At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. I don’t know. He threw the doctor out of the Palazzo on his rear, sending him to the insane plague-infested streets. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. It is just how things happen to be. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. 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. It is perfectly intrusive of me, and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an interfering busybody all the time.
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