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“It is very doubtful,” he said. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. A fierce struggle ensued. 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. ‘One would take it that the house had been ransacked.
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