Edmund picked up the paper and rubbed his chin curiously.  He was not, of course, an expert linguist, but he did have a fairly wide exposure to written languages, thanks to his years on stage.  He studied it for a bit, trying to see if he could recognize any of the script.  There was something familiar about it, something...<br/><br/>"Aha!" he exclaimed, standing proudly, "That's it!"<br/><br/>He rushed to his filing cabinet, flipping through stacks upon stacks of unsorted papers.  Then, finding what he was looking for, he drew out a piece of yellowing paper and rushed over excitedly to Annabelle.<br/><br/>"There!" he exclaimed, pointing.  The paper was a copy of a theater playbill.  It was written in the same language as that on the paper, and in small print, near the bottom of the bill, was Edmund's name.<br/><br/>"It's from a role I did with a touring company," he said, puffing up proudly, "This one was in Romania.  The printer fouled up and put the names in the wrong order; I should have had top billing, of course...but alas, foreign help, you know?"