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Page 44
"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 all the time I begged and prayed this
inhuman monster to save me from this horrible death. I conjured
him by his kinship. I reminded him that I was his guest; I begged
to know what harm I had ever done him. His only answers were the
tugs and jerks upon the handle, each of which, in spite of all my
struggles, pulled another bar through the opening. Clinging and
clutching, I was dragged across the whole front of the cage, until
at last, with aching wrists and lacerated fingers, I gave up the
hopeless struggle. The grating clanged back as I released it, and
an instant later I heard the shuffle of the Turkish slippers in the
passage, and the slam of the distant door. Then everything was
silent.
The creature had never moved during this time. He lay still in
the corner, and his tail had ceased switching. This apparition of
a man adhering to his bars and dragged screaming across him had
apparently filled him with amazement. I saw his great eyes staring
steadily at me. I had dropped the lantern when I seized the
bars, but it still burned upon the floor, and I made a movement
to grasp it, with some idea that its light might protect me. But
the instant I moved, the beast gave a deep and menacing growl. I
stopped and stood still, quivering with fear in every limb. The
cat (if one may call so fearful a creature by so homely a name) was
not more than ten feet from me. The eyes glimmered like two disks
of phosphorus in the darkness. They appalled and yet fascinated
me. I could not take my own eyes from them. Nature plays strange
tricks with us at such moments of intensity, and those glimmering
lights waxed and waned with a steady rise and fall. Sometimes they
seemed to be tiny points of extreme brilliancy--little electric
sparks in the black obscurity--then they would widen and widen
until all that corner of the room was filled with their shifting
and sinister light. And then suddenly they went out altogether.
The beast had closed its eyes. I do not know whether there may
be any truth in the old idea of the dominance of the human gaze, or
whether the huge cat was simply drowsy, but the fact remains that,
far from showing any symptom of attacking me, it simply rested its
sleek, black head upon its huge forepaws and seemed to sleep. I
stood, fearing to move lest I should rouse it into malignant life
once more. But at least I was able to think clearly now that the
baleful eyes were off me. Here I was shut up for the night with
the ferocious beast. My own instincts, to say nothing of the words
of the plausible villain who laid this trap for me, warned me that
the animal was as savage as its master. How could I stave it off
until morning? The door was hopeless, and so were the narrow,
barred windows. There was no shelter anywhere in the bare, stone-
flagged room. To cry for assistance was absurd. I knew that this
den was an outhouse, and that the corridor which connected it with
the house was at least a hundred feet long. Besides, with the gale
thundering outside, my cries were not likely to be heard. I had
only my own courage and my own wits to trust to.
And then, with a fresh wave of horror, my eyes fell upon the
lantern. The candle had burned low, and was already beginning to
gutter. In ten minutes it would be out. I had only ten minutes
then in which to do something, for I felt that if I were once left
in the dark with that fearful beast I should be incapable of
action. The very thought of it paralysed me. I cast my
despairing eyes round this chamber of death, and they rested upon
one spot which seemed to promise I will not say safety, but less
immediate and imminent danger than the open floor.
I have said that the cage had a top as well as a front, and
this top was left standing when the front was wound through the
slot in the wall. It consisted of bars at a few inches' interval,
with stout wire netting between, and it rested upon a strong
stanchion at each end. It stood now as a great barred canopy over
the crouching figure in the corner. The space between this iron
shelf and the roof may have been from two or three feet. If I
could only get up there, squeezed in between bars and ceiling, I
should have only one vulnerable side. I should be safe from below,
from behind, and from each side. Only on the open face of it could
I be attacked. There, it is true, I had no protection whatever;
but at least, I should be out of the brute's path when he began to
pace about his den. He would have to come out of his way to reach
me. It was now or never, for if once the light were out it would
be impossible. With a gulp in my throat I sprang up, seized the
iron edge of the top, and swung myself panting on to it. I writhed
in face downwards, and found myself looking straight into the
terrible eyes and yawning jaws of the cat. Its fetid breath came
up into my face like the steam from some foul pot.
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