"Won't you try this? I've never heard it."

"No," she answered firmly; "not that one."

It was the ballad which Andrew had told her helped to send him up into the wilds where his duty lay. Henceforward it was sacred--not to be sung to such a man as Mappin.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I sing that only to people who I know will appreciate it."

"And you don't think I would?"

"It strikes me as very doubtful," she said with a smile in which there was a touch of scorn.

His color deepened. She had shown signs of yielding, and how he wondered whether she had after all been amusing herself with him.

Stirred as he was by pa.s.sion he was in no reasoning mood; savage jealousy filled his heart.

"It's the kind of thing you keep for sentimental fools like Allinson!"

he exclaimed.

Geraldine had expected some such outbreak. Indeed it was what she desired.

"Well," she said with a tenderness which was meant to disturb her companion, "I sang it to him once."

"It will be a long while before you sing it to him again!"

The voice rang harsh with exultant fierceness and Geraldine knew that she had gained her object in rousing the brute in him. She had learned the truth--for whatever danger threatened her lover this man was responsible. But there was more she must know.

"As he's a friend of ours, you're not very considerate," she said.

"What makes you speak with so much certainty?"

Mappin saw that he had been rash, and he was instantly on his guard.

"It was a fool thing to go North in winter. It's no country for a raw tenderfoot, and Allinson should have taken a stronger party. I know something about transport work in the bush."

"I suppose food would be their greatest difficulty," Geraldine remarked with a thoughtful air.

"No. Fresh snow and blizzards would trouble them worse."

"Still, food would be a consideration," Geraldine persisted. "I know they thought a good deal about the matter and had some caches made. If they couldn't find them coming back, it would be serious, wouldn't it?"

Mappin's jealousy was heightened by her interest, but he regretted his haste and meant to be cautious. Unfortunately for him, the charm Geraldine had exercised had carried him away. He could not think as clearly as usual.

"The provisions were carefully packed and sent up in charge of good men," he declared hotly. "They were properly cached; every precaution was taken."

"Were they your men?"

Mappin glanced at her sharply, but read nothing in her face. He could not evade the question without rousing suspicion.

"Yes," he said; "that's why I know they could be relied on to do their work."

Geraldine sat silent a moment, struggling to preserve her calm. She had found out what she wished to know. She understood now why Mappin had insisted on the dangers of the journey and made light of the question of food. He had, with scarcely conceivable cruelty, cut off the party's supplies. Still, he must not suspect that she knew this.

With an effort she took up another piece of music.

"We are anxious for news of the expedition, and it's comforting to remember that they had an excellent guide," she said. "But I'll play you something."

Before the piece was finished, her father came in and she left him to entertain their guest. Seeking her room she sat down, feeling suddenly limp from strain. That she was humbled and ashamed did not matter; she was filled, on the one hand, with hatred and loathing for the man she had led on, and, on the other, with anxiety for Andrew.

CHAPTER XX

THE RESCUE PARTY

When Mappin left, Frobisher went to his smoking-room, where he was surprised to find Geraldine waiting for him.

"I think," he said with mock severity, "it was mean of you to leave Mr. Mappin on my hands, particularly as I don't suppose his visit was made on my account."

"Did he bore you very badly?" Geraldine inquired.

"We have had guests here whom I'd rather entertain; but for your aunt's sake I try to be civil. After all, we have known the man for a long while."

"I feel that we have been very patient in putting up with him! He's insufferable!"

"Ah!" said Frobisher, taking out a cigar. "Then you didn't happen to be here by accident? Sit down and we'll have a talk."

Geraldine took the chair he indicated.

"I have something to tell you," she said with an effort. "Mappin asked me to marry him a little while ago."

"It strikes me as curious that this is the first I've heard of it."

"I was ashamed to tell you," Geraldine admitted, shyly. "I felt degraded. Besides, you must have guessed----"

"Yes. I had some idea of the man's ambitions; in my opinion, he's too cold-blooded to be influenced by any more tender sentiment. We'll take it for granted that you refused him. Nowadays it seems to be a father's business to sanction and not to interfere; but I really think if you had wanted to marry the fellow I'd have been as firm as adamant. However, this is not to the purpose. Why do you tell me about it now?"

"You'll see presently. But try to remember that he has other feelings than avarice. The man's unscrupulous and full of savage cruelty."

"Well?"

"To begin with, will you read this? It's from Ethel Hillyard, whom I met in London. You have heard me speak of her."

She gave him a letter containing sufficient information about the house of Allinson to explain why Andrew had gone to Canada. His character and his relations with Hathersage and the rest of the family were cleverly sketched. Frobisher studied it carefully before he looked up.

"All this is not exactly new to me, though Miss Hillyard, who seems to be a shrewd young lady, speaks strongly in Allinson's favor. From odd things he let fall, I'd formed a pretty good idea of the situation.

Now that you have cleared the ground, you had better go on."

"Father," said Geraldine, "so far, you have done nearly everything I asked you, and that is why I'm not afraid to ask for something else. I want you to send up a party to look for Mr. Allinson. He and the others are in danger of starving in the snow."