“How much?”
“Fifty dollars. In an’ out—with teamster.”
“Does he know the way?”
“Sure.”
The woman eyed him steadily.
“I don’t want any mistakes. This—is a case of murder.”
Beasley’s interest suddenly redoubled. The problem was growing in its attractiveness.
“Who’s the feller?” he asked unguardedly.
“That’s not your business.” The woman’s eyes were cold. “Send the team over to the farm down the river in two hours’ time. The horses must be able to travel fast. Here’s the money.”