He saw Isilda huddled before the fireplace, almost in the midst of the flames:
"The little beast!" he said. "She has thrown it into the fire!"
He pushed her back savagely, tried to take the book and burnt his hands in the attempt. Then, with the tongs, he pulled it out of the grate and threw the table cloth over it to stifle the blaze.
But it was too late. The pages of the old manuscript, all burnt up, were falling into ashes.
Lupin gazed at her in silence. The count said:
"One would think that she knew what she was doing."
"No, she does not know. Only, her grandfather must have entrusted her with that book as a sort of treasure, a treasure which no one was ever to set eyes on, and, with her stupid instinct, she preferred to throw it into the fire rather than part with it."
"Well then. . . ."
"Well then what?"
"You won't find the hiding-place."