If she was not now in
the hands of Carnac, his chances were good. Yet there was the tale of the
secret marriage--the letter he saw Carnac receive in John Grier's office!
The words of the ancient Greek came to him as he looked at her: "He who
will not strike when the hour comes shall wither like a flower, and his
end be that of the chaff of the field."
His face flushed with feeling, his eyes grew bright with longing, his
tongue was loosed to the enterprise. "Do you dream, and remember your
dreams?" he asked with a thrill in his voice. "Do you?"
"I don't dream often, but I sometimes remember my dreams."
"I dream much, and one dream I have constantly."
"What is it?" she asked with anticipation.
"It is the capture of a wild bird in a garden--in a cultivated garden
where there are no nests, no coverts for the secret invaders. I dream
that I pursue the bird from flower-bed to flower-bed, from bush to bush,
along paths and the green-covered walls; and I am not alone in my chase,
for there are others pursuing. It is a bitter struggle to win the wild
thing. And why? Because there is pursuing one of the pursuers another
bird of red plumage. Do you understand?"
He paused, and saw her face was full of colour and her eyes had a glow.
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