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. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. " Taking the keys, he led the way, followed by Jonathan, who chuckled internally at the shock that awaited the poor fellow. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.
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