“Shhh. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. Please to release me. 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. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. " "There, now! You mustn't get mixed.
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