“You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. ’ The lady uttered a scornful sound. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. White,” the lady in black satin remarked. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. 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. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl.
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