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. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Maggot's offer may appear, the young man thought fit to decline it, and, after a few words of well-merited compliment on her extraordinary prowess, and renewed thanks to Mr. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. “You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr. ” She nodded in the affirmative. Presently he turned to Courtlaw. “Hill has asked for you, and they will take his depositions to-night. CHAPTER XIX.
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