I had no answer.
“Could I let him live to destroy the patriots whose sworn fellow I was? Do you think I could ever sleep again without dreaming of their fate? Could I kill him there in his bed—I, the physician he trusted? Could I do that?”
“In God’s name,” I cried, “what did you do?”
He regarded me with a look that challenged my very deepest thought.
“The patriots were spared,” he answered. “That was my fee for saving the life of General Kakonzoff. A year later I paid for having asked that favor by being exiled myself.”
“And—and—the other?” I asked.
“She, thank God, is dead.”
For a moment or two we remained motionless and unspeaking. Then I silently held out my hand to him. I had no words.