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. ‘What if she does not agree? Could she reveal us, damage us amongst our peers? Are you certain that we should not kill her?’ He asked. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. . What was his problem, she thought to herself. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor.
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