"That whoever—or whatever—had entered my house during my short absence in the Park was more than interested in me."
"More than interested in you?"
"Was fond, or was becoming fond, of me."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Father. "Now I understand why you asked me just now whether I thought there was anything about you that might draw a human being or an animal irresistibly to you."
"Precisely. Since I came to this conclusion, Murchison, I will confess that my feeling of strong curiosity has become tinged with another feeling."
"Of fear?"
"No, of dislike, of irritation. No—not fear, not fear."
As Guildea repeated unnecessarily this asseveration he looked again towards the parrot's cage.
"What is there to be afraid of in such a matter?" he added. "I'm not a child to tremble before bogies."
In saying the last words he raised his voice sharply; then he walked quickly to the cage, and, with an abrupt movement, pulled the baize covering from it. Napoleon was disclosed, apparently dozing upon his perch with his head held slightly on one side. As the light reached him, he moved, ruffled the feathers about his neck, blinked his eyes, and began slowly to sidle to and fro, thrusting his head forward and drawing it back with an air of complacent, though rather unmeaning, energy. Guildea stood by the cage, looking at him closely, and indeed with an attention that was so intense as to be remarkable, almost unnatural.