The appearance of his friend, who had remained behind to adjust the little matters that needed attention, put a stop to his hilarity for the moment.

“Well, what’s next on the programme?  What do you suggest now, Halloran?” he exclaimed, as that individual sprang into the coach and took his seat with chattering teeth.

“I propose that you drive to the nearest inn or hostelry, or whatever they choose to call it hereabouts.  I understand there is one some five miles from here, and, indeed, the horses won’t last much longer than that.”

“I’m governed by your advice,” replied his companion, with a hilarious laugh.  “Give the order to get to the hostelry as soon as the driver can make it.  Anything will suit me.  I’m not proud, even if I have made a cool million in an hour’s time.  Ha! ha! ha!”

“Are you mad?” whispered his companion, giving him a violent nudge.

“Bah!  You needn’t fear that she will hear what I’m saying.  The puny little dear has swooned again.  Didn’t you notice that I had to fairly carry her from the altar?”

“These dainty little heiresses have to be handled with kid gloves,” remarked Halloran.  “Fainting when anything goes wrong seems to be their especial weakness.”

“She will soon find out that I will not tolerate that kind of thing!” exclaimed Armstrong, as he insisted upon being called from that moment out.

“Be easy with her.  Don’t show your hand or your temper until you get hold of the money,” warned Halloran.  “Remember you are playing for a great stake, and the surest way of winning is by keeping the girl in love with you.”

“She is mine now.  I am her lord and master.  I shall not bother making love to the milk-and-water, sentimental creature, as the other one probably did.  She isn’t my style, and I have little patience with her.  There was a decided feeling of antagonism between us from the start, and then my forcing her to go through the ceremony at the point of a cold steel weapon will not have the effect of endearing me to her ladyship.  She is sure to hate me, but that won’t bother me a snap of my finger.”

“Don’t get independent too soon,” remarked Halloran.  “Pride always goeth before a fall, you know.  You haven’t the money in your hands yet.  Don’t lose sight of that important fact, my dear boy.”

They talked on for half an hour or more; then suddenly the driver drew rein.

“This is the country tavern, and my horses cannot go any further; they are dead lame and played out,” he announced.

CHAPTER VI.

The villain and his victim.

It was certainly something entirely out of the experience of the old innkeeper at the country crossroads to be aroused from his slumbers at midnight by guests seeking the shelter of his hospitable roof, and that, too, on the most terrible night of the year.