THE SILVER FOX 145 



dead hand that still clutched the broken 

 reed when Tom Quin's body was taken from 

 the pond. 



Hugh raised his eyes and looked at his 

 wife, tasting in that moment the transcend- 

 ent anguish of the mind that once or twice 

 in a lifetime teaches the body what suffering 

 can be. She was buttoning her glove, stand- 

 inoj tall and strais^ht in the lioht from the 

 open door, in all the spotless austerity of her 

 iron-grey habit and white tie. She seemed 

 far out of the reach of accusation, yet, as he 

 took in every well-known line, forgotten 

 things rose up against her in an evil swarm. 

 His belief in her was falling with the fall of 

 a strono^ and shadino; tree : he cluns: to it 

 even as it fell ; and all the while she stood 

 and buttoned the glove across her white 

 wrist. 



At half-past eleven a misty fog was drift- 

 ing loosely up from the south-west on the 

 shoulders of the thaw, and the group of 

 riders outside the covert of Cahirdreen began 

 to turn up their collars. It was a small 



