‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. A common rage flushed their faces. She dismissed the idea of doing so. 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. Of course, at home there would have been questions. Gosse, if he had any sense, would immediately seek out the Remenham lawyers. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished.
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