"That would have been murder," she said.
"Perhaps so. In the cold, prosaic eyes of the law we might have been regarded as criminals of the type you mention; but we did not propose to pay any deference to the law. Nor would our deed have been discovered. You would simply have disappeared; we should have shot you and thrown your body into the sea. And I don't fancy that the deed would have weighed very heavily on the conscience of either of us."
The woman smiled. Nothing seemed to disturb her. She was full of passionate fury against the decrees of fate, but she did not show it.
"I suppose you planned everything out?" she asked.
"Everything; Tchigorsky and myself between us. It was Tchigorsky who rescued my nephew after your familiar in the blue dress and red hat had cut the mast and sculls. We guessed that the search for Geoffrey would empty the house, and that you would take advantage of the fact.
"Geoffrey and I watched you laying those wires. It was I who saw that you had a taste of the poison. I wanted to lay you by the heels here while Tchigorsky overhauled your possessions. Your messenger was waylaid and robbed of your key. Also I opened the letter you sent by my niece so that your confederates might be summoned to your assistance."
"Marion has come back again?"
"Within the last hour, yes. You will see her presently."
The woman smiled curiously.
"Not to-night," she said. "Not to-night. I am tired and fancy I shall sleep well. I shall be glad of a long, long rest. Shall I see your father?"