‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. 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. Courtlaw stood up. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. It was locked. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler.
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