But after that it was easy. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. 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. "Shall I fetch it for you, Sir?" "By all means. But you must leave us now, dear Winny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. I’ll have to think of something else.
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