” “Afraid!” “Yes. Gerald seized Melusine by the hand and drew her towards the stairs, throwing a command at Kimble as he did so. " "At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. 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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