The cabman bent down from his seat, wheedling me.
‘Jump in, sir, and we’ll be getting along.’
I jumped in, and we got along,—but not far. Before we had gone a dozen yards, I was out again, without troubling the driver to stop. He pulled up, aggrieved.
‘Well, sir, what’s the matter now? You’ll be damaging yourself before you’ve done, and then you’ll be blaming me.’
I had caught sight of a cat crouching in the shadow of the railings,—a black one. That cat was my quarry. Either the creature was unusually sleepy, or slow, or stupid, or it had lost its wits—which a cat seldom does lose!—anyhow, without making an attempt to escape it allowed me to grab it by the nape of the neck.
So soon as we were inside my laboratory, I put the cat into my glass box. Percy stared.
‘What have you put it there for?’
‘That, my dear Percy, is what you are shortly about to see. You are about to be the witness of an experiment which, to a legislator—such as you are!—ought to be of the greatest possible interest. I am going to demonstrate, on a small scale, the action of the force which, on a large scale, I propose to employ on behalf of my native land.’
He showed no signs of being interested. Sinking into a chair, he recommenced his wearisome reiteration.
‘I hate cats!—Do let it go!—I’m always miserable when there’s a cat in the room.’