She was a woman who knew the meaning of power, who recognized a lifetime of power and who had never once doubted her own force. Dr. Gerard had once met a woman who performed a most dangerous and spectacular act with tigers. The great slinking brutes had crawled to their places and performed their degrading and humiliating tricks. Their eyes and subdued snarls told of hatred, bitter fanatical hatred, but they had obeyed, cringed. That had been a young woman, a woman with an arrogant dark beauty, but the look had been the same.

"Une dompteuse!" said Dr. Gerard to himself. And he understood now what that undercurrent to the harmless family talk had been. It was hatred-a dark eddying stream of hatred.

He thought: "How fanciful and absurd most people would think me! Here is a commonplace devoted American family reveling in Palestine-and I weave a story of black magic round it!"

Then he looked with interest at the quiet young woman who was called Nadine. There was a wedding ring on her left hand, and as he watched her, he saw her give one swift betraying glance at the fair-haired, loose-limbed Lennox. He knew, then… They were man and wife, those two. But it was a mother's glance rather than a wife's-a true mother's glance-protecting, anxious. And he knew something more. He knew that out of that group, Nadine Boynton alone was unaffected by her mother-in-law's spell. She may have disliked the old woman, but she was not afraid of her. The power did not touch her.

She was unhappy, deeply concerned about her husband, but she was free.

Dr. Gerard said to himself: "All this is very interesting."