lled around the room, and the terror in them leaped
up at sight of the other bunk.

"Then we'll have to go," she announced decisively.

"Impossible. You have a dry, hacking cough--the sort Mr.--er--Haythorne
so aptly described. You've already slightly chilled your lungs. Besides,
he is a physician and knows. He would never permit it."

"Then what are you going to do?" she demanded again, with a tense, quiet
utterance that boded an outbreak.

Messner regarded her in a way that was almost paternal, what of the
profundity of pity and patience with which he contrived to suffuse it.

"My dear Theresa, as I told you before, I don't know. I really haven't
thought about it."

"Oh! You drive me mad!" She sprang to her feet, wringing her hands in
impotent wrath. "You never used to be this way."

"I used to be all softness and gentleness," he nodded concurrence. "Was
that why you left me?"

"You are so different, so dreadfully calm. You frighten me. I feel you
have something terrible planned all the while. But whatever you do,
don't do anything rash. Don't get excited--"

"I don't get excited any more," he interrupted. "Not since you went
away."

"You have improved--remarkably," she retorted.

He smiled acknowledgment. "While I am thinking about what I shall do,
I'll tell you what you will have to do--tell Mr.--er--Haythorne who I am.
It may make our stay in this cabin more--may I say, sociable?"

"Why have you followed me into this frightful country?" she asked
irrelevantly.

"Don't think I came here looking for you, Theresa. Your vanity shall not
be tickled by any such misapprehension. Our meeting is wholly
fortuitous. I broke with the life academic and I had to go somewhere. To
be honest, I came into the Klondike because I thought it the place you
were least liable to be in."

There was a fumbling at the latch, then the door swung in and Haythorne
entered with an armful of firewood. At the first warning, Theresa began
casually to clear away the dishes. Haythorne went out again after more
wood.

"Why didn't you introduce us?" Messner queried.

"I'll tell him," she replied, with a toss of her head. "Don't think I'm
afraid."

"I never knew you to be afraid, very much, of anything."

"And I'm not afraid of confession, either," she said, with softening face
and voice.

"In your case, I fear, confession is exploitation by indirection, profit-
making by ruse, self-aggrandizement at the ex