“I have gone everywhere with him—­everywhere,” she began.  “Peter writes books, you know, and we have gone into all sorts of places.  We love it—­both of us—­this adventuring.  We have been all through the country down there,” she swept a hand to the south, “on dog sledges, in canoes, with snowshoes, and pack-trains.  Then we hit on the idea of coming north on a whaler.  You know, of course, Captain Rydal planned to return this autumn.  The crew was rough, but we expected that.  We expected to put up with a lot.  But even before the ice shut us in, before this terrible night came, Rydal insulted me.  I didn’t dare tell Peter.  I thought I could handle Rydal, that I could keep him in his place, and I knew that if I told Peter, he would kill the beast.  And then the ice—­and this night—­” She choked.

Blake’s eyes, gimleting to her soul, were shot with a sudden fire as he, too, leaned a little over the table.  But his voice was unemotional as rock.  It merely stated a fact.  “That’s why Captain Rydal allowed himself to be frozen in,” he said.  “He had plenty of time to get into the open channels, Mrs. Keith.  But he wanted you.  And to get you he knew he would have to lay over.  And if he laid over, he knew that he would get you, for many things may happen in an arctic night.  It shows the depth of the man’s feelings, doesn’t it?  He is sacrificing a great deal to possess you, losing a great deal of time, and money, and all that.  And when your husband dies—­”

Her clenched little fist struck the table.  “He won’t die, I tell you!  Why do you say that?”

“Because—­Rydal says he is going to die.”

“Rydal—­lies.  Peter had a fall, and it hurt his spine so that his legs are paralyzed.  But I know what it is.  If he could get away from that ship and could have a doctor, he would be well again in two or three months.”

“But Rydal says he is going to die.”

There was no mistaking the significance of Blake’s words this time.  Her eyes filled with sudden horror.  Then they flashed with the blue fire again.  “So—­he has told you?  Well, he told me the same thing today.  He didn’t intend to, of course.  But he was half mad, and he had been drinking.  He has given me twenty-four hours.”

“In which to—­surrender?”

There was no need to reply.

For the first time Blake smiled.  There was something in that smile that made her flesh creep.  “Twenty-four hours is a short time,” he said, “and in this matter, Mrs. Keith, I think that you will find Captain Rydal a man of his word.  No need to ask you why you don’t appeal to the crew!  Useless!  But you have hope that I can help you?  Is that it?”

Her heart throbbed.  “That is why I have come to you, Mr. Blake.  You told me today that Fort Confidence is only a hundred and fifty miles away and that a Northwest Mounted Police garrison is there this winter—­with a doctor.  Will you help me?”