Our patient was still in the same condition. This time I made a thorough examination and was able to study him
more closely than the night before. At my suggestion it was
arranged that he should spend as much time with the family
as possible. I hoped not only to have a better opportunity
of observing him when he was off his guard, but that the
172 Agatha Christie
ordinary everyday routine might awaken some gleam of
intelligence. His demeanour, however, remained unchanged.
He was quiet and docile, seemed vacant, but was,
in point of fact, intensely and rather slyly watchful. One
thing certainly came as a surprise to me--the intense affection
he displayed towards his stepmother. Miss Patterson
he ignored completely, but he always managed to sit as near
Lady Carmichael as possible, and once I saw him rub his
head against her shoulder in a dumb expression of love.
I was worried about the case. I could not but feel that
there was some clue to the whole matter which had so far
escaped me.
"This is a very strange case," I said to Settle.
"Yes," said he, "it's very--suggestive."
He looked at me--rather furtively, I thought.
"Tell me," he said. "He doesn't--remind you of anything?"
The words struck me disagreeably, reminding me of my
impression of the day before.
"Remind me of what?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Perhaps it's my fancy," he muttered. "Just my fancy."
And he would say no more on the matter.
Altogether there was mystery shrouding the affair. I was
still obsessed with that baffling feeling of having missed
the clue that should elucidate it to me. And concerning a
lesser matter there was also mystery. I mean that trifling
affair of the grey cat. For some reason or other the thing
was getting on my nerves. I dreamed of cats--I continually
fancied I heard them. Now and then in the distance I caught
a glimpse of the beautiful animal. And the fact that there
was some mystery connected with it fretted me unbearably.
On a sudden impulse I applied one afternoon to the footman
for information.
"Can you tell me anything," I said, "about the cat I see?"
"The cat, sir?" He appeared politely surprised.
"Wasn't there--isn't there--a cat?"
"Her ladyship had a cat sir. A great pet. Had to be put
away though. A great pity, as it was a beautiful animal."
"A grey cat?" I asked slowly.
"Yes, sir. A Persian."
THE STRANGE CASE OF SIR ARTHUR CARMICIAI 173
"And you say it was destroyed?"
·
"Yes, sir."
"You're quite sure it was destroyed?"
"Oh, quite sure, sir! Her ladyship wouldn't have him
sent to the vet--but did it herself. A little less than a week
ago now. He's buried out there under the copper beech,
sir." And he went out of the room, leaving me to my meditations.
Why had Lady Carmichael affirmed so positively that
she had never had a cat?
I felt an intuition that this trifling affair of the cat was
in some way significant. I found Settle and took him aside.
"Settle," I said, "I want to ask you a question. Have
you, or have you not, both seen and heard a cat in this
house?"
He did not seem surprised at the question. Rather did he
seem to have been expecting it.
"I've heard it," he said. "I've not seen it."
"But that first day," I cried. "On the lawn with Miss
Patterson I"
He looked at me very steadily.
"I saw Miss Patterson walking across the lawn. Nothing
else."
I began to understand. "Then," I said, "the cat--?"
He nodded.
"I wanted to see if you--unprejudiced--would bear what
we all hear...?"
"You all hear it then?"
He nodded again.
"It's strange," I murmured thoughtfully. "I never heard
of a cat haunting a place before."
I told him what I had learned from the footman, and he
expressed surprise.
"That's news to me. I didn't know that."
"But what does it mean?" I asked helplessly.
He shook his head. "Heaven only knows! But I'll tell
you, Carstairs--I'm afraid. The--thing's voice sounds--menacing."
"Menacing?" I said sharply. "To whom?"
He spread out his hands. "I can't say."
It was not till that evening after dinner that I realized the
174
Agatha Christie
meaning of his words. We were sitting in the green drawing room, as on the night of my arrival, when it came--the
lOud insistent miawing of a cat outside the door. But this
time it was unmistakably angry in its tone--a fierce cat
yowl, long-drawn and menacing. And then as it ceased, the
brass hook outside the door was rattled violently as by a
cat's paw.
Settle started up.
"I swear that's real," he cried.
He rushed to the door and flung it open.
There was nothing there.
He came back mopping his brow. Phyllis was pale and trembling, Lady Carmichael deathly white. Only Arthur,
squatting contentedly like a child, his head against his stepmother's
knee, was calm and undisturbed.
Miss Patterson laid her hand on my arm as we went upstairs.
"Oh! Dr. Carstairs," she cried. "What is it? What does it all mean?"
"We don't know yet, my dear young lady," I said. "But I mean to find out. But you mustn't be afraid. I am convinced
there is no danger to you personally."
She looked at me doubtfully. "You think that?"
"I am sure of it," I answered firmly. I remembered the loving way the grey cat had twined itself round her feet,
and I had no misgivings. The menace was not for her.
I was some time dropping off to sleep, but at length I fell into an uneasy slumber from which I awoke with a sense
of shock. I heard a scratching, sputtering noise as of something
being violently ripped or torn. I sprang out of bed and
rushed out into the passage. At the same moment Settle
burst out of his room opposite. The sound came from our
left.
"You hear it, Carstairs?" he cried. "You hear it?"
We came swiftly up to Lady Carmichael's door. Nothing had passed us, but the noise had ceased. Our candles glittered
blankly on the shiny panels of Lady Carmichael's door.
We stared at one another.
"You know what it was?" he half whispered.
I nodded. "A cat's claws ripping and tearing something."
I
THE STRANGE CASE OF SIR ARTHUR CARMICHAEL 175
I shivered a little. Suddenly I gave an exclamation and
lowered the candle I held.
"Look here, Settle."
"Here" was a chair that rested against the wail--and the seat of it was ripped and torn in long strips ....
We examined it closely. He looked at me and I nodded.
"Cat's claws," he said, drawing in his breath sharply.
"Unmistakable." His eyes went from the chair to the closed
door. "That's the person who is menaced. Lady Carmichael!"
I slept no more that night. Things had come to a pass
where something must be done.
As far as I knew, there was
only one person who had the key to the situation. I suspected
Lady Carmichael of knowing more than she chose to tell.
She was deathly pale when she came down the next
morning, and only toyed with the food on her plate. I was
sure that only an iron determination kept her from breaking
down. After breakfast I requested a few words with her. I
went straight to the point.
"Lady Carmichael," I said. "I have reason to believe that
you are in very grave danger."
"Indeed?" She braved it out with wonderful unconcern.
"There is in this house," I continued, "a Thing--a Pres-ence--that
is obviously hostile to you."
"What nonsense," she murmured scornfully. "As if I
believed in any rubbish of that kind."
"The chair outside your door," I remarked dryly, "was
ripped to ribbons last night."
"Indeed?" With raised eyebrows she pretended surprise,
but I saw that I had told her nothing she did not know.
"Some stupid practical joke, I suppose."
"It was not that," I replied with some feeling. "And I
want you to tell me--for your own sake--" I paused.
"Tell you what?" she queried.
"Anything that can throw light on the matter," I said
gravely.
She laughed.
"I know nothing," she said. "Absolutely nothing."
And no warnings of danger could induce her to relax the
statement. Yet I was convinced that she did know a great
176
Agatha Christie
deal more than any of us, and held some clue to the affair of which we were absolutely ignorant. But I saw that it was
quite impossible to make her speak.
I determined, however, to take every precaution that I could, convinced as I was that she was menaced by a very
real and immediate danger. Before she went to her room
the following night, Settle and I made a thorough examination
of it. We had agreed that we would take it in turns
to watch in the passage.
I took the first watch, which passed without incident, and at three o'clock Settle relieved me. I was tired after my
sleepless night the day before, and dropped off at once.
And I had a very curious dream.
I dreamed that the grey cat was fitting at the foot of my bed and that its eyes were fixed on mine with a curious
pleading. Then, with the ease of dreams, I knew that the
creature wanted me to follow it. I did so, and it led me
down the great staircase and right to the opposite wing of
the house to a room which was obviously the library. It
paused there at one side of the room and raised its front
paws till they rested on one of the lower shelves of books,
while it gazed at me once more with that same moving look
of appeal.
Then--cat and library faded, and I awoke to find that morning had come.
Settle's watch had passed without incident, but he was keenly interested to hear of my dream. At my request he
took me to the library, which coincided in every particular
with my vision of it. I could even point out the exact spot
where the animal had given me that last sad look.
We both stood there in silent perplexity. Suddenly an idea occurred to me, and I stooped to read the titles of the
books'in that exact place. I noticed that there was a gap in
the line.
"Some book had been taken out of here," I said to Settle. He stooped also to the shelf.
"Hallo," he said. "There's a nail at the back here that has torn off a fragment of the missing volume."
He detached the little scrap of paper with care. It was not more than an inch square--but on it were printed two
significant words: "The cat .... "
STaXrm CAS OF sin agrHtaAm 177
We looked at each other.
"This thing gives me the creeps," said Settle. 'It's simply horribly uncanny."
"I'd give anything to know," I Said, "what book it is
that is missing from here. Do you think there is any way
of finding out?"
"May be a catalogue somewhere. Perhaps Lady Carmichaelm"
I shook my head.
"Lady Carmichael will tell you nothing."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it. While we are guessing and feeling about
in the dark, Lady Carmichael knows. And for reasons of
her own she will say nothing. She prefers to run a most
horrible risk sooner than break silence."
The day passed with an uneventfulness that reminded me
of the calm before a storm. And I had a strange feeling that
the problem was near solution. I was groping about in the
dark, but soon I should see. The facts were all there, ready,
waiting for the little flash of illumination that should weld
them together and show out their significance.
And come it did! In the strangest way!
It was when we were all sitting together in the green
drawing room as usual after dinner. We had been very silent.
So noiseless indeed was the room that a little mouse ran
across the floormand in an instant the thing happened.
With one long spring Arthur Carmichael leapt from hi,
chair. His quivering body was swift as an arrow on th
mouse's track. It had disappeared behind the wainscoting
and there he crouched--watchful--his body still trembling
with eagerness.
It was horrible! I have never known such a paralyzinl
moment. I was no longer puzzled as to that something th,
Arthur Carmichael reminded me of with his stealthy fee
and watching eyes. And in a flash an explanation, wil
incredible, unbelievable, swept into my mind. I rejected
as impossible--unthinkable! But I could not dismiss it fro
my thoughts.
I hardly remember what happened next. The whole thin
seemed blurred and unreal. I know that somehow we g
upstairs and said our good nights briefly, almost with
178
Agatha Christie
dread of meeting each other's eyes, lest we should see there
some confirmation of our own fears.
Settle established himself outside Lady Carmichael's door
to take the first watch, arranging to call me at 3 A.M. I had
no special fears for Lady Carmichael; I was too taken up
with my fantastic impossible theory. I told myself it was
impossible--but my mind returned to it, fascinated.
And then suddenly the stillness of the night was disturbed.
Settle's voice rose in a shout, calling me. I rushed
out into the corridor.
He was hammering and pounding with all his might on
Lady Carmichael's door.
"Devil take the woman!" he cried. "She's locked it!"
"But--"
"It's in there, man! Can't you hear it?"
From behind the locked door a long-drawn cat yowl
sounded fiercely. And then following t a horrible scream--and
another .... I recognized Lady Carmichael's voice.
"The door!" I yelled. "We must break it in. In another
minute we shall be too late."
We set our shoulders against it, and heaved with all our
might. It gave with a crash--and we almost fell into the
room.
Lady Carmichael lay on the bed bathed in blood. I have
seldom seen a more horrib
le sight. Her heart was still beating,
but her injuries were terrible, for the skin of the throat
was all ripped and torn Shuddering,
I whispered: "The
Claws..."
A thrill of superstitious horror ran over me.
I
dressed and bandaged the wounds carefully and sug
gested
to Settle that the exact nature of the injuries had
better
be kept secret, especially from Miss Patterson. I wrote
out a
telegram for a hospital nurse to be despatched as soon
as the
telegraph office was open.
The dawn
was now stealing in at the window. I looked
out on
the lawn below.
"Get dressed
and come out," I said abruptly to Settle.
"Lady Carmichael
will be all right now."
He was
soon ready, and we went out into the garden
together.
"What
are
you going to do?"
THE STRA( CA OF SIR AmHOR CARCAEL 179
"Dig up the cat's body," I said briefly. "I must be sure--"
I found a spade in a tool shed and we set to work beneath the large copper beech tree. At last our digging was rewarded.
It was not a pleasant job. The animal had been
dead a week. But I saw what I wanted to see.
"That's the cat," I said. "The identical cat I saw the first day I came here."
Settle sniffed. An odour of bitter almonds was still perceptible.
"Prussic acid," he said.
I nodded.
"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.
"What you think, too!"
My surmise was no new one to him--it had passed through his brain also, I could see.
"It's impossible," he murmured. "Impossible! It's against all science--all nature .... "His voice tailed off in a shudder.
"That mouse last night," he said. "But--oh, it couldn't
be!"
"Lady Carmichael," I said, "is a very strange woman. She has occult powers--hypnotic powers. Her forebears
came from the East. Can we know what use she might have
made of these powers over a weak lovable nature such as
Arthur Carmichael's? And remember, Settle, if Arthur Car-michael
remains a hopeless imbecile, devoted to her, the