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The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. I'll watch over these infants, if that's your worry. 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. Ennison had disappeared.
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