You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. ” She turned herself to one side and propped her head in her hand. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. 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.
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