"A dreadful thing to do," added Moira. "And on your first night home after your long patrol!"
That portion of Seymour's face that was not bearded took color from the tunic that had betrayed him. "And I thought I'd removed all trace of the former occupant. Must be getting color blind." He carried the jacket into the living room. "Don't worry about your reverend, Mrs. Morrow; he'll bunk as snug as a bug out here with La Marr and me," he called back.
There was a chorus of good-nights; then the men settled to their pipes before the fireplace. After a reasonable wait in silence, Seymour lowered his voice and communicated to Luke Morrow the news of the tragedy. Without reservation, the missionary approved their course of keeping it from Moira until after the necessary legal formalities had been carried out. Then, he said, he would take charge with a religious reverence that might lighten the blow.
"She's a wonderful woman, Moira O'Malley," he said with deep feeling. "She endeared herself to everyone who met her over at Wolf Lake. Utterly wrapped up in her brother, this will be a terrible blow. I wonder if——" He hesitated. "Would it be admissible, do you think, to tell her of the death but not the fearful form?"
Glances exchanged by the three laymen showed that they appreciated the missionary's struggle—kindly thought against strict truthfulness. Long had he taught the "truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." But just now he wavered.
"By gar! It absolutely would!" Karmack vociferated.
Seymour's quick wit worked out a solution.
"An accident of the Arctic prairies. I'll trust having that one marked up against me in the Doomsday Book."
"Blessed are the kindly of heart," murmured the "sky-pilot." "So be it!"
Of course, they all realized that Moira would learn in time the nature of the "accident," but that need not be until Time had its chance to salve the wound. The arrest of Avic need not bring about disclosure, once the whites in Armistice were pledged to keep it from her. She might know him only as another unfortunate, misguided Eskimo slayer, a handcuff brother to Olespe of the Lady Franklin band, then in the guard room.