ToC Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step. She goes out and comes home. 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. “I am staying at the Savoy. ” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now.
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