It alighted at last, however, and Antonio caught it gently.
He was about to let it fly away again when something attracted his attention.
“O dear Leona,” he cried, “come here quickly. See, see the little quill.”
Leona speedily snipped it off from the bird’s leg with her scissors.
She looked at it, and her colour came and went.
“It is undoubtedly,” she said, “one of the birds we despatched from the Sea of Sargasso.”
“It really seems so,” said Antonio. “It is sealed with red wax, too. Is it not truly marvellous?”
“Yes, indeed, dear.”
“But open it, Leona; open it.”
Leona snipped off one end, and shook out a tiny rolled scrap of paper.