He put up the cover, and was pushing in the little side rests that had held it, when a scrap of paper, wedged in beside one of them, caught his eye.
Something very like an electric shock ran along his nerves at this discovery.
He tried to dislodge the paper, but it was very firmly caught, while the ragged edges did not protrude sufficiently to allow him to grasp it with his fingers.
He drew forth his knife, and, working very carefully, finally succeeded in detaching it from its position.
Upon examining it he found it to be a portion of a letter that had probably been caught some time, when the slide was being pushed in, and the other part had been hastily torn away, doubtless by some one trying to remove it from the crevice.
He smoothed it out with an eager, trembling hand, while his face grew white from the excitement of the moment.
“Can it be possible that I have found a clew at last?” he muttered, in a repressed tone. “I am afraid it will prove but a faint one, but it may be something to begin upon.”
The following is what he read from that torn sheet of paper, which had been torn lengthwise in a very irregular manner:
“My dear An
regret that I have