"Get on with it," he cried, and flung the remains of his lighted
cigarette on the pile of the carpet, and trod it viciously underfoot
with his heavy sea boot.

* * * * *

Standing was alone. He was alone with the thoughts his encounter with
Idepski had inspired. Judging by the expression of his reflective eyes
they were scarcely those of a man confident of victory. Had Bat been
there to witness, the task he was at that moment engaged upon would
surely have been robbed of half its satisfaction.

But Bat had gone. And with him had gone the man who was to learn the
rigours of a Labrador winter under conditions of hardship he had not yet
realised. Meanwhile Standing was free to think as his emotions guided
him, with no watchful eyes to observe.

"You'll see me again, and when you do--well, don't forget Hellbeam's at
the other end of this business."

The words haunted. The threat of them appealed to an imagination that
was a-riot.

After a time Standing stirred restlessly. He sat up and brushed the
litter of paper aside. Then he leant back in his chair and his fine eyes
were lit with an agony of doubt and disquiet. The poisonous seed of the
agent's retort had fallen upon fruitful soil.

But after awhile the tension seemed to relax, and his gaze wandered from
the grey daylight beyond the window and was suddenly caught and held by