woman whom Wardour had loved and lost was--Clara Burnham. The man
who had robbed him of her was Frank Aldersley. And Wardour had
discovered it in the interval since they had last met. "Thank
God!" thought Crayford, "the dice have parted them! Frank goes
with the expedition, and Wardour stays behind with me."

The reflection had barely occurred to him--Frank's thoughtless
invitation to Wardour had just passed his lips--when the canvas
screen over the doorway was drawn aside. Captain Helding and the
officers who were to leave with the exploring party returned to
the main room on their way out. Seeing Crayford, Captain Helding
stopped to speak to him.

"I have a casualty to report," said the captain, "which
diminishes our numbers by one. My second lieutenant, who was to
have joined the exploring party, has had a fall on the ice.
Judging by what the quartermaster tells me, I am afraid the poor
fellow has broken his leg."

"I will supply his place," cried a voice at the other end of the
hut.

Everybody looked round. The man who had spoken was Richard
Wardour.

Crayford instantly interfered--so vehemently as to astonish all
who knew him.

"No!" he said. "Not you, Richard! not you!"