I put your clothes out an hour ago. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. “Shhh. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. Until the last few months. And now I've another job for you. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. 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.
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