BLINDMAN'S-BUFF
he told himself, when at last stretched on his bed. "Chao Phya, if you could only talk!"
The cat, sitting beside Owen's feet, blinked sagely at the night-lamp with goblin eyes of changing fire. He yawned hungrily, jingled his silver bells, then in slow revolution trod out a lair and curled down to sleep. Owen lay wakeful; or dozing wearily, started at every flutter of bats without, every stir of geckoes on his chamber wall. But the pink mists of dawn glimmered at last through the doors: nothing had happened.
And although—mindful of Ho Kong's letter—he stationed boys to watch for prowlers, and kept his room all afternoon, the hours dragged by tame and empty.
"Beast!" he grumbled next day at tiffin. "This makes five meals in my room, all on your account. If I owned you, Chao my boy, I'd stop their nonsense—wring your neck.
[ 105 ]
