by chance--there might be--let us see!"

Deftly, on hands and knees, he began to sort the ashes from the
grate into the fender, handling them with the greatest caution.
Suddenly, he gave a faint exclamation.

"The forceps, Hastings!"

I quickly handed them to him, and with skill he extracted a small
piece of half charred paper.

"There, mon ami!" he cried. "What do you think of that?"

I scrutinized the fragment. This is an exact reproduction of it:--

I was puzzled. It was unusually thick, quite unlike ordinary
notepaper. Suddenly an idea struck me.

"Poirot!" I cried. "This is a fragment of a will!"

"Exactly."

I looked up at him sharply.

"You are not surprised?"

"No," he said gravely, "I expected it."

I relinquished the piece of paper, and watched him put it away in
his case, with the same methodical care that he bestowed on