Suddenly he gave an exclamation of extreme surprise, jumped out of his chair, and caught hold of a bit of half-burnt paper projecting from the grate. It was perhaps three inches long, and two across. Half of it was ash that fell away as he touched it. On the scant margin left was written, in stiff, archaic English, "Ye Slough of Desp——"
"Amazing!" he cried. For the fragment he held in his hand was part of the missing MS.!
In another instant he had seized his water-jug and emptied the contents on the fire, putting it out, and deluging the hearth. Then he rang the bell, and sent an urgent message for Mr. Pilgrim.
Five minutes later the American entered. Roker handed him the fragment, and pointed out where he had found it.
"Seems a pretty expensive way of li'tin' fires," said Mr. Pilgrim, grimly. "Allow me to ring for the help."
"Did you lay this fire?" he asked the maid who responded.
"No, sir. That's Jenny's work."
"Send Jenny up, then," said Mr. Pilgrim, now on his knees searching the grate for more traces of the MS., but searching in vain.
In a few minutes Jenny entered.
"Did you lay this fire?" Mr. Pilgrim asked again.