“Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. He's on the ragged edge. He went by another name then,—Rykhart Scherprechter I think he called himself. 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. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve.
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