A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. 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. ’ She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still open door. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James.
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