"Lead the way, you powdered nanny-goats!" Ultimately he arrived at the drawing-room door. He knocked loudly and entered. Angela was sitting reading. Lady Featherstone was doing likewise, and His Lordship was standing before the fire with his hands in his pockets. "Conlan!" gasped the latter. "How dare you come here?" Jim fixed his eyes on Angela, who had closed the book and was regarding him in amazement. "I've come," he said grimly. "Get your clothes on." "What is the meaning of this?" asked Featherstone. "I've come to remove my property," said Jim. "You didn't think I was hiking to the Klondyke and leaving fifty thousand pounds' worth of property lying about, did you?" Featherstone felt the jibe, but he was furious at the intrusion. Jim turned to Angela. "I'm waiting," he snapped. "You'd better go," she reported. "You merely succeed in making a fool of yourself." "Oh dear!" moaned Lady Featherstone. "The man is dangerous. Claude, call John and Henry." "Yep, call in your tame leopards. Gee--I'm starving for a fight!" Featherstone, eyeing this six-feet-three of hard knotted muscle, attempted to bring diplomacy to the rescue. "Conlan," he pleaded, "I beg you to act reasonably. I understand you are going to the Klondyke. But you can scarcely expect Angela to accompany you there. There are certain limits to a wife's marital responsibilities." Jim's eyes narrowed. "There ain't no sentiments in business. I bought her for fifty thousand. I'm not writing off anything for depreciation, cos I allow there ain't no depreciation, in a material sense. I'm jest hanging on to my property till I can get a price that leaves a margin of profit--say ten per cent. Make the bidding and I'll quit." Nothing was more calculated to arouse Featherstone's unbridled wrath. "You vulgar cowpuncher!" he retorted. "You dare insult me in that way! You dare treat my daughter as bag and baggage--to be sold at auction like an Asiatic slave----!" "I made the offer," said Jim casually, "because I thought, from experience, that was your line of business." "Leave my house!" stormed Featherstone. "Sartenly. Angela, come on, we ain't wanted." Angela sat like a statue. Suddenly Jim sprang to action. "I'm giving you two minutes," he snapped. "If you ain't ready then I'll carry you out. And if any guy tries buttin' in, wal----" Lady Featherstone gave a shriek of terror. "Call the police," she wailed. "My dear Conlan----" commenced His Lordship. "I'm through with talking. One minute gone!" Angela stood up. "I'm not coming to Alaska," she said defiantly, "but I'll come with you out of this house, to save my mother and father further annoyance and insult." Jim walked to the door and held it open. "We leave for Liverpool at five o'clock to-morrow morning," he said. She got her hat and coat and walked majestically to the cab. CHAPTER VIII THE WHITE TRAIL