"I put myself in your hands, Halloran," was the husky reply.
The cabby was hurriedly awakened. At first he demurred angrily against the idea of starting off again; but when a roll of bank notes was pressed into his hands as the price of his complying with their demand—a sum that would more than cover the price of the horses if he lost them—he no longer found grounds for complaint, but agreed with alacrity to do their bidding.
Besides, Halloran knew a little secret of the cabby's past—just how he came by the money to buy that outfit—and as it was done in a particularly shady way, the man dared not make an enemy of him.
In less time than it takes to tell it the coach stood at the door again.
It was Halloran—nervy, cool-headed Halloran, whom the other had always dubbed half man, half fiend—who stole up to the room above, found the girl lying in the exact spot his companion had described, and, catching up her cloak, wrapped it about her, bore her noiselessly down the stairs and out to the coach in waiting.
"Is it all over with her yet?" whispered the other in a strained, husky voice, showing intense fear.
"Almost," returned Halloran, briefly, jumping in and closing the door after him.
For some moments they rode along in utter silence. Then, as Halloran made no attempt to break it, his companion leaned over, asking breathlessly: "Where are we going—and—and—what do you propose to do with her?"
"I am just trying to solve that problem in my mind, and it is a knotty one. I must have more time to think it over," replied Halloran, tersely.
Before his companion could reply, the coach came to a sudden standstill, and both of the men within heard their driver's voice in earnest colloquy with some one standing by the roadside.