Had it come already?
Chapter XXVII
JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN
“Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. “I wish you didn’t. She ran away from you; and now I can easily
understand why. ‘But can you? You don’t know Melusine for Mary Remenham’s daughter, any
more than I do. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’
‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the
door. “Ungracious little beast, I call her. 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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