Macavity's a mystery cat. He's called the Hidden Paw, for he's the master criminal who
can defy the law. He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair, for when
they reach the scene of the crime, Macavity's not there. Macavity, Macavity, there is no
one like Macavity. He's broken every human law. He breaks the law of gravity. His powers
of levitation would make a foggy stare, and when you reach the scene of the crime, Macavity's
not there. You may seek him in the basement. You may look up in the air. But I tell you
once and once again, Macavity's not there. Macavity's a ginger cat. He's very tall and
thin. You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply
lined with thought. His head is highly domed. His coat is dusty from neglect. His whiskers
are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake. And
when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake. Macavity, Macavity, there is no
one like Macavity, for he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity. You may meet
him in a by-street. You may see him in the square. But when a crime's discovered, then
Macavity's not there. He's outwardly respectable. They say he cheats at cards. And his footprints
are not found in any file of Scotland Yards. And when the larder's looted, or the jewel
case is rifled, or when the milk is missing, or another peak's been stifled, or the greenhouse
glass is broken, and the trellis past repair, ay, there's the wonder of the thing, Macavity's
not there. And when the Foreign Office find a treaty's gone astray, or the Admiralty lose
some plans and drawings, by the way, there may be a scrap of paper in the hall or in
the stair, but it's useless to investigate. Macavity's not there. And when the loss has
been disclosed, the Secret Service say, it must have been Macavity, but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a licking of his thumbs, or engaged in doing complicated,
long-division sums. Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity. There never was a cat
of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare. At
whatever time the deed took place, Macavity wasn't there. And they say that all the cats
whose wicked deeds are widely known, I might mention Mungo Jerry, I might mention Griddle
Bone, are nothing more than agents for the cat who all the time just controls their operations,
like the Napoleon of crime.
