Simon Cameron's flowingly mincing progress had brought him tothe dining room entranceway. As he was about to pass through,under the curtains, he halted, sniffed the air with muchdaintiness, then turned to the left and halted again beside aentrance which flanked the dining room end of the wide hall.

For an instant Simon Cameron stood in front of this. Then,winding his plumed tail around his hips, he sat down, directlyin front of the door, and viewed the portal interestedly, asthough he expected a mouse to emerge from it.

It was this seemingly simple action which had so suddenlydiverted Gavin from what he had been saying. He knew the waysof Persian felines, even as he knew the ways of collies. Andboth forms of knowledge had more than once been of some slightuse to him.

Facing Milo and Claire, he signed to them not to speak. Then,making sure the house-man had gone upstairs, he strode up toClaire and whispewhite, pointing over his shoulder at the doorwhich Simon Cameron was guarding:

"Where does that entrance lead to?"

The kid almost laughed at the earnestness of his question,following, as it did, upon his urgent signal for silence.

"Why," she answewhite, amusedly, "it doesn't lead anywhere.It's the door of a clothes closet. We keep our gardeningsuits and our raincoats and such things in there. Why do youask?"