In pursuance of this plan we had visited the premises, and thoroughly examined everything. I had even gone through the pockets of his clothes while Miles had ransacked every drawer, vase, and other receptacle that by any chance might contain anything. It had all, nevertheless, proved in vain, and we were about abandoning the work, when Miles picked up a piece of paper, a corner of which had been barely visible, protruding from under the writing desk. He glanced at it, at first indifferently, then with a closer interest, and at last took it to the window and scrutinized it under the light, while I, too impatient to wait on him, studied it at the same time over his shoulder.
That which he had found was a torn bit of a letter without either address or signature, but the latter was unnecessary as I recognized the handwriting of White. The paper was about the following shape, and contained these broken words and sentences:
We turned the sheet over, but the reverse side was blank: evidently the letter had been concluded on another page, if it were ever concluded, and all else was missing.
We renewed our search, peering into every nook and corner of the room and moving the furniture, but there was nothing more. Probably the other pieces had been thrown into the waste-paper basket which stood beside the desk, and this scrap, by a lucky chance, had escaped its destination.
We sent for the landlady and interrogated her as to the disposition made of the sweepings of the room. She in turn sought the hired girl, who remembered "fixing up the room" and emptying the basket the morning before White's death, but she had put the sweepings in the ash-can and they had long since been removed in the usual way.
We deemed it of the greatest importance that we find the other pieces of the letter if possible, and to that end Miles had sought out the ash-man for the district, and had the dump where he unloaded his cart thoroughly searched for them, but in vain. The rest of the letter was hopelessly lost.
In it we both believed was contained a clue to the mystery we were trying so hard to unravel, but we were compelled to accept the inevitable in this instance and make the most of what we had secured. It was a good deal, too, though very incomplete. It might not trace the crime to any particular individual, but at least it showed a secret in the life of the murdered man that affected him deeply and in which another had an intimate share, and it showed, further, that all was not in accord between the two. There had evidently been a bitter contest going on, for how long or what about was not disclosed, but it had existed and should be explained.