THE SILVER FOX 25 



Voices and footsteps were on the road, 

 and groups of people straggled towards him 

 in the twilight. They were the remnant of 

 Danny Quin's funeral cortege, and even at a 

 distance of a hundred yards the blatant 

 drawl of drunkenness was discernible in 

 their conversation. He passed quickly 

 through them, and walked fast till he was 

 clear of the reek of whisky, tobacco, and 

 stale turf smoke that followed them. 



" What swine they are," he thought, 

 drawing a long breath. He was walking in 

 a bend of the road where trees stood up on 

 either side, and in the shelter the twilight 

 seemed to fall as heavily as dew. A cold, 

 sharp moon came forlornly from behind a 

 wisp of cloud ; the road glistened pallidly in 

 its light, and he saw a tall man walking 

 unsteadily towards him. 



" Good-evening, Quin," said Mr. Glasgow, 

 recognizing as he neared him the young 

 man's white face and dark beard; "I was 

 sorry to hear of your trouble. Only four 

 days ago I was talking to your father, and I 



