They proved to contain nothing of very great importance, and having smoked a final cigarette, I turned out the light in the dining-room and walked into the bedroom—­for the cottage was of bungalow pattern—­and, crossing the darkened room, stood looking out of the window.

It commanded a view of a little kitchen-garden and beyond of a high hedge, with glimpses of sentinel trees lining the main road.  The wind had dropped entirely, but clouds were racing across the sky at a tremendous speed so that the nearly full moon alternately appeared and disappeared, producing an ever-changing effect of light and shadow.  At one moment a moon-bathed prospect stretched before me as far as the eye could reach, in the next I might have been looking into a cavern as some angry cloud swept across the face of the moon to plunge the scene into utter darkness.

And it was during such a dark spell and at the very moment that I turned aside to light the lamp that I saw the eyes.

From a spot ten yards removed, low down under the hedges bordering the garden, they looked up at me—­those great, glittering cat’s eyes, so that I stifled an exclamation, drawing back instinctively from the window.  A tiger, I thought, or some kindred wild beast, must have escaped from captivity.  And so rapidly does the mind work at such times that instinctively I had reviewed the several sporting pieces in my possession and had selected a rifle which had proved serviceable in India ere I had taken one step towards the door.

Before that step could be taken the light of the moon again flooded the garden; and although there was no opening in the hedge by which even a small animal could have retired, no living thing was in sight!  But, near and remote, dogs were howling mournfully.

CHAPTER II

THE SIGN OF THE CAT

When Coates brought in my tea, newspapers and letters in the morning, I awakened with a start, and: 

“Has there been any rain during the night, Coates?” I asked.

Coates, whose unruffled calm at all times provided an excellent sedative, replied: 

“Not since a little before midnight, sir.”

“Ah!” said I, “and have you been in the garden this morning, Coates?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, “for raspberries for breakfast, sir.”

“But not on this side of the cottage?”

“Not on this side.”

“Then will you step out, Coates, keeping carefully to the paths, and proceed as far as the tool-shed?  Particularly note if the beds have been disturbed between the hedge and the path, but don’t make any marks yourself.  You are looking for spoor, you understand?”

“Spoor?  Very good, sir.  Of big game?”

“Of big game, yes, Coates.”

Unmoved by the strangeness of his instructions, Coates, an object-lesson for those who decry the excellence of British Army disciplinary methods, departed.