"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."

5

INTO THESE DARK imaginings a breath of the commonplace came with almost ludicrous effect.

A man came into the lounge, caught sight of the Boyntons and came across to them.

He was a pleasant middle-aged American of a strictly conventional type. He was carefully dressed, with a long, clean-shaven face and he had a slow, pleasant, somewhat monotonous voice.

"I was looking around for you all," he said. Meticulously he shook hands with the entire family.

"And how do you find yourself, Mrs. Boynton? Not too tired by the journey?"

Almost graciously, the old lady wheezed out: "No, thank you. My health's never good, as you know—"

"Why, of course; too bad—too bad."

"But I'm certainly no worse." Mrs. Boynton added with a slow reptilian smile: "Nadine, here, takes good care of me; don't you, Nadine?"

"I do my best." Her voice was expressionless.

"Why, I'll bet you do," said the stranger heartily. "Well, Lennox, and what do you think of King David's city?"

"Oh, I don't know." Lennox spoke apathetically—without interest.

"Find it kind of disappointing, do you? I'll confess it struck me that way at first. But perhaps you haven't been around much yet?"

Carol Boynton said: "We can't do very much because of Mother."

Mrs. Boynton explained: "A couple of hours' sightseeing is about all I can manage every day."

The stranger said heartily: "I think it's wonderful you manage to do all you do, Mrs. Boynton."

Mrs. Boynton gave a slow wheezy chuckle; it had an almost gloating sound. "I don't give in to my body! It's the mind that matters! Yes, it's the mind. . . ."

Her voice died away. Gerard saw Raymond Boynton give a nervous jerk.

"Have you been to the Weeping Wall yet, Mr. Cope?" he asked.

"Why, yes, that was one of the first places I visited. I hope to have done Jerusalem thoroughly in a couple more days and I'm letting them get me out an itinerary at Cook's so as to do the Holy Land thoroughly—Bethlehem, Nazareth, Tiberias, the Sea of Galilee. It's all going to be mighty interesting. Then there's Jerash; there are some very interesting ruins there—Roman, you know. And I'd very much like to have a look at the Rose Red City of Petra, a most remarkable natural phenomenon, I believe that is, and right off the beaten track; but it takes the best part of a week to get there and back and do it properly."