The inspector scratched his head thoughtfully. “I believe you are right,” he said. “It was after we had finished our first search that Woodman drew my attention to the scrap of paper.” “He was afraid you would fail to notice it.” “I can see that you are right, sir; but there again you have a thing which will not convince a jury for a moment. Your reasoning will seem to them fantastic. I only know you are right because you always are right when you make a long guess like that.” “But need it be only a guess? Look here.” And Superintendent Wilson pushed the scrap of paper across to his subordinate. “Take a good look. Do you see anything curious about it?” “It’s written oddly near the edge of the paper.” “Yes, that is the point. The writing is right up at the top of the paper, and immediately above the writing is a torn edge. The paper, as we said before, is a sheet torn from the memorandum block found in Prinsep’s room; but it is not a complete sheet. About an inch has been neatly torn off the top of the sheet. Is that a natural thing for Prinsep to have done, and does the writing look natural as it stands now on the sheet?” The inspector looked again at the note. “No, it certainly does not,” he said. “Doesn’t that suggest anything to you?” “Do you mean that this is only part of the message?” “That’s exactly what I do mean. The message now says only, ‘Meet me in the garden.—J.P.’ Probably what it said originally was, ‘Dear So and So—whatever the name may have been, and I don’t believe it was ‘George’—meet me in the garden.—J.P.’ There may have been a date, too, at the top of the note.” “You mean that this note, though it was written by Prinsep, was not written with reference to the particular occasion we are concerned with.” “Precisely. Now, I suppose there is no hope of our finding the missing part of that memorandum slip; but I am convinced that is what happened.” The inspector made a sudden exclamation. “Good Lord! what a fool I have been,” he said. “How do you mean?” said the superintendent sharply. “Why, I actually found what must have been the missing part of the slip when I was searching Prinsep’s room. I thought nothing of it at the time.” “You have it now?” The inspector shook his head ruefully. “No,” he said, “it has gone west. When I searched the room, I naturally looked in the grate. There had been a fire, and on the hearth was a half-burnt scrap of paper.” “What was on it?” “Nothing but the name of a day at the head—Monday, it was—and one word. The rest was burnt. It had evidently fallen out of the grate.” “The word was?” “‘Man.’ Just ‘man,’ nothing else.”