Unless you have had one-hundred and ninety-nine well-grown Persian cats in one small room, all hungry, and all saying so in unmistakable mews, you can form but a poor idea of the noise that now deafened the children and the Phoenix.The cats did not seem to have been at all properly brought up.They seemed to have no idea of its being a mistake in manners to ask for meals in a strange house--let alone to howl for them--and they mewed, and they mewed, and they mewed, and they mewed, till the children poked their fingers into their ears and waited in silent agony, wondering why the whole of Camden Town did not come knocking at the door to ask what was the matter, and only hoping that the food for the cats would come before the neighbours did--and before all the secret of the carpet and the Phoenix had to be given 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 mistake for a well-informed carpet to make! Oh, what a night we're having!'
'Do go away,' said Robert, nervously.'We're just going to bed--that's our bedroom candle; there isn't any row.
Everything's as quiet as a mouse.'
A wild chorus of mews drowned his words, and with the mews were mingled the shrieks of the musk-rats.What had happened? Had the cats tasted them before deciding that they disliked the flavour?
'I'm a-coming in,' said the policeman.'You've got a cat shut up there.'
'A cat,' said Cyril.'Oh, my only aunt! A cat!'
'Come in, then,' said Robert.'It's your own look out.I advise you not.Wait a shake, and I'll undo the side gate.'
He undid the side gate, and the policeman, very cautiously, came in.And there in the kitchen, by the light of one candle, with the mewing and the screaming going like a dozen steam sirens, twenty waiting on motor-cars, and half a hundred squeaking pumps, four agitated voices shouted to the policeman four mixed and wholly different explanations of the very mixed events of the evening.
Did you ever try to explain the simplest thing to a policeman?
