What are those little red circles?" O'Higgins asked, rising and inspecting the map. 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. "Heaven be praised she knows me at last. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. Nasty, damp passages. Michelle took out a Marlboro Light 100 from a secret stash on the inside of her pink neoprene jacket. It must be somewhere hereabouts. The Ragged Edge.
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