“You!” she exclaimed. “How shall I get my luggage out of the house?. H'm!" Over the desk, on the wall, was a map of the South Pacific archipelagoes, embossed by a number of little circles drawn in red ink. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. 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.
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