“You must get him to insure his life.”
“How can I?” I cried feebly and tearfully. “How can one possibly suggest such a thing?”
“Leave that to me,” said Prilukoff, reverting to his Moscow manner.
Next day he showed me a letter written by himself in a disguised hand.
“Open this letter when he is present, and when he insists on seeing it, show it to him ... reluctantly!”
“But what if he does not insist?”
“You must make him insist,” said Prilukoff.
The letter was brought to me in Kamarowsky's presence, and when he saw me turning scarlet and then pale as I opened it, he insisted on seeing what it contained.
I showed it to him ... reluctantly.