He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. He—” “Here they are!” said Ann Veronica as the bell sounded. Ever and again Capes appealed to Ann Veronica. 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. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly.
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