At the great marble gateway that led into the palace-garden he paused and stood for a space in frowning contemplation.

A small wind had sprung up and moaned among the cypress-trees that overlooked the high wall.

He seemed to be listening to it.

Or was it to the hoot of an owl that came up from the valley?
Finally he drew near and deliberately tapped the ashes from his half-smoked pipe upon the shining marble.

The embers smouldered and went out.