“Doctor, this must not be. You must stop it before there is any breath of scandal. Oh, for a minute last night I wanted to kill her.”
The doctor's face was stern. “If you had killed her your crime would have been far less hellish than the one you ask me to commit.”
The old man bowed his head upon his hands. “You will not help me,” he groaned.
The doctor rose and walked the floor. “No, sir,” he said, “I will not stain my soul with murder for you or any other man.” He went to the window and stood looking out upon the street below. Presently he said, “Mr. Stirling, will you come here a minute?” The old man rose and went. “Do you see that little boy skipping along down there?”
“Yes, I see him.”
“If I should go down these stairs, seize him and dash his brains out against that building, what would you think of me?”
“I'd think you were a devil.”
“Yet he would have a chance for his life. He could cry out, or the passersby might see me and interpose, while that you ask me to destroy is—”
“There's one thing I'll do,” said the old man fiercely. “I'll kill Ben Morely before this day is over!” He seized his hat and started toward the door.
“Wait a minute!” said the doctor quickly. “It's Ben Morely is it? I know him. I would not have thought him capable of this.”