I did nothing to remind him. I reckoned
that it must already be two o'clock. At four it would be full dawn. I
had not more than two hours to wait for daylight.

Outside, the storm was still raging, and the rain lashed continually
against the little windows. Inside, the poisonous and fetid air was
overpowering. I could neither hear nor see the cat. I tried to think
about other things--but only one had power enough to draw my mind from
my terrible position. That was the contemplation of my cousin's
villainy, his unparalleled hypocrisy, his malignant hatred of me.
Beneath that cheerful face there lurked the spirit of a mediaeval
assassin. And as I thought of it I saw more clearly how cunningly the
thing had been arranged. He had apparently gone to bed with the
others. No doubt he had his witness to prove it. Then, unknown to
them, he had slipped down, had lured me into his den and abandoned me.
His story would be so simple. He had left me to finish my cigar in the
billiard-room. I had gone down on my own account to have a last look at
the cat. I had entered the room without observing that the cage was
opened, and I had been caught. How could such a crime be brought home
to him? Suspicion, perhaps--but proof, never!

How slowly those dreadful two hours went by! Once I heard a low,
rasping sound, which I took to be the creature licking its own fur.
Several times those greenish eyes gleamed at me through the darkness,
but never in a fixed stare, and my hopes grew stronger that my presence
had been forgotten or ignored. At last the least faint glimmer of
light came through the windows--I first dimly saw them as two grey
squares upon the black wall, then grey turned to white, and I could see
my terrible companion once more. And he, alas, could see me!

It was evident to me at once that he was in a much more dangerous and
aggressive mood than when I had seen him last. The cold of the morning
had irritated him, and he was hungry as well. With a continual growl he
paced swiftly up and down the side of the room which was farthest from
my refuge, his whiskers bristling angrily, and his tail switching and
lashing. As he turned at the corners his savage eyes always looked
upwards at me with a dreadful menace. I knew then that he meant to
kill me. Yet I found myself even at that moment admiring the sinuous
grace of the devilish thing, its long, undulating, rippling movements,
the gloss of its beautiful flanks, th