She could not do it.
Dr. Richard Rich, expelling his breath slowly, closed up his eyes with relief. It was a second or two before he could smile again.
Though he remained impassive, Arthur Fane could not help the flicker of a complacent smirk which crossed his face. He tried to look cool and unconcerned, yet the other expression intruded, welling up from deep in vanity.
"Ah!" smiled Rich. "You refuse to use the revolver, then. But perhaps it isn't suited to you. Perhaps you can force yourself to use a dagger. A dagger is a woman's weapon. There is a dagger on the table. Get it."
Rather unsteadily, Vicky moved towards the table.
"Good. Pick it up. Grasp the handle firmly. Now return here, and.. stop."
He shaded his eyes with his hand.
"Your hate for the man in front of you is increased. The weapon you hold is just as deadly as the revolver. There is his heart. Strike."
Without hesitation Vicky lifted her arm and struck like a snake.
Grandly, like a satisfied showman, Dr. Richard Rich turned round on his heel to look at Sharpless and Ann Browning. He was smiling. His hand was extended, palm upwards, like one who says, "Well?"