“You haven’t got——?”
Jimmy’s smile was a little hard.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Kent, but I have got a copy,” he said, with a touch of bitterness in his tone. He walked to the bookcase at one end of the room and reached down the book—a well-worn volume—and placed it before her.
The rebuke in his voice was deserved, she felt that.
She turned the leaves over quickly, but inspiration seemed to have died, for there was nothing in the sacred volume that marshaled her struggling thoughts.
“Is it a text?” asked Angel.
She shook her head.
“It is—something,” she said. “That sounds vague, doesn’t it? I thought if I had the book in my hand, it would recall everything.”
Angel was intently studying the rebus.
“Here’s one letter, anyway. You said that, Jimmy?”