Anna was afterwards astonished at her own selfpossession. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. You don’t know what you’re saying, and I hope you never will. Earles drew out his cheque book. Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram. 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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