"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