I swear it, Johnny!" As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to the chair.
"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer.
I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired assassin.

Don't you see that I can't?
Good heaven, some day--very soon--I will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, and did his worst to destroy her.

It's to me he's got to answer, Donald.
And to me he shall answer.

I am going to kill him.

But it will not be murder.