Setting down your polishing cloth, you picked up the emerald-eyed figurine with renewed curiosity. Turning it slowly in your hands, you watched as the gemstone eyes seemed to shift ever so slightly, maintaining their piercing gaze no matter the angle. A shiver ran down your spine as you experimentally moved the figurine from left to right - the eyes tracked the motion with uncanny precision.

Sir Pouncealot suddenly sat upright on the windowsill, his ears twitching forward with interest. You barely noticed as you became engrossed in your experiment, walking slowly around the room while keeping the figurine at arm's length. The emerald eyes never wavered, their intense stare seeming almost alive. A beam of sunlight caught the gems at just the right angle, casting tiny green reflections that danced across the walls like will-o'-the-wisps.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the hour, its deep tones startling you from your reverie. As you set the figurine back on its shelf, you could have sworn you saw the cat's silver tail twitch. Sir Pouncealot hissed abruptly and darted from the room, his fur standing on end. The atmosphere in the drawing room had changed - the air felt heavier, charged with some unseen energy. From somewhere in the mansion, Lady Whiskerton let out a curious mrrow that sounded suspiciously like a summons.