“What a fool you have made of yourself!” once more whispered the ominous voice.
“Not a word, Browne; perhaps it needed this to make me wholly yours,” replied Tremaine, as he walked through the crowd, which opened to let him and his companion pass. When in the street, the two walked on for a time in moody silence, which was first broken by Browne.
“Well, Tremaine, that last was a bad stake of yours, and may cost one of us the halter.”
“Why, I thought you told me there would be no blood spilt?”
“Well, blood is rather ugly looking, I must confess; but if the man should wake?”
“Did you not say you would have him well drugged?”
“I did, but by the slightest possible chance, I find it cannot be done!”
“How so?”
“You know it was expected that he would sail in the packet from this port, but I find he has determined on going by the steamer, and will start to-morrow morning by the Long Island railroad; so that we must do it now or never.”
“Now or never be it, then. I am a ruined man, and ripe for mischief.”