Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French. 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. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. He had not to wait long. To-morrow I am going to Paris.
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