“Safe?” queried Levi, raising his eyebrows.
The pawnbroker related his adventures with his visitors.
“I can’t understand that cat business,” said Levi when he had finished. “It’s quite farcical; he must have poisoned it.”
“He wasn’t near it,” said the pawnbroker, “it was at the other end of the counter.”
“Oh, hang it,” said Levi, the more irritably because he could not think of any solution to the mystery. “You don’t believe in occult powers and all that sort of thing. This is the neighborhood of the Commercial Road; time, nineteenth century. The thing’s got on your nerves. Keep your eyes open, and stay indoors; they can’t hurt you here. Why not tell the police?”
“I don’t want any questions,” said the pawnbroker.
“I mean, just tell them that one or two suspicious characters have been hanging round lately,” said the other. “If this precious couple see that they are watched they’ll probably bolt. There’s nothing like a uniform to scare that sort.”
“I won’t have anything to do with the police,” said the pawnbroker firmly.
“Well, let Bob sleep on the premises,” suggested his friend.
“I think I will to-morrow,” said the other. “I’ll have a bed fixed up for him.”