It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. 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. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual.
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