At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sounded upon the river. 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. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. “It was inevitable,” he declared. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips.
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