Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Walpole for your apprehension. Vee’s all right. " "Would you like to have me come in and talk?" How tender that sounded!—talk! "If you want to. 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. I didn’t betray you, I swear I didn’t. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. Go back at once, please. " "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry.
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