I have heard of the curious
numbing effect produced by wounds from the great carnivora, and now I
was destined to experience it, for I had lost all sense of personality,
and was as interested in the cat’s failure or success as if it were some
game which I was watching. And then gradually my mind drifted away into
strange, vague dreams, always with that black face and red tongue coming
back into them, and so I lost myself in the nirvana of delirium, the
blessed relief of those who are too sorely tried. Tracing the course of events afterwards, I conclude that I must have
been insensible for about two hours. What roused me to consciousness
once more was that sharp metallic click which had been the precursor of
my terrible experience. It was the shooting back of the spring lock. Then, before my senses were clear enough to entirely apprehend what they
saw, I was aware of the round, benevolent face of my cousin peering in
through the opened door. What he saw evidently amazed him. There was the
cat crouching on the floor. I was stretched upon my back in my
shirtsleeves within the cage, my trousers torn to ribbons and a great
pool of blood all round me. I can see his amazed face now, with the
morning sunlight upon it. He peered at me, and peered again. Then he
closed the door behind him, and advanced to the cage to see if I were
really dead. I cannot undertake to say what happened. I was not in a fit state to
witness or to chronicle such events. I can only say that I was suddenly
conscious that his face was away from me—that he was looking towards the
animal. “Good old Tommy!” he cried. “Good old Tommy!”

Then he came near the bars, with his back still towards me. “Down, you stupid beast!” he roared. “Down, sir! Don’t you know your
master?”

Suddenly even in my bemuddled brain a remembrance came of those words of
his when he had said that the taste of blood would turn the cat into a
fiend. My blood had done it, but he was to pay the price. “Get away!” he screamed. “Get away, you devil! Baldwin! Baldwin! Oh, my
God!”

And then I heard him fall, and rise, and fall again, with a sound like
the ripping of sacking. His screams grew fainter until they were lost in
the worrying snarl. And then, after I thought that he was dead, I saw,
as in a nightmare, a blinded, tattered, blood-soaked figure running
wildly round the room—and that was the last glimpse which I had of him
before I fainted once again. *       *       *       *       *

I was many months in my recovery—in fact, I cannot say that I have ever
recovered, for to the end of my days I shall carry a stick as a sign of
my night with the Brazilian cat. Baldwin, the groom, and the other
servants could not tell what had occurred when, drawn by the death cries
of their master, they found me behind the bars, and his remains—or what
they afterwards discovered to be his remains—in the clutch of the
creature which he had reared. They stalled him off with hot irons, and
afterwards shot him through the loophole of the door before they could
finally extricate me. I was carried to my bedroom, and there, under the
roof of my would-be murderer, I remained between life and death for
several weeks. They had sent for a surgeon from Clipton and a nurse from
London, and in a month I was able to be carried to the station, and so
conveyed back once more to Grosvenor Mansions. I have one remembrance of that illness, which might have been part of
the ever-changing panorama conjured up by a delirious brain were it not
so definitely fixed in my memory. One night, when the nurse was absent,
the door of my chamber opened, and a tall woman in blackest mourning
slipped into the room. She came across to me, and as she bent her sallow
face I saw by the faint gleam of the night-light that it was the
Brazilian woman whom my cousin had married. She stared intently into my
face, and her expression was more kindly than I had ever seen it. “Are you conscious?” she asked. I feebly nodded—for I was still very weak. “Well, then, I only wished to say to you that you have yourself to
blame. Did I not do all I could for you? From the beginning I tried to
drive you from the house. By every means, short of betraying my husband,
I tried to save you from him. I knew that he had a reason for bringing
you here. I knew that he would never let you get away again. No one knew
him as I knew him, who had suffered from him so often. I did not dare to
tell you all this. He would have killed me. But I did my best for you. As things have turned out, you have been the best friend that I have
ever had. You have set me free, and I fancied that nothing but death
would do that. I am sorry if you are hurt, but I cannot reproach myself. I told you that you were a fool—and a fool you have been.” She crept out
of the room, the bitter, singular woman, and I was never destined to see
her again. With what remained from her husband’s property she went back
to her native land, and I have heard that she afterwards took the veil
at Pernambuco. It was not until I had been back in London for some time that the
doctors pronounced me to be well enough to do business. It was not a
very welcome permission to me, for I feared that it would be the signal
for an inrush of creditors; but it was Summers, my lawyer, who first
took advantage of it. “I am very glad to see that your lordship is so much better,” said he. “I have been waiting a long time to offer my congratulations.”

“What do you mean, Summers? This is no time for joking.”

“I mean what I say,” he answered. “You have been Lord Southerton for the
last six weeks, but we feared that it would retard your recovery if you
were to learn it.”

Lord Southerton! One of the richest peers in England! I could not
believe my ears. And then suddenly I thought of the time which had
elapsed, and how it coincided with my injuries. “Then Lord Southerton must have died about the same time that I was
hurt?”

“His death occurred upon that very day.” Summers looked hard at me as I
spoke, and I am convinced—for he was a very shrewd fellow—that he had
guessed the true state of the case. He paused for a moment as if
awaiting a confidence from me, but I could not see what was to be gained
by exposing such a family scandal. “Yes, a very curious coincidence,” he continued, with the same knowing
look. “Of course, you are aware that your cousin Everard King was the
next heir to the estates. Now, if it had been you instead of him who had
been torn to pieces by this tiger, or whatever it was, then of course he
would have been Lord Southerton at the present moment.”

“No doubt,” said I. “And he took such an interest in it,” said Summers. “I happen to know
that the late Lord Southerton’s valet was in his pay, and that he used
to have telegrams from him every few hours to tell him how he was
getting on. That would be about the time when you were down there.