an to
accuse you before your master."

"Do your worst," said Jorgen, "and take care how you do it."

And at first Adam's worst seemed likely to be little, for hardly had
he set foot in Reykjavik when he was brought front to front with the
material difficulty that the few pounds with which he had set out
were spent. Money was justice, and justice money, on that rock of the
sea, as elsewhere, and on the horns of his dilemma, Adam bethought
him to write to his late master, the Duke of Athol, explaining his
position, and asking for the loan of fifty pounds. A long month
passed before he got back his answer. The old Duke sent forty pounds
as a remonstrance against Adam's improvidence, and stern counsel to
him to return forthwith to the homes of his children. In the meantime
the old Bishop, out of love of Michael Sunlocks and sympathy with
Greeba, had taken Adam into his house at Reykjavik. From there old
Adam had sent petitions to the Minister at Copenhagen, petitions to
the Danish Rigsdag, and finally petitions to the Danish King. His
reward had been small, for no justice, or promise of justice, could
he get.

But Jorgen Jorgensen had sat no easier on his seat for Adam's zealous
efforts. He had been hurried out of his peace by Government
inquiries, and terrified by Government threats. But he had wriggled,
he had lied, he had used subterfuge after subterfuge, and so pushed
on the evil day of final reckoning.

And while his hoary head lay ill at ease because of the troubles that
came from Copenhagen, the gorge of his stomach rose at the bitter
waters he was made to drink at Reykjavik. He heard the name of
Michael Sunlocks on every lip, as a name of honor, a name of
affection, a name to conjure with whenever and wherever men talked of
high talents, justice, honor and truth.

Jorgen perceived that the people of Iceland had recovered from the
first surprise and suspicion that followed on the fall of their
Republic, and no longer saw Michael Sunlocks as their betrayer, but
had begun to regard him as their martyr. They loved him still. If
their hour ever came they would restore him. On the other hand,
Jorgen realized that he himself was hated where he was not despised,
jeered at where he was not feared, and that the men whom he had
counted upon because he had bought them with the places in his gift,
smiled loftily upon him as upon one who had fallen on his second
childhood. And so Jorgen Jorgensen hardened his heart against