"I am certain I heard
something--positively certain, Mulholland. And after that burglary at
the school house--"
He began to move towards the spot where Fenn lay crouching behind a
bush. Mr Mulholland followed, mildly amused. They were a dozen yards
away when Fenn, debating in his mind whether it would not be
better--as it would certainly be more dignified--for him to rise and
deliver himself up to justice instead of waiting to be discovered
wallowing in the damp grass behind a laurel bush, was aware of
something soft and furry pressing against his knuckles. A soft purring
sound reached his ears.
He knew at once who it was--Thomas Edward, the matron's cat, ever a
staunch friend of his. Many a time had they taken tea together in his
study in happier days. The friendly animal had sought him out in his
hiding-place, and was evidently trying to intimate that the best thing
they could do now would be to make a regular night of it.
Fenn, as I have said, liked and respected Thomas. In ordinary
circumstances he would not have spoken an unfriendly word to him. But
things were desperate now, and needed remedies to match.
Very softly he passed his hand down the delighted animal's back until
he reached his tail. Then, stifling with an effort all the finer
feelings which should have made such an act impossible, he
administered so vigorous a tweak to that appendage that Thomas, with
one frenzied yowl, sprang through the bush past the two masters and
vanished at full speed into the opposite hedge.
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