The tingling of the chiming clock broke through the deep roar of the gale.  The wind was sweeping past with the rush of a great river.

“I must see my cat before I go to bed,” said my host.  “A high wind excites him.  Will you come?”

“Certainly,” said I.

“Then tread softly and don’t speak, for everyone is asleep.”

We passed quietly down the lamp-lit Persian-rugged hall, and through the door at the farther end.  All was dark in the stone corridor, but a stable lantern hung on a hook, and my host took it down and lit it.  There was no grating visible in the passage, so I knew that the beast was in its cage.

“Come in!” said my relative, and opened the door.

A deep growling as we entered showed that the storm had really excited the creature.  In the flickering light of the lantern, we saw it, a huge black mass coiled in the corner of its den and throwing a squat, uncouth shadow upon the whitewashed wall.  Its tail switched angrily among the straw.

“Poor Tommy is not in the best of tempers,” said Everard King, holding up the lantern and looking in at him.  “What a black devil he looks, doesn’t he?  I must give him a little supper to put him in a better humour.  Would you mind holding the lantern for a moment?”

I took it from his hand and he stepped to the door.

“His larder is just outside here,” said he.  “You will excuse me for an instant won’t you?” He passed out, and the door shut with a sharp metallic click behind him.

That hard crisp sound made my heart stand still.  A sudden wave of terror passed over me.  A vague perception of some monstrous treachery turned me cold.  I sprang to the door, but there was no handle upon the inner side.

“Here!” I cried.  “Let me out!”

“All right!  Don’t make a row!” said my host from the passage.  “You’ve got the light all right.”

“Yes, but I don’t care about being locked in alone like this.”

“Don’t you?” I heard his hearty, chuckling laugh.  “You won’t be alone long.”

“Let me out, sir!” I repeated angrily.  “I tell you I don’t allow practical jokes of this sort.”

“Practical is the word,” said he, with another hateful chuckle.  And then suddenly I heard, amidst the roar of the storm, the creak and whine of the winch-handle turning and the rattle of the grating as it passed through the slot.  Great God, he was letting loose the Brazilian cat!

In the light of the lantern I saw the bars sliding slowly before me.  Already there was an opening a foot wide at the farther end.  With a scream I seized the last bar with my hands and pulled with the strength of a madman.  I was a madman with rage and horror.  For a minute or more I held the thing motionless.  I knew that he was straining with all his force upon the handle, and that the leverage was sure to overcome me.  I gave inch by inch, my feet sliding along the stones, and