"I have," replied Jonathan. I was raised in the Church. "I shall state my suspicions to the governor. 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. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. . ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye.
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