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Updated: June 22, 2025
I cried "for heaven's sake tell me what it all means!" "I will tell you all I know," he replied slowly. "In the first place I had two reasons for suggesting the visit to Friar's Park. I had formed an opinion that the 'cat-woman' was interested in you. Whether because she regarded you as dangerous or from some other cause I could not determine.
"You cannot like, and you ought not to dislike what you have never seen. Once more, you must not call her the cat-woman!" "What are we to call her then, please?" "Lady Mara." "That is a pretty name!" said a girl; "I will call her 'lady Mara'; then perhaps she will show me her beautiful face!" Mara, drest and muffled in white, was indeed standing in the doorway to receive us. "At last!" she said.
"You see," said Gatton, "when the crate broke several things which presumably were in Sir Marcus' pockets were found lying loose amongst the wreckage. That cat-woman was one of them." "Yet it may not have been in any of his pockets at all," said I. "It may not," agreed Gatton. "But that it was somewhere in the crate is beyond dispute, I think. Besides this is more than a coincidence."
I wish it lay in my power to satisfy the curiosity in all quarters expressed respecting the identity of "Nahémah" the cat-woman, or psycho-hybrid, who figured in Dr. Damar Greefe's statement. But it is my duty, as chronicler of the strange and awful occurrences which at this period disturbed the even tenor of my existence, to state that from the moment in which she leaped from the window of Mrs.
"Please, king, you are not going to that place?" whispered the Little One who rode on his neck. "Indeed I am! We are going to stay the night there," I answered. "Oh, please, don't! That must be where the cat-woman lives!" "If you had ever seen her, you would not call her by that name!" "Nobody ever sees her: she has lost her face! Her head is back and side all round."
"She hides her face from dull, discontented people! Who taught you to call her the cat-woman?" "I heard the bad giants call her so." "What did they say about her?" "That she had claws to her toes." "It is not true. I know the lady. I spent a night at her house." "But she MAY have claws to her toes! You might see her feet, and her claws be folded up inside their cushions!"
Through the stillness of the house rang the flat note of a police-whistle. From some distant spot I heard a faint reply. For long I failed to persuade myself that Isobel had not sustained some ghastly injury from the attack of the cat-woman. Memories uprose starkly before me of that hlangkûna and the other dreadful death-instruments of the mad Eurasian doctor.
On one side a bull-man, a rather weak-chinned minotaur, stands for the strength of Western civilization; on the other, a cat-woman represents the civilization of the Eastern hemisphere.
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