“It was perhaps my fault. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. 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. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. She stepped on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to ice as he saw that she was not alone. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. She was shocked. No one was allowed to pass along Newgate Street, which was barricaded and protected by a strong constabulary force.
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