“Yes, I have it,” said Nowell, who had taken the telescope.
“Shall I shoot ’im, sir?”
“Why should you?”
“’E probably kills rats and makes life brighter-like for the ’Un, sir, by so doing. There’s a glut o’ rats on this sector, sir.”
“The cat looks very comfortable. No, don’t shoot, Saunders. Entworth, give me that log-book.”
The officer turned over the pages.
“I wonder if anyone has ever seen that cat before? Hullo, yes. Private Scroggins and Lance-Corporal Tew two days ago in the afternoon. Here’s the entry: ‘3.4 pip emma K.22.C.35.40. Cat on parados.’”
Nowell’s eyes showed a gleam of interest.
“Note down whenever you see that cat,” said he.
“Yes, sir.”