Beasts and Super-Beasts. Saki

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СКАЧАТЬ revenges came in,” added Laura with an unrepentant chuckle; “I turned the entire family of speckled Sussex into his seedling shed the day after the puppy episode.”

      “How could you?” exclaimed Amanda.

      “It came quite easy,” said Laura; “two of the hens pretended to be laying at the time, but I was firm.”

      “And we thought it was an accident!”

      “You see,” resumed Laura, “I really have some grounds for supposing that my next incarnation will be in a lower organism. I shall be an animal of some kind. On the other hand, I haven’t been a bad sort in my way, so I think I may count on being a nice animal, something elegant and lively, with a love of fun. An otter, perhaps.”

      “I can’t imagine you as an otter,” said Amanda.

      “Well, I don’t suppose you can imagine me as an angel, if it comes to that,” said Laura.

      Amanda was silent. She couldn’t.

      “Personally I think an otter life would be rather enjoyable,” continued Laura; “salmon to eat all the year round, and the satisfaction of being able to fetch the trout in their own homes without having to wait for hours till they condescend to rise to the fly you’ve been dangling before them; and an elegant svelte figure—”

      “Think of the otter hounds,” interposed Amanda; “how dreadful to be hunted and harried and finally worried to death!”

      “Rather fun with half the neighbourhood looking on, and anyhow not worse than this Saturday-to-Tuesday business of dying by inches; and then I should go on into something else. If I had been a moderately good otter I suppose I should get back into human shape of some sort; probably something rather primitive—a little brown, unclothed Nubian boy, I should think.”

      “I wish you would be serious,” sighed Amanda; “you really ought to be if you’re only going to live till Tuesday.”

      As a matter of fact Laura died on Monday.

      “So dreadfully upsetting,” Amanda complained to her uncle-in-law, Sir Lulworth Quayne. “I’ve asked quite a lot of people down for golf and fishing, and the rhododendrons are just looking their best.”

      “Laura always was inconsiderate,” said Sir Lulworth; “she was born during Goodwood week, with an Ambassador staying in the house who hated babies.”

      “She had the maddest kind of ideas,” said Amanda; “do you know if there was any insanity in her family?”

      “Insanity? No, I never heard of any. Her father lives in West Kensington, but I believe he’s sane on all other subjects.”

      “She had an idea that she was going to be reincarnated as an otter,” said Amanda.

      “One meets with those ideas of reincarnation so frequently, even in the West,” said Sir Lulworth, “that one can hardly set them down as being mad. And Laura was such an unaccountable person in this life that I should not like to lay down definite rules as to what she might be doing in an after state.”

      “You think she really might have passed into some animal form?” asked Amanda. She was one of those who shape their opinions rather readily from the standpoint of those around them.

      Just then Egbert entered the breakfast-room, wearing an air of bereavement that Laura’s demise would have been insufficient, in itself, to account for.

      “Four of my speckled Sussex have been killed,” he exclaimed; “the very four that were to go to the show on Friday. One of them was dragged away and eaten right in the middle of that new carnation bed that I’ve been to such trouble and expense over. My best flower bed and my best fowls singled out for destruction; it almost seems as if the brute that did the deed had special knowledge how to be as devastating as possible in a short space of time.”

      “Was it a fox, do you think?” asked Amanda.

      “Sounds more like a polecat,” said Sir Lulworth.

      “No,” said Egbert, “there were marks of webbed feet all over the place, and we followed the tracks down to the stream at the bottom of the garden; evidently an otter.”

      Amanda looked quickly and furtively across at Sir Lulworth.

      Egbert was too agitated to eat any breakfast, and went out to superintend the strengthening of the poultry yard defences.

      “I think she might at least have waited till the funeral was over,” said Amanda in a scandalised voice.

      “It’s her own funeral, you know,” said Sir Lulworth; “it’s a nice point in etiquette how far one ought to show respect to one’s own mortal remains.”

      Disregard for mortuary convention was carried to further lengths next day; during the absence of the family at the funeral ceremony the remaining survivors of the speckled Sussex were massacred. The marauder’s line of retreat seemed to have embraced most of the flower beds on the lawn, but the strawberry beds in the lower garden had also suffered.

      “I shall get the otter hounds to come here at the earliest possible moment,” said Egbert savagely.

      “On no account! You can’t dream of such a thing!” exclaimed Amanda. “I mean, it wouldn’t do, so soon after a funeral in the house.”

      “It’s a case of necessity,” said Egbert; “once an otter takes to that sort of thing it won’t stop.”

      “Perhaps it will go elsewhere now there are no more fowls left,” suggested Amanda.

      “One would think you wanted to shield the beast,” said Egbert.

      “There’s been so little water in the stream lately,” objected Amanda; “it seems hardly sporting to hunt an animal when it has so little chance of taking refuge anywhere.”

      “Good gracious!” fumed Egbert, “I’m not thinking about sport. I want to have the animal killed as soon as possible.”

      Even Amanda’s opposition weakened when, during church time on the following Sunday, the otter made its way into the house, raided half a salmon from the larder and worried it into scaly fragments on the Persian rug in Egbert’s studio.

      “We shall have it hiding under our beds and biting pieces out of our feet before long,” said Egbert, and from what Amanda knew of this particular otter she felt that the possibility was not a remote one.

      On the evening preceding the day fixed for the hunt Amanda spent a solitary hour walking by the banks of the stream, making what she imagined to be hound noises. It was charitably supposed by those who overheard her performance, that she was practising for farmyard imitations at the forth-coming village entertainment.

      It was her friend and neighbour, Aurora Burret, who brought her news of the day’s sport.

      “Pity you weren’t out; we had quite a good day. We found at once, in the pool just below your garden.”

      “Did you—kill?” asked Amanda.

      “Rather. СКАЧАТЬ