“Not at all.”
“Not badly done then, though I hate to admit it,” he said, taking another sip.
“Was it the vicar?”
“I’d guess. Most likely still irritated with Snuff here.”
“Perhaps you should have a few words with him.”
“I don’t believe in giving warnings. But I give anybody two attempts on us, to discover their folly. If they do not, and they try a third time, I kill them. That’s all.”
“He sent those creatures after you?” She gestured toward the hall.
“No,” he replied. “They were my own. They got loose during the attack. It must have involved a general manumission spell. Pity. I had better use for the fellows than this.”
She set down her glass, rose, visited the hall, and inspected them. She returned a little later.
“Impressive,” she said. “What they are, and what got done to them.” She seated herself again. “What I’m wondering most, though, is what you’re going to do with them now.”
“Hm,” he said, toying with his glass. “It’s rather far to the river.”
I nodded vigorously.
“I suppose I could just stow them in the basement, throw a piece of canvas over them, or something like that.”
“They might start to smell pretty bad.”
“They already smell pretty bad.”
“True. But it would be awkward if they were discovered on the premises, and when they start to decompose it might lead someone official this way.”
“Conceded. I suppose I could just dig a big hole somewhere and bury them.”
“You wouldn’t want to do it around here, and they look too husky to lug far.”
“You’ve a point there. Have _you_ any ideas?”
“No,” she said, sipping her sherry.
I barked once and they looked at me. I glanced at the clock. It was approaching midnight.
“I think Snuff has a suggestion,” she said.
I nodded.
“He’ll have to wait a few minutes.”
“I can’t,” Graymalk said to me suddenly.
“Cats are that way,” I replied.
“What do you want to do with them?”
“I say we take them over to Owen’s place and stuff them into some of his wicker baskets. Then we haul them up into the big oak tree, set fire to them, and run like hell.”
“Snuff, that’s grotesque.”
“Glad you like it, too,” I said. “And it makes for a great Halloween gag, even if it is a little early.”
The clock struck twelve.
The humans bought my idea; and we went out to do it. And ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, they gave a lovely light.
Hickory-dickory-dock.
October 25
Jill came back to our place afterwards, last night, and helped to straighten things. Graymalk and I slipped out while they were drinking another sherry and hit it over to the vicarage. The study was illuminated and Tekela was perched on the roof beside the chimney, head beneath her wing.
“Snuff, I’m going after that damned bird,” Graymalk said.
“I don’t know that it’s good form, Gray, doing something like that right now.”
“I don’t care,” she said, and she disappeared.
I waited and watched, for a long while. Suddenly, there was a flurry on the roof. There came a rattle of claws, a burst of feathers, and Tekela took off across the night, cawing obscenities.
Graymalk descended at the corner and returned.
“Nice try,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t. I was clumsy. She was fast. Damn.”
We headed back.
“Maybe you’ll give her a few nightmares, anyway.”
“That’d be nice,” she said.
Growing moon. Angry cat. Feather on the wind. Autumn comes. The grass dies.
The morning dealt us a hand in which last night’s small irony was seen and raised. Graymalk came scratching on the door and when I went out she said, “Better come with me.”
So I did.
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“The constable and his assistants are at Owen’s place, investigating last night’s burnings.”
“Thanks for getting me,” I said. “Let’s go and watch. It should be fun.”
“Maybe,” she said.
When we got there I understood the intimation in her word. The constable and his men paced and measured and poked. The remains of the baskets and the remains which had been in the baskets were now on the ground. There were, however, the remains of four baskets and their contents rather than the three I remembered so well.