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“I tell you–for you are one who understands men, and you come from a life that I once knew well. I know of your people. I was of good family–“

“I know the name,” said Sir Duke quietly, at the same time fumbling in his memory for flying bits of gossip and history which he could not instantly find.

“There were two brothers of us. I was the younger. A ship was going to the Arctic Sea.” He pointed into the north. “We were both young and ambitious. He was in the army, I the navy. We went with the expedition. At first it was all beautiful and grand, and it seemed noble to search for those others who had gone into that land and never come back. But our ship got locked in the ice, and then came great trouble. A year went by and we did not get free; then another year began…. Four of us set out for the south. Two died. My brother and I were left–“

Lawless exclaimed. He now remembered how general sympathy went out to a well-known county family when it was announced that two of its members were lost in the Arctic regions.

Detmold continued: “I was the stronger. He grew weaker and weaker. It was awful to live those days: the endless snow and cold, the long nights when you could only hear the whirring of meteors, the bright sun which did not warm you, nor even when many suns, the reflections of itself, followed it–the mocking sun dogs, no more the sun than I am what my mother brought into the world…. We walked like dumb men, for the dreadful cold fills the heart with bitterness. I think I grew to hate him because he could not travel faster, that days were lost, and death crept on so pitilessly. Sometimes I had a mad wish to kill him. May you never know suffering that begets such things! I laughed as I sat beside him, and saw him sink to sleep and die…. I think I could have saved him. When he was gone I–what do men do sometimes when starvation is on them, and they have a hunger of hell to live? I did that shameless thing–and he was my brother!… I lived, and was saved.”

Lawless shrank away from the man, but words of horror got no farther than his throat. And he was glad afterwards that it was so; for when he looked again at this woful relic of humanity before him he felt a strange pity.

“God’s hand is on me to punish,” said the man. “It will never be lifted. Death were easy: I bear the infamy of living.”

Lawless reached out and caught him gently by the shoulders. “Poor fellow! poor Detmold!” he said. For an instant the sorrowful face lighted, the square chin trembled, and the hands thrust out towards Lawless, but suddenly dropped.

“Go,” he said humbly, “and leave me here. We must not meet again… I have had one moment of respite…. Go.”

Without a word, Lawless turned and made his way to the Fort. In the morning the three comrades started on their journey again; but no one sped them on their way or watched them as they went.