away beyond
recall to an indignant neighbourhood.

The cats mewed and mewed and twisted their Persian forms in and out and
unfolded their Persian tails, and the children and the Phoenix huddled
together on the table.

The Phoenix, Robert noticed suddenly, was trembling.

'So many cats,' it said, 'and they might not know I was the Phoenix.
These accidents happen so quickly. It quite un-mans me.'

This was a danger of which the children had not thought.

'Creep in,' cried Robert, opening his jacket.

And the Phoenix crept in--only just in time, for green eyes had glared,
pink noses had sniffed, white whiskers had twitched, and as Robert
buttoned his coat he disappeared to the waist in a wave of eager grey
Persian fur. And on the instant the good carpet slapped itself down on
the floor. And it was covered with rats--three hundred and ninety-eight
of them, I believe, two for each cat.

'How horrible!' cried Anthea. 'Oh, take them away!'

'Take yourself away,' said the Phoenix, 'and me.'

'I wish we'd never had a carpet,' said Anthea, in tears.

They hustled and crowded out of the door, and shut it, and locked it.
Cyril, with great presence of mind, lit a candle and turned off the gas
at the main.

'The rats'll have a better chance in the dark,' he said.

The mewing had ceased. Every one listened in breathless silence. We all
know that cats eat rats--it is one of the first things we read in our
little brown reading books; but all those cats eating all those rats--it
wouldn't bear thinking of.

Suddenly Robert sniffed, in the silence of the dark kitchen, where the
only candle was burning all on one side, because of the draught.

'What a funny scent!' he said.

And as he spoke, a lantern flashed its light through the window of the
kitchen, a face peered in, and a voice said--

'What's all this row about? You let me in.'

It was the voice of the police!

Robert tip-toed to the window, and spoke through the pane that had
been a little cracked since Cyril accidentally knocked it with a
walking-stick when he was playing at balancing it on his nose. (It was
after they had been to a circus.)

'What do you mean?' he said. 'There's no row. You listen; everything's
as quiet as quiet.' And indeed it was.

The strange sweet scent grew stronger, and the Phoenix put out its beak.

The policeman hesitated.

'They're MUSK-rats,' said the Phoenix. 'I suppose some cats eat
them--but never Persian ones. What a mista