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. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. "Help! help!" "You call in vain," returned Kneebone. There's more than I undertook to bring. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow. When he saw, his roars could be heard across the lagoon.
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