The crisp parchment was folded at the bottom, and through this fold three slits were cut, upon which pieces of parchment like broad tapes were threaded. Upon each was a seal, one of them that of Bartholomew, bearing the leopard rampant.
The curious device near the end of the document I copied as exactly as I could, and when, after Staffurth had puzzled over the yellow screed for an hour, we were about to hand it back to the attendant, the assistant-keeper approached my friend and, greeting him, asked —
“What do you find of interest in that roll, Mr. Staffurth? It has been in request by several people during the past day or two.”
“Has any one else copied it?” I demanded breathlessly.
“Yes. There were two men looking at it three days ago, and they took a copy.”
“Can you describe them?” asked Staffurth, dumfounded, for, like me, he feared that we had been again forestalled.
“They were fair, both of them. One was evidently well-versed in palæography. He was a thin, tall man, with a slight impediment in his speech.”
Harding had been there, without a doubt!
“How did they discover it?” inquired Staffurth.
“By the unusual name—Italian, isn’t it? The roll is catalogued under that. You found it in the same manner, didn’t you?”