"I'm not here as a policeman and I'll lay aside the tools of my trade."
Unhooking the belt that held a holstered revolver to his hip, he placed the accouterments upon the counter at the end nearest the front door. Beside them he laid a "come along," a small steel article with chain attachment useful in handling refractory prisoners. With his long arms swinging loosely at his sides, he strode back to face the factor.
"Now, Karmack, what else did you tell the girl?"
"Perhaps I showed her how careless kind you are to Avic, named by the coroner's jury as her brother's murderer." The handsome factor was enjoying himself. "Of course it would be likely to please her, seeing the only suspect yet named wandering about the camp at will, living in idleness on your bounty, likely to slope off into the snows and never be heard from again."
"The Eskimo is under open arrest—regular enough under the circumstances. I'll stand——"
Seymour caught himself. He did not need to defend his official conduct to this trouble maker. Moreover, he felt that Karmack must have gone further with his insinuations. The matter and manner of Avic's custody might have carried the girl to him in protest, with demand for an explanation; but it was not enough to have brought about an utter break without a word.
"Let's hear the rest of it, Karmack—the whole damnable misrepresentation." Fingers twitching beside the yellow stripe of his trousers showed his tension.
"Perhaps I told her about the foxes—the silver and black!" The factor's tone was triumphant.
Seymour's expression was too well schooled to betray any surprise at this unexpected thrust. "What about the fox pelts?"
"They disappeared, didn't they, most mysteriously? They were in the hut when you left it under seal the night of your return and Moira's arrival. The hut still was sealed when you took the coroner's jury there the next day, but the pelts were not. The jury never saw them. That's what about the fox pelts."