Robert William Chambers,
The Mystery of Choice
(1897)
“ Le Bihan nodded. Durand frowned at the sunlit sea, rocking like a bowl of molten gold from the cliffs to the horizon. I followed his eyes. On the dark glistening cliffs, silhouetted against the glare of the sea, sat a cormorant, black, motionless, its horrible head raised toward heaven. "Where is that list, Durand?" I asked. The gendarme rummaged in his despatch pouch and produced a brass cylinder about a foot long. ”
