‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. 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 bore a face of infinite perplexity. ‘Let’s see now. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy.
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