“The brute’s gone mad,” said the assistant, whose face was white. “It’s flying about upstairs like a wild thing. Mind it don’t get in, it’s as bad as a mad dog.” “Oh, rubbish,” said the Jew. “Cats are often like that.” “Well, I’ve never seen one like it before,” said the other, “and, what’s more, I’m not going to see that again.” The animal came downstairs, scuffling along the passage, hit the door with its head, and then dashed upstairs again. “It must have been poisoned, or else it’s mad,” said the assistant. “What’s it been eating, I wonder?” The pawnbroker made no reply. The suggestion of poisoning was a welcome one. It was preferable to the sinister hintings of the brown man. But even if it had been poisoned it was a very singular coincidence, unless indeed the Burmese had himself poisoned it He tried to think whether it could have been possible for his visitor to have administered poison undetected. “It’s quiet now,” said the assistant, and he opened the door a little way. “It’s all right,” said the pawnbroker, half ashamed of his fears, “get back to the shop.” The assistant complied, and the Jew, after sitting down a little while to persuade himself that he really had no particular interest in the matter, rose and went slowly upstairs. The staircase was badly lighted, and half way up he stumbled on something soft. He gave a hasty exclamation and, stooping down, saw that he had trodden on the dead cat. CHAPTER IV At ten o’clock that night the pawnbroker sat with his friend Levi discussing a bottle of champagne, which the open-eyed assistant had procured from the public-house opposite. “You’re a lucky man, Hyams,” said his friend, as he raised his glass to his lips. “Thirty thousand pounds! It’s a fortune, a small fortune,” he added correctively. “I shall give this place up,” said the pawnbroker, “and go away for a time. I’m not safe here.” “Safe?” queried Levi, raising his eyebrows. The pawnbroker related his adventures with his visitors. “I can’t understand that cat business,” said Levi when he had finished. “It’s quite farcical; he must have poisoned it.” “He wasn’t near it,” said the pawnbroker, “it was at the other end of the counter.” “Oh, hang it,” said Levi, the more irritably because he could not think of any solution to the mystery. “You don’t believe in occult powers and all that sort of thing. This is the neighborhood of the Commercial Road; time, nineteenth century. The thing’s got on your nerves. Keep your eyes open, and stay indoors; they can’t hurt you here. Why not tell the police?” “I don’t want any questions,” said the pawnbroker. “I mean, just tell them that one or two suspicious characters have been hanging round lately,” said the other. “If this precious couple see that they are watched they’ll probably bolt. There’s nothing like a uniform to scare that sort.” “I won’t have anything to do with the police,” said the pawnbroker firmly.