"Temperament," Sachs answered wearily. He picked up the phone. "Tell the actress to wait in the reception room." He hung up.
Lennox took out the photostats and thrust them at Sachs. "Read these," he said sharply.
Sachs glanced at the photostats casually, five seconds to each letter, then slouched to his desk chair and slumped into it, regarding Lennox with tired eyes.
"I said read them," Lennox snapped.
"I've read them," Sachs answered. "I have a photographic memory." He quoted random lines from the letters, then smiled patiently. "Satisfied?"
It occurred to Lennox that Sachs must have examined the letters in Blinky's safe at another time. That killed the shock value and there was no point in calling his bluff.
"They're written to you, aren't they?"
"I don't like your Sunday drama spot, Jake. The Philip Nolan. It's weak."
"Stay with the threats, will you? They're no drama spots."
"'Damn the United States. I wish that I would never hear the name again.' Dolly in to close-up. Yes. Your scene's out of focus. There's a value missing."