He had barely said the words before the housekeeper's large tabby
cat, taking its noonday siesta in the looped-up fold of the
curtain, leaped out and made for the door.

Lady Claudia was, naturally enough, a little perplexed by the
man's discovery of an animal completely hidden in the curtain.
She appeared to think that a person who was only a groom had
taken a liberty in presuming to puzzle her. Like her husband, she
spoke to Michael sharply.

"Did you see the cat?" she asked.

"No, my lady."

"Then how did you know the creature was in the curtain?"

For the first time since he had entered the room the groom looked
a little confused.

"It's a sort of presumption for a man in my position to be
subject to a nervous infirmity," he answered. "I am one of those
persons (the weakness is not uncommon, as your ladyship is aware)
who know by their own unpleasant sensations when a cat is in the
room. It goes a little further than that with me. The
'antipathy,' as the gentlefolks call it, tells me in what part of
the room the cat is."

My aunt turned to her husband, without attempting to conceal that
she took no sort of interest in the groom's antipathies.