“Listen. You may choose, when you’ve heard the details of this case, not to accept it because it is, I admit, a little odd. But I made an appointment to see you on the basis of what it said in your advertisement, to whit, that you find lost cats, and if you turn me down solely on the basis that you do not find lost cats, then I must remind you that there is such a thing as the Trades Descriptions Act. I can’t remember exactly what it says, but I bet you five pounds it says you can’t do that.”

Dirk sighed. He picked up a pencil and pulled a pad of paper towards him.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll take down the details of the case.”

“Thank you.”

“And then I’ll turn it down.”

“That’s your business.”

“The point I’m trying to make,” said Dirk, “is that it isn’t. So. What is this cat’s name?”

“Gusty.”

“Gusty.”

“Yes. Short for Gusty Winds.”

Dirk looked at her. “I won’t ask,” he said.

“You’ll wish you had.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She shrugged.

“Male?” said Dirk. “Female?”

“Male.”

“Age?”

“Four years.”

“Description?”

“Well, um. That’s a bit tricky.”

“How hard can a question be? What is he, black? White? Ginger? Tabby?”

“Oh. Siamese.”

“Good,” said Dirk, writing down “Siamese.” “And when did you last see him?”

“About three minutes ago.”

Dirk laid his pencil down and looked at her.

“Maybe four, in fact,” she added.

“Let me see if I understand you,” said Dirk. “You say you lost your cat, er, ‘Gusty,’ while you’ve been standing here talking to me?”

“No. I lost him—or sort of half-lost him—two weeks ago. But I last saw him, which is what you asked, just before I came into your office. I just checked to see he was okay. Which he was. Well, sort of okay. If you can call it okay.”

“And . . . er, where was he, exactly, when you checked to see that he was okay?”

“In his basket. Shall I bring him in? He’s just out here.”

She went out of the room and returned with a medium-sized wickerwork cat box. She put it down on Dirk’s desk. Its contents mewed slightly. She closed the door behind her.

Dirk frowned.

“Excuse me if I’m being a little obtuse,” he said, looking round the basket at her. “Tell me which bit of this I’ve got wrong. It seems to me that you are asking me if I will exercise my professional skills to search for and if possible find and return to you a cat . . .”

“Yes.”

“. . . which you already have with you in a cat basket?”

“Well, that’s right up to a point.”

“And which point is that?”

“Have a look for yourself.”