I carry it through without a ’itch. It is not so difficult to secure the cat. ’E is asleep in the drawing-room. There is nobody at hand. I have in my bedroom a ’at-box which I have brought from Paris. I have brought it with me to the drawing-room. I have placed in it the cat. I have escaped from the ’ouse. The cat has uttered a cry, but none has ’eard. I have reached the office of the District Messenger Boys. I have ’anded over the cat in its box. The manager is courteous, sympathetic. A messenger has started in a cab for the Cats’ House. I have breathed a sigh of relief. I am saved.

That is what I say to myself as I return. My troubles are over, and once more I can be gay, debonair, vivacious with Miss Marion, for no longer will there be present the cat Alexander to ’arass me.

When I have returned there is commotion in the ’ouse. I pass on the stairs domestics calling “Puss, puss!” The butler is chirruping loudly and poking beneath the furniture with a umbrella. All is confusion and agitation.

In the drawing-room is Miss Marion. She is distressed.

“Nowhere,” she has said, “can there be found the cat Alexander of whom I am so fond. Nowhere in the ’ouse is he. Where can he be? He is lost.”

I am gentle, sympathetic. I endeavour to console her. I ’int to her that am I not sufficient substitute for a beastly cat? She is, however, inconsolable. I must be patient. I must wait my time.

Captain Bassett is announced. He is informed of what has ’appened. He is distressed. He has the air as if he, too, would endeavour to be gentle, sympathetic. But I am Johnny-on-the-spot. I stay till he ’as gone.

Next day again it is “Puss, puss!” Again the butler has explored under the furniture with the umbrella. Again Miss Marion is distressed. Again ’ave I endeavoured to console.

This time I think I am not so unsuccessful. I am, you understand, young, ’andsome, sympathetic. In another two ticks I am about to seize ’er ’and and declare my passion.

But, before I can do so, Captain Bassett is announced.

I gaze at him as at unsuccessful rival. I am confident. I am conqueror. Ah, I little know! It is in the moments of our highest ’ope, monsieur, that we are destroyed.

Captain Bassett, he, too, ’as the air of the conqueror.

He has begun to speak.

“Miss ’Enderson,” he has said, “I have once more the bally good news. I rather fancy that I ’ave tracked down the missing Alexander, do you not know?”

Miss Marion ’as cried out with joy. But I am calm, for is not Alexander already yesterday destroyed?

“It is like this,” he has resumed. “I have thought to myself where is lost cat most likely to be? And I have answered, ‘In the Cats’ House.’ I go this morning to the Cats’ House, and there I see a cat which is either lost Alexander or his living image. Exactly is he the same to all appearances as the lost Alexander. But there is, when I try to purchase ’im, some curious ’itch which they do not explain. They must ’ave time, they say, to consider. They cannot at once decide.”

“Why, what nonsense!” Miss Marion ’ave cried. “If the cat is my cat, surely then must they return ’im to me! Come,” she has said, “let us all three at once in a taxi-cab go to the Cats’ House. If the all three of us identify the lost Alexander, then must they return ’im.”