skirmisher and lookout of the Battersea tribe, "what a bloody cheek, coming down here without so much as a by-your-leave."
Lightfinger, Knocker's companion, agreed. "Diabolical liberty I call it . . . nasty bits of work, covered in fur like nylon hearth rugs . . . snouts like traffic cones. Just like rats, aren't they?"
"There's a big one, just getting into the motor, he's shouting at the others, he's the boss all right. Tough-looking, do you see?"
"Yeah," answered Lightfinger, "they do what they're told, don't they? Look at them move."
Presently the two Borribles saw the large car drive awa...

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