“Why, you’re scaring the poogie,” she cried, with a laugh. “Look. It has gone under the table.”
The little black kitten had dived under the table, and thence now began to emit a series of growls. Melian was puzzled.
“What’s the matter with it?” she said. “Oh, I suppose it hears another poogie out in front, and resents it. But it’s generally so placid, even then.”
But to Mervyn’s mind came an uncomfortable chill. He had known just such a demonstration before, but on one occasion only. And now it was behaving in exactly the same way. Its shrill growlings even increased. Melian dived into the shadow to coax it out, then reappeared, holding the tiny creature aloft.
“Poogie. What’s the matter with you?” she cried. “Be quiet now, and go seeps again.”
But though it curled itself on her lap, it showed no intention of going to sleep. Instead, it lifted its little fluffy head and growled again, though not so furiously as it had done when alone.
“I do believe it’s afraid of something,” said the girl, wonderingly. “It must be something outside. Look. It’s staring towards the window.”
Mervyn could not for the life of him account for it, but that a cold shiver was running through his whole being, there could be no doubt. His back was to the window, the blinds were down and there was no draught. But right under this window, and against the wall, was the couch upon which the dead man had fallen asleep—never to wake again. And in this direction the kitten was now staring—and growling; growling just as it had growled on that night of the opening of the door. And, more marvellous still, a feeling was upon him that he dare not look round, dare not turn his head and follow the little creature’s set, unquiet glance—and that in the thoroughly warmed and now cheerful room. But Melian’s voice and movement broke the spell.
“What is it, poogie,” she was saying, advancing to the window, and incidentally to the couch. “Another poogie outside or a dog—Oh, you little beast!”
She had broken off suddenly, dropping the kitten on to the table, under which it promptly dived and crouched, growling again. For it had grown perfectly frantic as she was carrying it to the window and had struck its claws into her hand, drawing blood.