Morning peeped its way through the curtains of Munkustrap's private cloister, and the chirps of pigeons- tonight's dinner, no doubt- rang through his ears. Through the thin veneer of bedsheets he watched his taught muscles stretch out beside those of his bedmate. Alonzo, for his part, was fast asleep, his supple white limbs reflecting the morning light like fine china. Munkustrap ran a paw past the curve of his back, watching as the kitten's hairs stood at attention when beckoned by his touch. He stirred ever so slightly, arching into his superior's palm as it grazed his petite rear and tail, which swatted the sheets aside to reveal the fullness of his form.
It was with much reluctance that Munkustrap tore himself from his lover this morning, but petulant thoughts would not let his ever-vigilant mind rest. Though he had spent the night in blissful negligence, he had neither investigated nor discussed further the deductions from his meeting with Mestophiles the day before. His wonderings had taken a slight turn as his distraction forced gladder possibilities into his head. What if Mestophiles's wild theories were just that, and Grizabella had simply overslept? Or perhaps she had been found by one of those shelter humans, and brought to a hospitable home. If hers and Macavity's absences were correlated, there were other possibilities there as well. With the Glamour Cat still yet unseen, he could only imagine that she was either the missing murderer's victim, or his accomplice. The latter was more likely, but the former, far more cause for concern.
As if the Moon were reading his confused mind, a knock on his chamber door scattered these thoughts and brought him back to the reality of the moment. Pulling the curtains again over Alonzo, he tip-toed to the doorway, cracking the door slightly open to reveal his visitor. The Rum-Tum-Tugger- ruffled and haggard from a long night of canoodling, no doubt- beckoned Munkustrap join him in Mr. Mestophiles's library. Nodding in relief- for whatever Mestophiles hoped to share would surely ease his lonesome wondering- he followed his brother down to the depths of the temple.
Mestophiles was exactly where he had left him the day prior, poised in a semblance of perfect cerebral tranquility, surrounded by centuries' worth of knowledge and comforting wisdom. Munkustrap knelt before him, curious and anxious for his speech to begin.
He informed the two brothers that he had hatched a plan to, if not trap, at least uncover the suspected cat-burglars. Though the night of the festival was merely hours away, a decision had not yet been made as to which Old Cat would receive the honor of reincarnation. All were present, of course, besides Grizabella. So they and the other cats would be informed- falsely- that she was the Moon's first choice, and that she could only receive her honors if she made an appearance. It was a brilliant ruse. After all, word travelled extraordinarily quickly amongst the Jellicles. Munkustrap recalled to himself a tale of ill repute regarding his brother and some of his most enamored kittens of various sexes. The noise of their revelry carried out across the night- with special attention to one key phrase- and in the morning, Bustopher Jones was inspired to concoct a special dish for the congregation: Chicken, cooked "Slow and Steady."
This aside, Munkustrap was eager to enact Mestophiles's scheme, to plant the seeds of this rumor and let it travel through the grapevine to Macavity's door. If it did not attract the Glamour cat herself- or, if something had happened to her to prevent her from hearing- at least the wicked Sorcerer Cat would show his face, to slay the Moon's chosen.
He let the Rum-Tum-Tugger take charge of the operation, mumbling in sultry tones that could spin the vilest of lies into truth. Before noon, the festival was abuzz with songs of Grizabella's praise; of course our Moon would choose her! they whispered; I remember the way she sang all those years ago; what a joy it would be to have her back! By dusk, the stage had been set for their grand betrayal.