Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CAT-WOMAN . gag oe whir of an electric fan, though not as loud. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed that the strange woman had gone back. into her room, although she must have moved very quietly for me not to have heard her. In her half-open door stood a large white cat, and it was its purring which I had noticed. “Hello, kitty!” I murmured, holding out a hand. Be saiaal seemed very fracrielle: for it came to me at once and rubbed against my legs, still purring loudly. I petted it a moment, then unlocking my door at last, I stepped inside, closed the door, and mechicd on my light. Glancing oo I found that the cat had slipped in while I was not looking. Scratching its head in. a way cats love, I carried it across the hall: and knocked timidly. There was no answer. I knocked again, then twice more, loudly. Sull there was no answer. The lady must be out, or perhaps asleep, I told myself; and opening the door slightly I put the cat inside and shut it within. Then I returned to my room and went to bed. I was wakened some hours later by something heavy on my feet. Sitting up and feeling about the covers, I touched something warm and furry. I switched on the bed lamp quickly, to find the white cat curled up contentedly on my feet. It must have come in through the window. Smiling slightly I went back to sleep, promising myself to return it to my queer neighbor in > the morning. Early the next day I knocked at the door, and receiving no answer put the cat inside as on the previous night. It was not until I was leaving for the office that I noticed with a start that all my windows were closed, as they must have been all night. I was sure, too, that my door had betn locked "against a chance thief. How, then, had the white cat gained admittance? I was still wondering about this when I came home from the office. Mrs. Bates was dusting the stairs, and I paused a moment to speak to her. She mentioned again my queer neighbor, warning me to “keep shy” of her. I smiled. “I saw her last night coming out of her door. Good-looking, isn’t: she?” The landlady shook her head ominously and cast her eyes toward . heaven. “And she has a beautiful white cat,” I added. Mrs. Bates stiffened. “Cat?” she snapped. “I don’t allow no pets kept in the © boarders’ rooms! I'll have to speak to her about that.” The front door opened just at this point and my strange neighbor came in. 1 was impressed once more with her odd beauty, the feline grace in her _ every motion. The word came inevitably to my mind—she reminded me so much of-a sleek, well-fed cat. “I’m told you keep a cat in your room, miss,” began the landlady un- pleasantly. “I thought you knew the rule . Mademoiselle Chatte-Blanche turned her round green eyes upon Mrs. Bates in that disturbing unwinking stare of hers. “I haf no cat,” she said. ins , CoOnniclOOlkKS.c© im