UNDER ARREST
Gradually, by subtle pleading and plausible argument, he led my weak brain to view the idea with less horror. He assured me that we had not only the right but almost the duty to commit this enormity. According to him, it was not a shameful and disgraceful deed. No; it was a just, reasonable, logical thing to do.
“Of course, it is not as if we were getting rid of a man simply in order to plunder him of his money. No, indeed. That would be vile, that would be abominable. But, given the necessity—the irrevocableness—of his fate, why should we not see to it that his death may at least be of some use to some one? Not to ourselves, remember. The money you get from him shall be used to serve a just purpose—to redress a wrong. We shall make restitution to those I have despoiled. I will pay back what I took from my clients to the very last farthing. And anything that is left over shall be given in charity to the poor. What do you say to that? We shall keep nothing for ourselves—nothing. Do you agree?”
He went on to recall that among the clients he had defrauded was a widow with four little children; the thought of her, he said, had always worried him. It was good to think that she would recover every penny.
The advocate in him awoke, eloquent and convincing, until he ended by assuring me that we should be performing a meritorious deed.
Indignant at first, then uncertain, then reluctant, I was finally persuaded. Soon I heard myself repeating after him: “It will be a meritorious deed.”
Ah, if such beings as evil spirits exist, with what laughter must they have listened to our talk in that exquisite evening hour.
It was Prilukoff who thought out the details and settled the plan.