have never seen in the eyes of any creature the sorrow I saw there.
That look brough a queer lump in my throat. I was sorry now for what I had done. If I could have recalled my act, I would have done so. But it was too late. The dead kitten lay out in the yard.
For a moment Toi Wah looked at me, and then the sorrow in her eyes gave way to the old look of suspicion and hate. And then, with a yowl like a wolf, she sprang out of the room.
As night came on, my fear increased. I dared not go to bed. I was uneasy, too, craven that I was, for fear my grandmother would suspect me. But, fortunately for me, she though the kitten had been stolen and never dreamed I had killed it.
I lingered until thé last moment before starting upstairs to bed. I studiously avoided looking at Toi Wah as I passed her on my way to the stairs.
I raced up the stairs and down the long passage to my bedroom, Hastily undressing, throwing my clothes here and there, I plunged into the very center of the bed and buried my head beneath the covers.
There I waited in shivering terror for the sound of padding footsteps. They never came. And then, because I was tired out by the lateness of the hour, and perhaps also stupefied by the lack of fresh air in my room, I slept.
Far in the night I heard the chimes from the church across the street, and opened my eyes, The moonlight was shining in from the window and I saw two fiery eyes glaring at me from a corner.
Was I in the clutches of a nightmare, engendered by my fears? Or had I, in my haste to get to bed, neglected to shut and lock my door? I do not know, but suddenly there was a jar to the bed as something leaped upon it from the floor.
I sat up, shivering with terror, and Toi Wah looked into my eyes and held them. In her mouth she held the bedraggled body of her kitten. She laid it softly down on the coverlet, never taking her eyes from mine.
Suddenly a soft glow, a sort of halo, shone around her, and then, as I am a living and an honorable man, Toi Wah spoke to me!
III.
She said—I could see her mouth move—"He that hath slain shall slay again. Then he that slayeth shall himself be slain.
"Yea, seventy times seven shall thy days be after my cycle is broken, Then, at this hour, shall I return that the thing may be accomplished after Lord Buddha’s law."
Then the voice ceased, the halo faded. I felt the bed rebound as she jumped to the floor, and there I heard the soft padding of her feet down the passageway.
I awoke with a shriek. My forehead was damp with sweat. My teeth were chattering. I looked and saw that my door was wide open. I leaped out of bed and turned on the light. Was it a hideous dream, a fearful nightmare?
I do not know. But, lying there on the coverlet, was the wet muddy body of Toi Wah’s kitten.
A live and famished man-eating tiger in the room could not have inspired me with greater terror. I dared not touch the cold dead thing. I dared not remain in the room with it.
I fled down the stairs, stumbling over furniture in the lower hall, until I reached the houseman’s room. Here I knocked and begged, with chattering teeth, to be allowed to remain on a couch in his room until morning, telling him I had been frightened by a dreadful dream.
Early the next morning I secretly took the dead kitten out in the garden and buried it deep, putting pile of stones over the grave; watching carefully for any glimpse of Toi Wah.
As I returned to the house, I met the old housekeeper, who stood with an anxious face at the kitchen door.
"Master Robert, no wonder that you could not sleep the morn! Your poor grandmother passed away in the night. It must have been after midnight, for I did not leave her until the stroke of eleven."
My heart leaped. Not for surprise or grief at my grandmother's death. That was a thing to be expected, and the cold aristocratic old lady had not loved me over much.
Nor was it for joy that she had left me rich, the last of an old race whose forbears went down to the sea in ships, bringing home the wealth of the world.
No! I thought only that Toi Wah and I were on equal ground at last! And that as soon as possible I would rid myself of the dread of her by day and my terror of her by night.
My inheritance would be a thing of little worth if I must spend anxious days and fear-haunted nights. Toi Wah must die, in order that I might know joyful days and sleep at night in peace.
The joyous blood throbbed in my head and hissed in my ears as I raced up to my room, got my leather collar and gloves and seized the great iron poker beside the fire-place.
I carried these up to the attic, a small, close room, dimly lighted by skylight. There were no openings here from which a cat could escape.
Then I descended to my grandmother’s room, Already the corpse candles had been lighted, I gave only a glance at the quiet, gaunt, aristocratic old face, dignified even in death.
I looked about in the flickering shadows thrown by the candles for Toi Wah. I did not see her. Could it be that she, sensing her danger, had fled?
My heart sank. I drew my breath sharply.
"The cat—Toi Wah?” I asked the housekeeper, who watched beside the dead. "Where is she?"
"Under the bed," she answered. "The poor creature is that distracted she would not eat, and had to be driven from your grandmother’s side in order that we might compose the body. She would not leave the room, but darted under the bed there, snarling and spitting. It’s afraid of her I am."
I got down on my hands and knees and peered under the bed, Crouched in the farthest corner was Toi Wah, and her great yellow eyes glared at me in terror and defiance.
"It’s afraid of her, I am, Master Robert," the housekeeper repeated. "Please take her away."
I was afraid of Toi Wah, too. So afraid of her that I could know no peace, nor happiness, if she lived. I was sure of that.
It is the coward who is dangerous. Fear kills always if it can, It never temporizes, nor is it ever merciful. Beware of him who fears you.
I crawled under the bed and seized her. She made no resistance, much to my surprise, but I could feel her body trembling through my gloves. As my hand closed over her, she made a little sound like a gasp—that was all.
I crawled out, and in the presence of the housekeeper, and the dead, I held her lovingly in my arms, calling her "poor kittie" and stroking her long yellow fur, while she lay passive, tremblingly passive, in my arms.
I deceived the housekeeper, who thought I was venting my grief for my grandmother's death by loving and caressing the object of the old lady’s affection. I did not deceive Toi Wah. She lay quietly in my arms, but it was the paralysis of terror; the nonresistant stupor of great fear. Her body never ceased trembling, and her eyes were lifeless and dull. She seemed to know her fate and had accepted the inevitable.
