"Breast high," replied Glynn.
"Only breast high," said Thresk, and there seemed to be a note of disappointment in his voice. However, in the next moment he shook it off. "The fog will be gone before morning," he said. "I'll go and tell Donald to bring the dogs round at nine to-morrow, and have your guns ready. Nine is not too early for you, I suppose?"
"Not a bit," said Glynn; and Thresk, going up to the door which led from the house, opened it, went out, and closed it again behind him.
Glynn turned at once towards Linda Thresk. But she held up a warning hand, and waited for the outer door to slam. No sound, however, broke the silence. Glynn went to the inner door and opened it. A bank of white fog, upon which he saw his own shadow most brightly limned by the light behind him, filled the outer passage and crept by him into the room. Glynn closed the latch quickly.
"He has left the outer door open," he said, and, coming back into the room he stood beside the fire looking down into Linda's face.
"He has been talking to me," said Glynn.
Linda looked at him curiously.
"How much did he tell you?"
"There can be little he left unsaid. He told me of the dog, of Channing's death----"
"Yes?"