Theophrastus did not budge; he would have given a hundred thousand rubber stamps to be walking along the boulevard at mid-day.
"It's not natural that it should be purring like that," she added. "Go and see what's the matter with it. You must, Theophrastus! Get your revolver out of the drawer."
Theophrastus found the strength to say faintly, "You know quite well that it's not loaded."
They listened again; the purring had ceased; Marceline began to hope they had been mistaken. Then Theophrastus groaned, got out of bed, took the revolver, and quietly opened the door leading into his study. It was bright in a sheet of moonlight; and what Theophrastus saw made him recoil with a dull cry, shut the door, and set his back against it as if to bar what he saw from entering the bedroom.
"What is it?" said Marceline hoarsely.
The teeth of Theophrastus chattered as he said, "It has stopped purring; but it has moved!"
"Where is it?"
"On the tea-table."
"The violet cat is on the tea-table?"
"Yes."
