’ The dagger was in her hand. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. 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.
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