In less time than it takes to tell it the coach stood at the door again.

It was Halloran—­nervy, cool-headed Halloran, whom the other had always dubbed half man, half fiend—­who stole up to the room above, found the girl lying in the exact spot his companion had described, and, catching up her cloak, wrapped it about her, bore her noiselessly down the stairs and out to the coach in waiting.

“Is it all over with her yet?” whispered the other in a strained, husky voice, showing intense fear.

“Almost,” returned Halloran, briefly, jumping in and closing the door after him.

For some moments they rode along in utter silence.  Then, as Halloran made no attempt to break it, his companion leaned over, asking breathlessly:  “Where are we going—­and—­and—­what do you propose to do with her?”

“I am just trying to solve that problem in my mind, and it is a knotty one.  I must have more time to think it over,” replied Halloran, tersely.

Before his companion could reply, the coach came to a sudden standstill, and both of the men within heard their driver’s voice in earnest colloquy with some one standing by the roadside.

“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.