But the old lady did not answer.

So, prompted by a glance from Dr Greysteel, the little Venetian lawyer began to relate much of what had already been said, but this time in Italian. The only difference was that now the old lady no longer troubled to look at them, but fixed her gaze upon a great grey cat, which was, in its turn, looking at a white cat, which was, in its turn staring at the moon.

“Tell her that I have brought her money,” said Dr Greysteel to the lawyer. “Tell her it is a gift made to her on behalf of John McKean. Tell her she must not thank me …” Dr Greysteel waved his hand vigorously as if a reputation for generous deeds and benevolent actions were a little like a mosquito and he hoped in this way to prevent one from landing on him.

“Mr Tosetti,” said Aunt Greysteel, “you are not well. You are pale, sir. Will you have a glass of water? I am sure that Mrs Delgado could furnish you with a glass of water.”

“No, Madamina Greysteel, I am not ill. I am …” Signor Tosetti looked round the room to find the word he wanted. “Fearful,” he whispered.

“Fearful?” whispered Dr Greysteel. “Why? What of?”

“Ah, Signor Dottore, this is a terrible place!” returned the other in a whisper, and his eyes wandered in a kind of horror first to where one of the cats was licking its paw, in preparation to washing its face, and then back to the old lady, as if in expectation of seeing her perform the same action.

Miss Greysteel whispered that in their concern to shew Mrs Delgado attention they had come in too great a number and arrived too suddenly at her door. Clearly they were the first visitors she had had in years. Was it any wonder her wits seemed temporarily to be wandering? It was too severe a trial!

“Oh, Flora!” whispered Aunt Greysteel. “Only think! To pass years and years without society of any kind!”

To be all whispering together in such a small room – for the old lady was not three feet distant from any of them – appeared to Dr Greysteel to be very ridiculous and, from not knowing what else to do, he became rather irritable with his companions, so that his sister and daughter judged it best to go.

Aunt Greysteel insisted on taking a long and fond farewell of the old lady, telling her that they would all return when she was feeling better – which Aunt Greysteel hoped would be soon.

Just as they passed through the door, they looked back. At that moment a new cat appeared upon the sill of the window with a stiff, spiky something in its mouth – a thing remarkably like a dead bird. The old lady made a little joyous sound and sprang with surprizing energy out of her chair. It was the oddest sound in all the world and bore not the slightest resemblance to human speech. It made Signor Tosetti, in his turn, cry out in alarm and pull the door shut, and hide whatever it was that the old lady was about to do next.¹