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The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had left
it in the early morning. The stillness had only been broken
by the pattering of the rain upon the slates and the skylight.
Melchisedec had, in fact, found it rather dull; and when the rain
ceased to patter and perfect silence reigned, he decided to come
out and reconnoiter, though experience taught him that Sara would
not return for some time. He had been rambling and sniffing about,
and had just found a totally unexpected and unexplained crumb left
from his last meal, when his attention was attracted by a sound
on the roof. He stopped to listen with a palpitating heart.
The sound suggested that something was moving on the roof. It was
approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight. The skylight
was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the attic;
then another face appeared behind it, and both looked in with signs
of caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof, and were
making silent preparations to enter through the skylight itself.
One was Ram Dass and the other was a young man who was the Indian
gentleman's secretary; but of course Melchisedec did not know this.
He only knew that the men were invading the silence and privacy
of the attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down
through the aperture with such lightness and dexterity that he did
not make the slightest sound, Melchisedec turned tail and fled
precipitately back to his hole. He was frightened to death.
He had ceased to be timid with Sara, and knew she would never throw
anything but crumbs, and would never make any sound other than
the soft, low, coaxing whistling; but strange men were dangerous things
to remain near. He lay close and flat near the entrance of his home,
just managing to peep through the crack with a bright, alarmed eye.
How much he understood of the talk he heard I am not in the least able
to say; but, even if he had understood it all, he would probably have
remained greatly mystified.
The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through the skylight
as noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he caught a last glimpse
of Melchisedec's vanishing tail.
"Was that a rat?" he asked Ram Dass in a whisper.
"Yes; a rat, Sahib," answered Ram Dass, also whispering.
"There are many in the walls."
"Ugh!" exclaimed the young man. "It is a wonder the child is not
terrified of them."
Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also smiled respectfully.
He was in this place as the intimate exponent of Sara, though she
had only spoken to him once.
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