The Terror did his best to look incapable of deceit; and it was a very good best.
In some confusion Lady Ryehampton began to stammer: “Well, of c-c-c-course, if there’s a c-c-cats’ home—but Sir Maurice’s senseless interference—”
“Senseless interference! Do you call saving children from careless habits senseless interference?” cried Sir Maurice indignantly.
“You had no business to interfere without consulting me,” said Lady Ryehampton. Then, with a return of suspicion, she said: “But I want to see this cats’ home—now!”
“I’ll take you at once,” said the Terror quickly, and politely he opened the door.
They all went, Mrs. Dangerfield snatching a hooded cloak, Sir Maurice his hat and coat from pegs in the hall as they went through it. When they came into the paddock their ears became aware of a distant high-pitched din; and the farther they went down it the louder and more horrible grew the din.
Over the broad round face of Lady Ryehampton spread an expression of suspicious bewilderment; Mrs. Dangerfield’s beautiful eyes were wide open in an anxious wonder; the piquant face of Erebus was set in a defiant scowl; and Sir Maurice looked almost as anxious as Mrs. Dangerfield. Only the Terror was serene.
“Surely those brutes I brought haven’t got out of their cages,” said Sir Maurice.
“Oh, no; those must be visiting cats,” said the Terror calmly.
“Visiting cats?” said Lady Ryehampton and Sir Maurice together.