Weary, indescribably depressed, the young man went slowly down the stairs.
A servant had apparently been watching for him, for a tray with hot coffee and bread and butter was immediately brought to him. Having eaten and drunk, a spark of courage seemed to come to his consciousness.
He looked out of the window. An east fog had risen in the early morning, and all the world was a dense mist. He could hear the low booming of the sea against the shore.
Do you think he thought of Carolyn as those in battle think of peace, as those in despair think of that time when they may hope?
He turned from the window and went to the room where he had left Devil. He would take the crow and go back to his own life again. He shivered uncontrollably.
The house was utterly still. A clock struck six. Mrs. Ffolliott was with her son.
Yes, there was the crow, looking as if it had not stirred all night. But it moved now as its master approached, raised itself, and turned its head that it might gaze at him with one eye. It lifted its wings also, and stretched out one leg, gaping as it did so.
The man's pulses gave a great start, and he sprang forward, seized the bird, and found a small roll of thin paper fastened to its wing.
"So you are a carrier-dove," he said, harshly.
He took the paper to the window and unfolded it with hands that trembled in spite of all his efforts to make them firm.