Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. ‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. 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 smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself.
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