“If they should do that, we would go to Sing Sing,” returned he, grimly.
Felix Mortimer possessed an extremely cool nerve, but the words “Sing Sing” did not fall upon his ears like sweet music.
“I wish we could get him out of the way,” said he, with manifest anxiety. “It must be done tomorrow.”
“There’s no time to lose, I feel sure. But what shall be done with him?”
“He must be put where he will never blow on us.”
“Of course he must.”
“It’s a bad job—a dirty, bad job—that’s what I call it. I only wish you’d kept away from me with your devilish scheme,” said the old villain, petulantly.
“It’s no time to talk about that now,” returned Mortimer, coolly. “You are in for it as well as I, so we must work together.”
“We must, must we?” hissed the old man, wickedly.
“Yes,” said Mortimer, with a determined manner, that made the old outlaw cower and cringe. Felix Mortimer possessed the stronger character of the two, and, now he was aroused, Gunwagner was subservient to his will.