The young man laughed bitterly;
"Bring on my old 'trouble,' I suppose. The doctors have been considerate, but I won't concern them any more. I'm through. I'm leaving for the north—right now. There's a bare chance I might still be in time."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Torrance, but you can't."
"Can't?"
The attendant had retreated to the door. His eyes were nervous, his face pale.
"It's orders, Mr. Torrance. You've been under observation treatment, and the doctors left strict orders that you must stay."
The young man throbbed with dangerous anger. His hands clenched and unclenched. He burst out, in a last attempt at reason:
"But don't you see, I've got to get to the Peary! It's the last hope for those men! The position she was last heard from is right where I—"
"You can't leave, Mr. Torrance! I'm sorry, but I'll have to call a guard!"
For a minute their eyes held. With an effort, the young man said more calmly: