Lonagon, realizing that nothing could worsen D'Arcy's condition, turned away and watched Jim enter the cabin.

Once inside the door, Jim saw that the two men had spoken the truth.

D'Arcy's deathly white face was turned towards him and the hands were clenched on the brown blanket. Providence was robbing him of his vengeance, and despite his crushing sense of failure, somewhere in his heart leapt a great gladness. He approached the bed, and the sound of his heavy tread awoke the dying man to consciousness. He turned his gla.s.sy eyes on his visitor, and for a moment failed to recognize him. Then memory came.

"You--you are the man--I saw--on the bank at Dawson.... Angela's husband!"

Jim nodded grimly.

"I've come," he said. "Didn't you know I'd come?"

CHAPTER XVI

THE GREAT LIE

D'Arcy regarded him fixedly. It astonished him that a man should travel hundreds of miles in the Arctic winter to vent his wrath on another.

"Why should you come?" he murmured.

"You--you ask me that! You----"

He stopped as a spasm of pain crossed D'Arcy's face. In the presence of impending Death he found a strange difficulty in giving full vent to his hate.

"I see," gasped D'Arcy. "It's because I helped her to escape. Perhaps I was wrong, but believe me, it was better that way. I knew her years ago.... It gave you pain, but it may have saved her from hating you--eventually...."

This seeming hypocrisy staggered Jim. That any man facing the shadow of Death could act in such manner was amazing. He quivered with violent repulsion.

"I wasn't referring to that," he snapped. "She didn't escape--I brought her back."

"You--you brought her back! Then why did you come here?"

"I came to kill you--with my hands. Did you think I would rest until that score was settled?"

D'Arcy attempted to drag himself into a sitting position, but the pain it caused him rendered the attempt vain. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then slowly opened them. He became conscious of the fact that they were at cross-purposes.

"I don't understand.... In any case you are too late.... But why do you want to kill me? What I did, I did for the sake of friendship. I don't doubt you would--do the same for a woman in trouble--if--if you loved her."

Jim pa.s.sed his hand across his brow. It was bewildering, baffling!

"G.o.d, ain't you got a soul?" he gasped. "Can you lie there within a few minutes of death and take a pride in what you did? d.a.m.n the fate that got you plugged before I could get my hands on you. I suffered h.e.l.l out there, these two months, hunting you all over the mountains, and now ..."

D'Arcy surveyed the distraught speaker in bewilderment. He had said that Angela had been brought back from the _Silas P. Young_. Then it wasn't that escape that had sent him up here in bitter, revengeful mood. He began to touch the outer edge of the truth.

"I'm cold," he muttered. "And it grows dark.... Where are you?... I must know more, ... tell me what troubles you.... Do you think there was anything more in that business but friendship? Speak!"

"I know!"

"Ah--I see.... So that's it.... See here, friend.... I'm going out ...

right out, where perhaps there's a tribunal.... I've done bad things, but not that.... I'm glad you came ... in time. And you thought that of me--O G.o.d!"

Jim recoiled with blanched cheeks before these words, ringing as they did with truth. He tried to get a clear grip of the position, but his brain reeled under the force of this astounding denouement. D'Arcy was speaking again--so faint he could scarcely hear.

"And to think that of--her! Man--man--and you look as though you love her.... She's all that's good and pure, though her pride is--great, too great,... and she's willful and unrelenting.... Go back and put this right. Don't let this terrible unjust suspicion remain...."

"But--she told me that," gasped Jim.

Despite the pain occasioned by the movement, D'Arcy dragged himself higher on the pillow and gazed at Jim in horror.

"She--she told you--that!"

Jim wished he had bitten his tongue off before those words had been uttered. Was ever physical blow more cruel than this--to inflict insult and guilt of so despicable a nature upon a perfectly innocent man! He s.n.a.t.c.hed at the nerveless hand on the bed and held it.

"I'm sorry," he groaned. "I didn't know--I didn't think she would frame up a dirty lie like that."

D'Arcy suddenly smiled wistfully.

"And where is she now?"

"I sent her away."

"You sent her--well, perhaps it was best," he said. "You've got to forget that story. Circ.u.mstances excuse many things."

"They don't excuse that."

"I think they do.... All the blame is not with her. That she should give utterance to such a lie proves to what extremes she was forced. She tried by every other means to escape--and failed. You held her, not by love, but by brute strength."

"You don't understand," retorted Jim. "I bought her. She knows that. I didn't know I was buying her, but she knew all the time----"

"You--can't buy a woman's soul."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Everything. It was her soul that writhed under that jailership----"

"Yep--and her soul that told that d.a.m.ned lie."

D'Arcy shook his head.

"You tried to win by the superiority of your physical strength. Is that moral? Is it justifiable? She had no other way to fight but by subtlety and falsehood. Both ways are equally detestable. Therefore it is not for you to condemn.... Tell Lonagon ... I'm going--going...."

Jim ran outside and brought in Lonagon and Shanks. Before they could reach the bed the soul of D'Arcy had flown from his pain-ridden body. Lonagon put the blanket over the dead man's face, and Shanks made strange noises in his throat.

"He was a white man, though he was a gentleman," muttered Lonagon.

Jim staggered to the door, dazed by the outcome of this meeting. But his mind had cooled down and the crazy desire for vengeance, now vanished, left him a more normal creature. But he felt sick and weary. The future seemed so hopeless and blank. Had he the desire to search for Angela and bring her back, his storm-wrecked body would have refused. Lonagon approached him.