It was Prilukoff who reminded me with a cynical smile that the vow
included also Nicolas Naumoff.
Nicolas Naumoff! I had almost forgotten him. Nicolas Naumoff! Must he,
this distant and forgotten stranger, also die?
I cannot tell which of us it was who conceived the idea of making use of
him as our instrument--of destroying him by making him a weapon of
destruction, of murdering him by making him a murderer.
The idea may have been mine. I feared that I could not rely upon the
languid, listless Prilukoff. Yes; it must have been I who devised this
method of propitiating the avenging Fates, and averting from us the
imminent Nemesis.
"A good idea," said Prilukoff wearily. "Let Naumoff do it." And he
lighted a cigarette.
I gazed at him, aquiver with superstitious dread. "Do you think that
then Naumoff need not die? Do you think that"--I hesitated--"_that_ will
be enough?..."
Prilukoff turned and looked at me as if aghast. Then he nodded his head
and the fearful, crooked smile distorted his countenance.
"Yes," he said. "I think that will be enough."