"Stand back a few steps… that's it.
Captain Sharpless, if you touch Mrs. Fane in any way, you may do her a serious injury."
Sharpless jerked back.
"Victoria Fane, you hate the man sitting in front of you. He has done something which you consider unforgivable. You hate him from the bottom of your heart. You wish him dead."
Vicky did not move.
"You hold a loaded revolver. From where you stand, it would be easy to shoot him through the heart. Look."
From his inside pocket Rich took out a pencil of soft, dark, rather smeary lead. He went up to Arthur, and, before the latter could protest, he drew a cross on the left breast of his host's soft shirt.
"There is his heart. Higher up than you thought it was. You wish him dead. I order you to kill him. I will count three, and then you will fire. One.. two…"
If the hammer fell on even a dud cartridge, it would make a sharp click. Every ear strained for that click.
Vicky's finger, shaking like the whole movement of her arm and shoulder and body, did not tighten. It loosened and uncurled from the trigger. The revolver dropped with a crash and clatter on the hardwood floor.