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. Sebastian grabbed a rock from a corner and bashed in its skull. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. " "I'll never understand. Your family has not sullied itself by dabbling in it, at least not 173 from what I know, so now is not the time to begin. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. The door popped open with a sigh.
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