Page:Henry rideout--The siamese cat.djvu/97

 "May as well be thorough," thought Owen; and kneeling, he opened it. A poor handful of silver coins, salungs bent in some gambling-house, clinked within; and among them lay a pasteboard ticket, third-class,—Bangkok to Ayuthia, stamped with that day's date, punched and forgotten by the guard. He had followed them to these ruins: to steal a cat, and meet his death. Why?

Why indeed? The thief sprawled among the vines, tawny as the lifeless ground, agape, mysterious, inaccessible.

There was nothing more to do. Retreating slowly from the rebuke of that presence, Owen turned the corner of the wall.

"Come," he said. They moved off among the ancient mounds, the air before them dancing in blurs of heat. The girl shivered slightly, paused as for breath:

"Was it—?" she whispered. "Did he do it?"