Round the Fire Stories

by Arthur Conan Doyle

THE BRAZILIAN CAT

  It is hard luck on a young fellow to have expensive tastes, greatexpectations, aristocratic connections, but no actual money in hispocket, and no profession by which he may earn any. The fact was that myfather, a good, sanguine, easy-going man, had such confidence in thewealth and benevolence of his bachelor elder brother, Lord Southerton,that he took it for granted that I, his only son, would never be calledupon to earn a living for myself. He imagined that if there were not avacancy for me on the great Southerton Estates, at least there would befound some post in that diplomatic service which still remains thespecial preserve of our privileged classes. He died too early to realizehow false his calculations had been. Neither my uncle nor the State tookthe slightest notice of me, or showed any interest in my career. Anoccasional brace of pheasants, or basket of hares, was all that everreached me to remind me that I was heir to Otwell House and one of therichest estates in the country. In the meantime, I found myself abachelor and man about town, living in a suite of apartments inGrosvenor Mansions, with no occupation save that of pigeon-shooting andpolo-playing at Hurlingham. Month by month I realized that it was moreand more difficult to get the brokers to renew my bills, or to cash anyfurther post-obits upon an unentailed property. Ruin lay right across mypath, and every day I saw it clearer, nearer, and more absolutelyunavoidable.

  What made me feel my own poverty the more was that, apart from the greatwealth of Lord Southerton, all my other relations were fairlywell-to-do. The nearest of these was Everard King, my father’s nephewand my own first cousin, who had spent an adventurous life in Brazil,and had now returned to this country to settle down on his fortune. Wenever knew how he made his money, but he appeared to have plenty of it,for he bought the estate of Greylands, near Clipton-on-the-Marsh, inSuffolk. For the first year of his residence in England he took no morenotice of me than my miserly uncle; but at last one summer morning, tomy very great relief and joy, I received a letter asking me to come downthat very day and spend a short visit at Greylands Court. I wasexpecting a rather long visit to Bankruptcy Court at the time, and thisinterruption seemed almost providential. If I could only get on termswith this unknown relative of mine, I might pull through yet. For thefamily credit he could not let me go entirely to the wall. I ordered myvalet to pack my valise, and I set off the same evening forClipton-on-the-Marsh.

  After changing at Ipswich, a little local train deposited me at a small,deserted station lying amidst a rolling grassy country, with a sluggishand winding river curving in and out amidst the valleys, between high,silted banks, which showed that we were within reach of the tide. Nocarriage was awaiting me (I found afterwards that my telegram had beendelayed), so I hired a dog-cart at the local inn. The driver, anexcellent fellow, was full of my relative’s praises, and I learned fromhim that Mr. Everard King was already a name to conjure with in thatpart of the country. He had entertained the school-children, he hadthrown his grounds open to visitors, he had subscribed to charities—inshort, his benevolence had been so universal that my driver could onlyaccount for it on the supposition that he had Parliamentary ambitions.

  My attention was drawn away from my driver’s panegyric by the appearanceof a very beautiful bird which settled on a telegraph-post beside theroad. At first I thought that it was a jay, but it was larger, with abrighter plumage. The driver accounted for its presence at once bysaying that it belonged to the very man whom we were about to visit. Itseems that the acclimatization of foreign creatures was one of hishobbies, and that he had brought with him from Brazil a number of birdsand beasts which he was endeavouring to rear in England. When once wehad passed the gates of Greylands Park we had ample evidence of thistaste of his. Some small spotted deer, a curious wild pig known, Ibelieve, as a peccary, a gorgeously feathered oriole, some sort ofarmadillo, and a singular lumbering intoed beast like a very fat badger,were among the creatures which I observed as we drove along the windingavenue.

  Mr. Everard King, my unknown cousin, was standing in person upon thesteps of his house, for he had seen us in the distance, and guessed thatit was I. His appearance was very homely and benevolent, short andstout, forty-five years old perhaps, with a round, good-humoured face,burned brown with the tropical sun, and shot with a thousand wrinkles.He wore white linen clothes, in true planter style, with a cigar betweenhis lips, and a large Panama hat upon the back of his head. It was sucha figure as one associates with a verandahed bungalow, and it lookedcuriously out of place in front of this broad, stone English mansion,with its solid wings and its Palladio pillars before the doorway.

  “My dear!” he cried, glancing over his shoulder; “my dear, here is ourguest! Welcome, welcome to Greylands! I am delighted to make youracquaintance, Cousin Marshall, and I take it as a great compliment thatyou should honour this sleepy little country place with your presence.”

  Nothing could be more hearty than his manner, and he set me at my easein an instant. But it needed all his cordiality to atone for thefrigidity and even rudeness of his wife, a tall, haggard woman, who cameforward at his summons. She was, I believe, of Brazilian extraction,though she spoke excellent English, and I excused her manners on thescore of her ignorance of our customs. She did not attempt to conceal,however, either then or afterwards, that I was no very welcome visitorat Greylands Court. Her actual words were, as a rule, courteous, but shewas the possessor of a pair of particularly expressive dark eyes, and Iread in them very clearly from the first that she heartily wished meback in London once more.

  However, my debts were too pressing and my designs upon my wealthyrelative were too vital for me to allow them to be upset by theill-temper of his wife, so I disregarded her coldness and reciprocatedthe extreme cordiality of his welcome. No pains had been spared by himto make me comfortable. My room was a charming one. He implored me totell him anything which could add to my happiness. It was on the tip ofmy tongue to inform him that a blank cheque would materially helptowards that end, but I felt that it might be premature in the presentstate of our acquaintance. The dinner was excellent, and as we sattogether afterwards over his Havanas and coffee, which latter he told mewas specially prepared upon his own plantation, it seemed to me that allmy driver’s eulogies were justified, and that I had never met a morelarge-hearted and hospitable man.

  But, in spite of his cheery good nature, he was a man with a strong willand a fiery temper of his own. Of this I had an example upon thefollowing morning. The curious aversion which Mrs. Everard King hadconceived towards me was so strong, that her manner at breakfast wasalmost offensive. But her meaning became unmistakable when her husbandhad quitted the room.

  “The best train in the day is at twelve fifteen,” said she.

  “But I was not thinking of going to-day,” I answered, frankly—perhapseven defiantly, for I was determined not to be driven out by this woman.

  “Oh, if it rests with you——” said she, and stopped, with a most insolentexpression in her eyes.

  “I am sure,” I answered “that Mr. Everard King would tell me if I wereoutstaying my welcome.”

  “What’s this? What’s this?” said a voice, and there he was in the room.He had overheard my last words, and a glance at our faces had told himthe rest. In an instant his chubby, cheery face set into an expressionof absolute ferocity.

  “Might I trouble you to walk outside, Marshall,” said he. (I may mentionthat my own name is Marshall King.)

  He closed the door behind me, and then, for an instant, I heard himtalking in a low voice of concentrated passion to his wife. This grossbreach of hospitality had evidently hit upon his tenderest point. I amno eavesdropper, so I walked out on to the lawn. Presently I heard ahurried step behind me, and there was the lady, her face pale withexcitement, and her eyes red with tears.

  “My husband has asked me to apologize to you, Mr. Marshall King,” saidshe, standing with downcast eyes before me.

  “Please do not say another word, Mrs. King.”

  Her dark eyes suddenly blazed out at me. />
  “You fool!” she hissed, with frantic vehemence, and turning on her heelswept back to the house.

  The insult was so outrageous, so insufferable, that I could only standstaring after her in bewilderment. I was still there when my host joinedme. He was his cheery, chubby self once more.

  “I hope that my wife has apologized for her foolish remarks,” said he.

  “Oh, yes—yes, certainly!”

  He put his hand through my arm and walked with me up and down the lawn.

  “You must not take it seriously,” said he. “It would grieve meinexpressibly if you curtailed your visit by one hour. The fact is—thereis no reason why there should be any concealment between relatives—thatmy poor dear wife is incredibly jealous. She hates that any one—male orfemale—should for an instant come between us. Her ideal is a desertisland and an eternal _tête-à-tête_. That gives you the clue to heractions, which are, I confess, upon this particular point, not very farremoved from mania. Tell me that you will think no more of it.”

  “No, no; certainly not.”

  “Then light this cigar and come round with me and see my littlemenagerie.”

  The whole afternoon was occupied by this inspection, which included allthe birds, beasts, and even reptiles which he had imported. Some werefree, some in cages, a few actually in the house. He spoke withenthusiasm of his successes and his failures, his births and his deaths,and he would cry out in his delight, like a schoolboy, when, as wewalked, some gaudy bird would flutter up from the grass, or some curiousbeast slink into the cover. Finally he led me down a corridor whichextended from one wing of the house. At the end of this there was aheavy door with a sliding shutter in it, and beside it there projectedfrom the wall an iron handle attached to a wheel and a drum. A line ofstout bars extended across the passage.

  “I am about to show you the jewel of my collection,” said he. “There isonly one other specimen in Europe, now that the Rotterdam cub is dead.It is a Brazilian cat.”

  “But how does that differ from any other cat?”

  “You will soon see that,” said he, laughing. “Will you kindly draw thatshutter and look through?”

  I did so, and found that I was gazing into a large, empty room, withstone flags, and small, barred windows upon the farther wall.

  In the centre of this room, lying in the middle of a golden patch ofsunlight, there was stretched a huge creature, as large as a tiger, butas black and sleek as ebony. It was simply a very enormous and verywell-kept black cat, and it cuddled up and basked in that yellow pool oflight exactly as a cat would do. It was so graceful, so sinewy, and sogently and smoothly diabolical, that I could not take my eyes from theopening.

  “Isn’t he splendid?” said my host, enthusiastically.

  “Glorious! I never saw such a noble creature.”

  “Some people call it a black puma, but really it is not a puma at all.That fellow is nearly eleven feet from tail to tip. Four years ago hewas a little ball of black fluff, with two yellow eyes staring out ofit. He was sold me as a new-born cub up in the wild country at thehead-waters of the Rio Negro. They speared his mother to death after shehad killed a dozen of them.”

  “They are ferocious, then?”

  “The most absolutely treacherous and blood-thirsty creatures upon earth.You talk about a Brazilian cat to an up-country Indian, and see him getthe jumps. They prefer humans to game. This fellow has never tastedliving blood yet, but when he does he will be a terror. At present hewon’t stand any one but me in his den. Even Baldwin, the groom, dare notgo near him. As to me, I am his mother and father in one.”

  As he spoke he suddenly, to my astonishment, opened the door and slippedin, closing it instantly behind him. At the sound of his voice the huge,lithe creature rose, yawned, and rubbed its round, black headaffectionately against his side, while he patted and fondled it.

  “Now, Tommy, into your cage!” said he.

  The monstrous cat walked over to one side of the room and coiled itselfup under a grating. Everard King came out, and taking the iron handlewhich I have mentioned, he began to turn it. As he did so the line ofbars in the corridor began to pass through a slot in the wall and closedup the front of this grating, so as to make an effective cage. When itwas in position he opened the door once more and invited me into theroom, which was heavy with the pungent, musty smell peculiar to thegreat carnivora.

  “That’s how we work it,” said he. “We give him the run of the room forexercise, and then at night we put him in his cage. You can let him outby turning the handle from the passage, or you can, as you have seen,coop him up in the same way. No, no, you should not do that!”

  I had put my hand between the bars to pat the glossy, heaving flank. Hepulled it back, with a serious face.

  “I assure you that he is not safe. Don’t imagine that because I can takeliberties with him any one else can. He is very exclusive in hisfriends—aren’t you, Tommy? Ah, he hears his lunch coming to him! Don’tyou, boy?”

  A step sounded in the stone-flagged passage, and the creature had sprungto his feet, and was pacing up and down the narrow cage, his yellow eyesgleaming, and his scarlet tongue rippling and quivering over the whiteline of his jagged teeth. A groom entered with a coarse joint upon atray, and thrust it through the bars to him. He pounced lightly upon it,carried it off to the corner, and there, holding it between his paws,tore and wrenched at it, raising his bloody muzzle every now and then tolook at us. It was a malignant and yet fascinating sight.

  “You can’t wonder that I am fond of him, can you?” said my host, as weleft the room, “especially when you consider that I have had the rearingof him. It was no joke bringing him over from the centre of SouthAmerica; but here he is safe and sound—and, as I have said, far the mostperfect specimen in Europe. The people at the Zoo are dying to have him,but I really can’t part with him. How, I think that I have inflicted myhobby upon you long enough, so we cannot do better than follow Tommy’sexample, and go to our lunch.”

  My South American relative was so engrossed by his grounds and theircurious occupants, that I hardly gave him credit at first for having anyinterests outside them. That he had some, and pressing ones, was soonborne in upon me by the number of telegrams which he received. Theyarrived at all hours, and were always opened by him with the utmosteagerness and anxiety upon his face. Sometimes I imagined that it mustbe the turf, and sometimes the Stock Exchange, but certainly he had somevery urgent business going forwards which was not transacted upon theDowns of Suffolk. During the six days of my visit he had never fewerthan three or four telegrams a day, and sometimes as many as seven oreight.

  I had occupied these six days so well, that by the end of them I hadsucceeded in getting upon the most cordial terms with my cousin. Everynight we had sat up late in the billiard-room, he telling me the mostextraordinary stories of his adventures in America—stories so desperateand reckless, that I could hardly associate them with the brown little,chubby man before me. In return, I ventured upon some of my ownreminiscences of London life, which interested him so much, that hevowed he would come up to Grosvenor Mansions and stay with me. He wasanxious to see the faster side of city life, and certainly, though I sayit, he could not have chosen a more competent guide. It was not untilthe last day of my visit that I ventured to approach that which was onmy mind. I told him frankly about my pecuniary difficulties and myimpending ruin, and I asked his advice—though I hoped for something moresolid. He listened attentively, puffing hard at his cigar.

  “But surely,” said he, “you are the heir of our relative, LordSoutherton?”

  “I have every reason to believe so, but he would never make me anyallowance.”

  “No, no, I have heard of his miserly ways. My poor Marshall, yourposition has been a very hard one. By the way, have you heard any newsof Lord Southerton’s health lately?”

  “He has always been in a critical condition ever since my childhood.”

  “Exactly—a creaking hinge,
if ever there was one. Your inheritance maybe a long way off. Dear me, how awkwardly situated you are!”

  “I had some hopes, sir, that you, knowing all the facts, might beinclined to advance——”

  “Don’t say another word, my dear boy,” he cried, with the utmostcordiality; “we shall talk it over to-night, and I give you my word thatwhatever is in my power shall be done.”

  I was not sorry that my visit was drawing to a close, for it isunpleasant to feel that there is one person in the house who eagerlydesires your departure. Mrs. King’s sallow face and forbidding eyes hadbecome more and more hateful to me. She was no longer actively rude—herfear of her husband prevented her—but she pushed her insane jealousy tothe extent of ignoring me, never addressing me, and in every way makingmy stay at Greylands as uncomfortable as she could. So offensive was hermanner during that last day, that I should certainly have left had itnot been for that interview with my host in the evening which would, Ihoped, retrieve my broken fortunes.

  It was very late when it occurred, for my relative, who had beenreceiving even more telegrams than usual during the day, went off to hisstudy after dinner, and only emerged when the household had retired tobed. I heard him go round locking the doors, as his custom was of anight, and finally he joined me in the billiard-room. His stout figurewas wrapped in a dressing-gown, and he wore a pair of red Turkishslippers without any heels. Settling down into an arm-chair, he brewedhimself a glass of grog, in which I could not help noticing that thewhisky considerably predominated over the water.

  “My word!” said he, “what a night!”

  It was, indeed. The wind was howling and screaming round the house, andthe latticed windows rattled and shook as if they were coming in. Theglow of the yellow lamps and the flavour of our cigars seemed thebrighter and more fragrant for the contrast.

  “Now, my boy,” said my host, “we have the house and the night toourselves. Let me have an idea of how your affairs stand, and I will seewhat can be done to set them in order. I wish to hear every detail.”

  Thus encouraged, I entered into a long exposition, in which all mytradesmen and creditors, from my landlord to my valet, figured in turn.I had notes in my pocket-book, and I marshalled my facts, and gave, Iflatter myself, a very business-like statement of my ownun-business-like ways and lamentable position. I was depressed, however,to notice that my companion’s eyes were vacant and his attentionelsewhere. When he did occasionally throw out a remark, it was soentirely perfunctory and pointless, that I was sure he had not in theleast followed my remarks. Every now and then he roused himself and puton some show of interest, asking me to repeat or to explain more fully,but it was always to sink once more into the same brown study. At lasthe rose and threw the end of his cigar into the grate.

  “I’ll tell you what, my boy,” said he. “I never had a head for figures,so you will excuse me. You must jot it all down upon paper, and let mehave a note of the amount. I’ll understand it when I see it in black andwhite.”

  The proposal was encouraging. I promised to do so.

  “And now it’s time we were in bed. By Jove, there’s one o’clock strikingin the hall.”

  The tinging of the chiming clock broke through the deep roar of thegale. The wind was sweeping past with the rush of a great river.

  “I must see my cat before I go to bed,” said my host. “A high windexcites him. Will you come?”

  “Certainly,” said I.

  “Then tread softly and don’t speak, for every one is asleep.”

  We passed quietly down the lamp-lit Persian-rugged hall, and through thedoor at the farther end. All was dark in the stone corridor, but astable lantern hung on a hook, and my host took it down and lit it.There was no grating visible in the passage, so I knew that the beastwas in its cage.

  “Come in!” said my relative, and opened the door.

  A deep growling as we entered showed that the storm had really excitedthe creature. In the flickering light of the lantern, we saw it, a hugeblack mass, coiled in the corner of its den and throwing a squat,uncouth shadow upon the whitewashed wall. Its tail switched angrilyamong the straw.

  “Poor Tommy is not in the best of tempers,” said Everard King, holdingup the lantern and looking in at him. “What a black devil he looks,doesn’t he? I must give him a little supper to put him in a betterhumour. Would you mind holding the lantern for a moment?”

  I took it from his hand and he stepped to the door.

  “His larder is just outside here,” said he. “You will excuse me for aninstant, won’t you?” He passed out, and the door shut with a sharpmetallic click behind him.

  That hard crisp sound made my heart stand still. A sudden wave of terrorpassed over me. A vague perception of some monstrous treachery turned mecold. I sprang to the door, but there was no handle upon the inner side.

  “Here!” I cried. “Let me out!”

  “All right! Don’t make a row!” said my host from the passage. “You’vegot the light all right.”

  “Yes, but I don’t care about being locked in alone like this.”

  “Don’t you?” I heard his hearty, chuckling laugh. “You won’t be alonelong.”

  “Let me out, sir!” I repeated angrily. “I tell you I don’t allowpractical jokes of this sort.”

  “Practical is the word,” said he, with another hateful chuckle. And thensuddenly I heard, amidst the roar of the storm, the creak and whine ofthe winch-handle turning, and the rattle of the grating as it passedthrough the slot. Great God, he was letting loose the Brazilian cat!

  In the light of the lantern I saw the bars sliding slowly before me.Already there was an opening a foot wide at the farther end. With ascream I seized the last bar with my hands and pulled with the strengthof a madman. I _was_ a madman with rage and horror. For a minute or moreI held the thing motionless. I knew that he was straining with all hisforce upon the handle, and that the leverage was sure to overcome me. Igave inch by inch, my feet sliding along the stones, and all the time Ibegged and prayed this inhuman monster to save me from this horribledeath. I conjured him by his kinship. I reminded him that I was hisguest; I begged to know what harm I had ever done him. His only answerswere the tugs and jerks upon the handle, each of which, in spite of allmy struggles, pulled another bar through the opening. Clinging andclutching, I was dragged across the whole front of the cage, until atlast, with aching wrists and lacerated fingers, I gave up the hopelessstruggle. The grating clanged back as I released it, and an instantlater I heard the shuffle of the Turkish slippers in the passage, andthe slam of the distant door. Then everything was silent.

  The creature had never moved during this time. He lay still in thecorner, and his tail had ceased switching. This apparition of a manadhering to his bars and dragged screaming across him had apparentlyfilled him with amazement. I saw his great eyes staring steadily at me.I had dropped the lantern when I seized the bars, but it still burnedupon the floor, and I made a movement to grasp it, with some idea thatits light might protect me. But the instant I moved, the beast gave adeep and menacing growl. I stopped and stood still, quivering with fearin every limb. The cat (if one may call so fearful a creature by sohomely a name) was not more than ten feet from me. The eyes glimmeredlike two discs of phosphorus in the darkness. They appalled and yetfascinated me. I could not take my own eyes from them. Nature playsstrange tricks with us at such moments of intensity, and thoseglimmering lights waxed and waned with a steady rise and fall. Sometimesthey seemed to be tiny points of extreme brilliancy—little electricsparks in the black obscurity—then they would widen and widen until allthat corner of the room was filled with their shifting and sinisterlight. And then suddenly they went out altogether.

  The beast had closed its eyes. I do not know whether there may be anytruth in the old idea of the dominance of the human gaze, or whether thehuge cat was simply drowsy, but the fact remains that, far from showingany symptom of attacking me, it simply rested its sleek, black head uponits huge
forepaws and seemed to sleep. I stood, fearing to move lest Ishould rouse it into malignant life once more. But at least I was ableto think clearly now that the baleful eyes were off me. Here I was shutup for the night with the ferocious beast. My own instincts, to saynothing of the words of the plausible villain who laid this trap for me,warned me that the animal was as savage as its master. How could I staveit off until morning? The door was hopeless, and so were the narrow,barred windows. There was no shelter anywhere in the bare, stone-flaggedroom. To cry for assistance was absurd. I knew that this den was anouthouse, and that the corridor which connected it with the house was atleast a hundred feet long. Besides, with that gale thundering outside,my cries were not likely to be heard. I had only my own courage and myown wits to trust to.

  And then, with a fresh wave of horror, my eyes fell upon the lantern.The candle had burned low, and was already beginning to gutter. In tenminutes it would be out. I had only ten minutes then in which to dosomething, for I felt that if I were once left in the dark with thatfearful beast I should be incapable of action. The very thought of itparalyzed me. I cast my despairing eyes round this chamber of death, andthey rested upon one spot which seemed to promise I will not say safety,but less immediate and imminent danger than the open floor.

  I have said that the cage had a top as well as a front, and this top wasleft standing when the front was wound through the slot in the wall. Itconsisted of bars at a few inches’ interval, with stout wire nettingbetween, and it rested upon a strong stanchion at each end. It stood nowas a great barred canopy over the crouching figure in the corner. Thespace between this iron shelf and the roof may have been from two tothree feet. If I could only get up there, squeezed in between bars andceiling, I should have only one vulnerable side. I should be safe frombelow, from behind, and from each side. Only on the open face of itcould I be attacked. There, it is true, I had no protection whatever;but, at least, I should be out of the brute’s path when he began to paceabout his den. He would have to come out of his way to reach me. It wasnow or never, for if once the light were out it would be impossible.With a gulp in my throat I sprang up, seized the iron edge of the top,and swung myself panting on to it. I writhed in face downwards, andfound myself looking straight into the terrible eyes and yawning jaws ofthe cat. Its fetid breath came up into my face like the steam from somefoul pot.

  It appeared, however, to be rather curious than angry. With a sleekripple of its long, black back it rose, stretched itself, and thenrearing itself on its hind legs, with one fore paw against the wall, itraised the other, and drew its claws across the wire meshes beneath me.One sharp, white hook tore through my trousers—for I may mention that Iwas still in evening dress—and dug a furrow in my knee. It was not meantas an attack, but rather as an experiment, for upon my giving a sharpcry of pain he dropped down again, and springing lightly into the room,he began walking swiftly round it, looking up every now and again in mydirection. For my part I shuffled backwards until I lay with my backagainst the wall, screwing myself into the smallest space possible. Thefarther I got the more difficult it was for him to attack me.

  He seemed more excited now that he had begun to move about, and he ranswiftly and noiselessly round and round the den, passing continuallyunderneath the iron couch upon which I lay. It was wonderful to see sogreat a bulk passing like a shadow, with hardly the softest thudding ofvelvety pads. The candle was burning low—so low that I could hardly seethe creature. And then, with a last flare and splutter it went outaltogether. I was alone with the cat in the dark!

  It helps one to face a danger when one knows that one has done all thatpossibly can be done. There is nothing for it then but to quietly awaitthe result. In this case, there was no chance of safety anywhere exceptthe precise spot where I was. I stretched myself out, therefore, and laysilently, almost breathlessly, hoping that the beast might forget mypresence if I did nothing to remind him. I reckoned that it must alreadybe two o’clock. At four it would be full dawn. I had not more than twohours to wait for daylight.

  Outside, the storm was still raging, and the rain lashed continuallyagainst the little windows. Inside, the poisonous and fetid air wasoverpowering. I could neither hear nor see the cat. I tried to thinkabout other things—but only one had power enough to draw my mind from myterrible position. That was the contemplation of my cousin’s villainy,his unparalleled hypocrisy, his malignant hatred of me. Beneath thatcheerful face there lurked the spirit of a mediæval assassin. And as Ithought of it I saw more clearly how cunningly the thing had beenarranged. He had apparently gone to bed with the others. No doubt he hadhis witnesses to prove it. Then, unknown to them, he had slipped down,had lured me into this den and abandoned me. His story would be sosimple. He had left me to finish my cigar in the billiard-room. I hadgone down on my own account to have a last look at the cat. I hadentered the room without observing that the cage was opened, and I hadbeen caught. How could such a crime be brought home to him? Suspicion,perhaps—but proof, never!

  How slowly those dreadful two hours went by! Once I heard a low, raspingsound, which I took to be the creature licking its own fur. Severaltimes those greenish eyes gleamed at me through the darkness, but neverin a fixed stare, and my hopes grew stronger that my presence had beenforgotten or ignored. At last the least faint glimmer of light camethrough the windows—I first dimly saw them as two grey squares upon theblack wall, then grey turned to white, and I could see my terriblecompanion once more. And he, alas, could see me!

  It was evident to me at once that he was in a much more dangerous andaggressive mood than when I had seen him last. The cold of the morninghad irritated him, and he was hungry as well. With a continual growl hepaced swiftly up and down the side of the room which was farthest frommy refuge, his whiskers bristling angrily, and his tail switching andlashing. As he turned at the corners his savage eyes always lookedupwards at me with a dreadful menace. I knew then that he meant to killme. Yet I found myself even at that moment admiring the sinuous grace ofthe devilish thing, its long, undulating, rippling movements, the glossof its beautiful flanks, the vivid, palpitating scarlet of theglistening tongue which hung from the jet-black muzzle. And all the timethat deep, threatening growl was rising and rising in an unbrokencrescendo. I knew that the crisis was at hand.

  It was a miserable hour to meet such a death—so cold, so comfortless,shivering in my light dress clothes upon this gridiron of torment uponwhich I was stretched. I tried to brace myself to it, to raise my soulabove it, and at the same time, with the lucidity which comes to aperfectly desperate man, I cast round for some possible means of escape.One thing was clear to me. If that front of the cage was only back inits position once more, I could find a sure refuge behind it. Could Ipossibly pull it back? I hardly dared to move for fear of bringing thecreature upon me. Slowly, very slowly, I put my hand forward until itgrasped the edge of the front, the final bar which protruded through thewall. To my surprise it came quite easily to my jerk. Of course thedifficulty of drawing it out arose from the fact that I was clinging toit. I pulled again, and three inches of it came through. It ranapparently on wheels. I pulled again ... and then the cat sprang!

  It was so quick, so sudden, that I never saw it happen. I simply heardthe savage snarl, and in an instant afterwards the blazing yellow eyes,the flattened black head with its red tongue and flashing teeth, werewithin reach of me. The impact of the creature shook the bars upon whichI lay, until I thought (as far as I could think of anything at such amoment) that they were coming down. The cat swayed there for an instant,the head and front paws quite close to me, the hind paws clawing to finda grip upon the edge of the grating. I heard the claws rasping as theyclung to the wire netting, and the breath of the beast made me sick. Butits bound had been miscalculated. It could not retain its position.Slowly, grinning with rage and scratching madly at the bars, it swungbackwards and dropped heavily upon the floor. With a growl it instantlyfaced round to me and crouched for another spring.

  I knew that the ne
xt few moments would decide my fate. The creature hadlearned by experience. It would not miscalculate again. I must actpromptly, fearlessly, if I were to have a chance for life. In an instantI had formed my plan. Pulling off my dress-coat, I threw it down overthe head of the beast. At the same moment I dropped over the edge,seized the end of the front grating, and pulled it frantically out ofthe wall.

  It came more easily than I could have expected. I rushed across theroom, bearing it with me; but, as I rushed, the accident of my positionput me upon the outer side. Had it been the other way, I might have comeoff scathless. As it was, there was a moment’s pause as I stopped it andtried to pass in through the opening which I had left. That moment wasenough to give time to the creature to toss off the coat with which Ihad blinded him and to spring upon me. I hurled myself through the gapand pulled the rails to behind me, but he seized my leg before I couldentirely withdraw it. One stroke of that huge paw tore off my calf as ashaving of wood curls off before a plane. The next moment, bleeding andfainting, I was lying among the foul straw with a line of friendly barsbetween me and the creature which ramped so frantically against them.

  Too wounded to move, and too faint to be conscious of fear, I could onlylie, more dead than alive, and watch it. It pressed its broad, blackchest against the bars and angled for me with its crooked paws as I haveseen a kitten do before a mouse-trap. It ripped my clothes, but, stretchas it would, it could not quite reach me. I have heard of the curiousnumbing effect produced by wounds from the great carnivora, and now Iwas destined to experience it, for I had lost all sense of personality,and was as interested in the cat’s failure or success as if it were somegame which I was watching. And then gradually my mind drifted away intostrange, vague dreams, always with that black face and red tongue comingback into them, and so I lost myself in the nirvana of delirium, theblessed relief of those who are too sorely tried.

  Tracing the course of events afterwards, I conclude that I must havebeen insensible for about two hours. What roused me to consciousnessonce more was that sharp metallic click which had been the precursor ofmy terrible experience. It was the shooting back of the spring lock.Then, before my senses were clear enough to entirely apprehend what theysaw, I was aware of the round, benevolent face of my cousin peering inthrough the opened door. What he saw evidently amazed him. There was thecat crouching on the floor. I was stretched upon my back in myshirtsleeves within the cage, my trousers torn to ribbons and a greatpool of blood all round me. I can see his amazed face now, with themorning sunlight upon it. He peered at me, and peered again. Then heclosed the door behind him, and advanced to the cage to see if I werereally dead.

  I cannot undertake to say what happened. I was not in a fit state towitness or to chronicle such events. I can only say that I was suddenlyconscious that his face was away from me—that he was looking towards theanimal.

  “Good old Tommy!” he cried. “Good old Tommy!”

  Then he came near the bars, with his back still towards me.

  “Down, you stupid beast!” he roared. “Down, sir! Don’t you know yourmaster?”

  Suddenly even in my bemuddled brain a remembrance came of those words ofhis when he had said that the taste of blood would turn the cat into afiend. My blood had done it, but he was to pay the price.

  “Get away!” he screamed. “Get away, you devil! Baldwin! Baldwin! Oh, myGod!”

  And then I heard him fall, and rise, and fall again, with a sound likethe ripping of sacking. His screams grew fainter until they were lost inthe worrying snarl. And then, after I thought that he was dead, I saw,as in a nightmare, a blinded, tattered, blood-soaked figure runningwildly round the room—and that was the last glimpse which I had of himbefore I fainted once again.

  * * * * *

  I was many months in my recovery—in fact, I cannot say that I have everrecovered, for to the end of my days I shall carry a stick as a sign ofmy night with the Brazilian cat. Baldwin, the groom, and the otherservants could not tell what had occurred when, drawn by the death criesof their master, they found me behind the bars, and his remains—or whatthey afterwards discovered to be his remains—in the clutch of thecreature which he had reared. They stalled him off with hot irons, andafterwards shot him through the loophole of the door before they couldfinally extricate me. I was carried to my bedroom, and there, under theroof of my would-be murderer, I remained between life and death forseveral weeks. They had sent for a surgeon from Clipton and a nurse fromLondon, and in a month I was able to be carried to the station, and soconveyed back once more to Grosvenor Mansions.

  I have one remembrance of that illness, which might have been part ofthe ever-changing panorama conjured up by a delirious brain were it notso definitely fixed in my memory. One night, when the nurse was absent,the door of my chamber opened, and a tall woman in blackest mourningslipped into the room. She came across to me, and as she bent her sallowface I saw by the faint gleam of the night-light that it was theBrazilian woman whom my cousin had married. She stared intently into myface, and her expression was more kindly than I had ever seen it.

  “Are you conscious?” she asked.

  I feebly nodded—for I was still very weak.

  “Well, then, I only wished to say to you that you have yourself toblame. Did I not do all I could for you? From the beginning I tried todrive you from the house. By every means, short of betraying my husband,I tried to save you from him. I knew that he had a reason for bringingyou here. I knew that he would never let you get away again. No one knewhim as I knew him, who had suffered from him so often. I did not dare totell you all this. He would have killed me. But I did my best for you.As things have turned out, you have been the best friend that I haveever had. You have set me free, and I fancied that nothing but deathwould do that. I am sorry if you are hurt, but I cannot reproach myself.I told you that you were a fool—and a fool you have been.” She crept outof the room, the bitter, singular woman, and I was never destined to seeher again. With what remained from her husband’s property she went backto her native land, and I have heard that she afterwards took the veilat Pernambuco.

  It was not until I had been back in London for some time that thedoctors pronounced me to be well enough to do business. It was not avery welcome permission to me, for I feared that it would be the signalfor an inrush of creditors; but it was Summers, my lawyer, who firsttook advantage of it.

  “I am very glad to see that your lordship is so much better,” said he.“I have been waiting a long time to offer my congratulations.”

  “What do you mean, Summers? This is no time for joking.”

  “I mean what I say,” he answered. “You have been Lord Southerton for thelast six weeks, but we feared that it would retard your recovery if youwere to learn it.”

  Lord Southerton! One of the richest peers in England! I could notbelieve my ears. And then suddenly I thought of the time which hadelapsed, and how it coincided with my injuries.

  “Then Lord Southerton must have died about the same time that I washurt?”

  “His death occurred upon that very day.” Summers looked hard at me as Ispoke, and I am convinced—for he was a very shrewd fellow—that he hadguessed the true state of the case. He paused for a moment as ifawaiting a confidence from me, but I could not see what was to be gainedby exposing such a family scandal.

  “Yes, a very curious coincidence,” he continued, with the same knowinglook. “Of course, you are aware that your cousin Everard King was thenext heir to the estates. Now, if it had been you instead of him who hadbeen torn to pieces by this tiger, or whatever it was, then of course hewould have been Lord Southerton at the present moment.”

  “No doubt,” said I.

  “And he took such an interest in it,” said Summers. “I happen to knowthat the late Lord Southerton’s valet was in his pay, and that he usedto have telegrams from him every few hours to tell him how he wasgetting on. That would be about the time when you were down there. Wasit not strange that he should wish to be s
o well informed, since he knewthat he was not the direct heir?”

  “Very strange,” said I. “And now, Summers, if you will bring me my billsand a new cheque-book, we will begin to get things into order.”