“I can do nothing,” he said. “I must do my best to arrest her, and if that happens she must be tried.”

“I suppose so,” said Gertstein, thoughtfully. He muttered something to himself in Yiddish which Labar did not catch. “There is no way out. But if it could be, Mr. Labar, that she should not be tried? She might”⁠—his voice dropped⁠—“she might die. If for instance, she was arrested and the opportunity presented itself, she might prefer to die. I could write her a letter⁠—”

The inspector held up a protesting hand. The millionaire had made his meaning sufficiently obvious, and hardened though he was, Labar was repelled by the suggestion.

“In plain words you wish me to allow her to commit suicide if she should fall into my hands.”

“You are a hard man,” protested Gertstein. “Cannot you see that so justice would be done? You will have done all that is consistent with your duty. You will have saved her and me the degradation of the gaol. You will have made a friend who could do much for you.”