I could not find the nucleus of a coherent story.

A great shout from Jaffery made me start in my chair.
"Hooray! At last! I've got it! Here it is!" He came with three thick clumps of manuscript neatly pinned together in brown paper wrappers and dumped them with a bang in front of me.
"There!" he cried, bringing down his great hand on the top of the pile.
"Thank God!" said I.
He removed his hand.

Then, as he told me afterwards, I sprang to my feet with a screech like a woman's.

For there, staring me in the face, on a white label gummed onto the brown paper, was the hand-written inscription: "The Diamond Gate.

A Novel--by Thomas Castleton." "Look!" I cried, pointing; and Jaffery looked.