CHAPTER VIII.
WHAT HAPPENED AT MIDNIGHT ON THE LONELY RIVER ROAD.
For one moment he looked down half stupefied at his work--the girl lay in a little dark heap at his feet just as he had struck her down--the crimson blood pouring from a wound on her temple which his ring had caused.
"I--I've killed her," he muttered, setting his teeth together hard--"she--she provoked me to it--curse her! My God! the girl is actually dying." Then, through his half-dazed brain came the thought that his crime would soon be discovered, and his only safety lay in instant flight.
It was but the work of a moment to hurry from the room, making his way through the inky darkness as best he could to the barroom, where he knew he should find Halloran and the cabby dozing in the big armchairs.
The full realization of his crime had quite sobered him by this time.
The innkeeper had left a dim light in the barroom.

By the aid of this he made his way quickly to his friend's side.

A few rapid words whispered excitedly in Halloran's ear told him the condition of affairs.
"You are right," exclaimed Halloran, springing to his feet.

"We must get out of here without a moment's delay.

The cabman must go with us, taking his horses, even though we have to pay him the price of them." "I--I--will leave everything to you, Halloran," muttered his companion, huskily, "your brain is clearer and a thousand times shrewder than mine." "Nor must the girl be left here," went on Halloran.