His heart hammered in his chest. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. . 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. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. ‘I can’t help but be sure,’ he returned shortly. . "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. I hate what I have to do to survive. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. .
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