The opening was obvious, and Overton took it, his face flushing deeply as he met the old man’s troubled eye.
“I came to speak to you of that, judge. There’s no need of publicity. I’ve arranged with Faunce and with certain other people. My return needn’t upset everything. The trouble can be so glossed over that no one will know of it. I think I can fairly say that I’ve succeeded in arranging that much already.”
The judge eyed him keenly.
“You mean that you’ve arranged all this—to shield Faunce, to hush it up, to let the public think you were found in some mysterious way? I can’t quite follow you.”
“We needn’t go into detail, need we?” Overton replied steadily. “We can leave so much in doubt that there’ll never be any certainty. In those ice-fields a thousand men might well be lost—why not one? The only danger is in what he’s already said. There are gaps—I’ve been over them, I’ve filled in some bad breaks. I believe we can save much talk, and hush it up.”
The judge leaned forward, his strong hands clenched on his knees, looking at Overton.
“You’re trying to shield him—for what?”
“For your sake, Judge Herford, and—for hers.”
“You can’t hide a fire. The smoke gets out, people smell burning. No more can you hide a coward! That’s what it is, Simon. The expedition has been held up; they’re not going to give him the command; questions will be asked.”
Overton shook his head.