"I shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. 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. “Well, hello there. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. She crept out of the shadows. "I've counted ten coffins so far. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them.
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