Brendon. . 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. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant. . Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so.
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