The Case of the Careless Kitten

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The kitten’s eyes, weaving back and forth, followed the ball of crumpled page. that Helen Kendal was waving high above the arm of the chair.

The kitten was named Amber Eyes because of those yellow eyes Helen liked to watch them. Their black pupils were always changing, narrowing to ominous slits, widening to opaque pools of onyx. Those black and amber eyes had an almost hypnotic effect on Helen. After she had watched them a little while her thoughts seemed to slip. She would forget the near things, like today, and this room, and the kitten.

She could even forget about Jerry Templar and Aunt Matilda’s eccentric domineerings, and find herself suddenly thinking about things that were far away or in another age.

It was one of the long-ago things this time. Years and years ago. When Helen Kendal was ten, and there was another kitten, a gray-and-white one, up on the roof. So high up that it was afraid to come down. And a tall man with kind gray eyes had fetched a long ladder and was standing up at the wobbly tip of it, patiently coaxing the kitten toward his outstretched hand.

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