Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes.
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