Gerald instantly took her arm and guided her back to her chair. " "I can at least, protect myself," replied Wild, with, provoking calmness. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe. 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. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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