Romanoff laughed quietly. "These are good cigars, Faversham," he said, like one who was vastly enjoying himself. "Oh, you can do that easily enough," he continued.
"How?" asked Dick. He felt his eyes were hot as he turned them towards the other.
"I said treat him as though he were non-existent. Well, let him be non-existent."
"You mean—you mean——" and Dick's voice could scarcely be recognised.
"Why not?" asked the Count carelessly. "The fellow is vermin—just dirty vermin. But he is a danger—a danger to the community, a danger to you. Why, then, if it can be done easily, secretly, and without anyone having the slightest chance of knowing, should you not rid the world of such a creature? Especially when you could save all this," and he looked around the room, "as well as marry that divine creature, and live the life you long to live."
"Never!" cried Dick. "What?—murder! Not for all the wealth ever known. No, no—my God, no!"
"If there are good deeds in the world, that would be a good deed," persisted Romanoff. "You would be a benefactor to your race, your country," and there was a touch of pleading in his voice. "Why, man, think; I have him safe—safe! No one could know, and it would be a praiseworthy deed."
"Then why not do it yourself?" cried Dick. There was a sneer as well as anger in his voice.
"I am not the next heir to the Faversham estates," replied Romanoff. "What does it matter to me who owns all that old Charles Faversham gained during his life?"
"Then why suggest such a thing? Why, it's devilish!"