"It is the girl's father, or friends, who have just discovered her absence and have been scouring the country about to find her," gasped the fraudulent Lester Armstrong, and the hand that grasped his companion's arm shook like an aspen leaf.
"Don't be a coward!" hissed Halloran. "If worst comes to worst, whoever it is can share the girl's fate," and with these words he opened the door of the coach, asking sharply, angrily:
"What is the matter, driver?"
"Nothing, save a poor old fellow who wants me to give him a lift on the box beside me. He has lost his way. He's an old grave digger, who says he lives hereabouts, somewhere. He's half frozen with the cold tramping about. I told him 'Yes, climb up;' it's a little extra work for the horses, but I suppose as long as I don't mind it you'll not object."
"Ha! Satan always helps his own out of difficulties," whispered Halloran to his companion; and, without waiting for a reply, he was out of the coach like a flash, and his hand was on the old grave digger's arm ere he could make the ascent to the box beside the driver.
"Wait a moment, my good friend," said Halloran, "we have a little work which you of all persons are best fitted to perform for us ere we proceed."
Old Adam, the grave digger, looked at the tall gentleman before him in some little perplexity, answering, slowly:
"I hope you will not take it amiss, sir, if I answer that I do not fully comprehend your words."
"Perhaps not; but permit me to make them clear to you, in as plain English as I can command. I want you to dig a grave here and now."
"A grave—here!" echoed Adam, quite believing his old ears were not serving him truly—that he had certainly not heard aright.