Second last chapter! Yes everyone I have one more chapter left which will be published ASAP! So look out for it!
The following week was delightful for both Misto and I, and our humans alike. We wondered up the valley of the Rhone, and then, branching off at Leuk, we made our way over the Gemmi Pass, still damp with snow, and so, by way of Interlaken, to Meiringen. It was a lovely trip. Especially since it was the time of year when the valleys are blooming into spring, whilst the mountains are still white with winter's snow. But even so, it was clear to me that Misto did not let his guard down for a second. Not once did he forget the shadow which lay across him. I could tell by his quick glancing eyes and his sharp scrutiny of every cat and human we met, that he still believed, that wherever we may walk or hunt, we would always be in danger.
I remember one time, as we went through the Gemmi Pass, a large rock which had been dislodged from the ridge on out right clattered down straight towards us. If it had not been for Misto's and my acute cat reflexes then we would have been flattened. In an instant Misto had raced up to the top of the ridge, and screened the landscape for any sudden movement, but none was to be seen. Our guide had laughed it off and said that falling rocks were common at this time of year. Misto however, remained unconvinced, but merely smiled as if he had expected something like this.
But now I come to the point where I must tell you about Homes and Misto's demise. I shall be brief, but true to the details of what happened that day.
It was on the third of May that we reached the little village of Meiringen, where Holmes and Watson shared rooms at the Englisher Hof, and Misto and I lodged in the stable as the landlord was allergic to cats. He spoke good English and at his advice, on the fourth, the four of us set off together, with the intention of crossing the hills and spending the night at the hamlet of Rosenlaui. We were strictly warned, however, on no account to pass the falls of Reichenbach, which are about half-way up the hill, without making a small detour to see them.
It is indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunges into a tremendous and rocky chasm, from which the spray rolls up like liquid smoke creating a hazy fog that made it impossible the bottom. The shaft into which the river hurls itself is an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black, basalt rock, and narrowing into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and shoots the stream onward over its jagged lip. The long sweep of blue water forever rushing down, and the thick flickering curtain of spray hissing forever upward, made a tom dizzy with its constant whirl and spray. We stood at the lip of this very abyss, peering down at the gleam of the black rocks as the icy water spilled over them, and listening to the roar which came booming up with the spray out of the gulf. Turning round to resume our journey we saw a young Swiss lad accompanied by a brown patched tom come running along the path with a letter in his hand it bore the mark of the hotel which we had just left, and was addressed to my human by the landlord. It appeared that within a very few minutes of our leaving, an English lady had arrived and was in the last stage of tuberculosis. She had spent the winter at Davos Platz, and was journeying now to join her friends at Lucerne in the hop that the mountain air could revive her. Alas it was not to be for a sudden hemorrhage had over taken her. It was thought that she could hardly live a few hours, but it would be a great comfort to her if she could see an English doctor, and if only Watson and Holmes would return etc. etc. There was no mention of me or Mistoffelees but it was only to be expected for a human who nothing about Jellicle cats. The note hinted that Watson would be doing the landlord a great favor as the lady, swept up in a wave of patriotism, refused to see a Swiss physician.
The appeal was not one to be ignored. Whilst Holmes and Watson discussed what to do, Misto and I questioned the tom-kit as to whether this note was telling the truth or not. After an immense effort from both parties to understand the question, and the subsequent answer, we managed to gather that the lad himself had not seen the ill woman himself. But he had seen the innkeeper looking very worried and urging the boy to hurry when he had given him the message. I glanced at Mistoffelees when we had heard this description.
"It seems like there is a lady in dire need" he remarked "Watson, the every obliging man he is will surely head back to the hotel. Will you follow him?"
I admit I was tempted to do so. It made me cringe to think that only a few miles away, a woman was dying, far away from her family and from her homeland. But at the same time I was reluctant to leave Misto's side, for fear that it I was not present, trouble would somehow befall him.
"Are you sure Misto? It could be a prank."
"Nonsense, I'll be fine Munk. You go with your human, see what we're being served for supper tonight."
I made the decision to follow my human back to the hotel. Misto would stay at the fall for a little while before making his way over the mountain and we would meet up at Rosenlaui. As I turned away I saw Misto, with Holmes standing nearby. They seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation which I didn't want to interrupt. So turned round and began to follow Watson. That was the last I ever saw them in this world.
It took Watson and me a little over an hour to arrive back at the hotel. The landlord was waiting outside. Aware if his cat allergies I hung back, but stayed close enough to hear their conversation.
"Well" said Watson "I trust that she is no worse?"
A look of surprise passed over his face and at the first quiver of his eyebrows, a sense of despair washed over me.
"You did not write this?" asked Watson, pulling the letter out from his pocket "There is no sick Englishwoman in the hotel?"
"Certainly not!" he cried "Let me see that paper. No it is not my writing sir, but it has the hotel mark on it. Ah! It must have been written by that tall Englishman who came in after you had gone. He said - "
But Watson and I were already gone, running as fast as our limbs would take us, back to the fall of Reichenbach where we had left our friends to their fate. I was faster than my human companion, having four legs to run with, and made it back in about half the time it had taken us to get to the hotel.
There was Misto's black bow-tie, resting against the rock next to Holmes's alpine stock. But there was no sign of them and no response when I called Misto's name. It was the sight of the bow-tie that turned me cold and sick. Misto had not gone to Rosenlaui then, he had remained at this place of horror with Holmes, waiting for his enemy to arrive. The young Swiss tom and his human had gone too. He had probably been in the pay of Macavity, and had left the two cats together. Where had they gone?
I stood still for a few moments trying to collect myself. Then I began to piece together what had happened in the last few minutes of my friend's life. It was, alas, far too easy. First of all there were the paw prints of where my friend and I had stood. Then about twenty meters away there were paw prints of a much larger cat, intertwining with Misto's delicate foot patterns in a deadly dance. A sharp rock lay nearby, spattered with a glistening dark red stain. Whether it was Misto's or Macavity's blood I cannot say. Clumps of long red fur and short black fur lay among the grass. The paw prints continued all the way to the cliff edge, where several skid mark lay and-
Nothing else. There were no returning tracks.
"Misto" is called "MISTOFFELEEEEEEEEEES!"
When I got know reply I sank down onto my stomach. It seemed impossible that someone could be alive one minute, and not the next. I just couldn't comprehend it.
A few minutes later Watson came puffing up to the scene. I watched dismally as he made a similar discovery to my own. With a groan he sank to his knees beside me.
"We've lost them Straps. We were too late. We were too late Holmes and Mistoffelees."
Then he found something that I'd failed to notice. Pages from Holmes's note-book, weighed down by his silver cigarette-case. Picking them up he began to read them, whilst tears unconsciously trailed down his face. After a few sniffs I found that Mistoffelees had left me a message as well. If his had been written, it would have gone like this.
My dear Munkustrap
I write these few lines through the courtesy of Macavity, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements. I am telling you, his techniques are fascinating. I only wish that I had time to try them out for myself. I am afraid that by ridding Macavity of society I will be causing a lot of pain to my friends, especially to you Munkustrap. But trust me; this is the better long term outcome.
I was convinced from the beginning that the letter from the landlord was a hoax. And I allowed you to depart on that errand in the belief that something like this would happen. Tell inspector Alonzo that the evidence he needs to convict the gang are in the can of tuna tied up with a blue ribbon and have a M inscribed on the lid. Holmes has made similar arrangements for the conviction of Moriarty. Please give my greetings to my brother Bustopher Jones and Demeter and believe me to be, my dear friend.
Very sincerely yours
Mistoffelees
A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains. An examination by expert trackers leaves little doubt that a duel, composed of magic as well as fists led the two toms to fall over the edge of the cliff and into the fall's icy depths. Any attempt at recovering the bodies was adsolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful cauldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the most dangerous criminal and the most brilliant detective the Jellicles have ever seen. The swiss youth and his cat were never found again, and there can be no doubt that he was one of the numerous agent whom Macavity kept in his business. As to the gang , it will be within the memory of most cats of how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their organization. Of their terrible leader, few details came out during the proceedings. Its seems that Macavity shall always be the mystery cat. And now I have come clean. I have made a clear statement of this villainous fiend's career. Because a few incredulous one who have attempted to clear his tarnished memory by attacking the one whom I shall always regard as the best, the cleverest, and the wisest tom that I have ever known.
I'm thinking about moving this story to the crossover section when I'm done. I tell you my decision in the next chapter.
