Ann Gordon hesitated for a moment before entering the Klondike Palace, a gaudy cafe in Dawson City. It looked bleak and ugly in the daylight, and as she opened the door, she could smell the distasteful odour of spilled beer and stale tobacco smoke. She took a deep breath and resolutely entered. The place was empty except for an old man who was sweeping the floor which was littered with tobacco ashes and broken glasses. He stopped his work and looked at her curiously...