The Crying of the Puma.

           Montgomeryinterruptedmytangleofmystificationandsuspicionaboutoneo’clock,andhisgrotesqueattendantfollowedhimwithatraybearingbread,someherbsandothereatables,aflaskofwhiskey,ajugofwater,andthreeglassesandknives.Iglancedaskanceatthisstrangecreature,andfoundhimwatchingmewithhisqueer,restlesseyes.Montgomerysaidhewouldlunchwithme,butthatMoreauwastoopreoccupiedwithsomeworktocome.

           "Moreau!"saidI."Iknowthatname."

           "Thedevilyoudo!"saidhe."WhatanassIwastomentionittoyou!Imighthavethought.Anyhow,itwillgiveyouaninklingofour—mysteries.Whiskey?"

           "No,thanks;I’manabstainer."

           "IwishI’dbeen.Butit’snouselockingthedoorafterthesteedisstolen.Itwasthatinfernalstuffwhichledtomycominghere,—that,andafoggynight.Ithoughtmyselfinluckatthetime,whenMoreauofferedtogetmeoff.It’squeer—"

           "Montgomery,"saidI,suddenly,astheouterdoorclosed,"whyhasyourmanpointedears?"

           "Damn!"hesaid,overhisfirstmouthfuloffood.Hestaredatmeforamoment,andthenrepeated,"Pointedears?"

           "Littlepointstothem,"saidI,ascalmlyaspossible,withacatchinmybreath;"andafineblackfurattheedges?"

           Hehelpedhimselftowhiskeyandwaterwithgreatdeliberation.