``Would you like to go and see if cook has got your dinner
ready?''  suggested Lady Blemley hurriedly, affecting to
ignore the fact that it wanted at least two hours to
Tobermory's dinner-time.

  ``Thanks,'' said Tobermory, ``not quite so soon after my
tea.  I don't want to die of indigestion.''

  ``Cats have nine lives, you know,'' said Sir Wilfrid
heartily.

  ``Possibly'', answered Tobermory; ``but only one liver.''

  ``Adelaide!'' said Mrs. Cornett, ``do you mean to
encourage that cat to go out and gossip about us in the
servants' hall?''

  The panic had indeed become general.  A narrow ornamental
balustrade ran in front of most of the bedroom windows at
the Towers, and it was recalled with dismay that this had
formed a favourite promenade for Tobermory at all hours,
whence he could watch the pigeons---and heaven knew what
else besides.  If he intended to become reminiscent in his
present outspoken strain the effect would be something more
than disconcerting.  Mrs. Cornett, who spent much time at
her toilet table, and whose complexion was reputed to be of
a nomadic though punctual disposition, looked as ill at ease
as the Major.  Miss Scrawen, who wrote fiercely sensuous
poetry and led a blameless life, merely displayed
irritation; if you are methodical and virtuous in private
you don't necessarily want every one to know it.  Bertie van
Tahn, who was so depraved at seventeen that he had long ago
given up trying to be any worse, turned a dull shade of
gardenia white, but he did not commit the error of dashing
out of the room like Odo Finsberry, a young gentleman who
was understood to be reading for the Church and who was
possibly disturbed at the thought of scandals he might hear
concerning other people.  Clovis had the presence of mind to
maintain a composed exterior; privately he was calculating
how long it would take to procure a box of fancy mice
through the agency of the Exchange and Mart as a species of
hush-money.

  Even in a delicate situation like the present, Agnes
Resker could not endure to remain too long in the
background.

  ``Why did I ever come down here?'' she asked dramatically.

  Tobermory immediately accepted the opening.

  ``Judging by what you said to Mrs. Cornett on the
croquet-lawn yesterday, you were out for food.  You
described the Blemleys as the dullest people to stay with
that you knew, but said they were clever enough to employ a
first-rate cook; otherwise they'd find it difficult to get
any one to come down a second time.''

  ``There's not a word of truth in it! I appeal to Mrs.
Cornett---'' exclaimed the discomfited Agnes.

  ``Mrs. Cornett repeated your remark afterwards to Bertie
van Tahn,'' continued Tobermory, ``and said, `That woman is
a regular Hunger Marcher; she'd go anywhere for four square
meals a day,' and Bertie van Tahn said---''

  At this point the chronicle mercifully ceased.  Tobermory
had caught a glimpse of the big yellow Tom from the Rectory
working his way through the shrubbery towards the stable
wing. In a flash he had vanished through the open French
window.

  With the disappearance of his too brilliant pupil
Cornelius Appin found himself beset by a hurricane of bitter
upbraiding, anxious inquiry, and frightened entreaty.  The
responsibility for the situation lay with him, and he must
prevent matters from becoming worse.  Could Tobermory impart
his dangerous gift to other cats?  was the first question he
had to answer.  It was possible, he replied, that he might
have initiated his intimate friend the stable puss into his
new accomplishment, but it was unlikely that his teaching
could have taken a wider range as yet.

  ``Then,'' said Mrs. Cornett, ``Tobermory may be a valuable
cat and a great pet; but I'm sure you'll agree, Adelaide,
that both he and the stable cat must be done away with
without delay.''

  ``You don't suppose I've enjoyed the last quarter of an
hour, do you?'' said Lady Blemley bitterly. ``My husband and
I are very fond of Tobermory---at least, we were before this
horrible accomplishment was infused into him; but now, of
course, the only thing is to have him destroyed as soon as
possible.''

  ``We can put some strychnine in the scraps he always gets
at dinner-time,'' said Sir Wilfrid, ``and I will go and
drown the stable cat myself.  The coachman will be very sore
at losing his pet, but I'll say a very catching form of