She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. 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. But it was her proof. E below. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm.
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