For better inspection he carried the cloth to the light of the fire. When unrolled the fabric proved to be oblong in shape, six feet by four, its edges very much frayed, and its surface so defaced by clay that it was impossible at first to discover its texture, colour, or use.
"I see what it is," he remarked at last. "Look at that triangular shred of cloth hanging from the metallic rod: its shape tallies with the triangular rent in this fabric. This has been torn from that rail: it is a part of the tapestry that once decked the walls of this chamber. I am disappointed again; I thought to find a modern vesture, and am put off with ancient tapestry."
He began to scrape the fabric with his penknife.
"I can detect some coloured threads," he went on. "It is figured arras: but it is impossible at present to make out what the figures are. Here are some letters, too. I can detect N. and T. We must keep this. When cleaned it may prove to be an interesting 'find'—of a more ancient date, unless my chronology be at fault, than the famous Bayeux Tapestry. What puzzles me is, why the man who carried off the rest of the tapestry should leave this behind him."
"Probably because it is a torn remnant."
"But it would be a very simple matter to sew it to the main piece again. Do you notice how the rail is bent where the three cornered bit is?"
Godfrey looked and saw that the rod was bent downwards.
"What inference do you draw from that?" Idris asked.
"That somebody must have been tugging heavily at the tapestry to cause such a curvature."
"Exactly. But why should any one wrench so violently at the tapestry, tapestry that was evidently regarded as valuable, otherwise it would not have been carried off?"