" She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. Go to her. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. 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. Come and help me pack. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid.
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