"I still can't see," I muttered, half to myself, "how this sword—a good piece of steel and as sharp as a razor—failed to kill Varduk when I——"
"Never mind that sword," interrupted Judge Pursuivant. "Look at this book, this 'Bible' which they've refused to produce up to now. I'm not surprized to find out that—well, have a look for yourself."
On the ancient black cloth I saw rather spidery capitals, filled with red coloring matter: Grand Albert.
"I wouldn't look inside if I were you," warned the judge. "This is in all probability the book that Varduk owned when Davidson met him at Revere College. Remember what happened to one normal young man, ungrounded in occultism, who peeped into it."
"What can it be?" I asked.
"A notorious gospel for witches," Pursuivant informed me. "I've heard of it—Descrepe, the French occultist, edited it in 1885. Most editions are modified and harmless, but this, at first glance, appears to be the complete and infamous Eighteenth Century version." He opened it.
The first phase of his description had stuck in my mind. "A gospel for witches; and that is the book on which Sigrid must swear an oath of renunciation at the end of the play!"
Pursuivant was scowling at the flyleaf. He groped for his pince-nez, put them on. "Look here, Connatt," he said.
I crowded close to his elbow, and together we read what had been written long ago, in ink now faded to a dirty brown:
Geo Gordon (Biron) his book