"She must not be found dead in this house." "Why, what in Heaven's name could we do with her ?" returned the other, sharply.

"I tell you she is dying, any one could see that." "Put her effectually out of the way, and past all human possibility of any one finding out how she came by her death.

I have a desperate plan.
I cannot explain it to you now.

All I say is, be guided by my directions to-night--leave everything to me," said Halloran, with a grim gaze.
"I put myself in your hands, Halloran," was the husky reply.
The cabby was hurriedly awakened.

At first he demurred angrily against the idea of starting off again; but when a roll of bank notes was pressed into his hands as the price of his complying with their demand--a sum that would more than cover the price of the horses if he lost them--he no longer found grounds for complaint, but agreed with alacrity to do their bidding.
Besides, Halloran knew a little secret of the cabby's past--just how he came by the money to buy that outfit--and as it was done in a particularly shady way, the man dared not make an enemy of him.
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.