Michael regarded me gravely. “Well,” he said, “I’m just giving you the facts as I learned them. Of course, the whole thing is rather silly,” he added, “but you see the Captain was attached to Caliph on account of his wife and all, and should know his own cat.”
“Of course,” said Eve. “He didn’t have seven toes or anything like that?” she suggested hopefully.
“Not that I know of.”
“But look here!” I fairly bounced off my seat with the force of the idea that had come to me. “Why don’t they simply put it to the test. Get together, I mean, and each call the cat in turn. If he answers to Adam—why, then he’s ours, I mean Aunt Cal’s. But if he comes to Captain Trout——”
Michael shook his head. “No good,” he said. “As a matter of fact, the cat answers to any old name you happen to call him!”
VIII
A Scalp Lock
I confess I felt a little flat when Michael Gilpatrick said that. I had been so sure for the moment that I had hit on a brilliant solution of the problem that now I was inclined to wash my hands of so stupid a cat once and for all. But I remembered that Aunt Cal had particularly entrusted him to our care. “What,” I asked, “are we going to say to my aunt when she comes home and finds no Adam? She’s just as much attached to him as Captain Trout is to—to Caliph. Why, she might come back any minute now.”
As I spoke, I glanced over toward the house where it stood dark and silent beyond the hedge. Suddenly I saw something that made me jump up and grab Eve’s arm. “Why,” I cried, “I do believe she’s back already! Look! There’s a light upstairs in that window at the end!”
“What!” Eve and Michael were at my side. For a minute, as we all stood there, everything was in darkness. Then there came again the faint flicker of light that I had seen at the upper window. “Looks like a flashlight,” said Michael. “Or maybe a candle.”