“ Itraced his little footprints in the butter,” said Montgomery. In the very centre of it there was a footprint. Apart from the merely circumstantial evidence, which is strongenough to hang it off its own bat, we have absolute proof of its guilt. I should like a privateword with that cat.” “In the first place,the door was locked, wasn’t it, Smith?” He always liked tointroduce a Holmes-Watsonian touch into the conversation. “Nohuman being has done this horrid thing,” said Montgomery. The question is,who has been on the raid in here?” “You haven’t finished already, surely? Why it’sonly just five.” Smith displayed the sardine tin in much the samemanner as the conjurer shows a pack of cards when he entreats you to chooseone, and remember the number. He had been bidden to the feast, and was feelingready for it.
“You may rememberthat when the great bear found his porridge tampered with, he-”Ītthis point Shawyer entered. “Thisreminds me of the story of the great bear, the medium bear and the littleditto,” observed Montgomery, who was always apt at an analogy. “Doesn’t seem to have had such abad appetite, either.” “Somebodyhas,” said Smith, exhibiting the empty tin. “Isay, have you been having a sort of preliminary canter with the banquet?” When Montgomery entered soon afterwards, he questionedhim on the subject. When Smith came in after football, and found the remains, he wassurprised, and even pained. It pocketed the stakes, which consisted ofmost of the contents of a tin of sardines, and left unostentatiously by thewindow. It was weak by nature and flabby fromlong want of exercise, while the cat was in excellent training, and was, moreover,backed up by a strong temptation.
The conscience really hadno sort of chance from the beginning. THEstruggle between Carter’s cat and Carter’s cat’s conscience was short, andended in the hollowest of victories for the former.