Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope. ” “The truth!” There was a brief but intense silence. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. 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. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. ‘Eh bien, you are not like Leonardo.
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