But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. "You have always been, far dearer to me than myself," replied Mrs. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. 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. The mummies were tossed into the collection. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations.
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