The nauseous puddle had hardened. In hardening it had roughly assumed the aspect of a flattened human
body. It had a peculiarly unpleasant appearance, with the miniature ribs and the snapped wire of the
spine glinting above it. I was overcoming my reluctance to collect the mess for analysis when Braile came
in. I was so full of Ricori's awakening, and of what had occurred, that it was some time before I noticed
his pallor and gravity. I stopped short in the recital of my doubts regarding McCann to ask him what was
the matter.
"I woke up this morning thinking of Harriet," he said. "I knew the 4-9-1 code, if it was a code, could not
have meant Diana. Suddenly it struck me that it might mean Diary. The idea kept haunting me. When I
had a chance I took Robbins and went to the apartment. We searched, and found Harriet's diary. Here it
is."