“Doctored a little too high,” whispered Miss Peter, with her mouth close to Pinky's ear.
“All right,” Pinky whispered back; “they know how to do it.”
At the foot of the stairs Pinky said,
“You take her out through the yard, while I pay for the oysters. I'll be with you in a moment.”
Poor Flora, was already too much confused by the drugged liquor she had taken to know what they were doing with her.
Hastily paying for the oysters and liquor, Pinky was on hand in a few moments. From the back door of the house they entered a small yard, and passed from this through a gate into a narrow private alley shut in on each side by a high fence. This alley ran for a considerable distance, and had many gates opening into it from yards, hovels and rear buildings, all of the most forlorn and wretched character. It terminated in a small street.
Along this alley Pinky and the girl she had met at the restaurant supported Flora, who was fast losing strength and consciousness. When halfway down, they held a brief consultation.
“It won't do,” said Pinky, “to take her through to——street. She's too far gone, and the police will be down on us and carry her off.”
“Norah's got some place in there,” said the other, pointing to an old wooden building close by.
“I'm out with Norah,” replied Pinky, “and don't mean to have anything more to do with her.”