Melchisidec, unduly excited by the smell of grilled sole, came to Lord Loudwater, rose on his hind legs, laid his paws on his trousers, and stuck some claws into his thigh.

It was no more than gentle, arresting pricks; but the tender nobleman sprang from his chair with a short howl, kicked with futile violence a portion of the empty air which Melchisidec had just vacated, staggered, and nearly fell.
Lady Loudwater did not laugh; but she did cough.
Her husband, his face a furious crimson, glared at her with reddish eyes, and swore violently at her and the cat.
Lady Loudwater rose, her face flushed, her lips trembling, picked up Melchisidec, and walked out of the room.

Lord Loudwater scowled at the closed door, sat down, and went on with his breakfast.
James Hutchings, the butler, came quietly into the room, took one of the smaller dishes from the sideboard and Lady Loudwater's teapot from the table.

He went quietly out of the room, pausing at the door to scowl at his master's back.

Lady Loudwater finished her breakfast in the sitting-room of her suite of rooms on the first floor.