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. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. I sent a message straight. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. “Why not? It might amuse me. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. Michelle moaned and whined, and Diane resigned herself to 11:00.
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