"No," said the doctor, sharply. "If I set foot on the Continent I may be captured by the secret police. I have no wish to take Garth with me to Siberia," he added sarcastically. "It is not a warm climate. The Azores--Madeira--Jamaica--Barbados--any such place, will make him better."
"I don't want him to be made better," said the other conspirator, naïvely.
"Leave that to me, madame. Garth will die as Garth, and be buried as Milor, your husband."
"No, no," said Leah, with a shudder. "I won't have murder."
"You are scrupulous," rejoined Demetrius, with a shrug. "But make your mind easy. Garth cannot live--he may die on the voyage----
"Or he may live for months."
Demetrius shrugged his shoulders again. "In that case, I may have to assist nature."
"No," said Leah, again, and very determinedly. "I could never spend the money with any pleasure if I thought that you--you assisted nature," she ended faintly, not liking to use a strong word.
The Russian looked at her with silent surprise. He could not understand why she should be scrupulous in one thing and not in another. She contemplated a fraud on the insurance company, and bigamistic marriage with him, so it was impossible to guess why she should object to the inclusion of a third crime.
"And it would scarcely be murder," said Demetrius, continuing his train of thought aloud. "He is so ill, this poor Garth, that the relief of death----"