\"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. ‘What do you want with me? Why did you catch me?’ ‘You intrigue me,’ he told her frankly. “She seems an unusually clever girl,” said Ramage. 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. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. I do not desire to extenuate my guilt—far less to defend it; but I would show you, and such as you —who, happily, are exempted from trials like mine—how much misery has to do with crime.
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