“Miss Rook, on a scale of one to pomegranate, how dangerous would you say this situation has become?” “Dangerous?” I faltered. “Yes, Miss Rook,” prompted Jackaby, “in your expert opinion.” “On a scale of one to pomegranate?” I followed his lead, checking over the notes I had scribbled in my notepad and speaking in my most audible, serious whisper. “I should think . . . acorn? Possibly badger. Time alone will tell.”
