She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. " "Very interesting," said the Chinaman, with a wave of his tapering hand toward the roofs. 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. Worse than any man.
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