“In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. 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 major himself told me that this secret passage started upstairs. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. ” “Oh Jesus.
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