The storm had increased to a gale, wailing and moaning over the cabin outside, and the sound carried him back to the last night in the cabin far to the south, when he had destroyed the hyacinth-scented letter.

The thought of the letter moved him restlessly.

He listened to Pierrot's breathing, and knew that the half-breed was asleep.

Then he rose to his feet and laid his pipe on the table.

A curious feeling of guilt came over him as he moved toward the box in which Jacques had placed the silken scarf.