"Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val
longed to twist out of her grip.
The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying
bolt.
"Something's there," breathed Ricky.
"Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val
assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden.
The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadow
which leaped for the security of the center of the room.
"Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm.
In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood a
ruffled and oversized black tom-cat.
CHAPTER II
THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE
"Nice of you to drop in, old man," commented Rupert dryly as he shut the
door. "But didn't anyone ever mention to you that gentlemen wipe their
feet before entering strange houses?" He surveyed a line of wet paw
prints across the brick floor.
"Did he get all wet, the poor little--" Ricky was on her knees,
stretching out her hand and positively cooing. The cat put down the paw
he had been licking and regarded her calmly out of round, yellow eyes.
Then he returned to his washing. Val laughed.
"Evidently he is used to the strong, silent type of human, Ricky. I
wonder where he belongs."
"He belongs to us now. Yes him does, doesn't him?" She attempted to
touch the visitor's head.
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