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diff --git a/1741-h/1741-h.htm b/1741-h/1741-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb8ca83 --- /dev/null +++ b/1741-h/1741-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10851 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The White Moll, by Frank Packard + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Moll, by Frank L. Packard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The White Moll + +Author: Frank L. Packard + +Release Date: November 23, 2008 [EBook #1741] +Last Updated: March 13, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE MOLL *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WHITE MOLL + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Frank Packard + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. </a> NIGHT IN THE + UNDERWORLD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> SEVEN—THREE—NINE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. </a> ALIAS GYPSY + NAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV. </a> THE + ADVENTURER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V. </a> A + SECOND VISITOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI. </a> THE + RENDEZVOUS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII. </a> FELLOW + THIEVES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII. </a> THE + CODE MESSAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX. </a> ROOM + NUMBER ELEVEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X. </a> ON + THE BRINK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI. </a> SOME + OF THE LESSER BREED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII. </a> CROOKS + VS. CROOKS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII. </a> THE + DOOR ACROSS THE HALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV. </a> THE + LAME MAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV. </a> IN THE + COUNCIL CHAMBER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI. </a> THE + SECRET PANEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII. </a> THE + SILVER SPHINX <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII. </a> THE + OLD SHED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX. </a> DREAD + UPON THE WATERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX. </a> A + LONE HAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI. </a> THE + RECKONING <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I. NIGHT IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + It was like some shadowy pantomime: The dark mouth of an alleyway thrown + into murky relief by the rays of a distant street lamp...the swift, + forward leap of a skulking figure...a girl's form swaying and struggling + in the man's embrace. Then, a pantomime no longer, there came a half + threatening, half triumphant oath; and then the girl's voice, quiet, + strangely contained, almost imperious: + </p> + <p> + “Now, give me back that purse, please. Instantly!” The man, already + retreating into the alleyway, paused to fling back a jeering laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Say, youse've got yer nerve, ain't youse!” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned her head so that the rays of the street lamp, faint as + they were, fell full upon her, disclosing a sweet, oval face, out of which + the dark eyes gazed steadily at the man. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the man leaned forward, staring for an instant, and then his + hand went awkwardly to touch his cap. + </p> + <p> + “De White Moll!” he mumbled deferentially. He pulled the peak of his cap + down over his eyes in a sort of shame-faced way, as though to avoid + recognition, and, stepping nearer, returned the purse. + </p> + <p> + “'Scuse me, miss,” he said uneasily. “I didn't know it was youse—honest + to Gawd, I didn't! 'Scuse me, miss. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the girl stood there motionless, looking down the alleyway + after the retreating figure. From somewhere in the distance came the + rumble of an elevated train. It drowned out the pound of the man's + speeding footsteps; it died away itself—and now there was no other + sound. A pucker, strangely wistful, curiously perturbed, came and furrowed + her forehead into little wrinkles, and then she turned and walked slowly + on along the deserted street. + </p> + <p> + The White Moll! She shook her head a little. The attack had not unnerved + her. Why should it? It was simply that the man had not recognized her at + first in the darkness. The White Moll here at night in one of the + loneliest, as well as one of the most vicious and abandoned, quarters of + New York, was as safe and inviolate as—as—She shook her head + again. Her mind did not instantly suggest a comparison that seemed wholly + adequate. The pucker deepened, but the sensitive, delicately chiseled lips + parted now in a smile. Well, she was safer here than anywhere else in the + world, that was all. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that anything like this had happened, and, for the + very reason that it was unprecedented, it seemed to stir her memory now, + and awaken a dormant train of thought. The White Moll! She remembered the + first time she had ever been called by that name. It took her back almost + three years, and since that time, here in this sordid realm of crime and + misery, the name of Rhoda Gray, her own name, her actual identity, seemed + to have become lost, obliterated in that of the White Moll. A “dip” had + given it to her, and the underworld, quick and trenchant in its + “monikers,” had instantly ratified it. There was not a crook or denizen of + crimeland, probably, who did not know the White Moll; there was, probably, + not one to-day who knew, or cared, that she was Rhoda Gray! + </p> + <p> + She went on, traversing block after block, entering a less deserted, + though no less unsavory, neighborhood. Here, a saloon flung a sudden glow + of yellow light athwart the sidewalk as its swinging doors jerked apart; + and a form lurched out into the night; there, from a dance-hall came the + rattle of a tinny piano, the squeak of a raspy violin, a high-pitched, + hectic burst of laughter; while, flanking the street on each side, like + interjected inanimate blotches, rows of squalid tenements and cheap, + tumble-down frame houses silhouetted themselves in broken, jagged points + against the sky-line. And now and then a man spoke to her—his + untrained fingers fumbling in clumsy homage at the brim of his hat. + </p> + <p> + How strange a thing memory was! How strange, too, the coincidences that + sometimes roused it into activity! It was a man, a thief, just like the + man to-night, who had first brought her here into this shadowland of + crime. That was just before her father had died. Her father had been a + mining engineer, and, though an American, had been for many years resident + in South America as the representative of a large English concern. He had + been in ill health for a year down there, when, acting on his physician's + advice, he had come to New York for consultation, and she had accompanied + him. They had taken a little flat, the engineer had placed himself in the + hands of a famous specialist, and an operation had been decided upon. And + then, a few days prior to the date set for the operation and before her + father, who was still able to be about, had entered the hospital, the flat + had been broken into during the early morning hours. The thief, obviously + not counting on the engineer's wakefulness, had been caught red-handed. At + first defiant, the man had finally broken down, and had told a miserable + story. It was hackneyed possibly, the same story told by a thousand others + as a last defense in the hope of inducing leniency through an appeal to + pity, but somehow to her that night the story had rung true. Pete McGee, + alias the Bussard, the man had said his name was. He couldn't get any + work; there was the shadow of a long abode in Sing Sing that lay upon him + as a curse—a job here to-day, his record discovered to-morrow, and + the next day out on the street again. It was very old, very threadbare, + that story; there were even the sick wife, the hungry, unclothed children; + but to her it had rung true. Her father had not placed the slightest faith + in it, and but for her intervention the Bussard would have been + incontinently consigned to the mercies of the police. + </p> + <p> + Her face softened suddenly now as she walked along. She remembered well + that scene, when, at the end, she had written down the address the man had + given her. + </p> + <p> + “Father is going to let you go, McGee, because I ask him to,” she had + said. “And to-morrow morning I will go to this address, and if I find your + story is true, as I believe it is, I will see what I can do for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's true, miss, so help me God!” the man had answered brokenly. “Youse + come an' see. I'll be dere-an'-an'-God bless youse, miss!” + </p> + <p> + And so they had let the man go free, and her father, with a whimsical, + tolerant smile, had shaken his head at her. “You'll never find that + address, Rhoda-or our friend the Bussard, either!” + </p> + <p> + But she had found both the Bussard and the address, and destitution and a + squalor unspeakable. Pathetic still, but the vernacular of the underworld + where men called their women by no more gracious names than “molls” and + “skirts” no longer strange to her ears, there came to her again now the + Bussard's words in which he had paid her tribute on that morning long ago, + and with which he had introduced her to a shrunken form that lay upon a + dirty cot in the barefloored room: + </p> + <p> + “Meet de moll I was tellin' youse about, Mag. She's white—all de way + up. She's white, Mag; she's a white moll—take it from me.” + </p> + <p> + The White Moll! + </p> + <p> + The firm little chin came suddenly upward; but into the dark eyes unbidden + came a sudden film and mist. Her father's health had been too far + undermined, and he had been unable to withstand the shock of the + operation, and he had died in the hospital. There weren't any relatives, + except distant ones on her mother's side, somewhere out in California, + whom she had never seen. She and her father had been all in all to each + other, chums, pals, comrades, since her mother's death many years ago. She + had gone everywhere with him save when the demands of her education had + necessarily kept them apart; she had hunted with him in South America, + ridden with him in sections where civilization was still in the making, + shared the crude, rough life of mining camps with him—and it had + seemed as though her life, too, had gone out with his. + </p> + <p> + She brushed her hand hastily across her eyes. There hadn't been any + friends either, apart from a few of her father's casual business + acquaintances; no one else—except the Bussard. It was very strange! + Her reward for that one friendly act had come in a manner little expected, + and it had come very quickly. She had sought and found a genuine relief + from her own sorrow in doing what she could to alleviate the misery in + that squalid, one-room home. And then the sphere of her activities had + broadened, slowly at first, not through any preconceived intention on her + part, but naturally, and as almost an inevitable corollary consequent upon + her relations with the Bussard and his ill-fortuned family. + </p> + <p> + The Bussard's circle of intimates was amongst those who lay outside the + law, those who gambled for their livelihood by staking their wits, to win + against the toils of the police; and so, more and more, she had come into + close and intimate contact with the criminal element of New York, until + to-day, throughout its length and breadth, she was known, and, she had + reason to believe, was loved and trusted by every crook in the underworld. + It was a strange eulogy, self-pronounced! But it was none the less true. + Then, she had been Rhoda Gray; now, even the Bussard, doubtless, had + forgotten her name in the one with which he himself, at that queer + baptismal font of crimeland, had christened her—the White Moll. It + even went further than that. It embraced what might be called the + entourage of the underworld, the police and the social workers with whom + she inevitably came in contact. These, too, had long known her as the + White Moll, and had come, since she had volunteered no further + information, tacitly to accept her as such, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Again she shook her head. It wasn't altogether a normal life. She was only + a woman, with all the aspirations of a woman, with all the yearning of + youth for its measure of gayety and pleasure. True, she had not made a + recluse of herself outside her work; but, equally, on the other hand, she + had not made any intimate friends in her own station in life. She had + never purposed continuing indefinitely the work she was doing, nor did she + now; but, little by little, it had forced its claims upon her until those + claims were not easy to ignore. Even though the circumstances in which her + father had left her were barely more than sufficient for a modest little + flat uptown, there was still always a little surplus, and that surplus + counted in certain quarters for very much indeed. But it wasn't only that. + The small amount of money that she was able to spend in that way had + little to do with it. The bonds which linked her to the sordid + surroundings that she had come to know so well were stronger far than + that. There wasn't any money involved in this visit, for instance, that + she was going now to make to Gypsy Nan. Gypsy Nan was... + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray had halted before the doorway of a small, hovel-like, two-story + building that was jammed in between two tenements, which, relatively, in + their own class, were even more disreputable than was the little frame + house itself. A secondhand-clothes store occupied a portion of the ground + floor, and housed the proprietor and his family as well, permitting the + rooms on the second floor to be “rented out”; the garret above was the + abode of Gypsy Nan. + </p> + <p> + There was a separate entrance, apart from that into the secondhand-clothes + store, and she pushed this door open and stepped forward into an + absolutely black and musty-smelling hallway. By feeling with her hands + along the wall she reached the stairs and began to make her way upward. + She had found Gypsy Nan last night huddled in the lower doorway, and + apparently in a condition that was very much the worse for wear. She had + stopped and helped the woman upstairs to her garret, whereupon Gypsy Nan, + in language far more fervent than elegant, had ordered her to begone, and + had slammed the door in her face. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray smiled a little wearily, as, on the second floor now, she + groped her way to the rear, and began to mount a short, ladder-like flight + of steps to the attic. Gypsy Nan's lack of cordiality did not absolve her, + Rhoda Gray, from coming back to-night to see how the woman was—to + crowd one more visit on her already over-expanded list. She had never had + any personal knowledge of Gypsy Nan before, but, in a sense, the woman was + no stranger to her. Gypsy Nan was a character known far and wide in the + under-world as one possessing an insatiable and unquenchable thirst. As to + who she was, or what she was, or where she got her money for the gin she + bought, it was not in the ethics of the Bad Lands to inquire. She was just + Gypsy Nan. So that she did not obtrude herself too obviously upon their + notice, the police suffered her; so that she gave the underworld no reason + for complaint, the underworld accepted her at face value as one of its + own! + </p> + <p> + There was no hallway here at the head of the ladder-like stairs, just a + sort of narrow platform in front of the attic door. Rhoda Gray, groping + out with her hands again, felt for the door, and knocked softly upon it. + There was no answer. She knocked again. Still receiving no reply, she + tried the door, found it unlocked, and, opening it, stood for an instant + on the threshold. A lamp, almost empty, ill-trimmed and smoking badly, + stood on a chair beside a cheap iron bed; it threw a dull, yellow glow + about its immediate vicinity, and threw the remainder of the garret into + deep, impenetrable shadows; but also it disclosed the motionless form of a + woman on the bed. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's eyes darkened, as she closed the door behind her, and stepped + quickly forward to the bedside. For a moment she stood looking down at the + recumbent figure; at the matted tangle of gray-streaked brown hair that + straggled across a pillow which was none too clean; at the heavy-lensed, + old-fashioned, steel-bowed spectacles, awry now, that were still + grotesquely perched on the woman's nose; at the sallow face, streaked with + grime and dirt, as though it had not been washed for months; at a hand, as + ill-cared for, which lay exposed on the torn blanket that did duty for a + counterpane; at the dirty shawl that enveloped the woman's shoulders, and + which was tightly fastened around Gypsy Nan's neck-and from the woman her + eyes shifted to an empty bottle on the floor that protruded from under the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Nan!” she called sharply; and, stooping over, shook the woman's shoulder. + “Nan!” she repeated. There was something about the woman's breathing that + she did not like, something in the queer, pinched condition of the other's + face that suddenly frightened her. “Nan!” she called again. + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan opened her eyes, stared for a moment dully, then, in a curiously + quick, desperate way, jerked herself up on her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Youse get t'hell outer here!” she croaked. “Get out!” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to,” said Rhoda Gray evenly. “And I'm going at once.” She + turned abruptly and walked toward the door. “I'm going to get a doctor. + You've gone too far this time, Nan, and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, youse don't!” Gypsy Nan s voice rose in a sudden scream. She sat bolt + upright in bed, and pulled a revolver out from under the coverings. “Youse + don't bring no doctor here! See! Youse put a finger on dat door, an' it + won't be de door youse'll go out by!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Nan, put that revolver down!” she ordered quietly. “You don't know what + you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” leered Gypsy Nan. The revolver held, swaying a little unsteadily, + on Rhoda Gray. There was silence for a moment; then Gypsy Nan spoke again, + evidently through dry lips, for she wet them again and again with her + tongue: “Say, youse are de White Moll, ain't youse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan appeared to ponder this for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Well den, come back here an' sit down on de foot of de bed,” she + commanded finally. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray obeyed without hesitation. There was nothing to do but humor + the woman in her present state, a state that seemed one bordering on + delirium and complete collapse. + </p> + <p> + “Nan,” she said, “you—” + </p> + <p> + “De White Moll!” mumbled Gypsy Nan. “I wonder if de dope dey hands out + about youse is all on de level? My Gawd, I wonder if wot dey says is + true?” + </p> + <p> + “What do they say?” asked Rhoda Gray gently. + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan lay back on her pillow as though her strength, over-taxed, had + failed her; her hand, though it still clutched the revolver, seemed to + have been dragged down by the weapon's weight, and now rested upon the + blanket. + </p> + <p> + “Dey say,” said Gypsy Nan slowly, “dat youse knows more on de inside here + dan anybody else—t'ings youse got from de spacers' molls, an' from + de dips demselves when youse was lendin' dem a hand; dey say dere ain't + many youse couldn't send up de river just by liftin' yer finger, but dat + youse're straight, an' dat youse've kept yer map closed, an' dat youse' re + safe.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's dark eyes softened, as she leaned forward and laid a hand + gently over the one of Gypsy Nan that held the revolver. + </p> + <p> + “It couldn't be any other way, could it, Nan?” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + “Wot yer after?” demanded Gypsy Nan, with sudden mockery. “De gun? Well, + take it!” She let go her hold of the weapon. “But don't kid yerself dat + youse're kiddin' me into givin' it to youse because youse have got a + pretty smile an' a sweet voice! Savvy? I”—she choked suddenly, and + caught at her throat—“I guess youse're de only chance I got-dat's + all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's better,” said Rhoda Gray encouragingly. “And now you'll let me go + and get a doctor, won't you, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said Gypsy Nan hoarsely. “Youse're de only chance I got. Will + youse swear youse won't t'row me down if I tells youse somet'ing? I ain't + got no other way. Will youse swear youse'll see me through?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Nan,” said Rhoda Gray soothingly. “Of course, I will, Nan. I + promise.” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan came up on her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Dat ain't good enough!” she cried out. “A promise ain't good enough! For + Gawd's sake, come across all de way! Swear youse'll keep mum an' see me + through!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nan”—Rhoda Gray's eyes smiled reassurance—“I swear it. + But you will be all right again in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I? You think so, do you? Well, I can only say that I wish I did!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray leaned sharply forward, staring in amazement at the figure on + the bed. The woman's voice was the same, it was still hoarse, still heavy, + and the words came with painful effort; but the English was suddenly + perfect now. + </p> + <p> + “Nan, what is it? I don't understand!” she said tensely. “What do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You think you know what's the matter with me.” There was a curious + mockery in the weak voice. “You think I've drunk myself into this state. + You think I'm on the verge of the D.T.'s now. That empty bottle under the + bed proves it, doesn't it? And anybody around here will tell you that + Gypsy Nan has thrown enough empties out of the window there to stock a + bottle factory for years, some of them on the flat roof just outside the + window, some of them on the roof of the shed below, and some of them down + into the yard, just depending on how drunk she was and how far she could + throw. And that proves it, too, doesn't it? Well, maybe it does, that's + what I did it for; but I never touched the stuff, not a drop of it, from + the day I came here. I didn't dare touch it. I had to keep my wits. Last + night you thought I was drunk when you found me in the doorway downstairs. + I wasn't. I was too sick and weak to get up here. I almost told you then, + only I was afraid, and—and I thought that perhaps I'd be all right + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't know!” Rhoda Gray was on her knees beside the bed. There was + no room to question the truth of the woman's words, it was in Gypsy Nan's + eyes, in the struggling, labored voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Gypsy Nan clutched at the shawl around her neck, and shivered. “I + thought I might be all right to-day, and that I'd get better. But I + didn't. And now I've got about a chance in a hundred. I know. It's my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you've been alone here, sick, since last night?” There was + anxiety, perplexity, in Rhoda Gray's face. “Why didn't you call some one? + Why did you even hold me back a few minutes ago, when you admit yourself + that you need immediate medical assistance so badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Gypsy Nan, “if I've got a chance at all, I'd finish it for + keeps if a doctor came here. I—I'd rather go out this way than in + that horrible thing they call the 'chair.' Oh, my God, don't you + understand that! I've seen pictures of it! It's a horrible thing—a + horrible thing—horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Nan”—Rhoda Gray steadied her voice—“you re delirious. You do + not know what you are saying. There isn't any horrible thing to frighten + you. Now you just lie quietly here. I'll only be a few minutes, and—” + She stopped abruptly as her wrists were suddenly imprisoned in a frantic + grip. + </p> + <p> + “You swore it!” Gypsy Nan was whispering feverishly. “You swore it! They + say the White Moll never snitched. That's the one chance I've got, and I'm + going to take it. I'm not delirious—not yet. I wish to God it was + nothing more than that! Look!” + </p> + <p> + With a low, startled cry, Rhoda Gray was on her feet. Gypsy Nan was gone. + A sweep of the woman's hand, and the spectacles were off, the + gray-streaked hair a tangled wig upon the pillow—and Rhoda Gray + found herself staring in a numbed sort of way at a dark-haired woman who + could not have been more than thirty, but whose face, with its streaks of + grime and dirt, looked grotesquely and incongruously old. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. SEVEN—THREE—NINE + </h2> + <p> + For a moment neither spoke, then Gypsy Nan broke the silence with a bitter + laugh. She threw back the bedclothes, and, gripping at the edge of the + bed, sat up. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” The words rattled in her throat. A fleck of blood showed + on her lips. “Well, you know now! You're going to help me, aren't you? I—I've + got to get out of here—get to a hospital.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray laid her hands firmly on the other's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Get back into bed,” she said steadily. “Do you want to make yourself + worse? You'll kill yourself!” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan pushed her away. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make me use up what little strength I've got left in talking,” she + cried out piteously, and suddenly wrung her hands together. “I'm wanted by + the police. If I'm caught, it's—it's that 'chair.' I couldn't have a + doctor brought here, could I? How long would it be before he saw that + Gypsy Nan was a fake? I can't let you go and have an ambulance, say, come + and get me, can I, even with the disguise hidden away? They'd say this is + where Gypsy Nan lives. There's something queer here. Where is Gypsy Nan? + I've got to get away from here—away from Gypsy Nan—don't you + understand? It's death one way; maybe it is the other, maybe it'll finish + me to get out of here, but it's the only thing left to do. I thought some + one, some one that I could trust, never mind who, would have come to-day, + but-but no one came, and—and maybe now it s too late, but there's + just the one chance, and I've got to take it.” Gypsy Nan tore at the shawl + around her throat as though it choked her, and flung it from her + shoulders. Her eyes were gleaming with an unhealthy, feverish light. + “Don't you see? We get out on the street. I collapse there. You find me. I + tell you my name is Charlotte Green. That's all you know. There isn't much + chance that anybody at the hospital would recognize me. I've got money. I + take a private room. Don't you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's face had gone a little white. There was no doubt about the + woman's serious condition, and yet—and yet—She stood there + hesitant. There must be some other way! It was not likely even that the + woman had strength enough to walk down the stairs to begin with. Strange + things had come to her in this world of shadow, but none before like this. + If the law got the woman it would cost the woman her life; if the woman + did not receive immediate and adequate medical assistance it would cost + the woman her life. Over and over in her brain, like a jangling refrain, + that thought repeated itself. It was not like her to stand hesitant before + any emergency, no matter what that emergency might be. She had never done + it before, but now... + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake,” Gypsy Nan implored, “don't stand there looking at me! + Can't you understand? If I'm caught, I go out. Do you think I'd have lived + in this filthy hole if there had been any other way to save my life? Are + you going to let me die here like a dog? Get me my clothes; oh, for God's + sake, get them, and give me the one chance that's left!” + </p> + <p> + A queer little smile came to Rhoda Gray's lips, and her shoulders + straightened back. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your clothes?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you!” The tears were suddenly streaming down the grimy face. + “God bless the White Moll! It's true! It's true—all they said about + her!” The woman had lost control of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Nan, keep your nerve!” ordered Rhoda Gray almost brutally. It was the + White Moll in another light now, cool, calm, collected, efficient. Her + eyes swept Gypsy Nan. The woman, who had obviously flung herself down on + the bed fully dressed the night before, was garbed in coarse, heavy boots, + the cheapest of stockings which were also sadly in need of repair, a + tattered and crumpled skirt of some rough material, and, previously hidden + by the shawl, a soiled, greasy and spotted black blouse. Rhoda Gray's + forehead puckered into a frown. “What about your hands and face-they go + with the clothes, don't they?” + </p> + <p> + “It'll wash off,” whispered Gypsy Nan. “It's just some stuff I keep in a + box-over there—the ceiling-” Her voice trailed off weakly, then with + a desperate effort strengthened again. “The door! I forgot the door! It + isn't locked! Lock the door first! Lock the door! Then you take the candle + over there on the washstand, and—and I'll show you. You—you + get the things while I'm undressing. I—I can help myself that much.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray crossed quickly to the door, turned the key in the lock, and + retraced her steps to the washstand that stood in the shadows against the + wall on the opposite side from the bed, and near the far end of the + garret. Here she found the short stub of a candle that was stuck in the + mouth of a gin bottle, and matches lying beside it. She lighted the + candle, and turned inquiringly to Gypsy Nan. + </p> + <p> + The woman pointed to the end of the garret where the roof sloped sharply + down until, at the wall itself, it was scarcely four feet above the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Go down there. Right to the wall—in the center,” instructed Gypsy + Nan weakly. And then, as Rhoda Gray obeyed: “Now push up on that wide + board in the ceiling.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, already in a stooped position, reached up, and pushed at a + rough, unplaned board. It swung back without a sound, like a narrow + trap-door, until it rested in an upright position against the outer frame + of the house, disclosing an aperture through which, by standing erect, + Rhoda Gray easily thrust her head and shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She raised the candle then through the opening—and suddenly her dark + eyes widened in amazement. It was a hiding place, not only ingenious, but + exceedingly generous in expanse. As far as one could reach the ceiling + metamorphosed itself into a most convenient shelf. And it had been well + utilized! It held a most astounding collection of things. There was a + cashbox, but the cashbox was apparently wholly inadequate—there must + have been thousands of dollars in those piles of banknotes that were + stacked beside it! There was a large tin box, the cover off, containing + some black, pastelike substance—the “stuff,” presumably, that Gypsy + Nan used on her face and hands. There was a bunch of curiously formed + keys, several boxes of revolver cartridges, an electric flashlight, and a + great quantity of the choicest brands of tinned and bottled fruits and + provisions—and a little to one side, evidently kept ready for + instant use, a suit of excellent material, underclothing, silk stockings + shoes and hat were neatly piled together. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray took the clothing, and went back to the bedside. Gypsy Nan had + made little progress in disrobing. It seemed about all the woman could do + to cling to the edge of the cot and sit upright. + </p> + <p> + “What does all this mean, Nan,” she asked tensely; “all those things up + there—that money?” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan forced a twisted smile. + </p> + <p> + “It means I know how bad I am, or I wouldn't have let you see what you + have,” she answered heavily. “It means that there isn't any other way. + Hurry! Get these things off! Get me dressed!” + </p> + <p> + But it took a long time. Gypsy Nan seemed with every moment to grow + weaker. The lamp on the chair went out for want of oil. There was only the + guttering candle in the gin bottle to give light. It threw weird, + flickering shadows around the garret; it seemed to enhance the already + deathlike pallor of the woman, as, using the pitcher of water and the + basin from the washstand now, Rhoda Gray removed the grime from Gypsy + Nan's face and hands. + </p> + <p> + It was done at last—and where there had once been Gypsy Nan, haglike + and repulsive, there was now a stylishly, even elegantly, dressed woman of + well under middle age. The transformation seemed to have acted as a + stimulant upon Gypsy Nan. She laughed with nervous hilarity she even tried + valiantly to put on a pair of new black kid gloves, but, failing in this, + pushed them unsteadily into the pocket of her coat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—I'm all right,” she asserted fiercely, as Rhoda Gray, pausing + in the act of gathering up the discarded garments, regarded her anxiously. + “Bring me a package of that money after you've put those things away—yes, + and you'll find a flashlight there. We'll need it going down the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray made no answer. There was no hesitation now in her actions, as, + to the pile of clothing in her arms, she added the revolver that lay on + the blanket, and, returning to the little trap-door in the ceiling, hid + them away; but her brain was whirling again in a turmoil of doubt. This + was madness, utter, stark, blind madness, this thing that she was doing! + It was suicide, literally that, nothing less than suicide for one in Gypsy + Nan's condition to attempt this thing. But the woman would certainly die + here, too, with out medical assistance—only there was the police! + Rhoda Gray's face, as she stood upright in the little aperture again, + throwing the wavering candle-rays around her, seemed suddenly to have + grown pinched and wan. The police! The police! It was her conscience, + then, that was gnawing at her—because of the police! Was that it? + Well, there was also, then, another side. Could she turn informer, + traitor, become a female Judas to a dying woman, who had sobbed and + thanked her Maker because she had found some one whom she believed she + could trust? That was a hideous and an abominable thing to do! “You swore + it! You swore you'd see me through!”—the words came and rang + insistently in her ears. The sweet, piquant little face set in hard, + determined lines. Mechanically she picked up the flashlight and a package + of the banknotes, lowered the board in the ceiling into place, and + returned to Gypsy Nan. + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready, if there is no other way,” she said soberly, as she watched + the other tuck the money away inside her waist. “I said I would see you + through, and I will. But I doubt if you are strong enough, even with what + help I can give you, to get down the stairs, and even if you can, I am + afraid with all my soul of the consequences to you, and—” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan blew out the candle, and staggered to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any other way.” She leaned heavily on Rhoda Gray's arm. + “Can't you see that? Don't you think I know? Haven't you seen enough here + to convince you of that? I—I'm just spilling the dice for—for + perhaps the last time—but it's the only chance—the only + chance. Go on!” she urged tremulously. “Shoot the glim, and get me to the + door. And—and for the love of God, don't make a sound! It's all up + if we're seen going out!” + </p> + <p> + The flashlight's ray danced in crazy gyrations as the two figures swayed + and crept across the garret. Rhoda Gray unlocked the door, and, as they + passed out, locked it again on the outside. + </p> + <p> + “Hide the key!” whispered Gypsy Nan. “See—that crack in the floor + under the partition! Slip it in there!” + </p> + <p> + The flashlight guiding her, Rhoda Gray stooped down to where, between the + rough attic flooring and the equally rough boarding of the garret + partition, there was a narrow space. She pushed the key in out of sight; + and then, with her arm around Gypsy Nan's waist, and with the flashlight + at cautious intervals winking ahead of her through the darkness, she began + to descend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + It was slow work, desperately slow, both because they dared not make the + slightest noise, and because, too, as far as strength was concerned, Gypsy + Nan was close to the end of her endurance. Down one flight, and then the + other, they went, resting at every few steps, leaning back against the + wall, black shadows that merged with the blackness around them, the + flashlight used only when necessity compelled it, lest its gleam might + attract the attention of some other occupant of the house. And at times + Gypsy Nan's head lay cheek to Rhoda Gray's, and the other's body grew limp + and became a great weight, so heavy that it seemed she could no longer + support it. + </p> + <p> + They gained the street door, hung there tensely for a moment to make sure + they were not observed by any chance passer-by, then stepped out on the + sidewalk. Gypsy Nan spoke then: + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't go much farther,” she faltered. “But—but it doesn't + matter now we're out of the house—it doesn't matter where you find + me—only let's try a few steps more.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray had slipped the flashlight inside her blouse. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. Her breath was coming heavily. “It's all right, Nan. I + understand.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on a little way up the block, and then Gypsy Nan's grasp + suddenly tightened on Rhoda Gray's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Play the game!” Gypsy Nan's voice was scarcely audible. “You'll play the + game, won't you? You'll—you'll see me through. That's a good name—as + good as any—Charlotte Green—that's all you know—but—but + don't leave me alone with them—you—you'll come to the hospital + with me, won't you—I—” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan had collapsed in a heap on the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray glanced swiftly around her. In the squalid tenement before + which she stood there would be no help of the kind that was needed. There + would be no telephone in there by means of which she could summon an + ambulance. And then her glance rested on a figure far up the block under a + street lamp—a policeman. She bent hurriedly over the prostrate + woman, whispered a word of encouragement, and ran in the officer's + direction. + </p> + <p> + As she drew closer to the policeman, she called out to him. He turned and + came running toward, and, as he reached her, after a sharp glance into her + face, touched his helmet respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong with the White Moll to-night?” he asked pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “There's—there's a woman down there”—Rhoda Gray was breathless + from her run—“on the sidewalk. She needs help at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Drunk?” inquired the officer laconically. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm sure it's anything but that,” Rhoda Gray answered quickly. “She + appears to be very sick. I think you had better summon an ambulance + without delay.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” agreed the officer. “There's a patrol box down there in the + direction you came from. We'll have a look at her on the way.” He started + briskly forward with Rhoda Gray beside him. “Who is she d'ye know?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “She said her name was Charlotte Green,” Rhoda Gray replied. “That's all + she could, or would, say about herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she ain't a regular around here, or I guess you'd know her!” grunted + the policeman. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray made no answer. + </p> + <p> + They reached Gypsy Nan. The officer bent over her, then picked her up and + carried her to the tenement doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're right, all right! She's bad! I'll send in a call,” he + said, and started on the run down the street. + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan had lost consciousness. Rhoda Gray settled herself on the + doorstep, supporting the woman's head in her lap. Her face had set again + in grim, hard, perplexed lines. There seemed something unnatural, + something menacingly weird, something even uncanny about it all. Perhaps + it was because it seemed as though she could so surely foresee the end. + Gypsy Nan would not live through the night. Something told her that. The + woman's masquerade, for whatever purpose it had been assumed, was over. + “You'll play the game, won't you? You'll see me through?” There seemed + something pitifully futile in those words now! + </p> + <p> + The officer returned. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” he said. “How's she seem?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray shook her head. + </p> + <p> + A passer-by stopped, asked what was the matter—and lingered + curiously. Another, and another, did the same. A little crowd collected. + The officer kept them back. Came then the strident clang of a gong and the + rapid beat of horses' hoofs. A white-coated figure jumped from the + ambulance, pushed his way forward, and bent over the form in Rhoda Gray's + lap. A moment more, and they were carrying Gypsy Nan to the ambulance. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray spoke to the officer: + </p> + <p> + “I think perhaps I had better go with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” said the officer. + </p> + <p> + She caught snatches of the officer's words, as he made a report to the + doctor: + </p> + <p> + “Found her here in the street...Charlotte Green...nothing else...the White + Moll, straight as God makes 'em...she'll see the woman through.” He turned + to Rhoda Gray. “You can get in there with them, miss.” + </p> + <p> + It took possibly ten minutes to reach the hospital, but, before that time, + Gypsy Nan, responding in a measure to stimulants, had regained + consciousness. She insisted on clinging to Rhoda Gray's hand as they + carried in the stretcher. + </p> + <p> + “Don't leave me!” she pleaded. And then, for the first time, Gypsy Nan's + nerve seemed to fail her. “I—oh, my God—I—I don't want + to die!” she cried out. + </p> + <p> + But a moment later, inside the hospital, as the admitting officer began to + ask questions of Rhoda Gray, Gypsy Nan had apparently recovered her grip + upon herself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, let her alone!” she broke in. “She doesn't know me any more than you + do. She found me on the street. But she was good to me, God bless her!” + </p> + <p> + “Your name's Charlotte Green? Yes?” The man nodded. “Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever I like!” Gypsy Nan was snarling truculently now. “What's it + matter where I live? Don't you ever have any one come here without a + letter from the pastor of her church!” She pulled out the package of + banknotes. “You aren't going to get stuck. This'll see you through + whatever happens. Give me a—a private room, and”—her voice was + weakening rapidly—“and”—there came a bitter, facetious laugh—“the + best you've got.” Her voice was weakening rapidly. + </p> + <p> + They carried her upstairs. She still insisted on clinging to Rhoda Gray's + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Don't leave me!” she pleaded again, as they reached the door of a private + room, and Rhoda Gray disengaged her hand gently. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay outside here,” Rhoda Gray promised. “I won't go away without + seeing you again.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray sat down on a settee in the hall. She glanced at her wrist + watch. It was five minutes of eleven. Doctors and nurses came and went + from the room. Then a great quiet seemed to settle down around her. A half + hour passed. A doctor went into the room, and presently came out again. + She intercepted him as he came along the corridor. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + She did not understand his technical explanation. There was something + about a clot and blood stoppage. But as she resumed her seat, she + understood very fully that the end was near. The woman was resting quietly + now, the doctor had said, but if she, Rhoda Gray, cared to wait, she could + see the other before leaving the hospital. + </p> + <p> + And so she waited. She had promised Gypsy Nan she would. + </p> + <p> + The minutes dragged along. A quarter of an hour passed. Still another. + Midnight came. Fifteen minutes more went by, and then a nurse came out of + the room, and, standing by the door, beckoned to Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + “She is asking for you,” the nurse said. “Please do not stay more than a + few minutes. I shall be outside here, and if you notice the slightest + change, call me instantly.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The door closed softly behind her. She was smiling cheerily as she crossed + the room and bent over Gypsy Nan. + </p> + <p> + The woman stretched out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” she whispered. “He told the truth, that bull did—straight + as they make 'em, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to talk,” Rhoda Gray interrupted gently. “Wait until you are a + little stronger.” + </p> + <p> + “Stronger!” Gypsy Nan shook her head. “Don't try to kid me! I know. They + told me. I'd have known it anyway. I'm going out.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray found no answer for a moment. A great lump had risen in her + throat. Neither would she have needed to be told; she, too, would have + known it anyway—it was stamped in the gray pallor of the woman's + face. She pressed Gypsy Nan's hand. + </p> + <p> + And then Gypsy Nan spoke again, a queer, yearning hesitancy in her voice: + </p> + <p> + “Do—do you believe in God?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rhoda Gray simply. + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do—do you think there is a chance—even at the last—if—if, + without throwing down one's pals, one tries to make good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rhoda Gray again. + </p> + <p> + “Is the door closed?” Gypsy Nan attempted to raise herself on her elbow, + as though to see for herself. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray forced the other gently back upon the pillows. + </p> + <p> + “It is closed,” she said. “You need not be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “What time is it?” demanded Gypsy Nan. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray looked at her watch. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five minutes after twelve,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “There's time yet, then,” whispered Gypsy Nan. “There's time yet.” She lay + silent for a moment, then her hand closed tightly around Rhoda Gray's. + “Listen!” she said. “There's more about—about why I lived like that + than I told you. And—and I can't tell you now—I can't go out + like a yellow cur—I'm not going to snitch on anybody else just + because I'm through myself. But—but there's something on to-night + that I'd—I'd like to stop. Only the police, or anybody else, aren't + to know anything about it, because then they'd nip my friends. See? But + you can do it—easy. You can do it alone without anybody knowing. + There's time yet. They weren't going to pull it until halfpast one—and + there won't be any danger for you. All you've got to do is get the money + before they do, and then see that it goes back where it belongs to-morrow. + Will you? You don't want to see a crime committed to-night if—if you + can stop it, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's face was grave. She hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to know more than that before I can answer you, Nan,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It's the only way to stop it!” Gypsy Nan whispered feverishly. “I won't + split on my pals—I won't—I won't! But I trust you. Will you + promise not to snitch if I tell you how to stop it, even if you don't go + there yourself? I'm offering you a chance to stop a twenty-thousand-dollar + haul. If you don't promise it's got to go through, because I've got to + stand by the ones that were in it with me. I—I'd like to make good—just—once. + But I can't do it any other way. For God's sake, you see that, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rhoda Gray in a low voice; “but the promise you ask for is the + same as though I promised to try to get the money you speak of. If I knew + what was going on, and did nothing, I would be an accomplice to the crime, + and guilty myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't do anything else!” Gypsy Nan was speaking with great + difficulty. “I won't get those that were with me in wrong—I won't! + You can prevent a crime to-night, if you will—you—you can help + me to—to make good.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's lips tightened, “Will you give me your word that I can do + what you suggest—that it is feasible, possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Gypsy Nan. “You can do it easily, and—and it's safe. It—it + only wants a little nerve, and—and you've got that.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise, then,” said Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” Gypsy Nan pulled fiercely at Rhoda Gray's wrist. “Come + nearer-nearer! You know Skarbolov, old Skarbolov, who keeps the antique + store—on the street—around the corner from my place?” Rhoda + Gray nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He's rich!” whispered Gypsy Nan. “Think of it! Him—rich! But he + gets the best of the Fifth Avenue crowd just because he keeps his joint in + that rotten hole. They think they're getting the real thing in antiques! + He's a queer old fool. Afraid people would know he had money if he kept it + in the bank—afraid of a bank, too. Understand? We found out that + every once in a while he'd change a lot of small bills for a big one—five-hundred-dollar + bills—thousand-dollar bills. That put us wise. We began to watch + him. It took months to find where he hid it. We've spent night after night + searching through his shop. You can get in easily. There's no one there—upstairs + is just a storage place for his extra stock. There's a big padlock on the + back door, but there's a false link in the chain—count three links + to the right from the padlock—we put it there, and—” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy Nan's voice had become almost inaudible. She pulled at Rhoda Gray's + wrist again, urging her closer. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—quick! I—my strength!” she panted. “An antique he + never sells—old escritoire against rear wall—secret drawer—take + out wide middle drawer—reach in and rub your hand along the top—you'll + feel the spring. We waited to—to get—get counterfeits—put + counterfeits there—understand? Then he'd never know he'd been robbed—not + for a long time anyway—discovered perhaps when he was dead—old + wife—suffer then—I—got to make good—make good—I—” + She came up suddenly on both her elbows, the dark eyes staring wildly. + “Yes, yes!” she whispered. “Seven-three-nine! Look out!” Her voice rang + with sudden terror, rising almost to a scream. “Look out! Can't you + understand, you fool! I've told you! Seven-three-nine! Seven-three...” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's arms had gone around the other's shoulders. She heard the + door open-and then a quick, light step. There wasn't any other sound now. + She made way mechanically for the nurse. And then, after a moment, she + rose from her knees. The nurse answered her unspoken question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's over.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. ALIAS GYPSY NAN + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda Gray went slowly from the room. In a curiously stunned sort of way + she reached the street, and for a few blocks walked along scarcely + conscious of the direction she was taking. Her mind was in turmoil. The + night seemed to have been one of harrowing hallucination; it seemed as + though it were utterly unreal, like one dreaming that one is dreaming. And + then, suddenly, she looked at her watch, and the straight little shoulders + squared resolutely back. The hallucination, if she chose to call it that, + was not yet over! It was twenty minutes of one, and there was still + Skarbolov's—and her promise. + </p> + <p> + She quickened her pace. She did not like this promise that she had made; + but, on the other hand, she had not made it either lightly or impulsively. + She had no regrets on that score. She would make it again under the same + conditions. How could she have done otherwise? It would have been to stand + aside and permit a crime to be committed which she was assured was easily + within her power to prevent. What excuse could she have had for that? Fear + wasn't an excuse. She did not like the thought of entering the back door + of a store in the middle of the night like a thief, and, like a thief, + taking away that hidden money. She knew she was going to be afraid, + horribly afraid—it frightened her now—but she could not let + that fear make a moral coward of her. + </p> + <p> + Her hands clenched at her sides. She would not allow herself to dwell upon + that phase of it! She was going to Skarbolov's, and that was all there was + to it. The only thing she really had to fear was that she should lose even + a single unnecessary moment in getting there. Halfpast one, Gypsy Nan had + said. That should give her ample time; but the quicker she went, the wider + the margin of safety. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts reverted to Gypsy Nan. What had the woman meant by her last + few wandering words? They had nothing to do with Skarbolov's, that was + certain; but the words came back now insistently. “Seven-three-nine.” What + did “seven-three-nine” mean? She shook her head helplessly. Well, what did + it matter? She dismissed further consideration of it. She repeated to + herself Gypsy Nan's directions for finding the spring of the secret + drawer. She forced herself to think of anything that would bar the entry + of that fear which stood lurking at the threshold of her mind. + </p> + <p> + From time to time she consulted her watch—and each time hurried the + faster. + </p> + <p> + It was five minutes past one when, stealing silently along a black lane, + and counting against the skyline the same number of buildings she had + previously counted on the street from the corner, she entered an equally + black yard, and reached the back door of Skarbolov's little store. She + felt out with her hands and found the padlock, and her fingers pressed on + the link in the chain that Gypsy Nan had described. It gave readily. She + slipped it free, and opened the door. There was faint, almost inaudible, + protesting creak from the hinges. She caught her breath quickly. Had + anybody heard it? It—it had seemed like a cannon shot. And then her + lips curled in sudden self-contempt. Who was there to hear it? + </p> + <p> + She stepped forward, closed the door silently behind her, and drew out her + flashlight. The ray cut through the blackness. She was in what seemed like + a small, outer storeroom, that was littered with an untidy collection of + boxes, broken furniture, and odds and ends of all sorts. Ahead of her was + an open door, and, through this, the flashlight disclosed the shop itself. + She switched off the light now as she moved forward-there were the front + windows, and, used too freely, the light might by some unlucky chance be + noticed from the street. + </p> + <p> + And now, in the darkness again, she reached the doorway of the shop. She + had not made any noise. She assured herself of that. She had never known + that she could move so silently before—and—and—Yes, she + would fight down this panic that was seizing her! She would! It would only + take a minute now—just another minute—if—if she would + only keep her head and her nerve. That was what Gypsy Nan had said. She + only needed to keep her nerve. She had never lost it in the face of many a + really serious danger when with her father—why should she now, when + there was nothing but the silence and the darkness to be afraid of! + </p> + <p> + The flashlight went on again, its ray creeping inquisitively now along the + rear wall of the shop. It held finally on an escritoire over in the far + corner at her right. + </p> + <p> + Once more the light went out. She moved swiftly across the floor, and in a + moment more was bending over the escritoire. And now, with her body hiding + the flashlight's rays from the front windows, she examined the desk. It + was an old-fashioned, spindle-legged affair, with a nest of pigeonholes + and multifarious little drawers. One of the drawers, wider than any of the + others, and in the center, was obviously the one to which Gypsy Nan + referred. She pulled out the drawer, and in the act of reaching inside, + suddenly drew back her hand. What was that? Instinctively she switched off + the flashlight, and stood tense and rigid in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + A minute passed-another. Still she listened. There was no sound—unless—unless + she could actually hear the beating of her heart. Fancy! Imagination! The + darkness played strange tricks! It—it wasn't so easy to keep one' s + nerve. She could have sworn that she had heard some sort of movement back + there down the shop. + </p> + <p> + Angry with herself, she thrust her hand into the opening now and felt + hurriedly around. Yes, there it was! Her fingers touched what was + evidently a little knob or button. She pressed upon it. There was a faint, + answering click. She turned on the flashlight again. What had before + appeared to be nothing but one of the wide, pearl inlaid partitions + between two of the smaller drawers, was protruding invitingly outward now + by the matter of an inch or so. Rhoda Gray pulled it open. It was very + shallow, scarcely three-quarters of an inch in depth, but it was quite + long enough, and quite wide enough for its purpose! Inside, there lay a + little pile of banknotes, banknotes of very large denomination—the + one on top was a thousand-dollar bill. + </p> + <p> + She reached in and took out the money-and then from Rhoda Gray's lips + there came a little cry, the flashlight dropped from her hand and smashed + to the floor, and she was clinging desperately to the edge of the + escritoire for support. The shop was flooded with light. Over by the side + wall, one hand still on the electric-light switch, the other holding a + leveled revolver, stood a man. + </p> + <p> + And then the man spoke—with an oath—with curious amazement: + </p> + <p> + “My God—a woman!” + </p> + <p> + She did not speak, or stir. It seemed as though not fear, but horror now, + held her powerless to move her limbs. Her first swift brain-flash had been + that it was one of Gypsy Nan's accomplices here ahead of the appointed + time. That would have given her cause, all too much of cause, for fear; + but it was not one of Gypsy Nan's accomplices, and, far worse than the + fear of any physical attack upon her, was the sense of ruin and disaster + that the realization of a quite different and more desperate situation + brought her now. She knew the man. She had seen those square, heavy, + clamped jaws scores of times. Those sharp, restless black eyes under + over-hanging, shaggy eyebrows were familiar to the whole East Side. It was + Rorke—“Rough” Rorke, of headquarters. + </p> + <p> + He came toward her, and halfway across the room another exclamation burst + from his lips; but this time it held a jeer, and in the jeer a sort of + cynical and savage triumph. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” + </p> + <p> + He was close beside her now, and now he snatched from her hand the + banknotes that, all unconsciously, she had still been clutching tightly. + </p> + <p> + “So this is what all the sweet charity's been about, eh?” he snapped. “The + White Moll, the Little Saint of the East Side, that lends a helping hand + to the crooks to get 'em back on the straight and narrow again! The White + Moll-hell! You crooked little devil!” + </p> + <p> + Again she did not answer. Her mind was clear now, brutally clear, brutally + keen, brutally virile. What was there for her to say? She was caught here + at one o'clock in the morning after breaking into the place, caught + red-handed in the very act of taking the money. What story could she tell + that would clear her of that! That she had taken it so that it wouldn't be + stolen, and that she was going to give it back in the morning? Was there + anybody in the world credulous enough to believe anything like that! Tell + Gypsy Nan's story, all that had happened to-night? Yes, she might have + told that to-morrow, after she had returned the money, and been believed. + But now-no! It would even make her appear in a still worse light. They + would credit her with being a member of this very gang to which Gypsy Nan + belonged, one in the secrets of an organized band of criminals, who was + trying to clear her own skirts at the expense of her confederates. + Everything, every act of hers to-night, pointed to that construction being + placed upon her story, pointed to duplicity. Why had she hidden the + identity of Gypsy Nan? Why had she not told the police that a crime was to + be committed, and left it to the police to frustrate it? It would fit in + with the story, of course—but the story was the result of having + been caught in the act of stealing twenty thousand dollars in cash! What + was there to say—and, above all, to this man, whose reputation for + callous brutality in the handling of those who fell into his hands had + earned him the sobriquet of “Rough” Rorke? Sick at heart, desperate, but + with her hands clenched now, she stood there, while the man felt + unceremoniously over her clothing for a concealed weapon. + </p> + <p> + Finding none, he stooped, picked up the flashlight, tested it, and found + it broken from its fall. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad you bust this, we'll have to go out in the dark after I switch + off the light,” he said with unpleasant facetiousness. “I didn't have one + with me, or time to get one, when I got tipped off there was something + doing here to-night.” He caught her ungently by the arm. “Well, come + along, my pretty lady! This'll make a stir, this will! The White Moll!” He + led her to the electric-light switch, turned off the light, and, with his + grasp tight upon her, made for the front door. He chuckled in a sinister + manner. “Say, you're a prize, you are! And pretty clever, too, aren't you? + I wasn't looking for a woman to pull this. The White Moll! Some saint!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray shivered. Disgrace, ruin, stared her in the face. A sea of + faces in a courtroom, morbid faces, hideous faces, leered at her. Gray + walls rose before her, walls that shut out sunshine and hope, pitiless, + cold things that seemed to freeze the blood in her veins. And to-night, in + just a few minutes more—a cell! + </p> + <p> + From the street outside came the sound of some one making a cheery, but + evidently a somewhat inebriated, attempt to whistle some ragtime air. It + seemed to enhance her misery, to enhance by contrast in its care-free + cheeriness the despair and misery that were eating into her soul. Her + hands clenched and unclenched. If there were only a chance—somewhere—somehow! + If only she were not a woman! If she could only fight this hulking form + that gripped so brutally at her arm! + </p> + <p> + Rough Rorke opened the door, and pulled her out to the street. She shrank + back instinctively. It was quite light here from a nearby street lamp, and + the owner of the whistle, a young man, fashionably dressed, decidedly + unsteady on his legs, and just opposite the door as they came out, had + stopped both his whistle and his progress along the street to stare at + them owlishly. + </p> + <p> + “'Ullo!” said the young man thickly. “What'sh all this about—eh? + What'sh you two doing in that place this time of night—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Beat it!” ordered Rough Rorke curtly. + </p> + <p> + “That'sh all right.” The young man came nearer. He balanced himself with + difficulty, but upon him there appeared to have descended suddenly a vast + dignity. “I'm—hic—law—'biding citizen. Gotta know. Gotta + show me. Damn funny—coming out of there this time of night! Eh—what'sh + the idea?” + </p> + <p> + Rough Rorke, with his free hand, grabbed the young man by the shoulder + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Mind your own business, or you'll get into trouble!” he rasped out. “I'm + an officer, and this woman is under arrest. Beat it! D'ye hear? Beat it—or + I'll run you in, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that'sh so!” The young man's tones expressed a fuddled defiance. He + rocked on his feet and stared from one to the other. “Shay, is that'sh so! + You will—eh? Gotta show me. How do I know you're—hic—officer? + Eh? More likely damned thief yourself! I—” + </p> + <p> + The young man lurched suddenly and violently forward, breaking Rough + Rorke's grip on Rhoda Gray—and, as his arms swept out to grasp at + the detective in an apparently wild effort to preserve his balance, Rhoda + Gray felt a quick, significant push upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + For the space of time it takes a watch to tick she stood startled and + amazed, and then, like a flash, she was speeding down the street. A roar + of rage, a burst of unbridled profanity went up from Rough Rorke behind + her; it was mingled with equally angry vituperation in the young man's + voice. She looked behind her. The two men were swaying around crazily in + each other's arms. She ran on—faster than she had ever run in her + life. The corner was not far ahead. Her brain was working with lightning + speed. Gypsy Nan's house was just around the corner. If she could get out + of sight—hide—it would... + </p> + <p> + She glanced behind her again, as her ears caught the pound of racing feet. + The young man was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, shaking his fist; + Rough Rorke, perhaps a bare fifty yards away, was chasing her at top + speed. + </p> + <p> + Her face set hard. She could not out-run a man! There was only one hope + for her—just one—to gain Gypsy Nan's doorway before Rorke got + around the corner. + </p> + <p> + A yard—another—still another! She swerved around the corner. + And, as she turned, she caught a glimpse of the detective. The man was + nearer—much nearer. But it was only a little way, just a little way, + to Gypsy Nan's—not so far as the distance between her and Rorke—and—and + if the man didn't gain too fast, then—then—A little cry of + dismay came with a new and terrifying thought. Quite apart from Rorke, + some one else might see her enter Gypsy Nan's! She strained her eyes in + all directions as she ran. There wasn't any one—she didn't see any + one—only Rorke, around the corner there, was bawling out at the top + of his voice, and—and... + </p> + <p> + She flung herself against Gypsy Nan's door, stumbled in, and, closing it, + heard Rorke just swinging around the corner. Had he seen her? She didn't + know. She was panting, gasping for her breath. It seemed as though her + lungs would burst. She held her hand tightly to her bosom as she made for + the stairs—she mustn't make any noise—they mustn't hear her + breathing like that—they—they mustn't hear her going up the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + How dark it was! If she could only see—so that she would be sure not + to stumble! She couldn't go fast now—she would make a noise if she + did. Stair after stair she climbed stealthily. Perhaps she was safe now—it + had taken her a long time to get up here to the second floor, and there + wasn't any sound yet from the street below. + </p> + <p> + And now she mounted the short, ladder-like steps to the attic, and, + feeling with her hand for the crack in the flooring under the partition, + reached in for the key. As her fingers closed upon it, she choked back a + cry. Some one had been here! A piece of paper was wrapped around the key. + What did it mean? What did all these strange, yes, sinister, things that + had happened to-night mean? How had Rorke known that a robbery was to be + committed at Skarbolov's? Who was that man who had effected her escape, + and who, she knew now, was no more drunk than she was? Fast, quick, piling + one upon the other, the questions raced through her mind. + </p> + <p> + She fought them back. There was no time for speculation now! There was + only one question that mattered: Was she safe? + </p> + <p> + She stood up, thrust the paper for safe-keeping into her bosom, and + unlocked the door. If—if Rorke did not know that she had entered + this house here, she could remain hidden for a few hours; it would give + her time to think, and... + </p> + <p> + It came this time, no strength of will would hold it back, a little moan. + The front door below had opened, a heavy footstep sounded in the lower + hall. She couldn't see, of course. But she knew. It was Rorke! She heard + him coming up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + And then, in a flash, it seemed, her brain responded to her despairing + cry. There was still a way—a desperate one—but still a way—if + there was time! She darted inside the garret, locked the door, found the + matches and candle, and, running silently to the rear wall, pushed up the + board in the ceiling. In frantic haste she tore off her outer garments, + her stockings and shoes, pulled on the rough stockings and coarse boots + that Gypsy Nan had worn, slipped the other's greasy, threadbare skirt over + her head, and pinned the shawl tight about her shoulders. There was a big, + voluminous pocket in the skirt, and into this she dropped Gypsy Nan's + revolver, and the paper she had found wrapped around the key. + </p> + <p> + She could hear a commotion from below now. It was the one thing she had + counted upon. Rough Rorke might know she had entered the house, but he + could not know whereabouts in the house she was, and he would naturally + search each room as he came to it on the way up. She fitted the + gray-streaked wig of tangled, matted hair upon her head, plunged her hand + into the box that Gypsy Nan used for her make-up and daubed some of the + grime upon both hands and face, adjusted the spectacles upon her nose, hid + her own clothing, closed the narrow trap-door in the ceiling, and ran + back, carrying the candle, to the washstand. + </p> + <p> + Here, there was a small and battered mirror, and more coolly, more + leisurely now, for the commotion still continued from the floor below, she + spread and rubbed in, as craftily as she could, the grime streaks on her + face and hands. It was neither artistic nor perfect, but in the meager, + flickering light now the face of Gypsy Nan seemed to stare reassuringly + back at her. It might not deceive any one in daylight—she did not + know, and it did not matter now—but with only this candle to light + the garret, since the lamp was empty, she could fairly count on her + identity not being questioned. + </p> + <p> + She blew out the candle, left it on the washstand, because, if she could + help it, she did not want to risk having it lighted near the bed or door, + and, tiptoeing now, went to the door, unlocked it, then threw herself down + upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + Possibly a minute went by, possibly two, and then there was a quick step + on the ladder-like stairs, the door handle was rattled violently, and the + door was flung open and slammed shut again. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray sat upright on the bed. It was her wits now, her wits against + Rough Rorke's; nothing else could save her. She could not even make out + the man's form, it was so dark; but, as he had not moved, she was quite + well aware that he was standing with his back to the door, evidently + trying to place his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + It was Gypsy Nan, not Rhoda Gray, who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who's dere?” she screeched. “D'ye hear, blast youse, who's dere?” + </p> + <p> + Rough Rorke laughed gratingly. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Nan, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Who d'youse t'ink it is-me gran'mother?” demanded Rhoda Gray caustically. + “Who are youse?” + </p> + <p> + “Rorke,” said Rorke shortly. “I guess you know, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Is dat so?” snorted Rhoda Gray. “Well den, youse can beat it—hop it—on + de jump! Wot t'hell right have youse got bustin' into me room at dis time + of night—eh? I ain't done nothin'!” + </p> + <p> + Rough Rorke, his feet scuffling to feel the way, came forward. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out!” he snarled. “I ain't the only visitor you've got! It's not + you I want; it's the White Moll.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot's dat got to do wid me?” Rhoda Gray flung back hotly. “She ain't + here, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she's here!” Rough Rorke's voice held an ugly menace. “I lost her + around the corner, but a woman from a window across the street, who heard + the row, saw her run into this house. She ain't downstairs—so you + can figure the rest out the same way I do.” + </p> + <p> + “De woman was kiddin' youse!” Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, cackled + derisively. “Dere ain't nobody here but me.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see about that!” said Rough Rorke shortly. “Strike a light!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, strike it yerself!” retorted Rhoda Gray. “I ain't yer servant! Dere's + a candle over dere on de washstand against de wall, if youse wants it.” + </p> + <p> + A match crackled and spurted into flame; its light fell upon the lamp + standing on the chair beside the bed. Rough Rorke stepped toward it. + </p> + <p> + “Dere ain't any oil in dat,” croaked Rhoda Gray. “Didn't I tell youse de + candle was over dere on de washstand, an'—” + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to freeze in her throat, the chair, the lamp, the shadowy + figure of the man in the match flame to swirl before her eyes, and a sick + nausea to come upon her soul itself. With a short, triumphant oath, Rough + Rorke had stopped suddenly and reached in under the chair. And now he was + dangling a new, black kid glove in front of her. Caught! Yes, she was + caught! She remembered Gypsy Nan's attempt to put on her gloves—one + must have fallen to the floor unnoticed by either of them when Gypsy Nan + had thought to put them in her pocket! The man's voice came to her as from + some great distance: + </p> + <p> + “So, she ain't here—ain't she! I'll teach you to lie to me! I'll—” + The match was dying out. Rorke raised it higher, and with the last flicker + located the washstand, and made toward it, obviously for the candle. + </p> + <p> + Her wits against Rough Rorke's! Nothing else could save her! Failing to + find any one here but herself, certain now that the White Moll was here, + only a fool could have failed in his deduction—and Rough Rorke was + not a fool. Her wits against Rough Rorke's! There was the time left her + while the garret was still in darkness, just that, no more! + </p> + <p> + With a quick spring she leaped from the bed, seized the chair, sending the + lamp to the floor, and, dragging the chair after her to make as much noise + and confusion as she could, she rushed for the door, screeching at the top + of her voice: + </p> + <p> + “Run, dearie, run! Run!” She was scuffling with her feet, clattering the + chair, as she wrenched the door open. And then, in her own voice: “Nan, I + won't! I won't let you stand for this, I—” + </p> + <p> + Then as Gypsy Nan again: “Run, dearie! Don't youse mind old Nan!” She + banged the door shut, locked it, and whipped out the key. It had taken + scarcely a second. She was still screeching at the top of her voice to + cover the absence of flying footers on the stairs. “Run, dearie, run! + Run!” + </p> + <p> + And then, in the darkness, the candle still unlighted, Rough Rorke was on + her like a madman. With a sweep of his arm he sent her crashing to the + floor, and wrenched at the door. The next instant he was on her again. + </p> + <p> + “The key! Give me that key!” he roared. + </p> + <p> + For answer she flung it from her. It fell with a tinkle on the floor at + the far end of the garret. The man was beside himself with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, if I had time, I'd wring your neck for this, you she-devil!” he + bawled-and raced back, evidently for the candle on the washstand. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, sprawled on the floor where he had thrown her, did not + move-except to take the revolver from the pocket of her dress. She was + crooning queerly to herself, as she watched Rough Rorke light the candle + and grope around on the floor: + </p> + <p> + “She was good to me, de White Moll was. Jellies an' t'ings she brought me, + she did. An' Gypsy Nan don't ferret. Gypsy Nan don't—” + </p> + <p> + She sat up suddenly, snarling. Rorke had found the key, left the bottle + with the short stub of guttering candle standing on the floor, and was + back again. + </p> + <p> + “By God!” he gritted through his teeth, as he jabbed the key with frantic + haste into the lock. “I'll fix you for this!” He made a clutch at her + throat, as he swung the door open. + </p> + <p> + She jerked herself backward, eluding him, her revolver leveled. + </p> + <p> + “Youse keep yer dirty paws off me!” she screamed. “Yah, wot can youse do! + Wot do I care! She was good to me, she was, an—” + </p> + <p> + Rough Rorke was gone-taking the stairs three and four at a time. Then she + heard the street door slam. + </p> + <p> + She rose slowly to her feet—and suddenly reached out, grasping at + the door to steady herself. It seemed as though every muscle had gone + limp, as though her limbs had not strength to support her. And for a + moment she hung there, then she locked the door, staggered back, sank down + on the edge of the bed, and, with her chin in her hands, stared at the + guttering stub of candle. And presently, in an almost aimless, mechanical + way, she felt in her pocket for the piece of paper that she had found + wrapped around the key, and drew it out. There were three figures scrawled + upon it—nothing else. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 7 3 9 +</pre> + <p> + She dropped her chin in her hands again, and stared again at the candle. + And after a while the candle went out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. THE ADVENTURER + </h2> + <p> + Twenty-Four hours had passed. Twenty four hours! Was it no more than that + since—Rhoda Gray, in the guise of Gypsy Nan, as she sat on the edge + of the disreputable, poverty-stricken cot, grew suddenly tense, holding + her breath as she listened. The sound reached the attic so faintly that it + might be but the product solely of the imagination. No—it came + again! And it even defined itself now—a stealthy footstep on the + lower stairs. + </p> + <p> + A small, leather-bound notebook, in which she had been engrossed, was + tucked instantly away under the soiled blanket, and she glanced sharply + around the garret. A new candle, which she had bought in the single + excursion she had ventured to make from the house during the day, was + stuck in the neck of the gin bottle, and burned now on the chair beside + her. She had not bought a new lamp—it gave too much light! The old + one, the pieces of it, lay over there, brushed into a heap in the corner + on the floor. + </p> + <p> + The footstep became more audible. Her lips tightened a little. The hour + was late. It must be already after eleven o'clock. Her eyes grew + perturbed. Perhaps it was only one of the unknown tenants of the floor + below going to his or her room; but, on the other hand, no one had come + near the garret since last night, when that strange and, yes, sinister + trick of fate had thrust upon her the personality of Gypsy Nan, and it was + hoping for too much to expect such seclusion to obtain much longer. There + were too many who must be interested, vitally interested, in Gypsy Nan! + There was Rough Rorke, of headquarters; he had given no sign, but that did + not mean he had lost interest in Gypsy Nan. There was the death of the + real Gypsy Nan, which was pregnant with possibilities; and though the + newspapers, that she, Rhoda Gray, had bought and scanned with such tragic + eagerness, had said nothing about the death of one Charlotte Green in the + hospital, much less had given any hint that the identity Gypsy Nan had + risked so much to hide had been discovered, it did not mean that the + police, with their own ends in view, might not be fully informed, and were + but keeping their own counsel while they baited a trap. + </p> + <p> + Also, and even more to be feared, there were those of this criminal + organization to which Gypsy Nan had belonged, and to which she, Rhoda + Gray, through a sort of hideous proxy, now belonged herself! Sooner or + later, they must show their hands, and the test of her identity would + come. And here her danger was the greater because she did not know who any + of them were, unless the man who had stepped in between Rough Rorke and + herself last night was one of them—which was a question that had + harassed her all day. The man had been no more drunk than she had been, + and he had obviously only played the part to get her out of the clutches + of Rough Rorke; but, against this, he had seen her simply as herself then, + the White Moll, and what could the criminal associates of Gypsy Nan have + cared as to what became of the White Moll? + </p> + <p> + A newspaper, to procure which had been the prime motive that had lured her + out of her retreat that afternoon, caught her eye now, and she shivered a + little as, from where it lay on the floor, the headlines seemed to leer up + at her, and mock, and menace her. “The White Moll....The Saint of the East + Side Exposed....Vicious Hypocrisy....Lowly Charity for Years Cloaks a + Consummate Thief...” They had not spared her! + </p> + <p> + Her lips firmed suddenly, as she listened. The stealthy footfall had not + paused in the hall below. It was on the short, ladder-like steps now, + leading up here to the garret—and now it had halted outside her + door, and there came a low, insistent knocking on the panels. + </p> + <p> + “Who's dere?” demanded Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, in a grumbling tone, + as, getting up from the bed, she moved the chair noiselessly a few feet + farther away, so that the bed would be beyond the immediate radius of the + candle light. Then she shuffled across the floor to the door. “Who's + dere?” she demanded again, and her hand, deep in the voluminous pocket of + Gypsy Nan's greasy skirt, closed tightly around the stock of Gypsy Nan's + revolver. + </p> + <p> + The voice that answered her expostulated in a plaintive whisper: + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady! And after all the trouble I have taken to reach here + without being either seen or heard!” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Rhoda Gray hesitated—there seemed something familiar + about the voice—then she unlocked the door, and retreated toward the + bed. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and closed softly. Rhoda Gray, reaching the edge of the + bed, sat down. It was the fashionably-attired, immaculate young man, who + had saved her from Rough Rorke last night. She stared at him in the faint + light without a word. Her mind was racing in a mad turmoil of doubt, + uncertainty, fear. Was he one of the gang, or not? Was she, in the role of + Gypsy Nan, supposed to know him, or not? Did he know that the real Gypsy + Nan, too, had but played a part, and, therefore, when she spoke must it be + in the vernacular of the East Side—or not? And then sudden + enlightenment, with its incident relief, came to her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady”—the young man's soft felt hat was under his arm, and + he was plucking daintily at the fingers of his yellow gloves as he removed + them—“I beg you to pardon the intrusion of a perfect stranger. I + offer you my very genuine apologies. My excuse is that I come from a—I + hope I am not overstepping the bounds in using the term—mutual + friend.” Rhoda Gray snorted disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, cut out de boudoir talk, an' get down to cases!” she croaked. “Who + are youse, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + The young man had gray eyes—and they lighted up now humorously. + </p> + <p> + “Boudoir? Ah—yes! Of course! Awfully neat!” His eyes, from the chair + that held the candle, strayed around the scantily furnished, murky garret + as though in search of a seat, and finally rested inquiringly on Rhoda + Gray. + </p> + <p> + “Youse can put de candle on de floor, if youse like,” she said grudgingly. + “Dat's de only chair dere is.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray watched him with puckered brow, as he placed the gin bottle + with its candle on the floor, and appropriated the chair. He might, from + his tone, have been thanking her for some priceless boon. He wore a + boutonniere. His clothes fitted him like gloves. He exuded a certain + studied, almost languid fastidiousness—that was wholly out of + keeping with the quick, daring, agile wit that he had exhibited the night + before. She found her hand toying unconsciously with the weapon in her + pocket. She was aware that she was fencing with unbuttoned foils. How much + did he know—about last night? + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't youse spill it?” she invited curtly. “Who are youse?” + </p> + <p> + “Who am I?” He lifted the lapel of his coat, carrying the boutonniere to + his nose. “My dear lady, I am an adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + “Youse don't say!” observed Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan. “An' wot's dat w' + en it's at home?” + </p> + <p> + “In my case, first of all a gentleman, I trust,” he said pleasantly; + “after that, I do not quarrel with the accepted definition of the term—though + it is not altogether complimentary.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray scowled. As Rhoda Gray, she might have answered him; as Gypsy + Nan, it was too subtle, and she was beyond her depth. + </p> + <p> + “Youse look to me like a slick crook!” she said bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I will admit,” he said, “that I have at times, perhaps, taken liberties + with the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, den,” she snapped, “cut out de high-brow stuff, an' come across wid + wot brought youse here. I ain't holdin' no reception. Who's de friend + youse was talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer looked around him, and lowered his voice. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray eyed the man for a long minute; then she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I take back wot I said about youse bein' a slick crook,” she announced + coolly. “I guess youse're a dick from headquarters. Well, youse have got + de wrong number—see? Me fingers are crossed. Try next door!” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer's eyes were fixed on the newspaper headlines on the floor. + He raised them now significantly to hers. + </p> + <p> + “You helped her to get away from Rough Rorke last night,” he said gently. + “Well, so did I. I am very anxious to find the White Moll, and, as I know + of no other way except through you, I have got to make you believe in me, + if I can. Listen, my dear lady—and don't look at me so suspiciously. + I have already admitted that I have taken liberties with the law. Let me + add now that last night there was a little fortune of quite a few thousand + dollars that I had already made up my mind was as good as in my pocket. I + was on my way to get it—the newspaper will already have given you + the details—when I found that I had been forestalled by the young + lady, who, the papers say, is known as the White Moll.” He smiled + whimsically. “Even though one might be a slick crook as you suggest, it is + no reason why he should fail in his duty to himself—as a gentleman. + What other course was open to me? I discovered a very charming young lady + in the grip of a hulking police brute. She also, apparently, took + liberties with the law. There was a bond between us. I—er—took + it upon myself to do what I could. And, besides, I was not insensible to + the fact that I was under a certain obligation to her, quixotic as it may + sound, in view of the fact that we were evidently competitors after the + same game. You see, if she had not forestalled me and been caught herself, + I should most certainly have walked into the trap that our friend of + headquarters had prepared. I—er—as I say, did what I could. + She got away; but somehow Rough Rorke later discovered her here in this + room, I understand that he was not happy over the result; that, thanks to + you, she escaped again, and has not been heard of since.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray dropped her chin in her grime-smeared hand, staring + speculatively at the other. The man sat there, apparently a self-confessed + crook and criminal, but, also, he sat there as the man to whom she owed + the fact that at the present moment she was not behind prison bars. He + proclaimed himself in the same breath both a thief and a gentleman, as far + as she could make out. They were characteristics which, until now, she had + never associated together; but now, curiously enough, they did not seem so + utterly at variance. Of course they were at variance, must of necessity be + so; but in the personality of this man the incongruity seemed somehow + lost. Perhaps it was a sense of gratitude toward him that modified her + views. He looked a gentleman. There was something about him that appealed. + The gray eyes seemed full of cool, confident, self-possession; and, quiet + as his manner was, she sensed a latent dynamic something lurking near the + surface all the time—that she was conscious she would much prefer to + have enlisted on her behalf than against her. The strong, firm chin bore + this out. He was not handsome, but—with a sort of mental jerk, she + forced her mind back to the stark realities of her surroundings. She could + not thank him for what he had done last night. She could not tell him that + she was the White Moll. She could only play out the role of Gypsy Nan + until—until—Her hand tightened with a fierce, involuntary + pressure upon her chin until it brought a physical hurt. Until what? God + alone knew what the end of this miserable, impossible horror, in which she + found herself engulfed, would be! + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sought his face again. The Adventurer was tactfully engaged in + carefully smoothing out the fingers of his yellow gloves. Thief and + gentleman, whatever he might be, whatever he might choose to call himself, + what, exactly, was it that had brought him here to-night? The White Moll, + he had said; but what did he want with the White Moll? + </p> + <p> + He answered her unspoken question now, almost as though he had read her + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “She is very clever,” he said quietly. “She must be exceedingly clever to + have beaten the police the way she has for the last few years; and—er—I + worship at the shrine of cleverness—especially if it be a woman's. + The idea struck me last night that if she and I should—er—pool + our resources, we should not have to complain of the reward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so youse wants to work wid her, eh?” sniffed Rhoda Gray. “So dat's + it, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Partially,” he said. “But, quite apart from that, the reason I want to + find her is because she is in very great danger. Clever as she is, it is a + very different matter to-day now that the police have found her out. She + has been forced into hiding, and, if alone and without any friend to help + her, her situation, to put it mildly, must be desperate in the extreme. + You befriended her last night, and I honor you for the unselfishness with + which you laid yourself open to the future attentions of that animal + Rorke, but that very fact has deprived her of what might otherwise have + been a refuge and a quite secure retreat here with you. I do not wish to + intrude, or force myself upon her, but I believe I could be of very + material help, and so I have come to you, as I have said, because you are + the only source through which I can hope to find her, and because, through + your act of last night, I know you to be a trustworthy, and, perhaps, even + an intimate, friend of hers.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, go on!” said Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, deprecatingly. “Dat don't + prove nothin'! I'd have done as much for a stray cat if de bulls was + chasm' her. See? I told youse once youse had de wrong number. She didn't + leave no address. Dat's flat, an' dat's de end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” said the Adventurer gravely. “Perhaps I haven't made out a + good enough case. Or perhaps, even believing me, you consider that the + White Moll, and not yourself, should be the judge as to whether my + services are acceptable or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Youse can dope it out any way youse likes,” said Rhoda Gray + indifferently. “Me t'roat's gettin' hoarse tellin' youse dere's nothin' + doin'!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” said the Adventurer again. He smiled suddenly, and tucking + his gloves into his pocket, leaned forward and tore off a small piece from + the margin of the newspaper on the floor—but his head the while was + now cocked in a curious listening attitude in the direction of the door. + “You will pardon me, my dear lady, if I confess that, in spite of what you + say, I still harbor the belief that you know where to reach the White + Moll; and so—” He stopped abruptly, and she found his glance, sharp + and critical, upon her. “You are expecting a visitor, perhaps?” he + inquired softly. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stared in genuine perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's de answer?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “There is some one on the stairs,” replied the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray listened—and her perplexity deepened. She could hear + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Youse must have good ears!” she scoffed. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” returned the Adventurer coolly. “My hearing is one of the + resources that I wanted to pool with the White Moll.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, den, mabbe it's Rough Rorke.” Her tone still held its scoffing + note; but her words voiced the genuine enough, that had come flashing upon + her. “An' if it is, after last night, an' he finds youse an' me together, + dere'll be—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady,” interposed the Adventurer calmly, “if there were the + remotest possibility that it could be Rough Rorke, I would not be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot do youse mean?” She had unconsciously towered her voice. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer shrugged his shoulders whimsically. He had laid the piece + of paper on his knee, and, with a small gold pencil which he had taken + from his pocket, was writing something upon it. + </p> + <p> + “The fact that I can assure you that, whoever else it may be, the person + outside there cannot be Rough Rorke, is simply a proof that, if I had the + opportunity, I could be of real assistance to the White Moll,” he said + imperturbably. “Well”—a grim little smile flickered suddenly across + his lips—“do you hear any one now?” + </p> + <p> + Quite low, but quite unmistakably, the short, ladder-like steps just + outside the door were voicing a creaky protest now as some one mounted + them. Rhoda Gray did not move. It seemed as though she could hear the + sudden thumping of her own heart. Who was it this time? How was she to + act? What was she to say? It was so easy to make the single little slip of + word or manner that would spell ruin and disaster. + </p> + <p> + “Rubber heels and rubber soles,” murmured the Adventurer. “But, at that, + it is extremely well done.” He held out the torn piece of paper to Rhoda + Gray. + </p> + <p> + “If”—he smiled significantly—“if, by any good fortune, you see + the White Moll again, please give her this and let her decide for herself. + It is a telephone number. She can always reach me there by asking for—the + Adventurer.” He was still extending the piece of paper. “Quick!” he + whispered, as the door knob rattled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. A SECOND VISITOR + </h2> + <p> + Mechanically Rhoda Gray thrust the paper into the pocket of her skirt. The + door swung open. A tall man, well dressed, as far as could be seen in the + uncertain light, a slouch hat pulled far down over his eyes, stood on the + threshold, surveying the interior of the garret. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer rose composedly to his feet—and moved slightly back + out of the direct radius of the candlelight. + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then the man in the doorway laughed + unpleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he flung out harshly. “Who's the dude, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, on the edge of the bed, shrugged her shoulders. The Adventurer + was standing quite at his ease, his soft hat tucked under his right arm, + his hand thrust into the side pocket of his coat. She could no longer see + his face distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” There was a snarl in the man's voice as he advanced from the + doorway. “You heard me, didn't you? Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't youse ask him yerself?” inquired Rhoda Gray truculently. “I + dunno.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't, eh?” The man had halted close to where the candle stood on the + floor between himself and the Adventurer. “Well, then, I guess we'll find + out!” He was peering in the Adventurer's direction, and now there came a + sudden savage scowl to his face. “It seems to me I've seen those clothes + somewhere before, and I guess now we'll take a look at your face so that + there won't be any question about recognition the next time we meet.” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “There will be none on my part,” he said calmly. “It's Danglar, isn't it? + I am surely not mistaken. Parson Danglar, alias—ah! Please don't do + that!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rhoda Gray that it happened in the space of time it might + take a watch to tick: The newcomer stooping to the floor, and lifting the + candle with the obvious intention of thrusting it into the Adventurer's + face—a glint of metal, as the Adventurer whipped a revolver from the + side pocket of his coat—and then, how they got there she could not + tell, it was done so adroitly and swiftly, the thumb and forefinger of the + Adventurer's left hand had closed on the candle wick and snuffed it out, + and the garret was in darkness. + </p> + <p> + There was a savage oath, a snarl of rage from the man whom the Adventurer + had addressed as Danglar; then an instant s silence; and then the + Adventurer's voice—from the doorway: + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you not to vent your disappointment on the lady—Danglar. I + assure you that she is in no way responsible for my visit here, and, as + far as that goes, never saw me before in her life. Also, it is only fair + to tell you, in case you should consider leaving here too hurriedly, that + I am really not at all a bad shot—even in the dark. I bid you + good-night, Danglar—and you my dear lady!” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's voice rose again in a flood of profane rage. He stumbled and + moved around in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “Damn it!” he shouted. “Where are the matches? Where's the lamp? This + cursed candle's put enough to the bad already! Do you hear? Where's the + lamp?” + </p> + <p> + “It's over dere on de floor, bust to pieces,” mumbled Rhoda Gray. + “Youse'll find the matches on de washstand, an—” + </p> + <p> + “What's the idea?” There was a sudden, steel-like note dominating the + angry tones. “What are you handing me that hog-wash language for? Eh? It's + damned queer! There's been damned queer doings around here ever since last + night! See? What's the idea?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray felt her face whiten in the darkness. It was the slip she had + feared; the slip that she had had to take the chance of making, and which, + if it were not retrieved, and instantly retrieved, now that it was made, + meant discovery, and after that—She shivered a little. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't lose your head, just because you've lost your temper!” she + said tartly, in a guarded whisper. “The door into the hall is still wide + open, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right!” he said, his tones a sort of sullen admission that her + retort was justified. “But even now your voice sounds off color.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray bridled. + </p> + <p> + “Does it?” she snapped at him. “I've got a cold. Maybe you'd get one too, + and maybe your voice would be off color, if you had to live in a dump like + this, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right, all right!” he broke in hurriedly. “For Heaven's sake + don't start a row! Forget it! See? Forget it!” He walked over to the door, + peered out, swore savagely to himself, shut the door, held the candle up + to circle the garret, and scowled as its rays fell upon the shattered + pieces of the lamp in the corner then, returning, he set the candle down + upon the chair and began to pace restlessly, three or four steps each way, + up and down in front of the bed. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, from the edge of the bed, shifted back until her shoulders + rested against the wall. Danglar, too, was dressed like a gentleman—but + Danglar's face was not appealing. The little round black eyes were shifty, + they seemed to possess no pupils whatever, and they roved constantly; + there was a hard, unyielding thinness about the lips, and the face itself + was thin, almost gaunt, as though the skin had had to accommodate itself + to more than was expected of it, and was elastically stretched over the + cheek-bones. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm listening!” jerked out the man abruptly. “You knew our game at + Skarbolov's was queered. You got the 'seven-three-nine,' didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, I got it,” answered Rhoda Gray. “What about it?” + </p> + <p> + “For two weeks now, yes, more than two weeks”—the man's voice rasped + angrily—“things have been going wrong, and some one has been butting + in and getting away with the goods under our noses. We know now, from last + night, that it must have been the White Moll, for one, though it's not + likely she worked all alone. Skeeny dropped to the fact that the police + were wise about Skarbolov's, and that's why we called it off, and the + 'seven-three-nine' went out. They must have got wise through shadowing the + White Moll. See? Then they pinch her, but she makes her get-away, and + comes here, and, if the dope I've got is right, you hand Rough Rorke one, + and help her to beat it again. It looks blamed funny—doesn't it?—when + you come to consider that there's a leak somewhere!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so!” Rhoda Gray flashed back. “And did you know before last night + that it was the White Moll who was queering our game?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had,” the man gritted between his teeth, “I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, how did you expect me to know it?” demanded Rhoda Gray + heatedly. “And if the White Moll happens to know Gypsy Nan, as she knows + everybody else through her jellies and custards and fake charity, and + happens to be near here when she gets into trouble, and beats it for here + with the police on her heels, and asks for help, what do you expect Gypsy + Nan's going to do if she wants to stand any chance of sticking around + these parts—as Gypsy Nan?” + </p> + <p> + The man paused in his walk, and, jerking back his hat, drew his hand + nervously across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You make me tired!” said Rhoda Gray wearily. “Do you think you could find + the door without too much trouble?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar resumed his pacing back and forth, but more slowly now. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know! I know, Bertha!” he burst out heavily. “I'm talking through + my hat. You've got the roughest job of any of us, old girl. Don't mind + what I'm saying. Something's badly wrong, and I'm half crazy. It's certain + now that the White Moll's the one that's been doing us, and what I really + came down here for to-night was to tell you that your job from now on was + to get the White Moll. You helped her last night. She doesn't know you are + anybody but Gypsy Nan, and so you're the one person in New York she'll + dare try to communicate with sooner or later. Understand? That's what I + came for, not to talk like a fool—but that fellow I found here + started me off. Who is he? What did he want?” + </p> + <p> + “He wanted the White Moll, too,” said Rhoda Gray, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he did, eh!” Danglar's lips twisted into a sudden, merciless smile. + “Well, go on! Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who he is,” Rhoda Gray answered a little impatiently. “He + said he was an adventurer—if you can make anything out of that. He + said he got the White Moll away from Rough Rorke last night, after Rorke + had arrested her; and then he doped the rest out the same as you have—that + he could find the White Moll again through Gypsy Nan. I don't know what he + wanted her for.” + </p> + <p> + “That's better!” snarled Danglar, the merciless smile still on his lips. + “I thought she must have had a pal, and we know now who her pal is. It's + open and shut that she's sitting so tight she hasn't been able to get into + touch with him, and that's what's worrying Mr. Adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, save for a nod of her head, made no answer. + </p> + <p> + Danglar laughed suddenly, as though in relief; then, coming closer to the + bed, plunged his hand into his coat pocket, and tossed handful of jewelry + carelessly into Rhoda Gray's lap. + </p> + <p> + “I feel better than I did!” he said, and laughed again. “It's a cinch now + that we'll get them both through you, and it s a cinch that the White Moll + won't cut in to-night. Put those sparklers away with the rest until we get + ready to 'fence' them.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray did not speak. Mechanically, as though she were living through + some hideous nightmare, she began to scoop up the gems from her lap and + allow them to trickle back through her fingers. They flashed and + scintillated brilliantly, even in the meager light. They seemed alive with + some premonitory, baleful fire. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there's some pretty slick stuff there,” said Danglar, with an + appraising chuckle; “but there'll be something to-night that'll make all + that bunch look like chicken-feed. The boys are at work now, and we'll + have old Hayden-Bond's necklace in another hour. Skeeny's got the Sparrow + tied up in the old room behind Shluker's place, and once we're sure + there's no back-fire anywhere, the Sparrow will chirp his last chirp.” He + laughed out suddenly, and, leaning forward, clapped Rhoda Gray exultantly + on the shoulder. “It was like taking candy from a kid! The Sparrow and the + old man fell for the sick-mother, needing-her-son-all-night stuff without + batting a lid; but the Sparrow hasn't been holding the old lady's hand at + the bedside yet. We took care of that.” + </p> + <p> + Again Rhoda Gray made no comment. She wondered, as she gripped at the + rings and brooches in hand, so fiercely that the settings pricked into the + flesh, if her face mirrored in any way the cold, sick misery that had + suddenly taken possession of her soul. The Sparrow! She knew the Sparrow; + she knew the Sparrow's sick mother. That part of it was true. The Sparrow + did have an old mother who was sick. A fine old lady—finer than the + son—Finch, her name was. Indirectly, she knew old Hayden-Bond, the + millionaire, and—Almost subconsciously she was aware that Danglar + was speaking again. + </p> + <p> + “I guess luck's breaking our way again,” he grinned. “The old boy paid a + hundred thousand cold for that necklace. You know how long we've been + waiting to get our hooks on it, and we've never had our eyes off his house + for two months. Well, it pays to wait, and it pays to do things right. It + broke our way at last to-night, all right, all right! To-day's Saturday—and + the safety deposit vaults aren't open on Sunday. Mrs. Hayden-Bond's been + away all week visiting, but she comes back to-morrow, and there's some + swell society fuss fixed for to-morrow night, and she wants her necklace + to make a splurge, so she writes Mr. H-hyphen-B, and out it comes from the + safety deposit vault, and into the library safe. The old man isn't long on + social stunts, and he's got pretty well set in his habits; one of those + must-have-nine-hours'-sleep bugs, and he's always in bed by ten—when + his wife'll let him. She being away to-night, the boys were able to get to + work early. They ought to be able to crack that box without making any + noise about it in an hour and a half at the outside.” He pulled out his + watch-and whistled low under his breath. “It's a quarter after eleven + now,” he said hurriedly, and moved abruptly toward the door. “I can't + stick around here any longer. I've got to be on deck where they can slip + me the 'white ones,' and then there's Skeeny waiting for the word to bump + off the Sparrow.” He jerked his hand suddenly toward the jewels in her + lap. “Salt those away before any more adventurers blow in!” he said, half + sharply, half jocularly. “And don't let the White Moll slip you—at + any cost. Remember! She's bound to come to you again. Play her—and + send out the call. You understand, don't you? There's never been a yip out + of the police. Our methods are too good for that. Look at the Sparrow + to-night. Where there's no chance taken of suspicion going anywhere except + where we lead it, there's no chance of any trouble—for us! But this + cursed she-fiend's another story. We're not planting plum trees for her to + pick any more of the fruit. Understand?” + </p> + <p> + She answered him mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “All right, then; that end of it is up to you,” he said significantly. + “You're clever, clever as the devil, Bertha. Use your brains now—we + need 'em. Good-night, old girl. See you later.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Rhoda Gray dully. + </p> + <p> + The door closed. The short, ladder-like steps to the hallway below creaked + once, and then all was still. Danglar did have on rubber-soled shoes. She + sat upright, her hands, clenched now, pressed hard against her throbbing + temples. It wasn't true! None of this was true—this hovel of a + place, those jewels glinting like evil eyes in her lap; her existence + itself wasn't true; it was only her brain now, sick like her soul, that + conjured up these ugly phantoms with horrible, plausible ingenuity. And + then an inner voice seemed to answer her with a calmness that was hideous + in its finality. It was true. All of it was true. Those words of Danglar, + and their bald meaning, were true. Men did such things; men made in the + image of their Maker did such things. They were going to kill a man + to-night—an innocent man whom they had made their pawn. + </p> + <p> + She swept the jewels from her lap to the blanket, and rising, seized the + candle, went to the door, looked out, and, holding the candle high above + her head, peered down the stairs. Yes, he was gone. There was no one + there. + </p> + <p> + She locked the door again, returned to the bed, set the candle down upon + the chair, and stood there, her face white and drawn, staring with wide, + tormented eyes about her. Murder. Danglar had spoken of it with inhuman + callousness—and had laughed at it. They were going to take a man's + life. And there was only herself, already driven to extremity, already + with her own back against the wall in an effort to save herself, only + herself to carry the burden of the responsibility of doing something-to + save a man's life. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to plumb the depths of irony and mockery. She could not make a + move as Gypsy Nan. It would only result in their turning upon her, of the + discovery that she was not Gypsy Nan at all, of the almost certainty that + it would cost her her own life without saving the Sparrow's. That way was + closed to her from the start. As the White Moll, then? Outside there in + the great city, every plain-clothes man, every policeman on every beat, + was staring into every woman's face he met—searching for the White + Moll. + </p> + <p> + She wrung her hands in cruel desperation. Even to her own problem she had + found no solution, though she had wrestled with it all last night, and all + through the day; no solution save the negative one of clinging to this one + refuge that remained to her, such as it was, temporarily. She had found no + solution to that; what solution was there to this! She had thought of + leaving the city as Gypsy Nan, and then somewhere far away, of sloughing + off the character of Gypsy Nan, and of resuming her own personality again + under an assumed name. But that would have meant the loss of everything + she had in life, her little patrimony, the irredeemable stamp of shame + upon the name she once had owned; and also the constant fear and dread + that at any moment the police net, wide as the continent was wide, would + close around her, as, sooner or later, it was almost inevitable that it + would close around her. It had seemed that her only chance was to keep on + striving to play the role of Gypsy Nan, because it was these associates of + Gypsy Nan who were at the bottom of the crime of which she, Rhoda Gray, + was held guilty, and because there was always the hope that in this way, + through confidences to a supposed confederate, she could find the evidence + that would convict those actually guilty, and so prove her own innocence. + But in holding to the role of Gypsy Nan for the purpose of receiving those + criminal confidences, she had not thought of this—that upon her + would rest the moral responsibility of other crimes of which she would + have knowledge, and, least of all, that she should be faced with what lay + before her now, to-night, at the first contact with those who had been + Gypsy Nan's confederates. + </p> + <p> + What was she to do? Upon her, and upon her alone, depended a man's life, + and, adding to her distraction, she knew the man—the Sparrow, who + had already done time; that was the vile ingenuity of it all. And there + would le corroborative evidence, of course; they would have seen to that. + If the Sparrow disappeared and was never heard of again, even a child + would deduce the assumption that the proceeds of the robbery had + disappeared with him. + </p> + <p> + Her brain seemed to grow panicky. She was standing here helplessly. And + time, the one precious ally that she possessed, was slipping away from + her. She could not go to the police as Gypsy Nan—and, much less, as + the White Moll! She could not go to the police in any case, for the + “corroborative” evidence, that obviously must exist, unless Danglar and + those with him were fools, would indubitably damn the Sparrow to another + prison term, even supposing that through the intervention of the police + his life were saved. What was she to do? + </p> + <p> + And then, for a moment, her eyes lighted in relief. The Adventurer! She + thrust her hand into the pocket of her skirt, and drew out the torn piece + of paper, and studied the telephone number upon it—and slowly the + hurt and misery came back into her eyes again. Who was he? He had told + her. An adventurer. He had given her to understand that he, if she had not + been just a few minutes ahead of him, would have taken that money from + Skarbolov's escritoire last night. Therefore he was a crook. Danglar had + said that some one had been getting in ahead of them lately and snatching + the plunder from under their noses; and Danglar now believed that it had + been the White Moll. A wan smile came to her lips. Instead of the White + Moll, it appeared to be quite obvious that it was the Adventurer. It + therefore appeared to be quite as obvious that the man was a professional + thief, and an extremely clever one, at that. She dared not trust him. To + enlist his aid she would have to explain the gang's plot; and while the + Adventurer might go to the Sparrow's assistance, he might also be very + much more interested in the diamond necklace that was involved, and not be + entirely averse to Danglar's plan of using the Sparrow as a pawn, who, in + that case, would make a very convenient scapegoat for the Adventurer—instead + of Danglar! She dared not trust the man. She could not absolve her + conscience by staking another's life on a hazard, on the supposition that + the Adventurer might do this or that. It was not good enough. + </p> + <p> + She was quick in her movements now. Subconsciously her decision had been + made. There was only one way—only one. She gathered up the jewels + from the bed and thrust them, with the Adventurer's torn piece of paper, + into her pocket. And now she reached for the little notebook that she had + hidden under the blanket. It contained the gang's secret code, and she had + found it in the cash box in Gypsy Nan's strange hiding place that evening. + Half running now, carrying the candle, she started toward the lower end of + the attic, where the roof sloped down to little more than shoulder high. + “Seven-Three-Nine!” Danglar had almost decoded the message word for word + in the course of his conversation. In the little notebook, set against the + figures, were the words: “Danger. The game is off. Make no further move.” + It was only one of many, that arbitrary arrangement of figures, each + combination having its own special significance; but, besides these, there + was the key to a complete cipher into which any message might be coded, + and—But why was her brain swerving off at inconsequential tangents? + What did a coder or code book, matter at the present moment? + </p> + <p> + She was standing under the narrow trap-door in the low ceiling now, and + now she pushed it up, and lifting the candle through the opening, set it + down on the inner surface of the ceiling, which, like some vast shelf, + Gypsy Nan had metamorphosed into that exhaustive storehouse of edibles, of + plunder—a curious and sinister collection that was eloquent of a + gauntlet long flung down against the law. She emptied the pocket of her + skirt, retaining only the revolver, and substituted the articles she had + removed with the tin box that contained the dark compound Gypsy Nan, and + she herself, as Gypsy Nan, had used to rob her face of youthfulness, and + give it the grimy, dissolute and haggard aspect which was so simple and + yet so efficient a disguise. + </p> + <p> + She worked rapidly now, changing her clothes. She could not go, or act, as + Gypsy Nan; and so she must go in her own character, go as the White Moll—because + that was the lesser danger, the one that held the only promise of success. + There wasn't any other way. She could not very well refuse to risk her + capture by the police, could she, when by so doing she might save + another's life? She could not balance in cowardly selfishness the + possibility of a prison term for herself, hideous as that might be, + against the penalty of death that the Sparrow would pay if she remained + inactive. But she could not leave here as the White Moll. Somewhere, + somewhere out in the night, somewhere away from this garret where all + connection with it was severed, she must complete the transformation from + Gypsy Nan to the White Moll. She could only prepare for that now as best + she could. + </p> + <p> + And there was not a moment to lose. The thought made her frantic. Over her + own clothes she put on again Gypsy Nan's greasy skirt, and drew on again, + over her own silk ones, Gypsy Nan's coarse stockings. She put on Gypsy + Nan's heavy and disreputable boots, and threw the old shawl again over her + head and shoulders. And then, with her hat—for the small shape of + which she breathed a prayer of thankfulness!—and her own shoes under + her arm and covered by the shawl, she took the candle again, closed the + trap-door, and stepped over to the washstand. Here, she dampened a rag, + that did duty as a facecloth, and thrust it into her pocket; then, blowing + out the candle, she groped her way to the door, locked it behind her, and + without any attempt at secrecy made her way downstairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE RENDEZVOUS + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's movements were a little unsteady as she stepped out on the + sidewalk. Gypsy Nan's accepted inebriety was not without its compensation. + It enabled her, as she swayed for a moment, to scrutinize the street in + all directions. Were any of Rough Rorke's men watching the house? She did + not know; she only knew that as far as she had been able to discover, she + had not been followed when she had gone out that afternoon. Up the street, + to her right, there were a few pedestrians; to her left, as far as the + corner, the block was clear. She turned in the latter direction. She had + noticed that afternoon that there was a lane between Gypsy Nan's house and + the corner; she gained this and slipped into it unobserved. + </p> + <p> + And now, in the comparative darkness, she hurried her steps. Somewhere + here in the lane she would make the transformation from Gypsy Nan to the + White Moll complete; it required only some place in which she could with + safety leave the garments that she discarded, and—Yes, this would + do! A tumble-down old shed, its battered door half open, ample proof that + the place was in disuse, intersected the line of high board fence on her + right. + </p> + <p> + She stole inside. It was utterly dark, but she had no need for light. It + was a matter of perhaps three minutes; and then, the revolver transferred + to the pocket of her jacket, the stains removed from her face by the aid + of the damp cloth, her hands neatly gloved in black kid, the skirt, boots, + stockings, shawl, spectacles and wig of Gypsy Nan carefully piled together + and hidden in a hole under the rotting boards of the floor, behind the + door, she emerged as the White Moll, and went on again. + </p> + <p> + But at the end of the lane, where it met a cross street, and the street + lamp flung out an ominous challenge, and, dim though it was, seemed to + glare with the brightness of daylight, she faltered for a moment and drew + back. She knew where Shluker's place was, because she knew, as few knew + it, every nook and cranny in the East Side, and it was a long way to that + old junk shop, almost over to the East River, and—and there would be + lights like this one here that barred her exit from the lane, thousands of + them, lights all the way, and—and out there they were searching + everywhere, pitilessly, for the White Moll. + </p> + <p> + And then, with her lips tightened, the straight little shoulders thrown + resolutely back, she slipped from the lane to the sidewalk, and, hugging + the shadows of the buildings, started forward. + </p> + <p> + She was alert now in mind and body, every faculty strained and in tension. + It was a long way, and it would take a great while—by wide detours, + by lanes and alleyways, for only on those streets that were relatively + deserted and poorly lighted would she dare trust herself to the open. And + as she went along, now skirting the side of a street, now through some + black courtyard, now forced to take a fence, and taking it with the + agility born of the open, athletic life she had led with her father in the + mining camps of South America, now hiding at the mouth of a lane waiting + her chance to cross an intersecting street when some receding footstep + should have died away, the terror of delay came gripping at her heart with + an icy clutch, submerging the fear of personal peril in the agony of dread + that, with her progress so slow, she would, after all, be too late. And at + times she almost cried out in her vexation and despair, as once, when + crouched behind a door-stoop, a policeman, not two yards from her, stood + and twirled his night stick under the street lamp while the minutes sped + and raced themselves away. + </p> + <p> + When she could run, she ran until it seemed her lungs must burst, but it + was slow progress at best, and always the terror grew upon her. Had + Danglar met the men yet who had looted the millionaire's safe? Had he + already joined Skeeny in that old room behind Shluker's place? Had the + Sparrow—She would not let her mind frame that question in concrete + words. The Sparrow! His real name was Martin, Martin Finch—Marty, + for short. Times without number she had visited the sick and widowed + mother—while the Sparrow had served a two-years' sentence for his + first conviction in safe-breaking. The Sparrow, from a first-class + chauffeur mechanic, had showed signs of becoming a first-class cracksman, + it was true; but the Sparrow was young, and she had never believed that he + was inherently bad. Her opinion had been confirmed when, some six months + ago, on his release, listening both to her own pleadings and to those of + his mother, the Sparrow had sworn that he would stick to the “straight and + narrow.” And Hayden-Bond, the millionaire, referred to by a good many + people as eccentric, had further proved his claims to eccentricity in the + eyes of a good many people by giving a prison bird a chance to make an + honest living, and had engaged the Sparrow as his chauffeur. It was a vile + and an abominable thing that they were doing, even if they had not planned + to culminate it with murder. What chance would the Sparrow have had! + </p> + <p> + It had taken a long time. She did not know how long, as, at last, she + stole unnoticed into a black and narrow driveway that led in, between two + blocks of down-at-the-heels tenements, to a courtyard in the rear. Shluker + had his junk shop here. Her lips pursed up as though defiant of a tinge of + perplexity that had suddenly taken possession of her. She did not know + Shluker, or anything about Shluker's place except its locality; but surely + “the old room behind Shluker's” was direction enough, and—She had + just emerged from the end of the driveway now, and now, startled, she + turned her head quickly, as she heard a brisk step turning in from the + street behind her. But in the darkness she could see no one, and + satisfied, therefore, that she in turn had not been seen, she moved + swiftly to one side, and crouched down against the rear wall of one of the + tenements. A long moment, that seemed an eternity, passed, and then a + man's form came out from the driveway, and started across the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + She drew in her breath sharply, a curious mingling of relief and a sudden + panic fear upon her. It was not so dark in the courtyard as it had been in + the driveway, and, unless she were strangely mistaken that form out there + was Danglar's. She watched him as he headed toward a small building that + loomed up like a black, irregular shadow across the courtyard, and which + was Shluker's shop—watched him in a tense, fascinated way. She was + in time, then—only—only somehow now her limbs seemed to have + become weak and powerless. It seemed suddenly as though she craved with + all her soul the protecting shadows of the tenement, and that every + impulse bade her cling there, flattened against the wall, until she could + make her escape. She was afraid now; she shrank from the next step. It + wasn't illogical. She had set out with a purpose in view, and she had not + been blind to the danger that she ran, but the prospective and mental + encounter with danger did not hold the terror that the tangible, concrete + and actual presence of that peril did—and that was Danglar there. + </p> + <p> + She felt her face whiten, and she felt the tremor of her lips, tightly as + they were drawn together. Yes, she was afraid, afraid in every fiber of + her being, but there was a difference, wasn't there, between being afraid + and being a coward? Her small, gloved hands clenched, her lips parted + slightly. She laughed a little now, low, without mirth. Upon what she did + or did not do, upon the margin between fear and cowardice as applied to + herself, there hung a man's life. Danglar was disappearing around the side + of Shluker's shop. She moved out from the wall, and swiftly, silently, + crossed the courtyard, gained the side of the junk shop in turn, skirted + it, and halted, listening, peering around her, as she reached the rear + corner of the building. A door closed somewhere ahead of her; from above, + upstairs, faint streaks of light showed through the interstices of a + shuttered window. + </p> + <p> + She crept forward now, hugging the rear wall, reached a door-the one, + obviously, through which Danglar had disappeared, and which she had heard + as it was closed—tried the door, found it unlocked, and, + noiselessly, inch by inch, pushed it open; and a moment later, stepping + over the threshold, she closed it softly behind her. A dull glow of light, + emanating evidently from an open door above, disclosed the upper portion + of a stairway over on her left, but apart from that the place was in + blackness, and save that she knew, of course, she was in the rear of + Shluker's junk shop, she could form no idea of her surroundings. But she + could, at last, hear. Voices, one of which she recognized as Danglar's, + though she could not distinguish the words, reached her from upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, with infinite care, she crossed to the stairs, and on hands and + knees now, lest she should make a sound, began to crawl upward. And a + little way up, panic fear seized upon her again, and her heart stood + still, and she turned a miserable face in the darkness back toward the + door below, and fought against the impulse to retreat again. + </p> + <p> + And then she heard Danglar speak, and from her new vantage point his words + came to her distinctly this time: + </p> + <p> + “Good work, Skeeny! You've got the Sparrow nicely trussed up, I see. Well, + he'll do as he is for a while there. I told the boys to hold off a bit. + It's safer to wait an hour or two yet, before moving him away from here + and bumping him off.” + </p> + <p> + “Two jobs instead of one!” a surly voice answered. “We might just as well + have finished him and slipped him away for keeps when we first got our + hooks on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Got a little sick of your wood-carving, while you stuck around by your + lonesome and watched him—eh?” Danglar's tones were jocularly + facetious. “Don't grouch, Skeeny! We're not killing for fun—it + doesn't pay. Supposing anything had broken wrong up the Avenue—eh? + We wouldn't have had our friend the Sparrow there for the next time we + tried it!” + </p> + <p> + There was something abhorrently callous in the laugh that followed. It + seemed to fan into flame a smoldering fire of passionate anger in Rhoda + Gray's soul. And before it panic fled. Her hand felt upward for the next + stair-tread, and she crept on again, as a face seemed to rise before her—not + the Sparrow's face—a woman's face. It was a face that was crowned + with very thin white hair, and its eyes were the saddest she had ever + seen, and yet they were brave, steady old eyes that had not lost their + faith; nor had the old, care-lined face itself, in spite of suffering, + lost its gentleness and sweetness. And then suddenly it seemed to change, + that face, and become wreathed in smiles, and happy tears to run coursing + down the wrinkled cheeks. Yes, she remembered! It had brought the tears to + her own eyes. It was the night that the wayward Sparrow, home from the + penitentiary, on his knees, his head buried in his mother's lap, had sworn + that he would go straight. + </p> + <p> + Fear! It seemed as though she never had known, never could know fear—that + only a merciless, tigerish, unbridled fury had her in its thrall. And she + went on up, step after step, as Danglar spoke again: + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing to it! The Sparrow there fell for the telephone when + Stevie played the doctor. And old Hayden-Bond of course grants his + prison-bird chauffeur's request to spend the night with his mother, who + the doctor says is taken worse, because the old guy knows there is a + mother who really is sick. Only Mr. Hayden-Bond, and the police with him, + will maybe figure it a little differently in the morning when they find + the safe looted, and that the Sparrow, instead of ever going near the poor + old dame, has flown the coop and can't be found. And in case there's any + lingering doubt in their minds, that piece of paper with the + grease-smudges and the Sparrow's greasy finger-prints on it, that you + remember we copped a few days ago in the garage, will set them straight. + The Cricket slipped it in among the papers he pulled out of the safe and + tossed around on the floor. It looks as though a tool had been wiped with + it while the safe was being cracked, and that it got covered over by the + stuff that was emptied out, and had been forgotten. I guess they won't be + long in comparing the finger-prints with the ones the Sparrow kindly left + with them when they measured him for his striped suit the time they sent + him up the river—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray could see now. Her eyes were on a level with the landing, and + diagonally across from the head of the stairs was the open doorway of a + lighted room. She could not see all of the interior, but she could see + quite enough. Two men sat, side face to her, one at each end of a rough, + deal table—Danglar, and an ugly, pock-marked, unshaven man, in a + peaked cap that was drawn down over his eyes, who whittled at a stick with + a huge jack-knife. The latter was Skeeny, obviously; and the jack-knife + and the stick, quite as obviously, explained Danglar's facetious reference + to wood-carving. And then her eyes shifted, and widened as they rested on + a huddled form that she could see by looking under and beyond the table, + and that lay sprawled out against the far wall of the room. + </p> + <p> + Skeeny pushed the peak of his cap back with the point of his knife-blade. + </p> + <p> + “What's the haul size up at?” he demanded. “Anything in the safe besides + the shiners?” + </p> + <p> + “A few hundred dollars,” Danglar replied. “I don't know exactly how much. + I told the Cricket to divide it up among the boys who did the rough work. + That's good enough, isn't it, Skeeny? It gives you a little extra. You'll + get yours.” + </p> + <p> + Skeeny grunted compliance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let's have a look at the white ones, then,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray was standing upright in the little hallway now, and now, + pressed close against the wall, she edged toward the door-jamb. And a + queer, grim little smile came and twisted the sensitive lips, as she drew + her revolver from her pocket. The merciless, pitiless way in which the + newspapers had flayed the White Moll was not, after all, to be wholly + regretted! The cool, clever resourcefulness, the years of reckless daring + attributed to the White Moll, would stand her in good stead now. Everybody + on the East Side knew her by sight. These men knew her. It was not merely + a woman ambitiously attempting to beard two men who, perhaps, holding her + sex in contempt in an adventure of this kind, might throw discretion to + the winds and give scant respect to her revolver, for behind the muzzle of + that revolver was the reputation of the White Moll. They would take her at + face value—as one who not only knew how to use that revolver, but as + one who would not hesitate an instant to do so. + </p> + <p> + From the room she heard Skeeny whistle low under his breath, as though in + sudden and amazed delight—and then she was standing full in the open + doorway, and her revolver in her outflung, gloved hand covered the two men + at the table. + </p> + <p> + There was a startled cry from Skeeny, a scintillating flash of light as a + magnificent string of diamonds fell from his hand to the table. But + Danglar did not move or speak; only his lips twitched, and a queer + whiteness came and spread itself over his face. + </p> + <p> + “Put up your hands-both of you!” she ordered, in a low, tense voice. + </p> + <p> + It was Skeeny who spoke, as both men obeyed her. “The White Moll, so help + me!” he mumbled, and swallowed hard. + </p> + <p> + Danglar's eyes never seemed to leave her face, and they narrowed now, full + of hatred and a fury that lie made no attempt to conceal. She smiled at + him coldly. She quite understood! He had already complained that evening + that the White Moll for the last few weeks had been robbing them of the + fruits of their laboriously planned schemes. And now-again! Well, she + would not dispel his illusion! He had given the White Moll that role—and + it was the safest role to play. + </p> + <p> + She stepped forward now, and with her free hand suddenly pulled the table + toward her out of their reach; and then, as she picked up the necklace, + she appeared for the first time to become aware of the presence of the + huddled form on the floor near the wall. She could see that the Sparrow + was bound and gagged, and as he squirmed now he turned his face toward + her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's the Sparrow, isn't it?” she exclaimed sharply; then, evenly, to + the two men: “I had no idea you were so hospitable! Push your chairs + closer together—with your feet, not your hands! You are easier to + watch if you are not too far apart.” + </p> + <p> + Dangler complied sullenly. Skeeny, over the scraping of his chair legs, + cursed in a sort of unnerved abandon, as he obeyed her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” said Rhoda Gray pleasantly—and calmly tucked the + necklace into her bodice. + </p> + <p> + The act seemed to rouse Danglar to the last pitch of fury. The blood + rushed in an angry tide to his face, and, suffusing, purpled his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “This isn't the first crack you've made!” he flung out hoarsely. “You've + been getting wise to a whole lot lately somehow, you and that dude pal of + yours, but you'll pay for it, you female devil! Understand? By God, you'll + pay for it! I promise you that you'll pray yet on your bended knees for + the chance to take your own life! Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” said Rhoda Gray coldly. + </p> + <p> + She picked up the jack-knife from the table, and keeping both men covered, + stepped backward to the wall. Here, kneeling, she reached behind her with + her left hand, and felt for, and cut the heavy cord that bound the + Sparrow's arms; then, pushing the knife into the Sparrow's hands that he + might free himself from the rest of his bonds, she stood up again. + </p> + <p> + A moment more, and the Sparrow, rubbing the circulation back into his + wrists, stood beside her. There was a look on the young, white face that + was not good to see. He circled dry lips with the tip of his tongue and + then his thumb began to feel over the blade of the big jack-knife in a + sort of horribly supercritical appraisal of its edge. He spoke thickly for + the gag that had been in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You dirty skates!” he whispered. “You were going to bump me off, were + you? You planted me cold, did you? Oh, hell!” His laugh, like the laugh of + one insane, jangling, discordant, rang through the room. “Well, it's my + turn now, and”—his body was coiling itself in a slow, curious, + almost snake-like fashion—“and you'll—” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray laid her hand on the Sparrow's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Not that way, Marty,” she said quietly. She smiled thinly at Danglar, + who, with genuinely frightened eyes now, seemed fascinated by the + Sparrow's movements. “I wouldn't care to have anything happen to Mr. + Danglar—yet. He has been invaluable to me, and I am sure he will be + again.” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow brushed his hands across his eyes, and stared at her. He + licked his lips again. He appeared to be obsessed with the knife-blade in + his hand—dazed in a strange way to all else. + </p> + <p> + “There's enough cord there for both of them,” said Rhoda Gray crisply. + “Tie them in their chairs, Marty.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the Sparrow hesitated; and then, with a sort of queer + reluctancy, he dropped the knife on the table, and went and picked up the + strands of cord from the floor. + </p> + <p> + No one spoke. The Sparrow, with twitching lips as he worked, and worked + not gently, bound first Danglar and then Skeeny to their respective + chairs. Skeeny for the most part kept his eyes on the floor, casting only + furtive glances at Rhoda Gray's revolver muzzle. But Danglar was smiling + now. He had very white teeth. There was something of primal, insensate + fury in the hard-drawn, parted lips. Somehow he seemed to remind Rhoda + Gray of a beast, stung to madness, but impotent behind the bars of its + cage, as it showed its fangs. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go now, Marty,” she said softly, as the Sparrow finished. + </p> + <p> + She motioned the Sparrow with an imperious little nod of her head to the + door. And then, following the other, she backed to the door herself, and + halted an instant on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a very profitable evening, Mr. Danglar,” she said coolly. “I + have you to thank for it. When your friends come, which I think I heard + you say would be in another hour or so, I hope you will not fail to convey + to them my—” + </p> + <p> + “You she-fiend!” Danglar had found his voice again. “You'll crawl for + this! Do you understand? and I'll show you inside of twenty-four hours + what you're up against, you—you—” His voice broke in its fury. + The veins were standing out on the side of his neck like whipcords. He + could just move his forearms a little, and his hands reached out toward + her, curved like claws. “I'll—” + </p> + <p> + But Rhoda Gray had closed the door behind her, and, with the Sparrow, was + retreating down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. FELLOW THIEVES + </h2> + <p> + Reaching the courtyard, Rhoda Gray led the way without a word through the + driveway, and finding the street clear, hurried on rapidly. Her mind, + strangely stimulated, was working in quick, incisive flashes. Her work was + not yet done. The Sparrow was safe, as far as his life was concerned; but + her possession of even the necklace would not save the Sparrow from the + law. There was the money that was gone from the safe. She could not + recover that, but—yes, dimly, she began to see a way. She swerved + suddenly from the sidewalk as she came to an alleyway—which had been + her objective—and drew the Sparrow in with her out of sight of the + street. + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow gripped at her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” he whispered brokenly. “God bless the White Moll! I + ain't had a chance to say it before. You saved my life, and I—I—” + </p> + <p> + In the semi-darkness she leaned forward and laid her fingers gently over + the Sparrow's lips. + </p> + <p> + “And there's no time to say it now, Marty,” she said quickly. “You are not + out of this yet.” + </p> + <p> + He swept his hand across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” he said. “I got to get those shiners back up there somehow, + and I got to get that paper they planted on me.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Even that wouldn't clear you,” she said. “The safe has been looted of + money, as well; and you can't replace that. Even with only the money gone, + who would they first naturally suspect? You are known as a safe-breaker; + you have served a term for it. You asked for a night off to stay with your + mother who is sick. You left Mr. Hayden-Bond's, we'll say, at seven or + eight o'clock. It's after midnight now. How long would it take them to + find out that between eight and midnight you had not only never been near + your mother, but could not prove an alibi of any sort? If you told the + truth it would sound absurd. No one in their sober senses would believe + you.” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow looked at her miserably. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he faltered. He wet his lips. “That's true.” + </p> + <p> + “Marty,” she said quietly, “did you read in the papers that I had been + arrested last night for theft, caught with the goods on me, but had + escaped?” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did,” he said. And then, earnestly: “But I don't believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “It was true, though, Marty—all except that I wasn't a thief,” she + said as quietly as before. “What I want to know is, in spite of that, + would you trust me with what is left to be done to-night, if I tell you + that I believe I can get you out of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I would!” he said simply. “I don't know how you got wise about all + this, or how you got to know about that necklace, but any of our crowd + would trust you to the limit. Sure, I'd trust you! You bet your life!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Marty,” she said. “Well, then, how do you get into Mr. + Hayden-Bond's house when, for instance, you are out late at night?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a key to the garage,” he answered. “The garage is attached to + the house, though it opens on the side street.” + </p> + <p> + She held Out her hand. + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow fished in his pocket, and extended the key without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “It's for the small door, of course,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't got a flashlight, I suppose?” she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Sure! There's plenty of 'em! Each car's got one with its tools under the + back seat.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And now, the library,” she said. “What part of the house is it in? How is + it situated?” + </p> + <p> + “It's on the ground floor at the back,” he told her. “The little short + passage from the garage opens on the kitchen, then the pantry, and then + there's a little cross hallway, and the dining-room is on the left, and + the library on the right. But ain't I going with you?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head again. + </p> + <p> + “You're going home, Marty—after you've sent me a taxicab. If you + were seen in that neighborhood now, let alone by any chance seen in the + house, nothing could save you. You understand that, don't you? Now, + listen! Find a taxi, and send it here. Tell the chauffeur to pick me up, + and drive me to the corner of the cross street, one block in the rear of + Mr. Hayden-Bond's residence. Don't mention Hayden-Bond's name. Give the + chauffeur simply street directions. Be careful that he is some one who + doesn't know you. Tell him he will be well paid—and give him this to + begin with.” She thrust a banknote into the Sparrow's hand. “You're sure + to find one at some all-night cabaret around here. And remember, when you + go home afterward, not a word to your mother! And not a word to-morrow, or + ever-to any one! You've simply done as you told your employer you were + going to do—spent the night at home.” + </p> + <p> + “But you,” he burst out, and his words choked a little. “I—I can't + let you go, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You said you would trust me, Marty,” she said. “And if you want to help + me, as well, don't waste another moment. I shall need every second I have + got. Quick! Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + She pushed him toward the street. + </p> + <p> + “Run!” she said tensely. “Hurry, Marty, hurry!” + </p> + <p> + She drew back into the shadows. She was alone now. The Sparrow's racing + footsteps died away on the pavement. Her mind reverted to the plan that + she had dimly conceived. It became detailed, concrete now, as the minutes + passed. And then she heard a car coming along the previously deserted + street, and she stepped out on the sidewalk. It was the taxi. + </p> + <p> + “You know where to go, don't you?” she said to the chauffeur, as the cab + drew up at the curb, and the man leaned out and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Please drive fast, then,” she said, as she stepped in. + </p> + <p> + The taxi shot out from the curb, and rattled forward at a rapid pace. + Rhoda Gray settled back on the cushions. A half whimsical, half weary + little smile touched her lips. It was much easier, and infinitely safer, + this mode of travel, than that of her earlier experience that evening; + but, earlier that evening, she had had no one to go to a cab rank for her, + and she had not dared to appear in the open and hail one for herself. The + smile vanished, and the lips became, pursed and grim. Her mind was back on + that daring, and perhaps a little dangerous, plan, that she meant to put + into execution. Block after block was traversed. It was a long way uptown, + but the chauffeur's initial and generous tip was bearing fruit. The man + was losing no time. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray calculated that they had been a little under half an hour in + making the trip, when the taxi finally drew up and stopped at a corner, + and the chauffeur, again leaning out, opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me,” she instructed, and handed the man another tip—and, + with a glance about her to get her location, she hurried around the + corner, and headed up the cross street. + </p> + <p> + She had only a block now to go to reach the Hayden-Bond mansion on the + corner of Fifth Avenue ahead—less than that to reach the garage, + which opened on the cross street here. She had little fear of personal + identification now. Here in this residential section and at this hour of + night, it was like a silent and deserted city; even Fifth Avenue, just + ahead, for all its lights, was one of the loneliest places at this hour in + all New York. True, now and then, a car might race up or down the great + thoroughfare, or a belated pedestrian's footsteps ring and echo hollow on + the pavement, where but a few hours before the traffic-squad struggled + valiantly, and sometimes vainly, with the congestion—but that was + all. + </p> + <p> + She could make out the Hayden-Bond mansion on the corner ahead of her now, + and now she was abreast of the rather ornate and attached little building, + that was obviously the garage. She drew the key from her pocket, and + glanced around her. There was no one in sight. She stepped swiftly to the + small door that flanked the big double ones where the cars went in and + out, opened it, closed it behind her, and locked it. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, her eyes unaccustomed to the darkness, she could see + nothing; and then a car, taking the form of a grotesque, looming shadow, + showed in front of her. She moved toward it, felt her way into the + tonneau, lifted up the back seat, and, groping around, found a flashlight. + She meant to hurry now. She did not mean to let that nervous dread, that + fear, that was quickening her pulse now, have time to get the better of + her. She located the door that led to the house, and in another moment, + the short passage behind her, she was in the kitchen, the flashlight + winking cautiously around her. She paused to listen here. There was not a + sound. + </p> + <p> + She went on again—through a swinging pantry door with extreme care, + and into a small hall. “On the right,” the Sparrow had said. Yes, here it + was; a door that opened on the rear of the library, evidently. She + listened again. There was no sound—save the silence, that seemed to + grow loud now, and palpitate, and make great noises. And now, in spite of + herself, her breath was coming in quick, hard little catches, and the + flashlight's ray, that she sent around her, wavered and was not steady. + She bit her lips, as she switched off the light. Why should she be afraid + of this, when in another five minutes she meant to invite attention! + </p> + <p> + She pushed the door in front of her open, found it hung with a heavy + portiere inside, brushed the portiere aside, stepped through into the + room, stood still and motionless to listen once more, and then the + flashlight circled inquisitively about her. + </p> + <p> + It was the library. Her eyes widened a little. At her left, over against + the wall, the mangled door of a safe stood wide open, and the floor for a + radius of yards around was littered with papers and documents. The + flashlight's ray lifted, and she followed it with her eyes as it made the + circuit of the walls. Opposite the safe, and quite near the doorway in + which she stood, was a window recess, portiered; diagonally across from + her was another door that led, presumably, into the main hall of the + house; the walls were tapestried, and hung here and there with clusters of + ancient trophies, great metal shields, and swords, and curious arms, that + gave a sort of barbaric splendor to the luxurious furnishings of the + apartment. + </p> + <p> + She worked quickly now. In a moment she was at the window portieres, and, + drawing these aside, she quietly raised the window, and looked out. The + window was on the side of the house away from the cross street, and she + nodded her head reassuringly to herself as she noted that it gave on a + narrow strip of grass, it could not be called lawn, that separated the + Hayden-Bond mansion from the house next door; that the window was little + more than shoulder-high from the ground; and that the Avenue was within + easy and inviting reach along that little strip of grass between the two + houses. + </p> + <p> + She left the window open, and retraced her steps across the room, going + now to the littered mass of papers on the floor near the safe. She began + to search carefully amongst them. She smiled a little curiously as she + came across the plush-lined jeweler's case that had contained the + necklace, and which had evidently been contemptuously discarded by the + Cricket and his confederates; but it took her longer to find the paper for + which she was searching. And then she came upon it—a grease-smeared + advertisement for some automobile appliances, a well-defined greasy + finger-print at one edge—and thrust the paper into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + And now suddenly her heartbeat began to quicken again until its thumping + became tumultuous. She was ready now. She looked around her, using the + flashlight, and her eyes rested appraisingly on one of the great clusters + of shields and arms that hung low down on the wall between the window and + the door by which she had entered. Yes, that would do. Her lips tightened. + It would have been so easy if there had not been that cash to account for! + She could replace the necklace, but she could not replace the cash—and + one, as far as the Sparrow was concerned, was as bad as the other. But + there was a way, and it was simple enough. She whispered to herself that + it was not, after all, very dangerous, that the cards were all in her own + hands. She had only to pull down those shields with a clatter to the + floor, which would arouse some one of the household, and as that some one + reached the library door and opened it, she would be disappearing through + the window, and the necklace, as though it had slipped from her pocket or + grasp in her wild effort to escape, would be lying behind her on the + floor. They would see that it was not the Sparrow; and there would be no + question as to where the money was gone, since the money had not been + dropped. There was the interval, of course, that must elapse between the + accident that knocked the shields from the wall and the time it would take + any of the inmates to reach the library, an interval in which a thief + might reasonably be expected to have had time enough to get away without + being seen; but the possibility that she had not fully accomplished her + ends when the accident occurred, and that she had stayed to make frantic + and desperate efforts to do so right up to the last moment, would account + for that. + </p> + <p> + She moved now to an electric-light switch, and turned on the light. They + must be able to see beyond any question of doubt that the person escaping + through the window was not the Sparrow. What was she afraid of now, just + at the last! There was an actual physical discomfort in the furious + thumping of that cowardly little heart of hers. It was the only way. And + it was worth it. And it was not so very dangerous. People, aroused out of + bed, could not follow her in their night clothes; and in a matter of but a + few minutes, before the police notified by telephone could become a factor + in the affair, she would have run the block down the Avenue, and then the + other block down the cross street, then back to the taxi, and be whirling + safely downtown. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she was ready! She nodded her head sharply, as though in imperative + self-command, and running back, her footfalls soundless on the rich, heavy + rug, she picked up the plush-lined necklace case. She dropped this again, + open, on the floor, halfway between the safe and the window. With the case + apparently burst open as it fell, and the necklace also on the floor, the + stage would be set! She felt inside her bodice, drew out the necklace—and + as she stood there holding it, and as it caught the light and flashed back + its fire and life from a thousand facets, a numbness seemed to come + stealing over her, and a horror, and a great fear, and a dismay that + robbed her of power of movement until it seemed that she was rooted to the + spot, and a low, gasping cry came from her lips. Her eyes, wide with their + alarm, were fixed on the window. There was a man's face there, just above + the sill—and now a man's form swung through the window, and dropped + lightly to the floor inside the room. And she stared in horrified + fascination, and could not move. It was the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + “It's Miss Gray, isn't it? The White Moll?” he murmured amiably. “I've + been trying to find you all night. What corking luck! You remember me, + don't you? Last night, you know.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. His eyes had shifted from her face to the glittering + river of gems in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he smiled, “that you are ahead of me again. Well, it is the + fortune of war, Miss Gray. I do not complain.” + </p> + <p> + She found her voice at last; and, quick as a flash, as he advanced a step, + she dropped the necklace into her pocket, and her revolver was in her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “W—what are you doing here?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders expressively. + </p> + <p> + “I take it that we are both in the same boat,” he said pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “In the same boat?” she echoed dully. She remembered his conversation with + her a few hours ago, when he had believed he was talking to Gypsy Nan. And + now he stood before her for the second time a self-confessed thief. In the + same boat-fellow-thieves! A certain cold composure came to her. “You mean + you came to steal this necklace? Well, you shall not have it! And, + furthermore, you have no right to class me with yourself as a thief.” + </p> + <p> + He had a whimsical and very engaging smile. His eyebrows lifted. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gray perhaps forgets last night,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not forget last night,” she said slowly, “And I do not forget + that I owe you very much for what you did. And that is one reason why I + warn you at once that, as far as the necklace is concerned, it will do you + no good to build any hopes on the supposition that we are fellow-thieves, + and that I am likely either to part with it, or, through gratitude, share + it. In spite of appearances last night, I was not a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “And to-night, Miss Gray—in spite of appearances?” he challenged. + </p> + <p> + He was regarding her with eyes that, while they appraised shrewdly, held a + lurking hint of irony in their depths. And somehow, suddenly, + self-proclaimed crook though she held him to be, she found herself seized + with an absurd, unreasonable, but nevertheless passionate, desire to make + good her words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and to-night, too!” she asserted. “I did not steal this necklace. I—never + mind how—I—I got it. It was planned to put the theft on an + innocent man's shoulders. I was trying to thwart that plan. Whether you + believe me or not, I did not come here to steal the necklace; I came here + to return it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! Of course!” acknowledged the Adventurer softly. “I am afraid I + interrupted you, then, in the act of returning it. Might I suggest, + therefore, Miss Gray, that as it's a bit dangerous to linger around here + unnecessarily, you carry out your intentions with all possible haste, and + get away.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she queried evenly. + </p> + <p> + “Myself, of course, as well.” He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. + “Under the circumstances, as a gentleman—will you let me say I + prefer that word to the one I know you are substituting for it—what + else can I do?” + </p> + <p> + She bit her lips. Was he mocking her? The gray eyes were inscrutable now. + </p> + <p> + “Then please do not let me detain you!” she said sharply. “And in my turn, + let me advise you to go at once. I intend to knock one of those shields + down from the wall before I go, in order to arouse the household. I will, + however, in part payment for last night, allow you three full minutes from + the time you climb out of that window, so that you may have ample time to + get away.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her in frank bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” he gasped. “You—you're joking, Miss Gray.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not,” she replied coolly. “Far from it! There was money stolen + that I cannot replace, and the theft of the money would be put upon the + same innocent shoulders. I see no other way than the one I have mentioned. + If whoever runs into this room is permitted to get a glimpse of me, and is + given the impression that the necklace, which I shall leave on the floor, + was dropped in my haste, the supposition remains that, at least, I got + away with the money. I am certainly not the innocent man who has been used + as the pawn; and if I am recognized as the White Moll, what does it matter—after + last night?” + </p> + <p> + He took a step toward her impetuously—and stopped quite as + impetuously. Her revolver had swung to a level with his head. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” she said caustically. + </p> + <p> + For the first time, as she watched him warily, the Adventurer appeared to + lose some of his self-assurance. He shifted a little uneasily on his feet, + and the corners of his eyes puckered into a nest of perturbed wrinkles. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Miss Gray, you can't mean this!” he protested. “You're not + serious!” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you that I am,” she answered steadily. “Those three minutes + that I gave you are going fast.” + </p> + <p> + “Then look here!” he exclaimed earnestly. “I'll tell you something. I said + I had been trying to find you to-night. It was the truth. I went to Gypsy + Nan's—and might have been spared my pains. I told her about last + night, and that I knew you were in danger, and that I wanted to help you. + I mention this so that you will understand that I am not just speaking on + the spur of the moment, now that I have an opportunity of repeating that + offer in person.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him impassively for a moment. He had neglected to state that + he had also told Gypsy Nan he desired to enter into a partnership with her—in + crime. + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of you,” she said sweetly. “I presume, then, that you + have some suggestion to make?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what any—may I say it?—gentleman would suggest under the + circumstances. It is far too dangerous a thing for a woman to attempt; it + would be much less dangerous for me. I realize that you are in earnest + now, and I will agree to carry out your plan in every detail once I am + satisfied that you are safely away.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea being,” she observed monotonously, “that, being safely away, and + the necklace being left safely on the floor, you are left safely in + possession of—the necklace. Well, my answer is—no!” + </p> + <p> + His face hardened a little. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, then,” he said. “For in that case, in so far as your project + is concerned, I, too, must say—no!” + </p> + <p> + It was an impasse. She studied his face, the strong jaw set a little now, + the lips molded in sterner lines, and for all her outward show of + composure, she knew a sick dismay. And for a moment she neither moved nor + spoke. What he would do next, she did not know; but she knew quite well + that he had not the slightest intention of leaving her here undisturbed to + carry out her plan, unless—unless, somehow, she could outwit him. + She bit her lips again. And then inspiration came. She turned, and with a + sudden leap gained the wall, and the next instant, holding him back with + her revolver as she reached up with her left hand, she caught at the great + metal shield with its encircling cluster of small arms, and wrenched it + from its fastenings. It crashed to the floor with a din infernal that, in + the night silence, went racketing through the house like the + reverberations of an explosion. + </p> + <p> + “My God, what have you done!” he cried out hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “What I said I'd do!” she answered. She was white-faced, frightened at her + own act, fighting to maintain her nerve. “You'll go now, I imagine!” she + flung at him passionately. “You haven't much time.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said. His composure was instantly at command again. “No,” he + repeated steadily; “not until after you have gone. I refuse—positively—to + let you run any such risk as that. It is far too dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will!” she burst out wildly. “You will! You must! You shall! I—I—” + The house itself seemed suddenly to have awakened. From above doors opened + and closed. Indistinctly there came the sound of a voice. She clenched her + hand in anguished desperation. “Go, you—you coward!” she whispered + frantically. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gray, for God's sake, do as I tell you!” he said between his teeth. + “You don't realize the danger. It's not the pursuit. They are not coming + down here unarmed after that racket. I know that you came in by that door + there. Go out that way. I will play the game for you. I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + There were footsteps, plainly audible now, out in the main hall. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” he urged. “Are we both to be caught? See!” He backed suddenly + toward the window. + </p> + <p> + “See! I am too far away now to touch that necklace before they get here. + Throw it down, and get behind the portiere of the rear door!” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she was retreating. They were almost at the other door now, + those footsteps outside in the main hall. With a backward spring she + reached the portiere. The door handle across the room rattled. She glanced + at the Adventurer. He was close to the window. It was true, he could not + get the necklace and at the same time hope to escape. She whipped it from + her pocket, tossed it from her to the floor near the plush-lined case—and + slipped behind the portiere. + </p> + <p> + The door opposite to her was wrenched violently open. She could see + through the corner of the portiere. There was a sharp, excited + exclamation, as a gray-haired man, in pajamas, evidently Mr. Hayden-Bond + himself, sprang into the room. He was followed by another man in equal + dishabille. + </p> + <p> + And the Adventurer was leaping for the window. + </p> + <p> + There was a blinding flash, the roar of a report, as the millionaire flung + up a revolver and fired; it was echoed by the splatter and tinkle of + falling glass. The Adventurer was astride the window sill now, his face + deliberately and unmistakably in view. + </p> + <p> + “A foot too high, and a bit to the right!” said the Adventurer debonairly—and + the window sill was empty. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stole silently through the doorway behind her. She could hear + the millionaire and his companion, the butler, probably, rush across the + library to the window. As she gained the pantry, she heard another shot. + Tight-lipped, using her flashlight, she ran through the kitchen. In a + moment more, she was standing at the garage door, listening, peering + furtively outside. The street itself was empty; there were shouts, though, + from the direction of the Avenue. She stepped out on the side street, and + walking composedly that she might not attract attention, though very + impulse urged her to run with frantic haste, she reached the corner and + the waiting taxicab. She gave the chauffeur an address that would bring + her to the street in the rear of Gypsy Nan's and within reach of the lane + where she had left her clothes, and, with an injunction to hurry, sprang + into the cab. + </p> + <p> + And then for a long time she sat there with her hands tightly clasped in + her lap. Her mind, her brain, her very soul itself seemed in chaos and + turmoil. There was the Sparrow, who was safe; and Danglar, who would move + heaven and hell to get her now; and the Adventurer, who—Her mind + seemed to grope around in cycles; it seemed to moil on and on and arrive + at nothing. The Adventurer had played the game—perhaps because he + had had to; but he had not risked that revolver shot in her stead because + he had had to. Who was he? How had he come there? How had he found her + there? How had he known that she had entered by that rear door behind the + portiere? She remembered how that he had offered not a single explanation. + </p> + <p> + Almost mechanically she dismissed the taxi when at last it stopped; and + almost mechanically, as Gypsy Nan, some ten minutes later, she let herself + into the garret, and lighted the candle. She was conscious, as she hid the + White Moll's clothes away, that she was thankful she had regained in + safety even the questionable sanctuary of this wretched place; but, + strangely, thoughts of her own peril seemed somehow to be temporarily + relegated to the background. + </p> + <p> + She flung herself down on the bed—it was not Gypsy Nan's habit to + undress—and blew out the light. But she could not sleep. And hour + after hour in the darkness she tossed unrestfully. It was very strange! It + was not as it had been last night. It was not the impotent, frantic + rebellion against the horrors of her own situation, nor the fear and + terror of it, that obsessed her to-night. It was the Adventurer who + plagued her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE CODE MESSAGE + </h2> + <p> + It was strange! Most strange! Three days had passed, and to Gypsy Nan's + lodging no one had come. The small crack under the partition that had been + impressed into service as a letter-box had remained empty. There had been + no messages—nothing—only a sinister, brooding isolation. Since + the night Rhoda Gray had left Danglar, balked, almost a madman in his + fury, in the little room over Shluker's junk shop, Danglar had not been + seen—nor the Adventurer—nor even Rough Rorke. Her only + visitant since then had been an ugly premonition of impending peril, which + came and stalked like a hideous ghost about the bare and miserable garret, + and which woke her at night with its whispering voice—which was the + voice of intuition. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered, as + now, from shuffling down the block in the guise of Gypsy Nan, she halted + before the street door of what fate, for the moment, had thrust upon her + as a home; and shivered again, as, with abhorrence, she pushed the door + open and stepped forward into the black, unlighted hallway. Soul, mind and + body were in revolt to-night. Even faith, the simple faith in God that she + had known since childhood, was wavering. There seemed nothing but horror + around her, a mental horror, a physical horror; and the sole means of even + momentary relief and surcease from it had been a pitiful prowling around + the streets, where even the fresh air seemed to be denied to her, for it + was tainted with the smells of squalor that ruled, rampant, in that + neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + And to-night, stronger than ever, intuition and premonition of approaching + danger lay heavy upon her, and oppressed her with a sense of nearness. She + was not a coward; but she was afraid. Danglar would leave no stone + unturned to get the White Moll. He had said so. She remembered the threat + he had made—it had lived in her woman's soul ever since that night. + Better anything than to fall into Danglar's hands! She caught her breath a + little, and shivered again as she groped her way up the dark stairs. But, + then, she never would fall into Danglar's power. There was always an + alternative. Yes, it was quite as bad as that—death at her own hands + was preferable. Balked, outwitted, the plans of the criminal coterie, of + which Danglar appeared to be the head, rendered again and again abortive, + and believing it all due to the White Moll, all of Danglar's shrewd, + unscrupulous cunning would be centered on the task of running her down; + and if, added to this, he discovered that she was masquerading as Gypsy + Nan, one of their own inner circle, it mean that—She closed her lips + in a hard, tight line. She did not want to think of it. She had fought all + day, and the days before, against thinking about it, but premonition had + crept upon her stronger and stronger, until to-night, now, it seemed as + though her mind could dwell on nothing else. + </p> + <p> + On the landing, she paused suddenly and listened. The street door had + opened and closed, and now a footstep sounded on the stairs behind her. + She went on again along the hall, feeling her way; and reaching the short, + ladder-like steps to the garret, she began to mount them. Who was it there + behind her? One of the unknown lodgers on the lower floor, or—? She + could not see, of course. It was pitch black. But she could hear. And as + she knelt now on the narrow landing, and felt with her fingers along the + floor for the aperture, where, imitating the custom of Gypsy Nan, she had + left her key when she went out, she heard the footsteps coming steadily + on, passing the doors below her, and making toward the garret ladder. And + then, stifling a startled little cry, her hand closed on the key, and + closed, as it had closed on that first night when she had returned here in + the role of Gypsy Nan, on a piece of paper wrapped around the key. The + days of isolation were ended with climacteric effect; the pendulum had + swung full the other way—to-night there was both a visitor and a + message! + </p> + <p> + The paper detached from the key and thrust into her bodice, she stood up + quickly. A form, looming up even in the darkness, showed on the garret + stairs. “Who's dere?” she croaked. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” a voice answered in low tones. “You were just ahead of + me on the street. I saw you come in. It's Pierre.” + </p> + <p> + Pierre! So that was his name! It was only the voice she recognized. Pierre—Danglar! + She fumbled for the keyhole, found it, and inserted the key. “Well, how's + Bertha to-night?” + </p> + <p> + There seemed to be a strange exhilaration in the man's voice. He was + standing beside her now, close beside her, and now his hand played with a + curiously caressing motion on her shoulder. The touch seemed to scorch and + burn her. Who was this Danglar, who was Pierre to her, and to whom she was + Bertha? Her breath came quickly in spite of herself; there came, too, a + frenzy of aversion, and impulsively she flung his hand away, and with the + door unlocked now, stepped from him into the garret. + </p> + <p> + “Feeling a bit off color, eh?” he said with a short laugh, as he followed + her, and shut the door behind him. “Well, I don't know as I blame you. + But, look here, old girl, have a heart! It's not my fault. I know what + you're grouching about—it's because I haven't been around much + lately. But you ought to know well enough that I couldn't help it. Our + game has been crimped lately at every turn by that she-devil, the White + Moll, and that dude pal of hers.” He laughed out again—in savage + menace now. “I've been busy. Understand, Bertha? It was either ourselves, + or them. We've got to go under—or they have. And we won't! I promise + you that! Things'll break a little better before long, and I'll make it up + to you.” + </p> + <p> + She could not see him in the blackness of the garret. She breathed a + prayer of gratitude that he could not see her. Her face, in spite of Gipsy + Nan's disguising grime, must be white, white as death itself. It seemed to + plumb some infamous depth from which her soul recoiled, this apology of + his for his neglect of her. And then her hands at her sides curled into + tight-clenched little fists as she strove to control herself. His words, + at least, supplied her with her cue. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” she said tartly, but in perfect English—the vernacular + of Gypsy Nan was not for Danglar, for she remembered only too well how + once before it had nearly tripped her up. “But you didn't come here to + apologize! What is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I say, Bertha!” he said appeasingly. “Cut that out! I couldn't help + being away, I tell you. Of course, I didn't come here to apologize—I + thought you'd understand well enough without that. The gang's out of cash, + and I came to tap the reserves. Let me have a package of the long green, + Bertha.” + </p> + <p> + It was a moment before she spoke. Her woman's instinct prompted her to let + down the bars between them in no single degree, that her protection lay in + playing up to the full what Danglar, jumping at conclusions, had assumed + was a grouch at his neglect. Also, her mind worked quickly. Her own + clothes were no longer in the secret hiding place here in the garret; they + were out there in that old shed in the lane. It was perfectly safe, then, + to let Danglar go to the hiding place himself, assuming that he knew where + it was—which, almost of necessity, he must. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said ungraciously. “Well, you know where it is, don't you? + Suppose you go and get it yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” returned Danglar, a sullenness creeping into his voice. “Have + it your own way, Bertha! I haven't got time to-night to coax you out of + your tantrums. That's what you want, but I haven't got time—to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. + </p> + <p> + A match crackled in Danglar's hand; the flames spurted up through the + darkness. Danglar made his way over to the rickety washstand, found the + candle that was stuck in the neck of the gin bottle, lighted it, held the + candle above his head, and stared around the garret. + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil don't you get another lamp?” he grumbled—and started + toward the rear of the garret. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray watched him silently. She did not care to explain that she had + not replaced the lamp for the very simple reason that it gave far too much + light here in the garret to be safe—for her! She watched him, with + her hand in the pocket of her greasy skirt clutched around another legacy + of Gypsy Nan—her revolver. And now she became conscious that from + the moment she had entered the garret, her fingers, hidden in that pocket, + had sought and clung to the weapon. The man filled her with detestation + and fear; and somehow she feared him more now in what he was trying to + make an ingratiating mood, than she had feared him in the full flood of + his rage and anger that other night at Shluker's place. + </p> + <p> + She drew back a little toward the cot bed against the wall, drew back to + give him free passage to the door when he should return again, her eyes + still holding on the far end of the garret, where, with the slope of the + roof, the ceiling was no more than shoulder high. There seemed something + horribly weird and grotesque in the scene before her. He had pushed the + narrow trap-door in the ceiling upward, and had thrust candle and head + through the opening, and the faint yellow light, seeping back and downward + in flickering, uncertain rays, suggested the impression of a gruesome, + headless figure standing there hazily outlined in the surrounding murk. It + chilled her; she clutched at her shawl, drew it more closely about her, + and edged still nearer to the wall. + </p> + <p> + And then Danglar closed the trap-door again, and came back with the candle + in one hand, and one of the bulky packages of banknotes from the hiding + place in the other. He set the candle down on the washstand, and began to + distribute the money through his various pockets. + </p> + <p> + He was smiling with curious complacency. + </p> + <p> + “It was your job to play the spider to the White Moll if she ever showed + up again here in your parlor,” he said. “Maybe somebody tipped her off to + keep away, maybe she was too wily; but, anyway, since you have not sent + out any word, it is evident that our little plans along that line didn't + work, since she has failed to come back to pay a call of gratitude to you. + I don't suppose there's anything to add to that, eh, Bertha? No report to + make?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rhoda Gray shortly. “I haven't any report to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no matter!” said Danglar. He laughed out shortly. “There are other + ways! She's had her fling at our expense; it's her turn to pay now.” He + laughed again—and in the laugh now there was something both brutal + in its menace, and sinister in its suggestion of gloating triumph. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Rhoda Gray quickly. “What are you going to + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Get her!” said Danglar. The man's passion flamed up suddenly; he spoke + through his closed teeth. “Get her! I made her a little promise. I'm going + to keep it! Understand?” + </p> + <p> + “You've been saying that for quite a long time,” retorted Rhoda Gray + coolly. “But the 'getting' has been all the other way so far. How are you + going to get her?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's little black eyes narrowed, and he thrust his head forward and + out from his shoulders savagely. In the flickering candle light, with + contorted face and snarling lips, he looked again the beast to which she + had once likened him. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind how I'm going to get her!” he flung out, with an oath. “I told + you I'd been busy. That's enough! You'll see—” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, in the semi-darkness, shrugged her shoulders. Was the man, + prompted by rage and fury, simply making wild threats, or had he at last + some definite and perhaps infallible plan that he purposed putting into + operation? She did not know; and, much as it meant to her, she did not + dare take the risk of arousing suspicion by pressing the question. + Failing, then, to obtain any intimation of what he meant to do, the next + thing most to be desired was to get rid of him. + </p> + <p> + “You've got the money. That's what you came for, wasn't it?” she suggested + coldly. + </p> + <p> + He stared at her for a moment, and then his face gradually lost its scowl. + </p> + <p> + “You're a rare one, Bertha!” he exclaimed admiringly. “Yes; I've got the + money—and I'm going. In fact, I'm in a hurry, so don't worry! You + got the dope, like everybody else, for to-night, didn't you? It was sent + out two hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + The dope! It puzzled her for the fraction of a second—and then she + remembered the paper she had thrust into the bodice of her dress. She had + not read it. She lunged a little in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said curtly. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he said-and moved toward the door. “That explains why I'm in + a hurry—and why I can't stop to oil that grouch out of you. But I'll + keep my promise to you, too, old girl. I'll make up the last few days to + you. Have a heart, eh, Bertha! 'Night!” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him. It seemed as though an unutterable dread had + suddenly been lifted from her, as he passed out of the door and began to + descend the steps to the hall below. Her “grouch,” he had called it. Well, + it had served its purpose! It was just as well that he should think so! + She followed to the door, and deliberately slammed it with a bang. And + from below, his laugh, more an amused chuckle, echoed back and answered + her. + </p> + <p> + And then, for a long time she stood there by the door, a little weak with + the revulsion of relief upon her, her hands pressed hard against her + temples, staring unseeingly about the garret. He was gone. He filled her + with terror. Every instinct she possessed, every fiber of her being + revolted against him. He was gone. Yes, he was gone—for the time + being. But—but what was the end of all this to be? + </p> + <p> + She shook her head after a moment, shook it helplessly and wearily, as, + finally, she walked over to the washstand, took the piece of paper from + the bodice of her dress, and spread it out under the candle light. A + glance showed her that it was in cipher. There was the stub of a pencil, + she remembered, in the washstand drawer, and, armed with this, and a piece + of wrapping paper that had once enveloped one of Gypsy Nan's gin bottles, + she took up the candle, crossed the garret, and sat down on the edge of + the cot, placing the candle on the chair in front of her. + </p> + <p> + If the last three days had been productive of nothing else, they had at + least furnished her with the opportunity of studying the notebook she had + found in the secret hiding place, and of making herself conversant with + the gang's cipher; and she now set to work upon it. It was a numerical + cipher. Each letter of the alphabet in regular rotation was represented by + its corresponding numeral; a zero was employed to set off one letter from + another, and the addition of the numerals between the zeros indicated the + number of the letter involved. Also, there being but twenty-six letters in + the alphabet, it was obvious that the addition of three nines, which was + twenty-seven, could not represent any letter, and the combination of 999 + was therefore used to precede any of the arbitrary groups of numerals + which were employed to express phrases and sentences, such as the 739 that + she had found scrawled on the piece of paper around her key on the first + night she had come here, and which, had it been embodied in a message and + not preceded by the 999, would have meant simply the addition of seven, + three and nine, that is, nineteen—and therefore would indicate the + nineteenth letter of the alphabet, S. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray copied the first line of the message on the piece of wrapping + paper: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 321010333203202306663103330111102210444202101112052110761 +</pre> + <p> + Adding the numerals between the zeros, and giving to each its + corresponding letter, she set down the result: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 6010110505022090405014030509014 + f a k e e v i d e n c e i n +</pre> + <p> + It was then but a matter of grouping the letters into words; and, decoded, + the first line read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fake evidence in...... +</pre> + <p> + She worked steadily on. It was a lengthy message, and it took her a long + time. It was an hour, perhaps more, after Danglar had gone, before she had + completed her task; and then, after that, she sat for still a long time + staring, not at the paper on the chair before her, but at the flickering + shadows thrown by the candle on the opposite wall. + </p> + <p> + Queer and strange were the undercurrents and the cross-sections of life + that were to be found, amazingly contradictory, amazingly + incomprehensible, once one scratched beneath the surface of the poverty + and the squalor, and, yes, the crime, amongst the hiving thousands of New + York's East Side! In the days—not so very long ago—when, as + the White Moll, she had worked amongst these classes, she had on one + occasion, when he was sick, even kept old Viner in food. She had not, at + the time, failed to realize that the man was grasping, rapacious, even + unthankful, but she had little dreamed that he was a miser worth fifty + thousand dollars! + </p> + <p> + Her mind swerved off suddenly at a tangent. The tentacles of this crime + octopus, of which Danglar seemed to be the head, reached far and into most + curious places to fasten and hold and feed on the progeny of human + foibles! She could not help wondering where the lair was from which + emanated the efficiency and system that, as witness this code message + to-night, kept its members, perhaps widely scattered, fully informed of + its every movement. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. That was something she had not yet learned; but it was + something she must learn if ever she hoped to obtain the evidence that + would clear her of the crime that circumstances had fastened upon her. And + yet she had made no move in that direction, because—well, because, + so far, it had seemed all she could do to protect and safeguard herself in + her present miserable existence and surroundings, which, abhorrent as they + were, alone stood between her and a prison cell. + </p> + <p> + Her forehead gathered into little furrows; and, reverting to the code + message, her thoughts harked back to a well-known crime, the authorship of + which still remained a mystery, and which had stirred the East Side some + two years ago. A man—in the vernacular of the underworld a “stage + hand”—by the name of Kroner, credited with having a large amount of + cash, the proceeds of some nefarious transaction, in his possession on the + night in question, was found murdered in his room in an old and + tumble-down tenement of unsavory reputation. The police net had gathered + in some of the co-tenants on suspicion; Nicky Viner, referred to in the + code message, amongst them. But nothing had come of the investigation. + There had been no charge of collusion between the suspects; but Perlmer, a + shyster lawyer, had acted for them all collectively, and, one and all, + they had been discharged. In what degree Perlmer's services had been of + actual value had never been ascertained, for the police, through lack of + evidence, had been obliged to drop the case; but the underworld had + whispered to itself. There was such a thing as suppressing evidence, and + Perlmer was known to have the cunning of a fox, and a code of morals that + never stood in the way, or restricted him in any manner. + </p> + <p> + The code message threw a new light on all this. Perlmer must have known + that old Nicky Viner had money, for, according to the code message, + Perlmer prepared a fake set of affidavits and forged a chain of fake + evidence with which he had blackmailed Nicky Viner ever since; and Nicky + Viner, known as a dissolute, shady character, innocent enough of the + crime, but afraid because his possession of money if made public would + tell against him, and frightened because he had already been arrested once + on suspicion for that very crime, had whimpered—and paid. And then, + somehow, Danglar and the gang had discovered that the old, seedy, + stoop-shouldered, bearded, down-at-the-heels Nicky Viner was not all that + he seemed; that he was a miser, and had a hoard of fifty thousand dollars—and + Danglar and the gang had set out to find that hoard and appropriate it. + Only they had not succeeded. But in their search they had stumbled upon + Perlmer's trail, and that was the key to the plan they had afoot to-night. + If Perlmer's fake and manufactured affidavits were clever enough and + convincing enough to wring money out of Viner for Perlmer, they were more + than enough to enable Danglar, employed as Danglar would employ them, to + wring from Nicky Viner the secret of where the old miser hid his wealth; + for Viner would understand that Danglar was not hampered by having to + safeguard himself on account of having been originally connected with the + case in a legal capacity, or any capacity, and therefore in demanding all + or nothing, would have no cause for hesitation, failing to get what he + wanted, in turning the evidence over to the police. In other words, where + Perlmer had to play his man cautiously and get what he could, Danglar + could go the limit and get all. As it stood, then, Danglar and the gang + had not found out the location of that hoard; but they had found out where + Perlmer kept his spurious papers—stuffed in at the back of the + bottom drawer of his desk in his office, practically forgotten, + practically useless to Perlmer any more, for, having once shown them to + Viner, there was no occasion to call them into service again unless Viner + showed signs of getting a little out of hand and it became necessary to + apply the screws once more. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, it was a very simple matter. Perlmer had an office in a + small building on lower Sixth Avenue, and it was his custom to go to his + office in the evenings and remain there until ten o'clock or so. The plan + then, according to the code message, was to loot Perlmer's desk some time + after the man had gone home for the night, and then, at midnight, armed + with the false documents, to beard old Nicky Viner in his miserable + quarters over on the East Side, and extort from the old miser the neat + little sum that Danglar estimated would amount to some fifty thousand + dollars in cash. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's face was troubled and serious. She found herself wishing for + a moment that she had never decoded the message. But she shook her head in + sharp self-protest the next instant. True, she would have evaded the + responsibility that the criminal knowledge now in her possession had + brought her; but she would have done so, in that case, deliberately at the + expense of her own self-respect. It would not have excused her in her own + soul to have sat staring at a cipher message that she was satisfied was + some criminal plot, and have refused to decode it simply because she was + afraid a sense of duty would involve her in an effort to frustrate it. To + have sat idly by under those circumstances would have been as + reprehensible—and even more cowardly—than it would be to sit + idly by now that she knew what was to take place. And on that latter score + to-night there was no argument with herself. She found herself accepting + the fact that she would act, and act promptly, as the only natural + corollary to the fact that she was in a position to do so. Perhaps it was + that way to-night, not only because she had on a previous occasion already + fought this principle of duty out with herself, but because to-night, + unlike that other night, the way and the means seemed to present no + insurmountable difficulties, and because she was now far better prepared, + and free from all the perplexing, though enormously vital, little details + that had on the former occasion reared themselves up in mountainous aspect + before her. The purchase of a heavy veil, for instance, the day after the + Hayden-Bond affair, would enable her now to move about the city in the + clothes of the White Moll practically at will and without fear of + detection. And, further, the facilities for making that change, the change + from Gypsy Nan to the White Moll, were now already at hand—in the + little old shed down the lane. + </p> + <p> + And as far as any actual danger that she might incur to-night was + concerned, it was not great. She was not interested in the fifty thousand + dollars in an intrinsic sense; she was interested only in seeing that old + Nicky Viner, unappealing, yes, and almost repulsive both in personality + and habits as the man was, was not blackmailed out of it; that Danglar, + yes, and hereafter, Perlmer too, should not prey like vultures on the man, + and rob him of what was rightfully his. If, therefore, she secured those + papers from Perlmer's desk, it automatically put an end to Danglar's + scheme to-night; and if, later, she saw to it that those papers came into + Viner's possession, that, too, automatically ended Perlmer's persecutions. + Indeed, there seemed little likelihood of any danger or risk at all. It + could not be quite ten o clock yet; and it was not likely that whoever was + delegated by Danglar to rob Perlmer's office would go there much before + eleven anyway, since they would naturally allow for the possibility that + Perlmer might stay later in his office than usual, a contingency that + doubtless accounted for midnight being set as the hour at which they + proposed to lay old Nicky Viner by the heels. Therefore, it seemed almost + a certainty that she would reach there, not only first, but with ample + time at her disposal to secure the papers and get away again without + interruption. She might even, perhaps, reach the office before Perlmer + himself had left—it was still quite early enough for that—but + in that case she need only remain on watch until the lawyer had locked up + and gone away. Nor need even the fact that the office would be locked + dismay her. In the secret hiding-place here in the garret, among those + many other evidences of criminal activity, was the collection of skeleton + keys, and—she was moving swiftly around the attic now, physically as + active as her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + It was not like that other night. There were few preparations to make. She + had only to secure the keys and a flashlight, and to take with her the + damp cloth that would remove the grime streaks from her face, and the box + of composition that would enable her to replace them when she came back—and + five minutes later she was on the street, making her way toward the lane, + and, specifically, toward the deserted shed where she had hidden away her + own clothing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. ROOM NUMBER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + Another five minutes, and in her own personality now, a slim, trim figure, + neatly gloved, the heavy veil affording ample protection to her features, + Rhoda Gray emerged from the shed and the lane, and started rapidly toward + lower Sixth Avenue. And as she walked, her mind, released for the moment + from the consideration of her immediate venture, began again, as it had so + many times in the last three days, its striving and its searching after + some loophole of escape from her own desperate situation. But only, as it + ever did, confusion came—a chaos of things, contributory things and + circumstances, and the personalities of those with whom this impossible + existence had thrown her into contact. Little by little she was becoming + acquainted with the personnel of the gang—in an impersonal way, + mostly. Apart from Danglar, there was Shluker, who must of necessity be + one of them; and Skeeny, the man who had been with Danglar in Shluker's + room; and the Cricket, whom she had never seen; and besides these, there + were those who were mentioned in the cipher message to-night, and detailed + to the performance of the various acts and scenes that were to lead up to + the final climax—which, she supposed, was the object and reason for + the cipher message, in order that even those not actually employed might + be thoroughly conversant with the entire plan, and ready to act + intelligently if called upon. For there were others, of course, as witness + herself, or, rather, Gypsy Nan, whose personality she had so unwillingly + usurped. + </p> + <p> + It was vital, necessary, that she should know them all, and more than in + that impersonal way, if she counted upon ever freeing herself of the guilt + attributed to her. For she could see no other way but one—that of + exposing and proving the guilt of this vile clique who now surrounded her, + and who had actually instigated and planned the crime of which she was + accused. And it was not an easy task! + </p> + <p> + And then there were those outside this unholy circle who kept forcing + their existence upon her consciousness, because they, too, played an + intimate part in the sordid drama which revolved around her, and whose end + she could not foresee. There was, for instance—the Adventurer. She + drew in her breath quickly. She felt the color creep slowly upward, and + tinge her throat and cheeks—and then the little chin, strong and + firm, was lifted in a sort of self-defiant challenge. True, the man had + been a great deal in her thoughts, but that was only because her curiosity + was piqued, and because on two occasions now she had had very real cause + for gratitude to him. If it had not been for the Adventurer, she would + even now be behind prison bars. Why shouldn't she think of him? She was + not an ingrate! Why shouldn't she be interested? There was something + piquantly mysterious about the man—who called himself an adventurer. + She would even have given a good deal to know who he really was, and how + he, too, came to be so conversant with Danglar's plans as fast as they + were matured, and why, on those two particular occasions, he had not only + gone out of his way to be of service to her, but had done so at very grave + risk to himself. Of course, she was interested in him—in that way. + How could she help it? But in any other way—the little chin was + still tilted defiantly upward—even the suggestion was absurd. The + man might be chivalrous, courageous, yes, outwardly, even a gentleman in + both manner and appearance; he might be all those things, and, indeed, was—but + he was a thief, a professional thief and crook. It seemed very strange, of + course; but she was judging him, not alone from the circumstances under + which they had met and been together, but from what he had given her to + understand about himself. + </p> + <p> + The defiance went suddenly from her face; and, for a moment, her lips + quivered a little helplessly. It was all so very strange, and so + forbidding, and—and, perhaps she hadn't the stout heart that a man + would have—but she did not understand, and she could not see her way + through the darkness that was like a pall wrapped about her—and it + was hard just to grope out amidst surroundings that revolted her and made + her soul sick. It was hard to do this and—and still keep her courage + and her faith. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head presently as she went along, shook it reprovingly at + herself, and the little shoulders squared resolutely back. There must be, + and there would be, a way out of it all, and meanwhile her position, bad + as it was, was not without, at least, a certain compensation. There had + been the Sparrow the other night whom she had been able to save, and + to-night there was Nicky Viner. She could not be blind to that. Who knew! + It might be for just such very purposes that her life had been turned into + these new channels! + </p> + <p> + She looked around her sharply now. She had reached the lower section of + Sixth Avenue. Perlmer's office, according to the address given, was still + a little farther on. She walked briskly. It was very different to-night, + thanks to her veil! It had been horrible that other night, when she had + ventured out as the White Moll and had been forced to keep to the dark + alleyways and lanes, and the unfrequented streets! + </p> + <p> + And now, through a jeweler's window, she noted the time, and knew a + further sense of relief. It was even earlier than she had imagined. It was + not quite ten o'clock; she would, at least, be close on the heels of + Perlmer's departure from his office, if not actually ahead of time, and + therefore she would be first on the scene, and—yes, this was the + place; here was Perlmer's name amongst those on the name-plate at the + street entrance of a small three-story building. + </p> + <p> + She entered the hallway, and found it deserted. It was a rather dirty and + unkempt place, and very poorly lighted—a single incandescent alone + burned in the hall. Perlmer's room, so the name-plate indicated, was + Number Eleven, and on the next floor. + </p> + <p> + She mounted the stairs, and paused on the landing to look around her + again. Here, too, the hallway was lighted by but a single lamp; and here, + too, an air of desertion was in evidence. The office tenants, it was + fairly obvious, were not habitual night workers, for not a ray of light + came from any of the glass-paneled doors that flanked both sides of the + passage. She nodded her head sharply in satisfaction. It was equally + obvious that Perlmer had already gone. It would take her but a moment, + then, unless the skeleton keys gave her trouble. She had never used a key + of that sort, but—She moved quietly down the hallway, and, looking + quickly about her to assure herself again that she was not observed, + stopped before the door of Room Number Eleven. + </p> + <p> + A moment she hung there, listening; then she slipped the skeleton keys + from her pocket, and, in the act of inserting one of them tentatively into + the keyhole, she tried the door—and with a little gasp of surprise + returned the keys hurriedly to her pocket. The door was unlocked; it had + even opened an inch already under her hand. + </p> + <p> + Again she looked around her, a little startled now; and instinctively her + hand in her pocket exchanged the keys for her revolver. But she saw + nothing, heard nothing; and it was certainly dark inside there, and + therefore only logical to conclude that the room was unoccupied. + </p> + <p> + Reassured, she pushed the door cautiously and noiselessly open, and + stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. She stood still for an + instant, and then the round, white ray of her flashlight went dancing + inquisitively around the office. It was a medium-sized room, far from + ornate in its appointments, bare floored, the furniture of the cheapest—Perlmer's + clientele did not insist on oriental rugs and mahogany! + </p> + <p> + Her appraisal of the room, however, was but cursory. She was interested + only in the flat-topped desk in front of her. She stepped quickly around + it—and stopped-and a low cry of dismay came from her as she stared + at the floor. The lower drawer had been completely removed, and now lay + upturned beside the swivel chair, its contents strewn around in all + directions. + </p> + <p> + And for a moment she stared at the scene, nonplused, discomfited. She had + been so sure that she would be first—and she had not been first. + There was no need to search amongst those papers on the floor. They told + their own story. The ones she wanted were already gone. + </p> + <p> + In a numbed way, mechanically, she retreated to the door; and, with the + flashlight playing upon it, she noticed for the first time that the lock + had been roughly forced. It was but corroborative of the despoiled drawer; + and, at the same time, the obvious reason why the door had not been + relocked when whoever had come here had gone out again. + </p> + <p> + Whoever had come here! She could have laughed out hysterically. Was there + any doubt as to who it was? One of Danglar's emissaries; the Cricket, + perhaps-or perhaps even Danglar himself! They had seen to it that lack of + prompt action, at least, would not be the cause of marring their plans. + </p> + <p> + A little dazed, overwrought, confused at the ground being cut from under + her where she had been so confident of a sure footing, she made her way + out of the building, and to the street—and for a block walked almost + aimlessly along. And then suddenly she turned hurriedly into a cross + street, and headed over toward the East Side. The experience had not been + a pleasant one, and it had upset most thoroughly all her calculations; but + it was very far, after all, from being disastrous. It meant simply that + she must now find Nicky Viner himself and warn the man, and there was + ample time in which to do that. The code message specifically stated + midnight as the hour at which they proposed to favor old Viner with their + unhallowed attentions, and as it was but a little after ten now, she had + nearly a full two hours in which to accomplish what should not take her + more than a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's lips tightened a little, as she hurried along. Old Nicky + Viner still lived in the same disreputable tenement in which he had lived + on the night of that murder two years ago, and she could not ward off the + thought that it had been—yes, and was—an ideal place for a + murder, from the murderer's standpoint! The neighborhood was one of the + toughest in New York, and the tenement itself was frankly nothing more + than a den of crooks. True, she had visited there more than once, had + visited Nicky Viner there; but she had gone there then as the White Moll, + to whom even the most abandoned would have touched his cap. To-night it + was very different—she went there as a woman. And yet, after all—she + amended her own thoughts, smiling a little seriously—surely she + could disclose herself as the White Moll there again to-night if the + actual necessity arose, for surely crooks, pokegetters, shillabers and + lags though they were, and though the place teemed with the dregs of the + underworld, no one of them, even for the reward that might be offered, + would inform against her to the police! And yet—again the mental + pendulum swung the other way—she was not so confident of that as she + would like to be. In a general way there could be no question but that she + could count on the loyalty of those who lived there; but there were always + those upon whom one could never count, those who were dead to all sense of + loyalty, and alive only to selfish gain and interest—a human trait + that, all too unfortunately, was not confined to those alone who lived in + that shadowland outside the law. Her face, beneath the thick veil, relaxed + a little. Well, she certainly did not intend to make a test case of it and + disclose herself there as the White Moll, if she could help it! She would + enter the tenement unnoticed if she could, and make her way to Nicky + Viner's two miserable rooms on the second floor as secretively as she + could. And, knowing the place as she did, she was quite satisfied that, if + she were careful enough and cautious enough, she could both enter and + leave without being seen by any one except, of course, Nicky Viner. + </p> + <p> + She walked on quickly. Five minutes, ten minutes passed; and now, in a + narrow street, lighted mostly by the dull, yellow glow that seeped up from + the sidewalk through basement entrances, queer and forbidding portals to + sinister interiors, or filtered through the dirty windows of uninviting + little shops that ran the gamut from Chinese laundries to oyster dens, she + halted, drawn back in the shadows of a doorway, and studied a tenement + building that was just ahead of her. That was where old Nicky Viner lived. + A smile of grim whimsicality touched her lips. Not a light showed in the + place from top to bottom. From its exterior it might have been + uninhabited, even long deserted. But to one who knew, it was quite the + normal condition, quite what one would expect. Those who lived there + confined their activities mostly to the night; and their exodus to their + labors began when the labors of the world at large ended—with the + fall of darkness. + </p> + <p> + For a little while she watched the place, and kept glancing up and down + the street; and then, seizing her opportunity when for half a block or + more the street was free of pedestrians, she stole forward and reached the + tenement door. It was half open, and she slipped quickly inside into the + hall. + </p> + <p> + She stood here for a moment motionless; listening, striving to accommodate + her eyes to the darkness, and instinctively her hand went to her pocket + for the reassuring touch of her revolver. It was black back there in the + hallway of Gypsy Nan's lodging; she had not thought that any greater + degree of blackness could exist; but it was blacker here. Only the sense + of touch promised to be of any avail. If one could have moved as + noiselessly as a shadow moves, one could have passed another within + arm's-length unseen. And so she listened, listened intently. And there was + very little sound. Once she detected a footstep from the interior of some + room as it moved across a bare floor; once she heard a door creak + somewhere upstairs; and once, from some indeterminate direction, she + thought she heard voices whispering together for a moment. + </p> + <p> + She moved suddenly then, abruptly, almost impulsively, but careful not to + make the slightest noise. She dared not remain another instant inactive. + It was what she had expected, what she had counted upon as an ally, this + darkness, but she was not one who laughed, even in daylight, at its + psychology. It was beginning to attack her now; her imagination to magnify + even the actual dangers that she knew to be around her. And she must fight + it off before it got a hold upon her, and before panic voices out of the + blackness began to shriek and clamor in her ears, as she knew they would + do with pitifully little provocation, urging her to turn and flee + incontinently. + </p> + <p> + The staircase, she remembered, was at her right; and feeling out before + her with her hands, she reached the stairs, and began to mount them. She + went slowly, very slowly. They were bare, the stairs, and unless one were + extremely careful they would creak out through the silence with a noise + that could be heard from top to bottom of the tenement. But she was not + making any noise; she dared not make any noise. + </p> + <p> + Halfway up she halted and pressed her body close against the wall. Was + that somebody coming? She held her breath in expectation. There wasn't a + sound now, but she could have sworn she had heard a footstep on the + hallway above, or on the upper stairs. She bit her lips in vexation. Panic + noises! That's what they were! That, and the thumping of her heart! Why + was it that alarms and exaggerated fancies came and tried to unnerve her? + What, after all, was there really to be afraid of? She had almost a clear + two hours before she need even anticipate any actual danger here, and, if + Nicky Viner were in, she would be away from the tenement again in another + fifteen minutes at the latest. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray went on again, and gaining the landing, halted once more. And + here she smiled at herself with the tolerant chiding she would have + accorded a child that was frightened without warrant. She could account + for those whisperings and that footstep now. The door to the left, the one + next to Nicky Viner's squalid, two-room apartment, was evidently partially + open, and occasionally some one moved within; and the voices came from + there too, and, low-toned to begin with, were naturally muffled into + whispers by the time they reached her. + </p> + <p> + She had only, then, to step the five or six feet across the narrow hall in + order to reach Nicky Viner's door, and unless by some unfortunate chance + whoever was in that room happened to come out into the hall at the same + moment, she would—Yes, it was all right! She was trying Nicky + Viner's door now. It was unlocked, and as she opened it for the space of a + crack, there showed a tiny chink of light, so faint and meager that it + seemed to shrink timorously back again as though put to rout by the massed + blackness—but it was enough to evidence the fact that Nicky Viner + was at home. It was all simple enough now. Old Viner would undoubtedly + make some exclamation at her sudden and stealthy entrance, but once she + was inside without those in the next room either having heard or seen her, + it would not matter. + </p> + <p> + Another inch she pushed the door open, another—and then another. And + then quickly, silently, she tip-toed over the threshold and closed the + door softly behind her. The light came from the inner room and shone + through the connecting door, which was open, and there was movement from + within, and a low, growling voice, petulant, whining, as though an old man + were mumbling complainingly to himself. She smiled coldly. It was very + like Nicky Viner—it was a habit of his to talk to himself, she + remembered. And, also, she had never heard Nicky Viner do anything else + but grumble and complain. + </p> + <p> + But she could not see fully into the other room, only into a corner of it, + for the two doors were located diagonally across from one another, and her + hand, in a startled way, went suddenly to her lips, as though mechanically + to help choke back and stifle the almost overpowering impulse to cry out + that arose within her. Nicky Viner was not alone in there! A figure had + come into her line of vision in that other room, not Nicky Viner, not any + of the gang—and she stared now in incredulous amazement, scarcely + able to believe her eyes. And then, suddenly cool and self-possessed + again, relieved in a curious way because the element of personal danger + was as a consequence eliminated, she began to understand why she had been + forestalled in her efforts at Perlmer's office when she had been so sure + that she would be first upon the scene. It was not Danglar, or the + Cricket, or Skeeny, or any of the band who had forestalled her—it + was the Adventurer. That was the Adventurer standing in there now, side + face to her, in Nicky Viner's inner room! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. ON THE BRINK + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda Gray moved quietly, inch by inch, along the side of the wall to gain + a point of vantage more nearly opposite the lighted doorway. And then she + stopped again. She could see quite clearly now—that is, there was + nothing now to obstruct her view; but the light was miserable and poor, + and the single gas-jet that wheezed and flickered did little more than + disperse the shadows from its immediate neighborhood in that inner room. + But she could see enough—she could see the bent and ill-clad figure + of Nicky Viner, as she remembered him, an old, gray-bearded man, wringing + his hands in groveling misery, while the mumbling voice, now whining and + pleading, now servile, now plucking up courage to indulge in abuse, kept + on without even, it seemed, a pause for breath. And she could see the + Adventurer, quite unmoved, quite debonair, a curiously patient smile on + his face, standing there, much nearer to her, his right hand in the side + pocket of his coat, a somewhat significant habit of his, his left hand + holding a sheaf of folded, legal-looking documents. + </p> + <p> + And then she heard the Adventurer speak. + </p> + <p> + “What a flow of words!” said the Adventurer, in a bored voice. “You will + forgive me, my dear Mr. Viner, if I appear to be facetious, which I am not—but + money talks.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a thief, a robber!” The old gray-bearded figure rocked on its + feet and kept wringing its hands. “Get out of here! Get out! Do you hear? + Get out! You come to steal from a poor old man, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Must we go all over that again?” interrupted the Adventurer wearily. “I + have not come to steal anything; I have simply come to sell you these + papers, which I am quite sure, once you control yourself and give the + matter a little calm consideration, you are really most anxious to buy—at + any price. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” the other croaked hoarsely. “Those papers are a lie! I am + innocent. And I haven't got any money. None! I haven't any. I am poor—an + old man—and poor.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray felt the blood flush hotly to her cheeks. Somehow she could + feel no sympathy for that cringing figure in there; but she felt a hot + resentment toward that dapper, immaculately dressed and self-possessed + young man, who stood there, silently now, tapping the papers with + provoking coolness against the edge of the plain deal table in front of + him. And somehow the resentment seemed to take a most peculiar phase. She + resented the fact that she should feel resentment, no matter what the man + did or said. It was as though, instead of anger, impersonal anger, at this + low, miserable act of his, she felt ashamed of him. Her hand clenched + fiercely as she crouched there against the wall. It wasn't true! She felt + nothing of the sort! Why should she be ashamed of him? What was he to her? + He was frankly a thief, wasn't he? And he was at his pitiful calling now—down + to the lowest dregs of it. What else did she expect? Because he had the + appearance of a gentleman, was it that her sense of gratitude for what she + owed him had made her, deep down in her soul, actually cherish the belief + that he really was one—made her hope it, and nourish that hope into + belief? Tighter her hand clenched. Her lips parted, and her breath came in + short, hard inhalations. Was it true? Was it all only an added misery, + where it had seemed there could be none to add to her life in these last + few days? Was it true that there was no price she would not have paid to + have found him in any role but this abased one that he was playing now? + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, my dear Mr. Viner!” he agreed smoothly. “It would appear, then, + from what you say that I have been mistaken—even stupidly so, I am + afraid. And in that case, I can only apologize for my intrusion, and, as + you so delicately put it, get out.” He slipped the papers, with a + philosophic shrug of his shoulders, into his inside coat pocket, and took + a backward step toward the door. “I bid you good-night, then, Mr. Viner. + The papers, as you state, are doubtless of no value to you, so you can, of + course, have no objection to my handing them over to the police, who—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Wait! Wait!” the other whispered wildly. “Wait!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” murmured the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'll”—the bent old figure was clawing at his beard—“I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Buy them?” suggested the Adventurer pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll—I'll buy them. I—I've got a little money, only a + little, all I've been able to save in years, a—a hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + “How much did you say?” inquired the Adventurer coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred.” The voice was a maudlin whine. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer took another backward step toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred!” + </p> + <p> + Another step. + </p> + <p> + “Five—a thousand!” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer laughed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “That's better!” he said. “Where you keep a thousand, you keep the rest. + Where is the thousand, Mr. Viner?” + </p> + <p> + The bent figure hesitated a moment; and then, with what sounded like a + despairing cry, pointed to the table. + </p> + <p> + “It's there,” he whimpered. “God's curses on you, for the thief you are.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray found her eyes fixed in sudden, strained fascination on the + table—as, she imagined, the Adventurer's were too. It was bare of + any covering, nor were there any articles on its surface, nor, as far as + she could see, was there any drawer. And now the Adventurer, his right + hand still in his coat pocket, and bulging there where she knew quite well + it grasped his revolver, stepped abruptly to the table, facing the other + with the table between them. + </p> + <p> + The bent old figure still hesitated, and then, with the despairing cry + again, grasped at the top of the table, and jerked it toward him. The + surface seemed to slide sideways a little way, a matter of two or three + inches, and then stick there; but the Adventurer, in an instant, had + thrust the fingers of his left hand into the crevice. He drew out a number + of loose banknotes, and thrust his fingers in again for a further supply. + </p> + <p> + “Open it wider!” he commanded curtly. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm trying to,” the other mumbled, and bent down to peer under + the table. “It's stuck. The catch is underneath, and—” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rhoda Gray, gazing into that dimly lighted room, as though + she were suddenly held spellbound as in some horrible and amazing trance. + Like a hideous jack-in-the-box the gray head popped above the level of the + table again, and quick as a flash, a revolver was thrust into the + Adventurer's face; and the Adventurer, caught at a disadvantage, since his + hand in his coat pocket was below the intervening table top, stood there + as though instantaneously transformed into some motionless, inanimate + thing, his fingers still gripping at another sheaf of banknotes that he + had been in the act of scooping out from the narrow aperture. + </p> + <p> + And then again Rhoda Gray stared, and stared now as though bereft of her + senses; and upon her crept, cold and deadly, a fear and a terror that + seemed to engulf her very soul itself. That head that looked like a + jack-in-the-box was gone; the gray beard seemed suddenly to be shorn away, + and the gray hair too, and to fall and flutter to the table, and the bent + shoulders were not bent any more, and it wasn't Nicky Viner at all—only + a clever, a wonderfully clever, impersonation that had been helped out by + the poor and meager light. And terror gripped at her again, for it wasn't + Nicky Viner. Those narrowed eyes, that leering, gloating face, those + working lips were Danglar's. + </p> + <p> + And, as from some far distance, dulled because her consciousness was + dulled, she heard Danglar speak. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'll take your hand out of that right-hand coat pocket of yours + now!” sneered Danglar. “And take it out—empty!” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer's face, as nearly as Rhoda Gray could see, had not moved a + muscle. He obeyed now, coolly, with a shrug of his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Danglar appeared to experience no further trouble with the surface of the + table now. He suddenly jerked it almost off, displaying what Rhoda Gray + now knew to be the remainder of the large package of banknotes he had + taken from the garret earlier in the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself to the rest!” he invited caustically. “There isn't fifty + thousand there, but you are quite welcome to all there is—in return + for those papers.” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer was apparently obsessed with an inspection of his finger + nails; he began to polish those of one hand with the palm of the other. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, Danglar!” he said coolly. “I admit it—I am ashamed of + myself. I hate to think that I could be caught by you; but I suppose I can + find some self-extenuating circumstances. You seem to have risen to an + amazingly higher order of intelligence. In fact, for you, Danglar, it is + not at all bad!” He went on polishing his nails. “Would you mind taking + that thing out of my face? Even you ought to be able to handle it + effectively a few inches farther away.” + </p> + <p> + Under the studied insult Danglar's face had grown a mottled red. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he snarled. “I'll take it away when I get good and ready; and + by that time I'll have you talking out of the other side of your mouth! + See? Do you know what you're up against, you slick dude?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a fairly good imagination,” replied the Adventurer smoothly. + </p> + <p> + “You have, eh?” mimicked Danglar wickedly. “Well, you don't need to + imagine anything! I'll give you the straight goods so's there won't be any + chance of a mistake. And never mind about the higher order of + intelligence! It was high enough, and a little to spare, to make you walk + into the trap! I hoped I'd get you both, you and your she-pal, the White + Moll; that you'd come here together—but I'm not kicking. It's a + pretty good start to get you!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it necessary to make a speech?” complained the Adventurer + monotonously. “I can't help listening, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You can make up your mind for yourself when I'm through—whether + it's necessary or not!” retorted Danglar viciously. “I've got a little + proposition to put up to you, and maybe it'll help you to add two and two + together if I let you see all the cards. Understand? You've had your run + of luck lately, quite a bit of it, haven't you, you and the White Moll? + Well, it's my turn now! You've been queering our game to the limit, curse + you!” Danglar thrust his working face a little farther over the table, and + nearer to the Adventurer. “Well, what was the answer? Where did you get + the dope you made your plays with? It was a cinch, wasn't it, that there + was a leak somewhere in our own crowd?” He laughed out suddenly. “You poor + fool! Did you think you could pull that sort of stuff forever? Did you? + Well, then, how do you like the 'leak' to-night? You get the idea, don't + you? Everybody, every last soul that is in with us, got the details of + what they thought was a straight play to-night—and it leaked to you, + as I knew it would; and you walked into the trap, as I knew you would, + because the bait was good and juicy, and looked the easiest thing to annex + that ever happened. Fifty thousand dollars! Fifty thousand—nothing! + All you had to do was to get a few papers that it wouldn't bother any + crook to get, even a near—crook like you, and then come here and + screw the money out of a helpless old man, who was supposed to have been + discovered to be a miser. Easy, wasn't it? Only Nicky Viner wasn't a + miser! We chose Nicky because of what happened two years ago. It made + things look pretty near right, didn't it? Looked straight, that part about + Perlmer, too, didn't it? That was the come-on. Perlmer never saw those + papers you've got there in your pocket. I doped them out, and we planted + them nice and handy where you could get them without much trouble in the + drawer of Perlmer's desk, and—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a long story,” interrupted the Adventurer, with quiet insolence. + </p> + <p> + “It's got a short ending,” said Danglar, with an ugly leer. “We could have + bumped you off when you went for those papers, but if you went that far + you'd come farther, and that wasn't the place to do it, and we couldn't + cover ourselves there the way we could here. This is the place. We brought + that trick table here a while ago, as soon as we had got rid of Nicky + Viner. That was the only bit of stage setting we had to do to make the + story ring true right up to the curtain, in case it was necessary. It + wouldn't have been necessary if you and the White Moll had both come + together, for then you would neither of you have got any further than that + other room. It would have ended there. But we weren't taking any chances. + I'll pay you the compliment of admitting that we weren't counting on + getting you off your guard any too easily if, as it happened, you came + alone, for, being alone, or if either of you were alone, there was that + little proposition that had to be settled, instead of just knocking you on + the head out there in the dark in that other room; and so, as I say, we + weren't overlooking any bets on account of the little trouble it took to + plant that table and the money. We tried to think of everything!” Danglar + paused for a moment to mock the Adventurer with narrowed eyes. “That's the + story; here's the end. I hoped I'd get you both together, you and the + White Moll. I didn't. But I've got you. I didn't get you both—and + that's what gives you a chance for your life, because she's worth more to + us than you are. If you'd been together, you would have gone out-together. + As it is, I'll see that you don't do any more harm anyway, but you get one + chance. Where is she? If you answer that, you will, of course, answer a + minor question and locate that 'leak', for me, that I was speaking about a + moment ago. But we'll take the main thing first. And you can take your + choice between a bullet and a straight answer. Where is the White Moll?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's hand felt Out along the wall for support. Was this a dream, + some ghastly, soul-terrifying nightmare! Danglar! Those working lips! That + callous viciousness, that leer in the degenerate face. It seemed to bring + a weakness to her limbs, and seek to rob her of the strength to stand. She + could not even hope against hope; she knew that Danglar was in deadly + earnest. Danglar would not have the slightest compunction, let alone + hesitation, in carrying out his threat. Terrified now, her eyes sought the + Adventurer. Didn't the Adventurer know Danglar as she knew him, didn't he + realize that there was deadly earnestness behind Danglar's words? Was the + man mad, that he stood there utterly unmoved, as though he had no + consideration on earth other than those carefully manicured finger nails + of his! + </p> + <p> + And then Danglar spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Do you notice anything special about this gun I'm holding on you?” he + demanded, in low menace. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer did not even look up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he said indifferently. “I fancy you got it out of a dime novel, + didn't you? One of those silencer things.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Danglar grimly; “one of those silencer things. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer made no answer. + </p> + <p> + The color in Danglar's face deepened. + </p> + <p> + “I'll make things even a little plainer to you,” he said with brutal + coolness. “There are two men in our organization from whom it is + absolutely impossible that that leak could have come. Those two men + followed you from Perlmer's office to this place. They are in the next + room now waiting for me to get through with you, and ready for anything if + they are needed. But they won't be needed. That's not the way it works + out. This gun won't make much noise, and it isn't likely to arouse the + inmates of this dive, but even if it does, it doesn't matter very much—we + aren't going out by the front door. The two of them, the minute they hear + the shot, slip in here, and lock the door—you see it's got a good, + husky bolt on it—and then we beat it by the fire escape that runs + past that window there. Get the idea? And don't kid yourself into thinking + that I am taking any risk with the consequences on account of the coroner + having got busy because a man was found here dead on the floor. Nicky + Viner stands for that. It isn't the first time he's been suspected of + murder. See? Nicky was easy. He'd crawl on his hands and knees from the + Battery to Harlem any time if you held a little money in front of his + nose. He's been fooled up to the eyes with a faked-up message that he's to + deliver secretly to some faked-up crooks out West. He's just about + starting away on the train now. And that's where the police nab him—running + away from the murder he's pulled in his room here to-night. Looks kind of + bad for Nicky Viner—eh? We should worry! It cost a hundred dollars + and his ticket. Cheap, wasn't it? I guess you're worth that much to us.” + </p> + <p> + A dull horror seized upon Rhoda Gray. It seemed to clog and confuse her + mind. She fought it frantically, striving to think, and to think clearly. + Every detail seemed to have been planned with Satanic foresight and + ingenuity, and yet—and yet—Yes, in one little thing, Danglar + had made a mistake. That was why she was here now; that was why those men + in that next room had not been out in the hall on guard, or even out in + the street on watch for her. Danglar had naturally gone upon the + supposition that the Adventurer and herself worked hand in glove; whereas + they were as much in the dark concerning each other's movements as Danglar + himself was. Therefore Danglar, and logically enough from his viewpoint, + had jumped to the conclusion that, since they had not come together, only + one of them, the Adventurer, was acting in the affair to-night, and—Danglar's + voice was rasping in her ears. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to stay here all night!” he snarled. “You've got one + chance. I've told you what it is. You're lucky to have it. We'd sooner + have you out of the way for keeps. I'd rather drop you in your tracks than + let you live. Where is the White Moll?” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer was side face to the doorway again, and Rhoda Gray saw him + smile contemptuously at Danglar now. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he said blandly, “I haven't the slightest idea in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar laughed ironically. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” he flung out hoarsely. “Do you think you can get away with + that? Well, think again! Sooner or later, it will be all the same whether + you talk or not. We caught you to-night in a trap; we'll catch her in + another. Our hand doesn't show here. She'll think that Nicky Viner was a + little too much for you, that's all. Come on, now—quick! Are you + fool enough to misunderstand? The 'don't know' stuff won't get you by!” + </p> + <p> + “The misunderstanding seems to be on your side.” There was a cold, + irritating deliberation in the Adventurer's voice. “I repeat that I do not + know where the young lady you refer to could be found; but I did not make + that statement with any idea that you would believe it. To a cur, I + suppose it is necessary to add that, even if I did know, I should take + pleasure in seeing you damned before I told you.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's face was like a devil's. His revolver held a steady bead on the + Adventurer's head. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you a last chance.” He spoke through closed teeth. “I'll fire + when I count three. One!” + </p> + <p> + A horrible fascination held Rhoda Gray. If she cried out, it was more + likely than not to cause Danglar to fire on the instant. It would not save + the Adventurer in any case. It would be but the signal, too, for those two + men in the next room to rush in here. + </p> + <p> + “Two!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though, not in the hope that it would do any good, but + because she was going mad with horror, that she would scream out until the + place rang and rang again with her outcries. Even her soul was in frantic + panic. Quick! Quick! She must act! She must! But how? Was there only one + way? She was conscious that she had drawn her revolver as though by + instinct. Danglar's life, or the Adventurer's! But she shrank from taking + life. Her lips were breathing a prayer. They had called her a crack shot + back there in South America, when she had hunted and ridden with her + father. It was easy enough to hit Danglar, but that might mean Danglar's + life; it was not so easy to hit Danglar's arm, or Danglar's hand, or the + revolver Danglar held, and if she risked that and missed, she... + </p> + <p> + “Thr—” + </p> + <p> + There was the roar of a report that went racketing through the silence + like a cannon shot, and the short, vicious tongue-flame from Rhoda Gray's + revolver muzzle stabbed through the black. There was a scream of mingled + surprise and fury, and the revolver in Danglar's hand clattered to the + floor. She saw the Adventurer spring, quick as a panther, at the other, + and saw him whip blow after blow with terrific force full into Danglar's + face; she heard a rush of feet coming from the corridor behind her; and + she flung herself forward into the inner room, and, panting, snatched at + the door and slammed it shut, and groping for the bolt, found it, and shot + it home in its grooves. + </p> + <p> + And she stood there, weak for the moment, and drew her hand across her + eyes—and behind her they pounded on the door, and there came a burst + of oaths; and in front of her the Adventurer was smiling gravely as he + covered Danglar with Danglar's own revolver; and Danglar, as though dazed + and half stunned from the blows he had received, rocked unsteadily upon + his feet. And then her eyes widened a little. The pounding on the door, + the shouts, the noise, was beginning to arouse what inmates there were in + the tenement, and there wasn't an instant to lose—but the Adventurer + now was calmly gathering up, to the last one, and pocketing them, the + banknotes with which Danglar had baited his trap. And as he crammed the + money into his pockets, he spoke to her, with a curious softness, a great, + strange gentleness in his voice: + </p> + <p> + “I owe you my life, Miss Gray. That was a wonderful shot. You knocked the + revolver from his hand without even grazing his fingers. A very wonderful + shot, and—will you let me say it?—you are a very wonderful + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quick!” she whispered wildly. “I am afraid this door will not hold.” + </p> + <p> + “There is the window, and the fire escape, so our friend here was good + enough to inform me,” said the Adventurer, as he composedly pocketed the + last dollar. “Will you open the window, Miss Gray, if you please? I am + afraid I hit Mr. Danglar a little ungently, and as he is still somewhat + groggy, I fancy he will need a little assistance. I imagine”—he + caught Danglar suddenly by the collar of his coat as Rhoda Gray ran to the + window and flung it up, and rushed the man unceremoniously across the room—“I + imagine it would be a mistake to leave him behind. He might open the door, + or even be unpleasant enough to throw something down on us from above; + also he should serve us very well as a hostage. Will you go first, please, + Miss Gray?” + </p> + <p> + She climbed quickly over the sill to the iron platform. Danglar was + dragged through by the Adventurer, mumbling, and evidently still in a + half-dazed condition. Windows were opening here and there. From back + inside the room, the blows rained more heavily upon the door—and now + there came the rip and rend of wood, as though a panel had crashed in. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, please, Miss Gray!” prompted the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + It was dark, almost too dark to see her footing. She felt her way down. It + was only one story above the ground, and it did not take long; but it + seemed hours since she had fired that shot, though she knew the time had + been measured by scarcely more than a minute. And now, on the lower + platform, waiting for that queer, double, twisting shadow of the two men + to join her, she heard the Adventurers s voice ring out sharply: + </p> + <p> + “This is your chance, Danglar! I didn't waste the time to bring you along + because it afforded me any amusement. They've found their heads at last, + and gone to the next window, instead of wasting time on that door. They + can't reach the fire escape there, but if they fire a single shot—you + go out! You'd better tell them so—and tell them quick!” + </p> + <p> + And then Danglar's voice shrieked out in sudden, “for God's sake, don't + fire!” + </p> + <p> + They were all on the lower platform together now. The Adventurer was + pressing the muzzle of his revolver into the small of Danglar's back, and + was still supporting the man by the collar of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the Adventurer abruptly, “that we can now dispense with + Mr. Danglar's services, and I am sure a little cool night air out here on + the fire escape will do him good. Miss Gray—would you mind?—there's + a pair of handcuffs in my left-hand coat pocket.” + </p> + <p> + Handcuffs! She could have laughed out idiotically. Handcuffs! They seemed + the most incongruous things in the world for the Adventurer to have, and—She + felt mechanically in his pocket, and handed them to him. + </p> + <p> + There was a click as a cuff was snapped over Danglar's wrist, another as + the other cuff was snapped shut around the iron hand-railing of the fire + escape. The act seemed to arouse Danglar, both mentally and physically. He + tore and wrenched at the steel links now, and burst suddenly, raving, into + oaths. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Danglar!” ordered the Adventurer in cold menace; and as + the other, cowed, obeyed, the Adventurer swung himself over the platform + and dropped to the ground. “Come, Miss Gray. Drop! I'll catch you!” he + called in a low voice. “One step takes us around the corner of the + tenement into the lane, and Mr. Danglar won't let them fire at us before + we can make that—when we could still fire at him!” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed him, swinging at arm's-length. She felt his hands fold about + her in a firm grasp as she let go her hold, and she caught her breath + suddenly, she did not know why, and felt the hot blood sweep her face—and + then she was standing on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Now!” he whispered. “Together!” + </p> + <p> + They sped around the corner of the tenement. A yell from Danglar followed + them. An echoing yell from above answered—and then a fusillade of + abortive shots, and the sound as of boot heels clattering on the iron + rungs of the fire escape; and then, more faintly, for they were putting + distance behind them as fast as they could run, an excited outburst of + profanity and exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “They won't follow!” panted the Adventurer. “Those shots of theirs + outdoors will have alarmed the police, and they'll try and get Danglar + free first. It's lucky your shot inside wasn't heard by the patrolman on + the beat. I was afraid of that. But we're safe now—from Danglar's + crowd, at least.” + </p> + <p> + But still they ran. They crossed an intersecting street, and continued on + along the lane; then swerving into the next intersecting street, moderated + their pace to a rapid walk—and stopped finally only as Rhoda Gray + drew suddenly into the shadows of another alley-way, and held out her + hand. They were both safe now, as he had said. And there were so many + reasons why, though her resolution faltered a little, she should go the + rest of the way alone. She was not sure that she trusted this strange + “gentleman,” who was a thief with his pockets crammed even now with the + money that had lured him almost to his death; but, too, she was not + altogether sure that she distrusted him. But all that was secondary. She + must, as soon as she could, get back to Gypsy Nan's garret. Like that + other night, she dared not take the risk that Danglar, by any chance, + might return there—and find her gone after what had just happened. + The man would be beside himself with fury, suspicious of everything-and + suspicion would be fatal in its consequences for her. And so she must go. + And she could not become Gypsy Nan again with the Adventurer looking on! + </p> + <p> + “We part here,” she said a little unsteadily. “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Miss Gray!” he protested quickly. “You don't mean that! Why, + look here, I haven't had a chance to tell you what I think, or what I + feel, about what you've done to-night—for me.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing you need say,” she answered quietly. “We are only quits. + You have done quite as much for me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, see here, Miss Gray!” he pleaded. “Can't we come to some + understanding? We seem to have a jolly lot in common. Is it quite + necessary, really necessary, that you should keep me off at arm's-length? + Couldn't you let down the bars just a little? Couldn't you tell me, for + instance, where I could find you in case of—real necessity?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head again. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “It is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + He drew a little closer. A sudden earnestness deepened his voice, made it + rasp a little, as though it were not wholly within control. + </p> + <p> + “And suppose, Miss Gray, that I refuse to leave you, or to let you go, now + that I have you here, unless you give me more of your confidence? What + then?” + </p> + <p> + “The other night,” she said slowly, “you informed me, among other things, + that you were a gentleman. I believed the other things.” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer for a moment—and then he smiled whimsically. + </p> + <p> + “You score, Miss Gray,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, then!” she said again. “I will go by the alley here; you by + the street.” + </p> + <p> + “No! Wait!” he said gravely. “If nothing will change your mind—and I + shall not be importunate, for, as we have met three times now through the + same peculiar chain of circumstances, I know we shall meet again—I + have something to tell you, before you go. As you already know, I went to + Gypsy Nan's the night after I first saw you, because I felt you needed + help. I went there in the hope that she would know where to find you, and, + failing in that, I left a message for you in the hope that, since she had + tricked Rorke in your behalf, you would find means of communicating with + her again. But all that is entirely changed now. Your participation in + that Hayden-Bond affair the other night makes Gypsy Nan's place the last + in all New York to which you should go.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stared through the semi-darkness, suddenly startled, searching + the Adventurer's face. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she demanded quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Just this,” he answered. “That where before I hoped you would go there, I + have spent nearly all the time since then in haunting the vicinity of + Gypsy Nan's house to warn you away in case you should try to reach her.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't understand,” she said a little uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + “It is simple enough,” he said. “Gypsy Nan is now one of those you have + most to fear. Gypsy Nan is merely a disguise. She is no more Gypsy Nan + than you are.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray caught her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Not Gypsy Nan!” she repeated—and fought to keep her voice in + control. “Who is she, then?” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “She is quite closely connected with that gentleman we left airing himself + on the fire escape,” he said grimly. “Gypsy Nan is Danglar's wife.” + </p> + <p> + It was very strange, very curious—the alleyway seemed suddenly to be + revolving around and around, and it seemed to bring her a giddiness and a + faintness. The Adventurer was standing there before her, but she did not + see him any more; she could only see, as from a brink upon which she + tottered, a gulf, abysmal in its horror, that yawned before her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—thank you for the warning.” Was that her voice speaking + so calmly and dispassionately? “I will remember it. But I must go now. + Good-night again!” + </p> + <p> + He said something. She did not know what. She only knew that she was + hurrying along the alleyway now, and that he had made no effort to stop + her, and that she was grateful to him for that, and that her composure, + strained to the breaking point, would have given away if she had remained + with him another instant. Danglar's wife! It was dark here in the + alley-way, and she did not know where it led to. But did it matter? And + she stumbled as she went along. But it was not the physical inability to + see that made her stumble—it was a brain-blindness that fogged her + soul itself. His wife! Gypsy Nan was Danglar's wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. SOME OF THE LESSER BREED + </h2> + <p> + Danglar's wife! It had been a night of horror; a night without sleep; a + night, after the guttering candle had gone out, when the blackness of the + garret possessed added terrors created by an imagination which ran riot, + and which she could not control. She could have fled from it, screaming in + panic-stricken hysteria—but there had been no other place as safe as + that was. Safe! The word seemed to reach the uttermost depths of irony. + Safe! Well, it was true, wasn't it? + </p> + <p> + She had not wanted to return there; her soul itself had revolted against + it; but she had dared to do nothing else. And all through that night, + huddled on the edge of the cot bed, her fingers clinging tenaciously to + her revolver as though afraid for even an instant to relinquish it from + her grasp, listening, listening, always listening for a footstep that + might come up from that dark hall below, the footstep that would climax + all the terrors that had surged upon her, her mind had kept on + reiterating, always reiterating those words of the Adventurer—“Gypsy + Nan is Danglar's wife.” + </p> + <p> + And they were still with her, those words. Daylight had come again, and + passed again, and it was evening once more; but those words remained, + insensible to change, immutable in their foreboding. And Rhoda Gray, as + Gypsy Nan, shuddered now as she scuffled along a shabby street deep in the + heart of the East Side. She was Danglar's wife—by proxy. At dawn + that morning when the gray had come creeping into the miserable attic + through the small and dirty window panes, she had fallen on her knees and + thanked God she had been spared that footstep. It was strange! She had + poured out her soul in passionate thankfulness then that Danglar had not + come—and now she was deliberately on her way to seek Danglar + himself! But the daylight had done more than disperse the actual, physical + darkness of the past night; it had brought, if not a measure of relief, at + least a sense of guidance, and the final decision, perilous though it was, + which she meant now to put into execution. + </p> + <p> + There was no other way—unless she were willing to admit defeat, to + give up everything, her own good name, her father's name, to run from it + all and live henceforth in hiding in some obscure place far away, branded + in the life she would have left behind her as a despicable criminal and + thief. And she could not, would not, do this while her intuition, at + least, inspired her with the faith to believe that there was still a + chance of clearing herself. It was the throw of the dice, perhaps—but + there was no other way. Danglar, and those with him, were at the bottom of + the crime of which she was held guilty. She could not go on as she had + been doing, merely in the hope of stumbling upon some clew that would + serve to exonerate her. There was not time enough for that. Danglar's trap + set for herself and the Adventurer last night in old Nicky Viner's room + proved that. And the fact that the woman who had originally masqueraded as + Gypsy Nan—as she, Rhoda Gray, was masquerading now—was + Danglar's wife, proved it a thousandfold more. She could no longer remain + passive, arguing with herself that it took all her wits and all her + efforts to maintain herself in the role of Gypsy Nan, which temporarily + was all that stood between her and prison bars. To do so meant the + certainty of disaster sooner or later, and if it meant that, the need for + immediate action of an offensive sort was imperative. + </p> + <p> + And so her mind was made up. Her only chance was to find her way into the + full intimacy of the criminal band of which Danglar was apparently the + head; to search out its lair and its personnel; to reach to the heart of + it; to know Danglar's private movements, and to discover where he lived so + that she might watch him. It surely was not such a hopeless task! True, + she knew by name and sight scarcely more than three of this crime clique, + but at least she had a starting point from which to work. There was + Shluker's junk shop where she had turned the tables on Danglar and Skeeny + on the night they had planned to make the Sparrow their pawn. It was + obvious, therefore, that Shluker himself, the proprietor of the junk shop, + was one of the organization. She was going to Shluker's now. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray halted suddenly, and stared wonderingly a little way up the + block ahead of her. As though by magic a crowd was collecting around the + doorway of a poverty-stricken, tumble-down frame house that made the + corner of an alleyway. And where but an instant before the street's + jostling humanity had been immersed in its wrangling with the push-cart + men who lined the curb, the carts were now deserted by every one save + their owners, whose caution exceeded their curiosity—and the crowd + grew momentarily larger in front of the house. + </p> + <p> + She drew Gypsy Nan's black, greasy shawl a little more closely around her + shoulders, and moved forward again. And now, on the outskirts of the + crowd, she could see quite plainly. There were two or three low steps that + led up to the doorway, and a man and woman were standing there. The woman + was wretchedly dressed, but with most strange incongruity she held in her + hand, obviously subconsciously, obviously quite oblivious of it, a huge + basket full to overflowing with, as nearly as Rhoda Gray could judge, all + sorts of purchases, as though out of the midst of abject poverty a golden + shower had suddenly descended upon her. And she was gray, and well beyond + middle age, and crying bitterly; and her free hand, whether to support + herself or with the instinctive idea of supporting her companion, was + clutched tightly around the man's shoulders. And the man rocked unsteadily + upon his feet. He was tall and angular, and older than the woman, and + cadaverous of feature, and miserably thin of shoulder, and blood trickled + over his forehead and down one ashen, hollow cheek—and above the + excited exclamations of the crowd Rhoda Gray heard him cough. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray glanced around her. Where scarcely a second before she had been + on the outer fringe of the crowd, she now appeared to be in the very + center of it. Women were pushing up behind her, women who wore shawls as + she did, only the shawls were mostly of gaudy colors; and men pushed up + behind her, mostly men of swarthy countenance, who wore circlets of gold + in their ears; and, brushing her skirts, seeking vantage points, ragged, + ill-clad children wriggled and wormed their way deeper into the press. It + was a crowd composed almost entirely of the foreign element which + inhabited that quarter—and the crowd chattered and gesticulated with + ever-increasing violence. She did not understand. And she could not see so + well now. That pitiful tableau in the doorway was being shut out from her + by a man, directly in front of her, who had hoisted a half-naked tot of + three or four to a reserved seat upon his head. + </p> + <p> + And then a young man, one whom, from her years in the Bad Lands as the + White Moll, she recognized as a hanger-on at a gambling hell in the + Chatham Square district, came toward her, plowing his way, contemptuous of + obstructions, out of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, as Gypsy Nan, hailed him out of the corner of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Say, wot's de row?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + The young man grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody pinched a million from de old guy!” He shifted his cigarette + with a deft movement of his tongue from one side of his mouth to the + other, and grinned again. “Can youse beat it! Accordin' to him, he had + enough coin to annex de whole of Noo Yoik! De moll's his wife. He went out + to hell-an'-gone somewhere for a few years huntin' gold while de old girl + starved. Den back he comes an' blows in to-day wid his pockets full, an' + de old girl grabs a handful, an' goes out to buy up all de grub in sight + 'cause she ain't had none for so long. An' w'en she comes back she finds + de old geezer gagged an' tied in a chair, an' some guy's hit him a crack + on de bean an' flown de coop wid de mazuma. But youse had better get out + of here before youse gets run over! Dis ain't no place for an old skirt + like youse. De bulls'll be down here on de hop in a minute, an' w'en dis + mob starts sprinklin' de street wid deir fleetin' footsteps, youse are + likely to get hurt. See?” The young man started to force his way through + the crowd again. “Youse had better cut loose, mother!” he warned over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + It was good advice. Rhoda Gray took it. She had scarcely reached the next + block when the crowd behind her was being scattered pell-mell and without + ceremony in all directions by the police, as the young man had predicted. + She went on. There was nothing that she could do. The man's face and the + woman's face haunted her. They had seemed stamped with such abject misery + and despair. But there was nothing that she could do. It was one of those + sore and grievous cross-sections out of the lives of the swarming + thousands down here in this quarter which she knew so intimately and so + well. And there were so many, many of those cross-sections! Once, in a + small, pitifully meager and restricted way, she had been able to help some + of these hurt lives, but now—Her lips tightened a little. She was + going to Shluker's junk shop. + </p> + <p> + Her forehead gathered in little furrows as she walked along. She had + weighed the pros and cons of this visit a hundred times already during the + day; but even so, instinctively to reassure herself lest some apparently + minor, but nevertheless fatally vital, point might have been overlooked, + her mind reverted to it again. From Shluker's viewpoint, whether Gypsy Nan + was in the habit of mingling with or visiting the other members of the + gang or not—a matter upon which she could not even hazard a guess—her + visit to-night must appear entirely logical. There was last night—and, + a natural corollary, her equally natural anxiety on her supposed husband's + account, providing, of course, that Shluker was aware that Gypsy Nan was + Danglar's wife. But even if Shluker did not know that, he knew at least + that Gypsy Nan was one of the gang, and, as such, he must equally accept + it as natural that she should be anxious and disturbed over what had + happened. She would be on safe ground either way. She would pretend to + know only what had appeared in the papers; in other words, that the + police, attracted to the spot by the sound of revolver shots, had found + Danglar handcuffed to the fire escape of a well-known thieves' resort in + an all too well-known and questionable locality. + </p> + <p> + A smile came spontaneously. It was quite true. That was where the + Adventurer had left Danglar—handcuffed to the fire escape! The smile + vanished. The humor of the situation was not long-lived; it ended there. + Danglar was as cunning as the proverbial fox; and Danglar, at that moment, + in desperate need of explaining his predicament in some plausible way to + the police, had, as the expression went, run true to form. Danglar's + story, as reported by the papers, even rose above his own high-water mark + of vicious cunning, because it played upon a chord that appealed instantly + to the police; and it rang true, not only because what the police could + find out about him made it likely, but also because it contained a modicum + of truth in itself; and, furthermore, Danglar had scored on still another + count in that his story must stimulate the police into renewed activities + as his unsuspecting allies in the one thing, the one aim and object that, + at that moment, must obsess him above all others—the discovery of + herself, the White Moll. + </p> + <p> + It was ingeniously simple, Danglar's smooth and oily lie! He had been + walking along the street, he had stated, when he saw a woman, as she + passed under a street lamp, who he thought resembled the White Moll. To + make sure, he followed her—at a safe distance, as he believed. She + entered the tenement. He hesitated. He knew the reputation of the place, + which bore out his first impression that the woman was the one he thought + she was; but he did not want to make a fool of himself by calling in the + police until he was positive of her identity, so he finally followed her + inside, and heard her go upstairs, and crept up after her in the dark. And + then, suddenly, he was set upon and hustled into a room. It was the White + Moll, all right; and the shots came from her companion, a man whom he + described minutely—the description being that of the Adventurer, of + course. They seemed to think that he, Danglar, was a plain-clothes man, + and tried to sicken him of his job by frightening him. And then they + forced him through the window and down the fire escape, and fastened him + there with handcuffs to mock the police, and the White Moll's companion + had deliberately fired some more shots to make sure of bringing the police + to the scene, and then the two of them had run for it. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's eyes darkened angrily. The newspapers said that Danglar had + been temporarily held by the police, though his story was believed to be + true, for certainly the man would make no mistake as to the identity of + the White Moll, since his life, what the police could find out about it, + coincided with his own statements, and he would naturally therefore have + seen her many times in the Bad Lands when she was working there under + cover of her despicable role of sweet and innocent charity. Danglar had + made no pretensions to self-righteousness—he was too cute for that. + He admitted that he had no “specific occupation,” that he hung around the + gambling hells a good deal, that he followed the horses—that, + frankly, he lived by his wits. He had probably given some framed-up + address to the police, but, if so, the papers had not stated where it was. + Rhoda Gray's face, under the grime of Gypsy Nan's disguise, grew troubled + and perplexed. Neither had the papers, even the evening papers, stated + whether Danglar had as yet been released—they had devoted the rest + of their space to the vilification of the White Moll. They had demanded in + no uncertain tones a more conclusive effort on the part of the authorities + to bring her, and with her now the man in the case, as they called the + Adventurer, to justice, and... + </p> + <p> + The thought of the Adventurer caused her mind to swerve sharply off at a + tangent. Where he had piqued and aroused her curiosity before, he now, + since last night, seemed more complex a character than ever. It was + strange, most strange, the way their lives, his and hers, had become + interwoven! She had owed him much; but last night she had repaid him and + squared accounts. She had told him so. She owed him nothing more. If a + sense of gratitude had once caused her to look upon him with—with—She + bit her lips. What was the use of that? Had it become so much a part of + her life, so much a habit, this throwing of dust in the eyes of others, + this constant passing of herself off for some one else, this constant + deception, warranted though it might be, that she must now seek to deceive + herself! Why not frankly admit to her own soul, already in the secret, + that she cared in spite of herself—for a thief? Why not admit that a + great hurt had come, one that no one but herself would ever know, a hurt + that would last for always because it was a wound that could never be + healed? + </p> + <p> + A thief! She loved a thief. She had fought a bitter, stubborn battle with + her common sense to convince herself that he was not a thief. She had + snatched hungrily at the incident that centered around those handcuffs, so + opportunely produced from the Adventurer's pocket. She had tried to argue + that those handcuffs not only suggested, but proved, he was a police + officer in disguise, working on some case in which Danglar and the gang + had been mixed up; and, as she tried to argue in this wise, she tried to + shut her eyes to the fact that the same pocket out of which the handcuffs + came was at exactly the same moment the repository of as many stolen + banknotes as it would hold. She had tried to argue that the fact that he + was so insistently at work to defeat Danglar's plans was in his favor; but + that argument, like all others, came quickly and miserably to grief. Where + the “leak” was, as Danglar called it, that supplied the Adventurer with + foreknowledge of the gang's movements, she had no idea, save that perhaps + the Adventurer and some traitor in the gang were in collusion for their + own ends—and that certainly did not lift the Adventurer to any + higher plane, or wash from him the stigma of thief. + </p> + <p> + She clenched her hands. It was all an attempt at argument without the + basis of a single logical premise. It was silly and childish! Why hadn't + the man been an ordinary, plain, common thief and criminal—and + looked like one? She would never have been attracted to him then even + through gratitude! Why should he have all the graces and ear-marks of + breeding? Why should he have all the appearances of gentleman? It seemed a + needlessly cruel and additional blow that fate had dealt her, when already + she was living through days and nights of fear, of horror, of trepidation, + so great that at times it seemed she would literally lose her reason. If + he had not looked, yes, and at times, acted, so much like a thorough-bred + gentleman, there would never have come to her this hurt, this gulf between + them that could not now be spanned, and in a personal way she would never + have cared because he was—a thief. + </p> + <p> + Her mental soliloquy ended abruptly. She had reached the narrow driveway + that led in, between the two blocks of down-at-the-heels tenements, to the + courtyard at the rear that harbored Shluker's junk shop. And now, unlike + that other night when she had first paid a visit to the place, she made no + effort at concealment as she entered the driveway. She walked quickly, and + as she emerged into the courtyard itself she saw a light in the window of + the junk shop. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray nodded her head. It was still quite early, still almost + twilight—not more than eight o'clock. Back there, on that squalid + doorstep where the old woman and the old man had stood, it had still been + quite light. The long summer evening had served at least to sear, somehow, + those two faces upon her mind. It was singular that they should intrude + themselves at this moment! She had been thinking, hadn't she, that at this + hour she might naturally expect to find Shluker still in his shop? That + was why she had come so early—since she had not cared to come in + full daylight. Well, if that light meant anything, he was there. + </p> + <p> + She felt her pulse quicken perceptibly as she crossed the courtyard, and + reached the shop. The door was open, and she stepped inside. It was a + dingy place, filthy, and littered, without the slightest attempt at order, + with a heterogeneous collection of, it seemed, every article one could + think of, from scraps of old iron and bundles of rags to cast-off + furniture that was in an appalling state of dissolution. The light, that + of a single and dim incandescent, came from the interior of what was + apparently the “office” of the establishment, a small, glassed-in + partition affair, at the far end of the shop. + </p> + <p> + Her first impression had been that there was no one in the shop, but now, + from the other side of the glass partition, she caught sight of a bald + head, and became aware that a pair of black eyes were fixed steadily upon + her, and that the occupant was beckoning to her with his hand to come + forward. + </p> + <p> + She scuffled slowly, but without hesitation, up the shop. She intended to + employ the vernacular that was part of the disguise of Gypsy Nan. If + Shluker, for that was certainly Shluker there, gave the slightest + indication that he took it amiss, her explanation would come glibly and + logically enough—she had to be careful; how was she supposed to know + whether there was any one else about, or not! + </p> + <p> + “'Ello!” she said curtly, as she reached the doorway of the little office, + and paused on the threshold. Shifty little black eyes met hers, as the + bald head fringed with untrimmed gray hair, was lifted from a battered + desk, and the wizened face of an old man was disclosed under the rays of + the tin-shaded lamp. He grinned suddenly, showing discolored teeth—and + instinctively she drew back a little. He was an uninviting and exceedingly + disreputable old creature. + </p> + <p> + “You, eh, Nan!” he grunted. “So you've come to see old Jake Shluker, have + you? 'Tain't often you come! And what's brought you, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I can read, can't I?” Rhoda Gray glanced furtively around her, then + leaned toward the other. “Say, wot's de lay? I been scared stiff all day. + Is dat straight wot de papers said about youse-know-who gettin' pinched?” + </p> + <p> + A scowl settled over Shluker's features as he nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's straight enough,” he answered. “Damn 'em, one and all! But they + let him out again.” + </p> + <p> + “Dat's de stuff!” applauded Rhoda Gray earnestly. “Where is he, den?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say,” said Shluker. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say?” echoed Rhoda Gray, a little tartly. “Wot d'youse mean, he + didn't say? Have youse seen him?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker jerked his hand toward the telephone instrument on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “He was talkin' to me a little while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, den”—Rhoda Gray risked a more peremptory tone—“where is + he?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker shook his head again. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno,” he said. “I'm tellin' you, he didn't say.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray studied the wizened and repulsive old creature, that, huddled + in his chair in the dirty, boxed-in little office, made her think of some + crafty old spider lurking in its web for unwary prey. Was the man lying to + her? Was he in any degree suspicious? Why should he be? He had given not + the slightest sign that her uncouth language was either unexpected or + unnecessary. Perhaps to Shluker, and perhaps to all the rest of the gang—except + Danglar!—Gypsy Nan was accepted at face value as just Gypsy Nan; + and, if that were so, the idea of playing up a natural wifely anxiety on + Danglar's behalf could not be used unless Shluker gave her a lead in that + direction. But, all that apart, she was getting nowhere. She bit her lips + in disappointment. She had counted a great deal on this Shluker here, and + Shluker was not proving the fount of information, far from it, that she + had hoped he would. + </p> + <p> + She tried again-even more peremptorily than before. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, open up!” she snapped. “Wot's de use bein' a clam! Youse heard me, + didn't youse? Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker leaned abruptly forward, and looked at her in a suddenly perturbed + way. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything wrong?” he asked in a tense, lowered voice. “What makes + you so anxious to know?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'!” she answered coolly. “I told youse once, didn't I? I got a + scare readin' dem papers—an' I ain't over it yet. Dat's wot I want + to know for, an' youse seem afraid to open up!” + </p> + <p> + Shluker sank back again in his chair with an air of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he ejaculated. “Well, that's all right, then. You were beginning to + give me a scare, too. I ain't playin' the clam, and I dunno where he is; + but I can tell you there's nothing to worry you any more about the rest of + it. He was after the White Moll last night, and it didn't come off. They + pulled one on him instead, and fastened him to the fire escape the way the + papers said. Skeeny and the Cricket, who were in on the play with him, + didn't have time to get him loose before the bulls got there. So Danglar + told them to beat it, and he handed the cops the story that was in the + papers. He got away with it, all right, and they let go him to-day; but he + phoned a little while ago that they were still stickin' around kind of + close to him, and that I was to pass the word that the lid was to go down + tight for the next few days, and—” + </p> + <p> + Shluker stopped abruptly as the telephone rang, and reached for the + instrument. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray fumbled unnecessarily with her shawl, as the other answered the + call. Failure! A curious bitterness came to her. Her plan then, for + to-night it least, was a failure. Shluker did not know where Danglar was. + She was quite convinced of that. Shluker was—She glanced suddenly at + the wizened little old man. From an ordinary tone, Shluker' s voice had + risen sharply in protest about something. She listened now: + </p> + <p> + “No, no; it does not matter what it is! + </p> + <p> + “What?...No! I tell you, no! Nothing! Not to-night! Those are the + orders....No, I don't know! Nan is here now....Eh?....You'll pay for it if + you do!” Shluker was snarling threateningly now. “What?....Well, then, + wait! I'll come over....No, you can bet I won't be long! You wait! + Understand?” + </p> + <p> + He banged the receiver on the hook, and got up from his chair hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Fools!” he muttered savagely. “No, I won't be long gettin' there!” He + grabbed Rhoda Gray's arm. “Yes, and you come, too! You will help me put a + little sense into their heads, if it is possible—eh? The fools!” + </p> + <p> + The man was violently excited. He half pulled Rhoda Gray down the length + of the shop to the front door. Puzzled, bewildered, a little uneasy, she + watched him lock the door, and then followed him across the courtyard, + while he continued to mutter constantly to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's de matter?” she asked him twice. + </p> + <p> + But it was not until they had reached the street, and Shluker was hurrying + along as fast as he could walk, that he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “It's the Pug and Pinkie Bonn!” he jerked out angrily. “They're in the + Pug's room. Pinkie went back there after telephonin'. They've nosed out + something they want to put through. The fools! And after last night nearly + havin' finished everything! I told 'em—you heard me—that + everybody's to keep under cover now. But they think they've got a soft + thing, and they say they're goin' to it. I've got to put a crimp in it, + and you've got to help me. Y'understand, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said mechanically. + </p> + <p> + Her mind was working swiftly. The night, after all, perhaps, was not to be + so much of a failure! To get into intimate touch with all the members of + the clique was equally one of her objects, and, failing Danglar himself + to-night, here was an “open sesame” to the re-treat of two of the others. + She would never have a better chance, or one in which risk and danger, + under the chaperonage, as it were, of Shluker here, were, if not entirely + eliminated, at least reduced to an apparently negligible minimum. Yes; she + would go. To refuse was to turn her back on her own proposed line of + action, and on the decision which she had made herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. CROOKS Vs. CROOKS + </h2> + <p> + It was not far. Shluker, hastening along, still muttering to himself, + turned into a cross street some two blocks away, and from there again into + a lane; and, a moment later, led the way through a small door in the fence + that hung, battered and half open, on sagging and broken hinges. Rhoda + Gray's eyes traveled sharply around her in all directions. It was still + light enough to see fairly well, and she might at some future time find + the bearings she took now to be of inestimable worth. Not that there was + much to remark! They crossed a diminutive and disgustingly dirty backyard, + whose sole reason for existence seemed to be that of a receptacle for old + tin cans, and were confronted by the rear of what appeared to be a + four-story tenement. There was a back door here, and, on the right of the + door, fronting the yard, a single window that was some four or five feet + from the level of the ground. + </p> + <p> + Shluker, without hesitation, opened the back door, shut it behind them, + led the way along a black, unlighted hall, and halting before a door well + toward the front of the building, knocked softly upon it—giving two + raps, a single rap, and then two more in quick succession. There was no + answer. He knocked again in precisely the same manner, and then a footstep + sounded from within, and the door was flung open. “Fools!” growled Shluker + in greeting, as they stepped inside and the door was closed again. “A pair + of brainless fools!” + </p> + <p> + There were two men there. They paid Shluker scant attention. They both + grinned at Rhoda Gray through the murky light supplied by a wheezy and + wholly inadequate gas-jet. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Nan!” gibed the smaller of the two. “Who let you out?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, forget it!” croaked Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + Shluker took up the cudgels. + </p> + <p> + “You close your face, Pinkie!” he snapped. “Get down to cases! Do you + think I got nothing else to do but chase you two around like a couple of + puppy dogs that haven't got sense enough to take care of themselves? + Wasn't what I told you over the phone enough without me havin' to come + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nix on that stuff!” returned the one designated as Pinkie imperturbably. + “Say, you'll be glad you come when we lets you in on a little piece of + easy money. We ain't askin' your advice; all we're askin' you to do is + frame up the alibi, same as usual, for me an' the Pug here in case we + wants it.” + </p> + <p> + Shluker shook his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Frame nothing!” he spluttered angrily. “Ain't I tellin' you that the + orders are not to make a move, that everything is off for a few days? + That's the word I got a little while ago, and the Seven-Three-Nine is + goin' out now. Nan'll tell you the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” corroborated Rhoda Gray, picking up the obvious cue. “Dat's de + straight goods.” + </p> + <p> + The two men were lounging beside a table that stood at the extreme end of + the room, and now for a moment they whispered together. And, as they + whispered, Rhoda Gray found her first opportunity to take critical stock + both of her surroundings and of the two men themselves. Pinkie, a short, + slight little man, she dismissed with hardly a glance; he was the common + type, with low, vicious cunning stamped all over his face—an + ordinary rat of the underworld. But her glance rested longer on his + companion. The Pug was indeed entitled to his moniker! His face made her + think of one. It seemed to be all screwed up out of shape. Perhaps the + eye-patch over the right eye helped a little to put the finishing touch of + repulsiveness upon a countenance already most unpleasant. The celluloid + eye-patch, once flesh-colored, was now so dirty and smeared that its + original color was discernible only in spots, and the once white elastic + cord that circled his head and kept the patch in place was in equal + disrepute. A battered slouch hat came to the level of the eye-patch in a + forbidding sort of tilt. His left eyelid drooped until it was scarcely + open at all, and fluttered continually. One nostril of his nose was + entirely closed; and his mouth seemed to be twisted out of shape, so that, + even when in repose, the lips never entirely met at one corner. And his + ears, what she could see of them in the poor light, and on account of the + slouch hat, seemed to bear out the low-type criminal impression the man + gave her, in that they lay flat back against his head. + </p> + <p> + She turned her eyes away with a little shudder of repulsion, and gave her + attention to an inspection of the room. There was no window, except a + small one high up in the right-hand partition wall. She quite understood + what that meant. It was common enough, and all too unsanitary enough, in + these old and cheap tenements; the window gave, not on the out-of-doors, + but on a light-well. For the rest, it was a room she had seen a thousand + times before—carpetless, unfurnished save for the barest + necessities, dirt everywhere, unkempt. + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn broke in abruptly upon her inspection. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right!” he announced airily. “We'll let Nan in on it, too. The + Pug an' me figures she can give us a hand.” + </p> + <p> + Shluker's wizened little face seemed suddenly to go purple. + </p> + <p> + “Are you tryin' to make a fool of me?” he half screamed. “Or can't you + understand English? D'ye want me to keep on tellin' you till I'm hoarse + that there ain't nobody goin' in with you, because you am't goin' in + yourself! See? Understand that? There's nothing doin' to-night for anybody—and + that means you!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, shut up, Shluker!” It was the Pug now, a curious whispering sibilancy + in his voice, due no doubt to the disfigurement of his lips. “Give Pinkie + a chance to shoot his spiel before youse injure yerself throwin' a fit! Go + on, Pinkie, spill it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” said Pinkie eagerly. “Listen, Shluk! It ain't any crib we're + wantin' to crack, or nothin' like that. It's just a couple of crooks that + won't dare open their yaps to the bulls, 'cause what we're after 'll be + what they'll have pinched themselves. See?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker's face lost some of its belligerency, and in its place a dawning + interest came. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he demanded cautiously. “What crooks?” + </p> + <p> + “French Pete an' Marny Day,” said Pinkie—and grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Shluker's eyebrows went up. He looked at the Pug, and the Pug winked + knowingly with his half-closed left eyelid. Shluker reached out for a + chair, and, finding it suspiciously wobbly, straddled it warily. “Mabbe + I've been in wrong,” he admitted. “What's the lay?” + </p> + <p> + “Me,” said Pinkie, “I was down to Charlie's this afternoon havin' a little + lay-off, an'—” + </p> + <p> + “One of these days,” interrupted Shluker sharply, “you'll go out like”—he + snapped his fingers—“that!” “Can't you leave the stuff alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I got to have me bit of coke,” Pinkie answered, with a shrug of his + shoulders. “An', anyway, I'm no pipe-hitter. + </p> + <p> + “It's all the same whatever way you take it!” retorted Shluker. “Well, go + on with your story. You went down to Charlie's dope parlors, and jabbed a + needle into yourself, or took it some other old way. I get you! What + happened then?” + </p> + <p> + “It was about an hour ago,” resumed Pinkie Bonn with undisturbed + complacency. “Just as I was beatin' it out of there by the cellar, I hears + some whisperin' as I was passin' one of the end doors. Savvy? I hadn't + made no noise, an' they hadn't heard me. I gets a peek in, 'cause the + door's cracked. It was French Pete an' Marny Day. I listens. An' after + about two seconds I was goin' shaky for fear some one would come along an' + I wouldn't get the whole of it. Take it from me, Shluk, it was some + goods!” + </p> + <p> + Shluker grunted noncommittingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on!” he prompted. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't get all the fine points,” grinned Pinkie; “but I got enough. + There was a guy by the name of Dainey who used to live somewhere on the + East Side here, an' he used to work in some sweat-shop, an' he worked till + he got pretty old, an' then his lungs, or something, went bad on him, an' + he went broke. An' the doctor said he had to beat it out of here to a more + salubrious climate. Some nut filled his ear full 'bout gold huntin' up in + Alaska, an' he fell for it. He chewed it over with his wife, an' she was + for it too, 'cause the doctor 'd told her her old man would bump off if he + stuck around here, an' they hadn't any money to get away together. She + figured she could get along workin' out by the day till he came back a + millionaire; an' old Dainey started off. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno how he got there. I'm just fillin' in what I hears French Pete + an' Marny talkin' about. I guess mostly he beat his way there ridin' the + rods; but, anyway, he got there. See? An' then he goes down sick there + again, an' a hospital, or some outfit, has to take care of him for a + couple of years; an' back here the old woman got kind of feeble an' on her + uppers, an there was hell to pay, an'—” + </p> + <p> + “Wot's bitin' youse, Nan?” The Pug's lisping whisper broke sharply in upon + Pinkie Bonn's story. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray started. She was conscious now that she had been leaning + forward, staring in a startled way at Pinkie as he talked; conscious now + that for a moment she had forgotten—that she was Gypsy Nan. But she + was mistress of herself on the instant, and she scowled blackly at the + Pug. + </p> + <p> + “Mabbe it's me soft heart dat's touched!” she flung out acidly. “Youse + close yer trap, an' let Pinkie talk!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, shut up!” said Pinkie. “What was I sayin'? Oh, yes! An' then the old + guy makes a strike. Can you beat it! I dunno nothing about the way they + pull them things, but he's off by his lonesome out somewhere, an' he finds + gold, an' stakes out his claim, but he takes sick again an' can't work it, + an' it's all he can do to get back alive to civilization. He keeps his + mouth shut for a while, figurin' he'll get strong again, but it ain't no + good, an' he gets a letter from the old woman tellin' how bad she is, an' + then he shows some of the stuff he'd found. After that there's nothing to + it! Everybody's beatin' it for the place; but, at that, old Dainey comes + out of it all right, an' goes crazy with joy 'cause some guy offers him + twenty-five thousand bucks for his claim, an' throws in the expenses home + for good luck. He gets the money in cash, twenty-five one-thousand-dollar + bills, an' the chicken feed for the expenses, an' starts for back here an' + the old woman. But this time he don't keep his mouth shut about it when + he'd have been better off if he had. See? He was tellin' about it on the + train. I guess he was tellin' about it all the way across. But, anyway, he + tells about it comm' from Philly this afternoon, an' French Pete an' Marny + Day happens to be on the train, an' they hears it, an' frames it up to + annex the coin before morning, 'cause he's got in too late to get the + money into any bank to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn paused, and stuck his tongue significantly in his cheek. + </p> + <p> + Shluker was rubbing his hands together now in a sort of unctuous way. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds pretty good,” he murmured; “only there's Danglar—” + </p> + <p> + “Youse leave Danglar to me!” broke in the Pug. “As soon as we hands one to + dem two boobs an' gets de cash, Pinkie can beat it back here wid de coin + an wait fer me while I finds Danglar an' squares it wid him. He ain't + goin' to put up no holler at dat. We ain't runnin' de gang into nothin'. + Dis is private business—see? So youse just take a sneak wid yerself, + an' fix a nice little alibi fer us so's we won't be takin' any chances.” + </p> + <p> + Shluker frowned. + </p> + <p> + “But what's the good of that?” he demurred. “French Pete and Marny Day 'll + see you anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Will dey!” scoffed the Pug. “Guess once more! A coupla handkerchiefs over + our mugs is good enough fer dem, if youse holds yer end up. An' dey + wouldn't talk fer publication, anyway, would dey?” + </p> + <p> + Shluker smiled now-almost ingratiatingly. + </p> + <p> + “And how much is my end worth?” he inquired softly. + </p> + <p> + “One of dem thousand-dollar engravin's,” stated the Pug promptly. “An' + Pinkie'll run around an' slip it to youse before mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Shluker, after a moment. “It's half past eight now. From + nine o'clock on, you can beat any jury in New York to it that you were + both at the same old place—as long as you keep decently under cover. + That'll do, won't it? I'll fix it. But I don't see—” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, as Gypsy Nan, for the first time projected herself into the + discussion. She cackled suddenly in jeering mirth. + </p> + <p> + “I t'ought something was wrong wid her!” whispered the Pug with mock + anxiety. “Mabbe she ain't well! Tell us about it, Nan!” + </p> + <p> + “When I do,” she said complacently, “mabbe youse'll smile out of de other + corner of dat mouth of yers!” She turned to Shluker. “Youse needn't lay + awake waitin' fer dat thousand, Shluker, 'cause youse'll never see it. De + little game's all off—'cause it's already been pulled. See? Dere was + near a riot as I passes along a street goin' to yer place, an' I gets + piped off to wot's up, an' it's de same story dat Pinkie's told, an' de + crib's cracked, an' de money's gone—dat's all.” + </p> + <p> + Shluker's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “I said you were fools when I first came in here!” he burst out suddenly, + wheeling on Pinkie Bonn and the Pug. “I'm sure of it now. I was wonderin a + minute ago how you were goin' to keep your lamps on Pete and Marny from + here, or know when they were goin' to pull their stunt, or where to find + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn, ignoring Shluker, leaned toward Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Nan, is that straight?” he inquired anxiously. “You sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm sure!” Rhoda Gray asserted tersely. The one thought in her head + now was that her information would naturally deprive these men here of any + further interest in the matter, and that she would get away as quickly as + possible, and, in some way or other, see that the police were tipped off + to the fact that it was French Pete and Marny Day who had taken the old + couple's money. Those two old faces rose before her again now—blotting + out most curiously the face of Pinkie Bonn just in front of her. She felt + strangely glad—glad that she had heard all of old Dainey's story, + because she could see now an ending to it other than the miserable, + hopeless one of despair that she had read in the Daineys' faces just a + little while ago. “Sure, I'm sure!” she repeated with finality. + </p> + <p> + “How long ago was it?” prodded Pinkie. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno,” she answered. “I just went to Shluker's, an' den we comes over + here. Youse can figure it fer yerself.” + </p> + <p> + And then Rhoda Gray stared at the other—with sudden misgiving. + Pinkie Bonn's face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. + </p> + <p> + “I'll answer you now, Shluk,” he grinned. “What do you think? That we're + nuts, me an' Pug? Well, forget it! We didn't have to stick around watchin' + Pete an' Marny; we just had to wait until they had collected the dough. + That was the most trouble we had—wonderin' when that would be. Well, + we don't have to wonder any more. We know now that the cherries are ripe. + See? An' now we'll go an' pick 'em! Where? Where d'ye suppose? Down to + Charlie's, of course! I hears 'em talkin' about that, too. They ain't so + foolish! They're out for an alibi themselves. Get the idea? They was to + sneak out of Charlie's without anybody seem' 'em, an' if everything broke + right for 'em, they was to sneak back again an' spend the night there. No, + they ain't so foolish—I guess they ain't! There ain't no place in + New York you can get in an' out of without nobody knowin' it like + Charlie's, if you know the way, an—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, write de rest of it down in yer memoirs!” interposed the Pug + impatiently—and moved toward the door. “It's all right, Shluker—all + de way. Now, everybody beat it, an' get on de job. Nan, youse sticks wid + Pinkie an' me.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, her mind in confusion, found herself being crowded hurriedly + through the doorway by the three men. Still in a mentally confused + condition, she found herself, a few minutes later—Shluker having + parted company with them—walking along the street between Pinkie + Bonn and the Pug. She was fighting desperately to obtain a rip upon + herself. The information she had volunteered had had an effect + diametrically opposite to that which she had intended. She seemed terribly + impotent; as though she were being swept from her feet and borne onward by + some swift and remorseless current, whether she would or no. + </p> + <p> + The Pug, in his curious whisper, was talking to her: “Pinkie knows de way + in. We don't want any row in dere, on account of Charlie. We ain't fer + puttin' his place on de rough, an' gettin' him raided by de bulls. + Charlie's all to de good. See? Well, dat's wot 'd likely happen if me an' + Pinkie busts in on Pete an' Marny widout sendin' in our visitin'-cards + first, polite-like. Dey would pull deir guns, an' though we'd get de coin + just de same, dere'd be hell to pay fer Charlie, an' de whole place 'd go + up in fireworks right off de bat. Well, dis is where youse come in. Youse + are de visitin'-card. Youse gets into deir bunk room, pretendin' youse + have made a mistake, an' youse leaves de door open behind youse. Dey don't + know youse, an', bein' a woman, dey won't pull no gun on youse. An' den + youse breaks it gently to dem dat dere's a coupla gents outside, an' just + about den dey looks up an' sees me an' Pinkie an' our guns-an' I guess + dat's all. Get it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” mumbled Rhoda Gray. + </p> + <p> + The Pug talked on. She did not hear him. It seemed as though her brain + ached literally with an acute physical pain. What was she to do? What + could she do? She must do something! There must be some way to save + herself from being drawn into the very center of this vortex toward which + she was being swept closer with every second that passed. Those two old + faces, haggard in their despair and misery, rose before her again. She + felt her heart sink. She had counted, only a few moments before, on + getting their money back for them—through the police. The police! + How could she get any word to the police now, without first getting away + from these two men here? And suppose she did get away, and found some + means of communicating with the authorities, it would be Pinkie Bonn here, + and the Pug, who would fall into the meshes of the law quite as much as + would French Pete and Marny Day; and to have Pinkie and the Pug + apprehended now, just as they seemed to be opening the gateway for her + into the inner secrets of the gang, meant ruin to her own hopes and plans. + And to refuse to go on with them now, as one of them, would certainly + excite their suspicions—and suspicion of Gypsy Nan was the end of + everything for her. + </p> + <p> + Her hands, under her shawl, clenched until the nails bit into her palms. + Couldn't she do anything? And there was the money, too, for those two old + people. Wasn't there any—She caught her breath. Yes, yes! Perhaps + there was a way to save the money; yes, and at the same time to place + herself on a firmer footing of intimacy with these two men here—if + she went on with this. But—She shook her head. She could not afford + “buts” now; they must take care of themselves afterwards. She would play + Gypsy Nan now without reservation. These two men here, like Shluker, were + obviously ignorant that Gypsy Nan was Danglar's wife; so she was—Pinkie + Bonn's hand was on her arm. She had stumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for yourself!” he cautioned under his breath. “Don't make a + sound!” + </p> + <p> + They had drawn into a very dark and narrow area way between two buildings, + and now Pinkie kept his touch upon her as he led the way along. What was + this “Charlie's”? She did not know, except that, from what had been said, + it was a drug dive of some kind, patronized extensively by the denizens of + the underworld. She did not know where she was now, save that she had + suddenly left one of the out-of-the—way East Side streets. + </p> + <p> + Pinkie halted suddenly, and, bending down, lifted up what was evidently a + half section of the folding trapdoor to a cellar entrance. + </p> + <p> + “There's only a few of us regulars wise to this,” whispered Pinkie. “Watch + yourself! There's five steps. Count 'em, so's you won't trip. Keep hold of + me all the way. An' nix on the noise, or we won't get away with it inside. + Leave the trap open, Pug, for our getaway. We ain't goin' to be long. Come + on!” + </p> + <p> + It was horribly dark. Rhoda Gray, with her hand on Pinkie Bonn's shoulder, + descended the five steps. She felt the Pug keeping touch behind by holding + the corner of her shawl. They went forward softly, slowly, stealthily. She + felt her knees shake a little, and suddenly panic seized her, and she + wanted to scream out. What was she doing? Where was she going? Was she + mad, that she had ventured into this trap of blackness? Blackness! It was + hideously black. She looked behind her. She could not see the Pug, close + as he was to her; and dark as she had thought it outside there at the + cellar entrance, it appeared by contrast to have been light, for she could + even distinguish now the opening through which they had come. + </p> + <p> + They were in a cellar that was damp underfoot, and the soft earth deadened + all sound as they walked upon it—and they seemed to be walking on + interminably. It was too far—much too far! She felt her nerve + failing her. She looked behind her again. That opening, still discernible + to her straining eyes, beckoned her, lured her. Better to... + </p> + <p> + Pinkie had halted again. She bumped into him. And then she felt his lips + press against her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are!” he breathed. “They got the end room on the right, so's they + could get in an' out with out bein' seen, an so's even Charlie'd swear + they was here all the time. You're too old a bird to fall down, Nan. If + the door's locked, knock—an' give 'em any old kind of a song an' + dance till you gets 'em off their guard. The Pug an' me 'll see you + through. Go it!” + </p> + <p> + Before Rhoda Gray could reply, Pinkie had stepped suddenly to one side. A + door in front of her, a sliding door it seemed to be, opened noiselessly, + and she could see a faintly lighted, narrow, and very short passage ahead + of her. It appeared to make a right-angled turn just a few yards in, and + what light there was seemed to filter in from around the corner. And on + each side of the passage, before it made the turn, there was a door, and + from the one on the right, through a cracked panel, a tiny thread of light + seeped out. + </p> + <p> + Her lips moved silently. After all, it was not so perilous. Nobody would + be hurt. Pinkie and the Pug would cover those two men in there—and + take the money—and run for it—and... + </p> + <p> + The Pug gave her an encouraging push from behind. + </p> + <p> + She moved forward mechanically. There were many sounds now, but they came + muffled and indeterminate from around that corner ahead—all save a + low murmuring of voices from the door with the cracked panel on the right. + </p> + <p> + It was only a few feet. She found herself crouched before the door—but + she did not knock upon it. Instead, her blood seemed suddenly to run cold + in her veins, and she beckoned frantically to her two companions. She + could see through the crack in the panel. There were two men in there, + French Pete and Marny Day undoubtedly, and they sat on opposite sides of a + table, and a lamp burned on the table, and one of the men was counting out + a sheaf of crisp yellow-back banknotes—but the other, while + apparently engrossed in the first man's occupation, and while he leaned + forward in apparent eagerness, was edging one hand stealthily toward the + lamp, and his other hand, hidden from his companion's view by the table, + was just drawing a revolver from his pocket. There was no mistaking the + man's murderous intentions. A dull horror, that numbed her brain, seized + upon Rhoda Gray; the low-type brutal faces under the rays of the lamp + seemed to assume the aspect of two monstrous gargoyles, and to spin around + and around before her vision; and then—it could only have been but + the fraction of a second since she had begun to beckon to Pinkie and the + Pug—she felt herself pulled unceremoniously away from the door, and + the Pug leaned forward in her place, his eyes to the crack in the panel. + </p> + <p> + She heard a low, quick-muttered exclamation from the Pug; and then + suddenly, as the lamp was obviously extinguished, that crack of light in + the panel had vanished. But in an instant, curiously like a jagged + lightning flash, light showed through the crack again—and vanished + again. It was the flash of a revolver shot from within, and the roar of + the report came now like the roll of thunder on its heels. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray was back against the opposite wall. She saw the Pug fling + himself against the door. It was a flimsy affair. It crashed inward. She + heard him call to Pinkie: + </p> + <p> + “Shoot yer flash on de table, an' grab de coin! I'll fix de other guy!” + </p> + <p> + Were eternities passing? Her eyes were fascinated by the interior beyond + that broken door. It was utterly dark inside there, save that the ray of a + flashlight played now on the table, and a hand reached out and snatched up + a scattered sheaf of banknotes; and on the outer edge of the ray two + shadowy forms struggled and one went down. Then the flashlight went out + She heard the Pug speak: + </p> + <p> + “Beat it!” + </p> + <p> + Commotion came now; cries and footsteps from around that corner in the + passage. The Pug grasped her by the shoulders, and rushed her back into + the cellar. She was conscious, it seemed, only in a dazed and mechanical + way. There were men in the passage running toward them—and then the + passage had disappeared. Pinkie Bonn had shut the connecting door. + </p> + <p> + “Hop it like blazes!” whispered the Pug, as they ran for the faint glimmer + of light that located the cellar exit. “Separate de minute we're outside!” + he ordered. “Dere's murder in dere. Pete shot Marny. I put Pete to sleep + wid a punch on de jaw; but de bunch knows now some one else was dere, an' + Pete'll swear it was us, though he don't know who we was dat did de + shootin'. I gotta make dis straight right off de bat wid Danglar.” His + whispering voice was labored, panting; they were climbing up the steps + now. “Youse take de money to my room, Pinkie, an' wait fer me. I won't be + much more'n half an hour. Nan, youse beat it fer yer garret, an' stay + dere!” + </p> + <p> + They were outside. The Pug had disappeared in the darkness. Pinkie was + closing, and evidently fastening, the trap-door. + </p> + <p> + “The other way, Nan!” he flung out, as she started to run. “That takes you + to the other street, an' they can't get around that way without goin' + around the whole block. Me for a fence I knows about, an' we gives 'em the + merry laugh! Go on!” + </p> + <p> + She ran—ran breathlessly, stumbling, half falling, her hands + stretched out before her to serve almost in lieu of eyes, for she could + make out scarcely anything in front of her. She emerged upon a street. It + seemed abnormal, the quiet, the lack of commotion, the laughter, the + unconcern in the voices of the passers-by among whom she suddenly found + herself. She hurried from the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE DOOR ACROSS THE HALL + </h2> + <p> + It was many blocks away before calmness came again to Rhoda Gray, and + before it seemed, even, that her brain would resume its normal functions; + but with the numbed horror once gone, there came in its place, like some + surging tide, a fierce virility that would not be denied. The money! The + old couple on that doorstep, stripped of their all! Wasn't that one reason + why she had gone on with Pinkie Bonn and the Pug? Hadn't she seen a way, + or at least a chance, to get that money back? + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray looked quickly about her. On the corner ahead she saw a drug + store, and started briskly in that direction. Yes, there was a way! The + idea had first come to her from the Pug's remark to Shluker that, after + they had secured the money, Pinkie would return with it to the Pug's room, + while the Pug would go and square things with Danglar. And also, at the + same time, that same remark of the Pug's had given rise to a hope that she + might yet trace Danglar to night through the Pug—but the + circumstances and happenings of the last few minutes had shattered that + hope utterly. And so there remained the money. And, as she had walked with + Pinkie and the Pug a little while ago, knowing that Pinkie would, if they + were successful, carry the money back to the Pug's room, just as was being + done now precisely in accordance with the Pug's original intentions, she + had thought of the Adventurer. It had seemed the only way then; it seemed + the only way now—despite the fact that she would be hard put to it + to answer the Adventurer if he thought to ask her how, or by what means, + she was in possession of the information that enabled her to communicate + with him. But she must risk that—put him off, if necessary, through + the plea of haste, and on the ground that there was not time to-night for + an unnecessary word. He had given her, believing her to be Gypsy Nan, his + telephone number, which she, in turn, was to transmit to the White Moll—in + other words, herself! But the White Moll, so he believed, had never + received that message—and it must of necessity be as the White Moll + that she must communicate with him to-night! It would be hard to explain—she + meant to evade it. The one vital point was that she remembered the + telephone number he had given her that night when he and Danglar had met + in the garret. She was not likely to have forgotten it! + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, scuffled along. Was she inconsistent? The + Adventurer would be in his element in going to the Pug's room, and in + relieving Pinkie Bonn of that money; but the Adventurer, too, was a + thief-wasn't he? Why, then, did she propose, for her mind was now + certainly made up as to her course of action, to trust a thief to recover + that money for her? + </p> + <p> + She smiled a little wearily as she reached the drug store, stepped into + the telephone booth, and gave central her call. Trust a thief! No, it + wasn't because her heart prompted her to believe in him; it was because + her head assured her she was safe in doing so. She could trust him in an + instance such as this because—well, because once before, for her + sake he had foregone the opportunity of appropriating a certain diamond + necklace worth a hundred times the sum that she would ask him—yes, + if necessary, for her sake—to recover to-night. There was no... + </p> + <p> + She was listening in a startled way now at the instrument. Central had + given her “information”; and “information” was informing her that the + number she had asked for had been disconnected. + </p> + <p> + She hung up the receiver, and went out again to the street in a dazed and + bewildered way. And then suddenly a smile of bitter self-derision crossed + her lips. She had been a fool! There was no softer word—a fool! Why + had she not stopped to think? She understood now! On the night the + Adventurer had confided that telephone number to her as Gypsy Nan, he had + had every reason to believe that Gypsy Nan would, as she had already + apparently done, befriend the White Moll even to the extent of accepting + no little personal risk in so doing. But since then things had taken a + very different turn. The White Moll was now held by the gang, of which + Gypsy Nan was supposed to be a member, to be the one who had of late + profited by the gang's plans to the gang's discomfiture; and the + Adventurer was ranked but little lower in the scale of hatred, since they + counted him to be the White Moll's accomplice. Knowing this, therefore, + the first thing the Adventurer would naturally do would be to destroy the + clew, in the shape of that telephone number, that would lead to his + whereabouts, and which he of course believed he had put into the gang's + hands when he had confided in Gypsy Nan. Had he not told her, no later + than last night, that Gypsy Nan was her worst enemy? He did not know, did + he, that Gypsy Nan and the White Moll were one! And so that telephone had + been disconnected—and to-night, now, just when she needed help at a + crucial moment, when she had counted upon the Adventurer to supply it, + there was no Adventurer, no means of reaching him, and no means any more + of knowing where he was! + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray walked on along the street, her lips tight, her face drawn and + hard. Failing the Adventurer, there remained—the police. If she + telephoned the police and sent them to the Pug's room, they would of a + certainty recover the money, and with equal certainty restore it to its + rightful owners. She had already thought of that when she had been with + Pinkie and the Pug, and had been loath even then to take such a step + because it seemed to spell ruin to her own personal plans; but now there + was another reason, and one far more cogent, why she should not do so. + There had been murder committed back there in that underground drug-dive, + and of that murder Pinkie Bonn was innocent; but if Pinkie were found in + possession of that money, and French Pete, to save his own skin from the + consequences of a greater crime, admitted to its original theft, Pinkie + would be convicted out of hand, for there were the others in that dive, + who had come running along the passage, to testify that an attack had been + made on the door of French Pete and Marny Day's room, and that the thieves + and murderers had fled through the cellar and escaped. + </p> + <p> + Her lips pressed harder together. And so there was no Adventurer upon whom + she could call, and no police, and no one in all the millions in this + great pulsing city to whom she could appeal; and so there remained only—herself. + </p> + <p> + Well, she could do it, couldn't she? Not as Gypsy Nan, of course—but + as the White Moll. It would be worth it, wouldn't it? If she were sincere, + and not a moral hypocrite in her sympathy for those two outraged old + people in the twilight of their lives, and if she were not a moral coward, + there remained no question as to what her decision should be. + </p> + <p> + Her mind began to mull over the details. Subconsciously, since the moment + she had made her escape from that cellar, she found now that she had been + walking in the direction of the garret that sheltered her as Gypsy Nan. In + another five minutes she could reach that deserted shed in the lane behind + Gypsy Nan's house where her own clothes were hidden, and it would take her + but a very few minutes more to effect the transformation from Gypsy Nan to + the White Moll. And then, in another ten minutes, she should be back again + at the Pug's room. The Pug had said he would not be much more than half an + hour, but, as nearly as she could calculate it, that would still give her + from five to ten minutes alone with Pinkie Bonn. It was enough—more + than enough. The prestige of the White Moll would do the rest. A revolver + in the hands of the White Moll would insure instant and obedient respect + from Pinkie Bonn, or any other member of the gang under similar + conditions. And so—and so—it—would not be difficult. + Only there was a queer fluttering at her heart now, and her breath came in + hard, short little inhalations. And she spoke suddenly to herself: + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad,” she whispered, “I'm glad I saw those two old faces on that + doorstep, because—because, if I hadn't, I—I would be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The minutes passed. The dissolute figure of an old hag disappeared, like a + deeper shadow in the blackness of a lane, through the broken door of a + deserted shed; presently a slim, neat little figure, heavily veiled, + emerged. Again the minutes passed. And now the veiled figure let herself + in through the back door of the Pug's lodging house, and stole softly down + the dark hall, and halted before the Pug's door. It was the White Moll + now. + </p> + <p> + From under the door, at the ill-fitting threshold, there showed a thin + line of light. Rhoda Gray, with her ear against the door panel, listened. + There was no sound of voices from within. Pinkie Bonn, then, was still + alone, and still waiting for the Pug. She glanced sharply around her. + There was only darkness. Her gloved right hand was hidden in the folds of + her skirt; she raised her left hand and knocked softly upon the door-two + raps, one rap, two raps. She repeated it. And as it had been with Shluker, + so it was now with her. A footstep crossed the floor within, the key + turned in the lock, and the door was flung open. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Pug,” said Pinkie Bonn, “I—” + </p> + <p> + The man's words ended in a gasp of surprised amazement. With a quick step + forward, Rhoda Gray was in the room. Her revolver, suddenly outflung, + covered the other; and her free hand, reaching behind her, closed and + locked the door again. + </p> + <p> + There was an almost stupid look of bewilderment on Pinkie Bonn's face. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray threw back her veil. + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd!” mumbled Pinkie Bonn—and licked his lips. “The White + Moll!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said Rhoda Gray tersely. “Put your hands up over your head and go + over there and stand against the wall—with your face to it!” + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn, like an automaton moved purely by mechanical means, obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray followed him, and with the muzzle of her revolver pressed into + the small of the man's back, felt rapidly over his clothes with her left + hand for the bulge of his revolver. She found and possessed herself of the + weapon, and, stepping back, ordered him to turn around again. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't much time,” she said icily. “I'll trouble you now for the cash + you took from Marny Day and French Pete.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd!” he mumbled again. “You know about that!” + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” she said imperatively. “Put it on the table there, and then go + back again to the wall!” + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn fumbled in his pocket. His face was white, almost chalky + white, and it held fear; but its dominant expression was one of helpless + stupefaction. He placed the sheaf of banknotes on the table, and shuffled + back again to the wall. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray picked up the money, and retreated to the door. Still facing + the man, working with her left hand behind her back, she unlocked the door + again, and this time removed the key from the lock. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite safe here,” she observed evenly, “since there appears to be + no window through which you could get out; but you might make it a little + unpleasant for me if you gave the alarm and aroused the other occupants of + the house before I had got well away. I dare say that was in your mind, + but”—she opened the door slightly, and inserted the key on the outer + side—“I am quite sure you will reconsider any such intentions—Pinkie. + It would be a very disastrous thing for you if I were caught. Somebody is + 'wanted' for the murder of Marny Day at Charlie's a little while ago, and + a jury would undoubtedly decide that the guilty man was the one who broke + in the door there and stole the money. And if I were caught and were + obliged to confess that I got it from you, and French Pete swore that it + was whoever broke into the room that shot his pal, it might go hard with + you, Pinkie—don't you think so?” She smiled coldly at the man's + staring eyes and dropped jaw. “Good-night, Pinkie; I know you won't make + any noise,” she said softly—and suddenly opened the door, and in a + flash stepped back into the hall, and closed and locked the door, and + whipped out the key from the lock. + </p> + <p> + And inside Pinkie Bonn made no sound. + </p> + <p> + It was done now. Rhoda Gray drew in her breath in a great choking gasp of + relief. She found herself trembling violently. She found her limbs were + bearing her none too steadily, as she began to grope her way now along the + black hall toward the back door. But it was done now, and—No, she + was not safe away, even yet! Some one was coming in through that back door + just ahead of her; or, at least, she heard voices out there. + </p> + <p> + She was just at the end of the hall now. There was no time to go back and + risk the front entrance. She darted across the hall to the opposite side + from that of the Pug's room, because on that side the opening of the door + would not necessarily expose her, and crouched down in the corner. It was + black here, perhaps black enough to escape observation. She listened, her + heart beating wildly. The voices outside continued. Why were they + lingering there? Why didn't they do one thing or the other—either go + away, or come in? There wasn't any too much time! The Pug might be back at + any minute now. Perhaps one of those people out there was the Pug! Perhaps + it would be better after all to run back and go out by the front door, + risky as that would be. No, her escape in that direction now was cut off, + too! + </p> + <p> + She shrank as far back into the corner as she could. The door of the end + room on this side of the hall had opened, and now a man stepped out and + closed the door behind him. Would he see her? She held her breath. No! It—it + was all right. He was walking away from her toward the front of the hall. + And now for a moment it seemed as though she had lost her senses, as + though her brain were playing some mad, wild trick upon her. Wasn't that + the Pug's door before which the man had stopped? Yes, yes! And he seemed + to have a key to it, for he did not knock, and the door was opening, and + now for an instant, just an instant, the light fell upon the man as he + stepped with a quick, lightning-like movement inside, and she saw his + face. It was the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + She stifled a little cry. Her brain was in turmoil. And now the back door + was opening. They—they might see her here! And—yes—it + was safer—safer to act on the sudden inspiration that had come to + her. The door of the room from which the Adventurer had emerged was almost + within reach; and he had not locked it as he had gone out—she had + subconsciously noted that fact. And she understood why he had not now—that + he had safeguarded himself against the loss of even the second or two it + would have taken him to unlock it when he ran back for cover again from + the Pug's room. Yes-that room! It was the safest thing she could do. She + could even get out that way, for it must be the room with the low window, + which she remembered gave on the back yard, and—She darted silently + forward, and, as the back door opened, slipped into the room the + Adventurer had just vacated. + </p> + <p> + It was pitch black. She must not make a sound; but, equally, she must not + lose a second. What was taking place in the Pug's room between Pinkie Bonn + and the Adventurer she did not know. But the Adventurer was obviously on + one of his marauding expeditions, and he might stay there no more than a + minute or two once he found out that he had been forestalled. She must + hurry—hurry! + </p> + <p> + She felt her way forward in what she believed to be the direction of the + window. She ran against the bed. But this afforded her something by which + to guide herself. She kept her touch upon it, her hand trailing along its + edge. And then, halfway down its length, what seemed to be a piece of + string caught in her extended, groping fingers. It seemed to cling, but + also to yield most curiously, as she tried to shake it off; and then + something, evidently from under the mattress, came away with a little + jerk, and remained, suspended, in her hand. + </p> + <p> + It didn't matter, did it? Nothing mattered except to reach the window. + Yes, here it was now! And the roller shade was drawn down; that was why + the room was so dark. She raised the shade quickly—and suddenly + stood there as though transfixed, her face paling, as in the faint light + by the window she gazed, fascinated, at the object that still dangled by a + cord from her hand. + </p> + <p> + And it seemed as if an inner darkness were suddenly riven as by a bolt of + lightning—a hundred things, once obscure and incomprehensible, were + clear now, terribly clear. She understood now how the Adventurer was privy + to all the inner workings of the organization; she understood now how it + was, and why, the Adventurer had a room so close to that other room across + the hall. That dangling thing on an elastic cord was a smeared and dirty + celluloid eye-patch that had once been flesh-colored! The Adventurer and + the Pug were one! + </p> + <p> + Her wits! Quick! He must not know! In a frenzy of haste she ran for the + bed, and slipped the eye-patch in under the mattress again; and then, + still with frenzied speed, she climbed to the window sill, drew the roller + shade down again behind her, and dropped to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Through the back yard and lane she gained the street, and sped on along + the street—but her thoughts outpaced her hurrying footsteps. How + minutely every detail of the night now seemed to explain itself and + dovetail with every other one! At the time, when Shluker had been present, + it had struck her as a little forced and unnecessary that the Pug should + have volunteered to seek out Danglar with explanations after the money had + been secured. But she understood now the craft and guile that lay behind + his apparently innocent plan. The Adventurer needed both time and an + alibi, and also he required an excuse for making Pinkie Bonn the custodian + of the stolen money, and of getting Pinkie alone with that money in the + Pug's room. Going to Danglar supplied all this. He had hurried back, + changed in that room from the Pug to the Adventurer, and proposed in the + latter character to relieve Pinkie of the money, to return then across the + hall, become the Pug again, and then go back, as though he had just come + from Danglar, to find his friend and ally, Pinkie Bonn, robbed by their + mutual arch-enemy—the Adventurer! + </p> + <p> + The Pug-the Adventurer! She did not quite seem to grasp its significance + as applied to her in a personal way. It seemed to branch out into endless + ramifications. She could not somehow think logically, coolly enough now, + to decide what this meant in a concrete way to her, and her to-morrow, and + the days after the to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + She hurried on. To-night, as she would lay awake through the hours that + were to come, for sleep was a thing denied, perhaps a clearer vision would + be given her. For the moment there—there was something else—wasn't + there? The money that belonged to the old couple. + </p> + <p> + She hurried on. She came again to the street where the old couple lived. + It was a dirty street, and from the curb she stooped and picked up a dirty + piece of old newspaper. She wrapped the banknotes in the paper. + </p> + <p> + There were not many people on the street as she neared the mean little + frame house, but she loitered until for the moment the immediate vicinity + was deserted; then she slipped into the alleyway, and stole close to the + side window, through which, she had noted from the street, there shone a + light. Yes, they were there, the two of them—she could see them + quite distinctly even through the shutters. + </p> + <p> + She went back to the front door then, and knocked. And presently the old + woman came and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “This is yours,” Rhoda said, and thrust the package into the woman's hand. + And as the woman looked from her to the package uncomprehendingly, Rhoda + Gray flung a quick “good-night” over her shoulder, and ran down the steps + again. + </p> + <p> + But a few moments later she stole back, and stood for an instant once more + by the shuttered window in the alleyway. And suddenly her eyes grew dim. + She saw an old man, white and haggard, with bandaged head, sitting in a + chair, the tears streaming down his face; and on the floor, her face + hidden on the other's knees, a woman knelt—and the man's hand + stroked and stroked the thin gray hair on the woman' s head. + </p> + <p> + And Rhoda Gray turned away. And out in the street her face was lifted and + she looked upward, and there were myriad stars. And there seemed a beauty + in them that she had never seen before, and a great, comforting serenity. + And they seemed to promise something—that through the window of that + stark and evil garret to which she was going now, they would keep her + dreaded vigil with her until morning came again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. THE LAME MAN + </h2> + <p> + Another night—another day! And the night again had been without + rest, lest Danglar's dreaded footstep come upon her unawares; and the day + again had been one of restless, abortive activity, now prowling the + streets as Gypsy Nan, now returning to the garret to fling herself upon + the cot in the hope that in daylight, when she might risk it, sleep would + come, but it had been without avail, for, in spite of physical weariness, + it seemed to Rhoda Gray as though her tortured mind would never let her + sleep again. Danglar's wife! That was the horror that was in her brain, + yes, and in her soul, and that would not leave her. + </p> + <p> + And now night was coming upon her once more. It had even begun to grow + dark here on the lower stairway that led up to that wretched, haunted + garret above where in the shadows stark terror lurked. Strange! Most + strange! She feared the night—and yet she welcomed it. In a little + while, when it grew a little darker, she would steal out again and take up + her work once more. It was only during the night, under the veil of + darkness, that she could hope to make any progress in reaching to the + heart and core of this criminal clique which surrounded her, whose members + accepted her as Gypsy Nan, and, therefore, as one of themselves, and who + would accord to her, if they but even suspected her to be the White Mall, + less mercy than would be shown to a mad dog. + </p> + <p> + She climbed the stairs. Fear was upon her now, because fear was always + there, and with it was abhorrence and loathing at the frightful existence + fate had thrust upon her; but, somehow, to-night she was not so depressed, + not so hopeless, as she had been the night before. There had been a little + success; she had come a little farther along the way; she knew a little + more than she had known before of the inner workings of the gang who were + at the bottom of the crime of which she herself was accused. She knew now + the Adventurer's secret, that the Pug and the Adventurer were one; and she + knew where the Adventurer lived, now in one character, now in the other, + in those two rooms almost opposite each other across that tenement hall. + </p> + <p> + And so it seemed that she had the right to hope, even though there were + still so many things she did not know, that if she allowed her mind to + dwell upon that phase of it, it staggered her—where those code + messages came from, and how; why Rough Rorke of headquarters had never + made a sign since that first night; why the original Gypsy Nan, who was + dead now, had been forced into hiding with the death penalty of the law + hanging over her; why Danglar, though Gypsy Nan's husband, was + comparatively free. These, and a myriad other things! But she counted now + upon her knowledge of the Adventurer's secret to force from him everything + he knew; and, with that to work on, a confession from some of the gang in + corroboration that would prove the authorship of the crime of which she + had seemingly been caught in the act of committing. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she was beginning to see the way at last—through the + Adventurer. It seemed a sure and certain way. If she presented herself + before him as Gypsy Nan, whom he believed to be not only one of the gang, + but actually Danglar's wife, and let him know that she was aware of the + dual role he was playing, and that the information he thus acquired as the + Pug he turned to his own account and to the undoing of the gang, he must + of necessity be at her mercy. Her mercy! What exquisite irony! Her mercy! + The man her heart loved; the thief her common sense abhorred! What irony! + When she, too, played a double role; when in their other characters, that + of the Adventurer and the White Moll, he and she were linked together by + the gang as confederates, whereas, in truth, they were wider apart than + the poles of the earth! + </p> + <p> + Her mercy! How merciful would she be—to the thief she loved? He + knew, he must know, all the inner secrets of the gang. She smiled wanly + now as she reached the landing. Would he know that in the last analysis + her threat would be only an idle one; that, though her future, her safety, + her life depended on obtaining the evidence she felt he could supply, her + threat would be empty, and that she was powerless—because she loved + him. But he did not know she loved him—she was Gypsy Nan. If she + kept her secret, if he did not penetrate her disguise as she had + penetrated his, if she were Gypsy Nan and Danglar's wife to him, her + threat would be valid enough, and—and he would be at her mercy! + </p> + <p> + A flush, half shamed, half angry, dyed the grime that was part of Gypsy + Nan's disguise upon her face. What was she saying to herself? What was she + thinking? That he did not know she loved him! How would he? How could he? + Had a word, an act, a single look of hers ever given him a hint that, when + she had been with him as the White Moll, she cared! It was unjust, unfair, + to fling such a taunt at herself. It seemed as though she had lost nearly + everything in life, but she had not yet lost her womanliness and her + pride. + </p> + <p> + She had certainly lost her senses, though! Even if that word, that look, + that act had passed between them, between the Adventurer and the White + Moll, he still did not know that Gypsy Nan was the White Moll—and + that was the one thing now that he must not know, and... + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray halted suddenly, and stared along the hallway ahead of her, and + up the short, ladder-like steps that led to the garret. Her ears—or + was it fancy?—had caught what sounded like a low knocking up there + upon her door. Yes, it came again now distinctly. It was dusk outside; in + here, in the hall, it was almost dark. Her eyes strained through the murk. + She was not mistaken. Something darker than the surrounding darkness, a + form, moved up there. + </p> + <p> + The knocking ceased, and now the form seemed to bend down and grope along + the floor; and then, an instant later, it began to descend the ladder-like + steps—and abruptly Rhoda Gray, too, moved forward. It wasn't + Danglar. That was what had instantly taken hold of her mind, and she knew + a sudden relief now. The man on the stairs—she could see that it was + a man now—though he moved silently, swayed in a grotesquely jerky + way as though he were lame. It wasn't Danglar! She would go to any length + to track Danglar to his lair; but not here—here in the darkness—here + in the garret. Here she was afraid of him with a deadly fear; here alone + with him there would be a thousand chances of exposure incident to the + slightest intimacy he might show the woman whom he believed to be his wife—a + thousand chances here against hardly one in any other environment or + situation. But the man on the stairs wasn't Danglar. + </p> + <p> + She halted now and uttered a sharp exclamation, as though she had caught + sight of the man for the first time. + </p> + <p> + The other, too, had halted—at the foot of the stairs. A plaintive + drawl reached her: + </p> + <p> + “Don't screech, Bertha! It's only your devoted brother-in-law. Curse your + infernal ladder, and my twisted back!” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's brother! Bertha! She snatched instantly at the cue with an + inward gasp of thankfulness. She would not make the mistake of using the + vernacular behind which Gypsy Nan sheltered herself. Here was some one who + knew that Gypsy Nan was but a role. But she had to remember that her voice + was slightly hoarse; that her voice, at least, could not sacrifice its + disguise to any one. Danglar had been a little suspicious of it until she + had explained that she was suffering from a cold. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said calmly. “It's you, is it? And what brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suppose?” he complained irritably. “The same old thing, all + I'm good for—to write out code messages and deliver them like an + errand boy! It's a sweet job, isn't it? How'd you like to be a deformed + little cripple?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer at once. The night seemed suddenly to be opening some + strange, even premonitory, vista. The code messages! Their mode of + delivery! Here was the answer! + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'd like it better than being Gypsy Nan!” she flung back + significantly. + </p> + <p> + He laughed out sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to trade with you,” he said, a quick note of genuine envy in his + voice. “You can pitch away your clothes; I can't pitch away a crooked + spine. And, anyway, after to-night, you'll be living swell again.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned toward him, staring at him in the semi-darkness. That + premonitory vista was widening; his words seemed suddenly to set her brain + in tumult. After to-night! She was to resume, after to-night, the + character that was supposed to lay behind the disguise of Gypsy Nan! She + was to resume her supposedly true character—that of Pierre Danglar's + wife! + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she demanded tensely. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, come on!” he said abruptly. “This isn't the place to talk. Pierre + wants you at once. That's what the message was for. I thought you were + out, and I left it in the usual place so you'd get it the minute you got + back and come along over. So, come on now with me.” + </p> + <p> + He was moving down the hallway, blotching like some misshapen toad in the + shadowy light, lurching in his walk, that was, nevertheless, almost + uncannily noiseless. Mechanically she followed him. She was trying to + think; striving frantically to bring her wits to play on this sudden and + unexpected denouement. It was obvious that he was taking her to Danglar. + She had striven desperately last night to run Danglar to earth in his + lair. And here was a self-appointed guide! And yet her emotions conflicted + and her brain was confused. It was what she wanted, what through bitter + travail of mind she had decided must be her course; but she found herself + shrinking from it with dread and fear now that it promised to become a + reality. It was not like last night when of her own initiative she had + sought to track Danglar, for then she had started out with a certain + freedom of action that held in reserve a freedom to retreat if it became + necessary. To-night it was as though she were deprived of that freedom, + and being led into what only too easily might develop into a trap from + which she could not retreat or escape. + </p> + <p> + Suppose she refused to go? + </p> + <p> + They had reached the street now, and now she obtained a better view of the + misshapen thing that lurched jerkily along beside her. The man was + deformed, miserably deformed. He walked most curiously, half bent over; + and one arm, the left, seemed to swing helplessly, and the left hand was + like a withered thing. Her eyes sought the other's face. It was an old + face, much older than Danglar's, and it was white and pinched and drawn; + and in the dark eyes, as they suddenly darted a glance at her, she read a + sullen, bitter brooding and discontent. She turned her head away. It was + not a pleasant face; it struck her as being both morbid and cruel to a + degree. + </p> + <p> + Suppose she refused to go? + </p> + <p> + “What did you mean by 'after to-night'?” she asked again. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see,” he answered. “Pierre'll tell you. You're in luck, that's + all. The whole thing that has kept you under cover has bust wide open your + way, and you win. And Pierre's going through for a clean-up. To-morrow you + can swell around in a limousine again. And maybe you'll come around and + take me for a drive, if I dress up, and promise to hide in a corner of the + back seat so's they won't see your handsome friend!” + </p> + <p> + The creature flung a bitter smile at her, and lurched on. + </p> + <p> + He had told her what she wanted to know—more than she had hoped for. + The mystery that surrounded the character of Gypsy Nan, the evidence of + the crime at which the woman who had originated that role had hinted on + the night she died, and which must necessarily involve Danglar, was hers, + Rhoda Gray's, now for the taking. As well go and give herself up to the + police as the White Moll and have done with it all, as to refuse to seize + the opportunity which fate, evidently in a kindlier mood toward her now, + was offering her at this instant. It promised her the hold upon Danglar + that she needed to force an avowal of her own innocence, the very hold + that she had but a few minutes before been hoping she could obtain through + the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + There was no longer any question as to whether she would go or not. + </p> + <p> + Her hand groped down under the shabby black shawl into the wide, + voluminous pocket of her greasy skirt. Yes, her revolver was there. She + knew it was there, but the touch of her fingers upon it seemed to bring a + sense of reassurance. She was perhaps staking her all in accompanying this + cripple here to-night—she did not need to be told that—but + there was a way of escape at the last if she were cornered and caught. Her + fingers played with the weapon. If the worst came to the worst she would + never be at Danglar's mercy while she possessed that revolver and, if the + need came, turned it upon herself. + </p> + <p> + They walked on rapidly; the lurching figure beside her covering the ground + at an astounding rate of speed. The man made no effort to talk. She was + glad of it. She need not be so anxiously on her guard as would be the case + if a conversation were carried on, and she, who knew so much and yet so + pitifully little, must weigh her every word, and feel her way with every + sentence. And besides, too, it gave her time to think. Where were they + going? What sort of a place was it, this headquarters of the gang? For it + must be the headquarters, since it was from there the code messages would + naturally emanate, and this deformed creature, from what he had said, was + the “secretary” of the nefarious clique that was ruled by his brother. And + was luck really with her at last? Suppose she had been but a few minutes + later in reaching Gypsy Nan's house, and had found, instead of this man + here, only the note instructing her to go and meet Danglar! What would she + have done? What explanation could she have made for her nonappearance? Her + hands would have been tied. She would have been helpless. She could not + have answered the summons, for she could have had no idea where this + gang-lair was; and the note certainly would not contain such details as + street and number, which she was obviously supposed to know. She smiled a + little grimly to herself. Yes, it seemed as though fortune were beginning + to smile upon her again—fortune, at least, had supplied her with a + guide. + </p> + <p> + The twisted figure walked on the inside of the sidewalk, and curiously + seemed to seek as much as possible the protecting shadows of the + buildings, and invariably shrank back out of the way of the passers-by + they met. She watched him narrowly as they went along. What was he afraid + of? Recognition? It puzzled her for a time, and then she understood: It + was not fear of recognition; the sullen, almost belligerent stare with + which he met the eyes of those with whom he came into close contact belied + that. The man was morbidly, abnormally sensitive of his deformity. + </p> + <p> + They turned at last into one of the East Side cross streets, and her guide + halted finally on a corner in front of a little shop that was closed and + dark. She stared curiously as the man unlocked the door. Perhaps, after + all, she had been woefully mistaken. It did not look at all the kind of + place where crimes that ran the gamut of the decalogue were hatched, at + all the sort of place that was the council chamber of perhaps the most + cunning, certainly the most cold-blooded and unscrupulous, band of crooks + that New York had ever harbored. And yet—why not? Wasn't there the + essence of cunning in that very fact? Who would suspect anything of the + sort from a ramshackle, two-story little house like this, whose front was + a woe-begone little store, the proceeds of which might just barely keep + the body and soul of its proprietor together? + </p> + <p> + The man fumbled with the lock. There was not a single light showing from + the place, but in the dwindling rays of a distant street lamp she could + see the meager window display through the filthy, unwashed panes. It was + evidently a cheap and tawdry notion store, well suited to its locality. + There were toys of the cheapest variety, stationery of the same grade, + cheap pipes, cigarettes, tobacco, candy—a package of needles. + </p> + <p> + “Go on in!” grunted the man, as he pushed the door—which seemed to + shriek out unduly on its hinges—wide open. “If anybody sees the door + open, they'll be around wanting to buy a paper of pins—curse 'em!—and + I ain't open to-night.” He snarled as he shut and locked the door. “Pierre + says you're grouching about your garret. How about me, and this job? You + get out of yours to-night for keeps. What about me? I can't do anything + but act as a damned blind for the rest of you with this fool store, just + because I was born a freak that every gutter-snipe on the street yells + at!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on!” snapped the man. “What are you standing there for? One + would think you'd never been here before!” + </p> + <p> + Go on! Where? She had not the faintest idea. It was quite dark inside here + in the shop. She could barely make out the outline of the other's figure. + </p> + <p> + “You're in a sweet temper to-night, aren't you?” she said tartly. “Go on, + yourself! I'm waiting for you to get through your speech.” + </p> + <p> + He moved brusquely past her, with an angry grunt. Rhoda Gray followed him. + They passed along a short, narrow space, evidently between a low counter + and a shelved wall, and then the man opened a door, and, shutting it again + behind them, moved forward once more. She could scarcely see him at all + now; it was more the sound of his footsteps than anything else that guided + her. And then suddenly another door was opened, and a soft, yellow light + streamed out through the doorway, and she found that she was standing in + an intervening room between the shop and the room ahead of her. She felt + her pulse quicken, and it seemed as though her heart began to thump almost + audibly. Danglar! She could see Danglar seated at a table in there. She + clenched her hands under her shawl. She would need all her wits now. She + prayed that there was not too much light in that room yonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. IN THE COUNCIL CHAMBER + </h2> + <p> + The man with the withered hand had passed through into the other room. She + heard them talking together, as she followed. She forced herself to walk + with as nearly a leisurely defiant air as she could. The last time she had + been with Danglar—as Gypsy Nan—she had, in self-protection, + forbidding intimacy, played up what he called her “grouch” at his neglect + of her. + </p> + <p> + She paused in the doorway. Halfway across the room, at the table, + Danglar's gaunt, swarthy face showed under the rays of a shaded oil lamp. + Behind her spectacles, she met his small, black ferret eyes steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Bertha!” he called out cheerily. “How's the old girl to-night?” He + rose from his seat to come toward her. “And how's the cold?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray scowled at him. + </p> + <p> + “Worse!” she said curtly-and hoarsely. “And a lot you care! I could have + died in that hole, for all you knew!” She pushed him irritably away, as he + came near her. “Yes, that's what I said! And you needn't start any cooing + game now! Get down to cases!” She jerked her hand toward the twisted + figure that had slouched into a chair beside the table. “He says you've + got it doped out to pull something that will let me out of this Gypsy Nan + stunt. Another bubble, I suppose!” She shrugged her shoulders, glanced + around her, and, locating a chair—not too near the table—seated + herself indifferently. “I'm getting sick of bubbles!” she announced + insolently. “What's this one?” + </p> + <p> + He stood there for a moment biting at his lips, hesitant between anger and + tolerant amusement; and then, the latter evidently gaining the ascendency, + he too shrugged his shoulders, and with a laugh returned to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “You're a rare one, Bertha!” he said coolly. “I thought you'd be wild with + delight. I guess you're sick, all right—because usually you're + pretty sensible. I've tried to tell you that it wasn't my fault I couldn't + go near you, and that I had to keep away from—” + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of going over all that again?” she interrupted tartly. “I + guess I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right!” said Danglar hurriedly. “Don't start a row! After + to-night I've an idea you'll be sweet enough to your husband, and I'm + willing to wait. Matty maybe hasn't told you the whole of it.” + </p> + <p> + Matty! So that was the deformed creature's name. She glanced at him. He + was grinning broadly. A family squabble seemed to afford him amusement. + Her eyes shifted and made a circuit of the room. It was poverty-stricken + in appearance, bare-floored, with the scantiest and cheapest of + furnishings, its one window tightly shuttered. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe not,” she said carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, listen, Bertha!” Danglar's voice was lowered earnestly. + “We've uncovered the Nabob's stuff! Do you get me? Every last one of the + sparklers!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's eyes went back to the deformed creature at Danglar's side, as + the man laughed out abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” grinned Matty Danglar, “and they weren't in the empty money-belt + that you beat it with like a scared cat after croaking Deemer!” + </p> + <p> + How queer and dim the light seemed to go suddenly—or was it a blur + before her own eyes? She said nothing. Her mind seemed to be groping its + way out of darkness toward some faint gleam of light showing in the far + distance. She heard Danglar order his brother savagely to hold his tongue. + That was curious, too, because she was grateful for the man's gibe. Gypsy + Nan, in her proper person, had murdered a man named Deemer in an effort to + secure—Danglar's voice came again: + </p> + <p> + “Well, to-night we'll get that stuff, all of it—it's worth a cool + half million; and to-night we'll get Mr. House-Detective Cloran for keeps—bump + him off. That cleans everything up. How does that strike you, Bertha?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's hands under her shawl locked tightly together. Her + premonition had not betrayed her. She was face to face to-night with the + beginning of the end. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds fine!” she said derisively. + </p> + <p> + Danglar's eyes narrowed for an instant; and then he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You're a rare one, Bertha!” he ejaculated again. “You don't seem to put + much stock in your husband lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” she inquired imperturbably. “Things have been breaking + fine, haven't they?—only not for us!” She cleared her throat as + though it were an effort to talk. “I'm not going crazy with joy till I've + been shown.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar leaned suddenly over the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, come and look at the cards, then,” he said impressively. “Pull your + chair up to the table, and I'll tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray tilted her chair, instead, nonchalantly back against the wall—it + was quite light enough where she was! + </p> + <p> + “I can hear you from here,” she said coolly. “I'm not deaf, and I guess + Matty's suite is safe enough so that you won't have to whisper all the + time!” + </p> + <p> + The deformed creature at the table chortled again. + </p> + <p> + Danglar scowled. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, Bertha!” he flung out savagely. “I could wring that neck of + yours sometimes, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you could, Pierre,” she interposed sweetly. “That's what I like + about you—you're so considerate of me! But suppose you get down to + cases. What's the story about those sparklers? And what's the game that's + going to let me shed this Gypsy Nan stuff for keeps?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell her, Pierre,” grinned the deformed one. “It'll keep you two + from spitting at one another; and neither of you have got all night to + stick around here.” He swung his withered hand suddenly across the table, + and as suddenly all facetiousness was gone both from his voice and manner. + “Say, you listen hard, Bertha! What Pierre's telling you is straight. You + and him can kiss and make up to-morrow or the next day, or whenever you + damned please; but to-night there ain't any more time for scrapping. Now, + listen! I handed you a rap about beating it with the empty money-belt the + night you croaked Deemer with an overdose of knockout drops in the private + dining-room up at the Hotel Marwitz, but you forget that! I ain't for + starting any argument about that. None of us blames you. We thought the + stuff was in the belt, too. And none of us blames you for making a mistake + and going too strong with the drops, either; anybody might do that. And + I'll say now that I take my hat off to you for the way you locked Cloran + into the room with the dead man, and made your escape when Cloran had you + dead to rights for the murder; and I'll say, too, that the way you've + played Gypsy Nan and saved your skin, and ours too, is as slick a piece of + work as has ever been pulled in the underworld. That puts us straight, you + and me, don't it, Bertha?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray blinked at the man through her spectacles; her brain was + whirling in a mad turmoil. “I always liked you, Matty,” she whispered + softly. + </p> + <p> + Danglar was lolling back in his chair, blowing smoke rings into the air. + She caught his eyes fixed quizzically upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Matty!” he prompted. “You'll have her in a good humor, if you're + not careful!” + </p> + <p> + “We were playing more or less blind after that.” The withered hand traced + an aimless pattern on the table with its crooked and half-closed fingers, + and the man's face was puckered into a shrewd, reminiscent scowl. “The + papers couldn't get a lead on the motive for the murder, and the police + weren't talking for publication. Not a word about the Rajah's jewels. + Washington saw to that! A young potentate's son, practically the guest of + the country, touring about in a special for the sake of his education, and + dashed near 'ending it in the river out West if it hadn't been for the + rescue you know about, wouldn't look well in print; so there wasn't + anything said about the slather of gems that was the reward of heroism + from a grateful nabob, and we didn't get any help that way. All we knew + was that Deemer came East with the jewels, presumably to cash in on them, + and it looked as though Deemer were pretty clever; that he wore the + money-belt for a stall, and that he had the sparklers safe somewhere else + all the time. And I guess we all got to figuring it that way, because the + fact that nothing was said about any theft was strictly along the lines + the police were working anyway, and a was a toss-up that they hadn't found + the stuff among his effects. Get me?” + </p> + <p> + Get him! This wasn't real, was it, this room here; those two figures + sitting there under that shaded lamp? Something cold, an icy grip, seemed + to seize at her heart, as in a surge there swept upon her the full + appreciation of her peril through these confidences to which she was + listening. A word, in act, some slightest thing, might so easily betray + her; and then—Her fingers under the shawl and inside the wide pocket + of her greasy skirt, clutched at her revolver. Thank God for that! It + would at least be merciful! She nodded her head mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “But the police didn't find the jewels—because they weren't there to + be found. Somebody got in ahead of us. Pinched 'em, understand, may be + only a few hours before you got in your last play, and, from the way you + say Deemer acted, before he was wise to the fact that he'd been robbed.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray let her chair come sharply down to the floor. She must play her + role of “Bertha” now as she never had before. Here was a question that she + could not only ask with safety, but one that was obviously expected. + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” she demanded breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “She's coming to life!” murmured Danglar, through a haze of cigarette + smoke. “I thought you'd wake up after a while, Bertha. This is the big + night, old girl, as you'll find out before we're through.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” she repeated with well-simulated impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I guess she'll listen to me now,” said Danglar, with a little chuckle. + “Don't over-tax yourself any more, Matty. I'll tell you, Bertha; and it + will perhaps make you feel better to know it took the slickest dip New + York ever knew to beat you to the tape. It was Angel Jack, alias the + Gimp.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” Rhoda Gray demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Danglar, and lighted another cigarette, “he died yesterday + afternoon up in Sing Sing.” + </p> + <p> + She could afford to show her frank bewilderment. Her brows knitted into + furrows, as she stared at Danglar. + </p> + <p> + “You—you mean he confessed?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The Angel? Never!” Danglar laughed grimly, and shook his head. “Nothing + like that! It was a question of playing one 'fence' against another. You + know that Witzer, who's handled all our jewelry for us, has been on the + look-out for any stones that might have come from that collection. Well, + this afternoon he passed the word to me that he'd been offered the finest + unset emerald he'd ever seen, and that it had come to him through old Jake + Luertz's runner, a very innocent-faced young man who is known to the trade + as the Crab.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar paused—and laughed again. Unconsciously Rhoda Gray drew her + shawl a little closer about her shoulders. It seemed to bring a chill into + the room, that laugh. Once before, on another night, Danglar had laughed, + and, with his parted lips, she had likened him to a beast showing its + fangs. He looked it now more than ever. For all his ease of voice and + manner, he was in deadly earnest; and if there was merriment in his laugh, + it but seemed to enhance the menace and the promise of unholy purpose that + lurked in the cold glitter of his small, black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It didn't take long to get hold of the Crab”—Danglar was rubbing + his hands together softly—“and the emerald with him. We got him + where we could put the screws on without arousing the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “Another murder, I suppose!” Rhoda Gray flung out the words crossly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Danglar pleasantly. “He squealed before it came to that. + He's none the worse for wear, and he'll be turned loose in another hour or + so, as soon as we're through at old Jake Luertz's. He's no more good to + us. He came across all right—after he was properly frightened. He's + been with old Jake as a sort of familiar for the last six years, and—” + </p> + <p> + “He'd have sold his soul out, he was so scared!” The withered hand on the + table twitched; the deformed creature's face was twisted into a grimace; + and the man was chuckling with unhallowed mirth, as though unable to + contain himself at, presumably, the recollection of a scene which he had + witnessed himself. “He was down on his knees and clawing out with his + hands for mercy, and he squealed like a rat. 'It's the sixth panel in the + bedroom upstairs,' he says; 'it's all there. But for God's sake don't tell + Jake I told. It's the sixth panel. Press the knot in the sixth panel that—'” + He stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Danglar had pulled out his watch and with exaggerated patience was + circling the crystal with his thumb. + </p> + <p> + “Are you all through, Matty?” he inquired monotonously. “I think you said + something a little while ago about wasting time. Bertha's looking bored; + and, besides, she's got a little job of her own on for to-night.” He + jerked his watch back into his pocket, and turned to Rhoda Gray again. + “The only one who knew all the details Angel Jack, and he'll never tell + now because he's dead. Whether he came down from the West with Deemer or + not, or how he got wise to the stones, I don't know. But he got the + stones, all right. And then he tumbled to the fact that the police were + pushing him hard for another job he was 'wanted' for, and he had to get + those stones out of sight in a hurry. He made a package of them and + slipped them to old Luertz, who had always done his business for him, to + keep for him; and before he could duck, the bulls had him for that other + job. Angel Jack went up the river. See? Old Jake didn't know what was in + that package; but he knew better than to monkey with it, because he always + thought something of his own skin. He knew Angel Jack, and he knew what + would happen if he didn't have that package ready to hand back the day + Angel Jack got out of Sing Sing. Understand? But yesterday Angel Jack + died-without a will; and old Jake appointed himself sole executor-without + bonds! He opened that package, figured he'd begin turning it into money—and + that's how we get our own back again. Old Jake will get a fake message + to-night calling him out of the house on an errand uptown; and about ten + o'clock Pinkie Bonn and the Pug will pay a visit there in his absence, and—well, + it looks good, don't it, Bertha, after two years?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray was crouched down in her chair. She shrugged her shoulders now, + and infused a sullen note into her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's fine!” she sniffed. “I'll be rolling in wealth in my garret—which + will do me a lot of good! That doesn't separate me from these rags, and + the hell I've lived, does it—after two years?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm coming to that,” said Danglar, with his short, grating laugh. “We've + as good as got the stones now, and we're going through to-night for a + clean-up of all that old mess. We stake the whole thing. Get me, Bertha—the + whole thing! I'm showing my hand for the first time. Cloran's the man + that's making you wear those clothes; Cloran's the only one who could go + into the witness box and swear that you were the woman who murdered + Deemer; and Cloran's the man who has been working his head off for two + years to find you. We've tried a dozen times to bump him off in a way that + would make his death appear to be due purely to an accident, and we didn't + get away with it; but we can afford to leave the 'accident' out of it + to-night, and go through for keeps—and that's what we're going to + do. And once he's out of the way—by midnight—you can heave + Gypsy Nan into the discard.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rhoda Gray that horror had suddenly taken a numbing hold upon + her sensibilities. Danglar was talking about murdering some man, wasn't + he, so that she could resume again the personality of a woman who was + dead? Hysterical laughter rose to her lips. It was only by a frantic + effort of will that she controlled herself. She seemed to speak + involuntarily, doubtful almost that it was her own voice she heard. + </p> + <p> + “I'm listening,” she said; “but I wouldn't be too sure. Cloran's a wary + bird, and there's the White Moll.” + </p> + <p> + She caught her breath. What suicidal inspiration had prompted her to say + that! Had what she had been listening to here, the horror of it, indeed + turned her brain and robbed her of her wits to the extent that she should + invite exposure? Danglar's face had gone a mottled purple; the misshapen + thing at Danglar's side was leering at her most curiously. + </p> + <p> + It was a moment before Danglar spoke; and then his hand, clenched until + the white of the knuckles showed, pounded upon the table to punctuate his + words. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night!” he rasped out with an oath. “There's not a chance that + she's in on this to-night—the she-devil! But she's next! With this + cleaned up, she's next! If it takes the last dollar of to-night's haul, + and five years to do it, I'll get her, and get—” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” mumbled Rhoda Gray hurriedly. “But you needn't get excited! I was + only thinking of her because she's queered us till I've got my fingers + crossed, that's all. Go on about Cloran.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's composure did not return on the instant. He gnawed at his lips + for a moment before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he jerked out finally. “Let it go at that! I told you the + other night in the garret that things were beginning to break our way, and + that you wouldn't have to stay there much longer, but I didn't tell you + how or why—you wouldn't give me a chance. I'll tell you now; and + it's the main reason why I've kept away from you lately. I couldn't take a + chance of Cloran getting wise to that garret and Gypsy Nan.” He grinned + suddenly. “I've been cultivating Cloran myself for the last two weeks. + We're quite pals! I'm for playing the luck every time! When the jewels + showed up to-day, I figured that to-night's the night—see? Cloran + and I are going to supper together at the Silver Sphinx at about eleven + o'clock—and this is where you shed the Gypsy Nan stuff, and show up + as your own sweet self. Cloran'll be glad to meet you!” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him in genuine perplexity and amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Show myself to Cloran!” she ejaculated heavily. “I don't get you!” + </p> + <p> + “You will in a minute,” said Danglar softly. “You're the bait—see? + Cloran and I will be at supper and watching the fox-trotters. You blow in + and show yourself—I don't need to tell you how, you're clever enough + at that sort of thing yourself—and the minute he recognizes you as + the woman he's been looking for that murdered Deemer, you pretend to + recognize him for the first time too, and then you beat it like you had + the scare of your life for the door. He'll follow you on the jump. I don't + know what it's all about, and I sit tight, and that lets me out. And now + get this! There'll be two taxicabs outside. If there's more than two, it's + the first two I'm talking about. You jump into the one at the head of the + line. Cloran won't need any invitation to grab the second one and follow + you. That's all! It's the last ride he'll take. It'll be our boys, and not + chauffeurs, who'll be driving those cars to-night, and they've got their + orders where to go. Cloran won't come back. Understand, Bertha'?” + </p> + <p> + There was only one answer to make, only one answer that she dared make. + She made it mechanically, though her brain reeled. A man named Cloran was + to be murdered; and she was to show herself as this—this Bertha—and... + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Danglar. He pulled out his watch again. “All right, then! + We've been here long enough.” He rose briskly. “It's time to make a move. + You hop it back to the garret, and get rid of that fancy dress. I've got + to meet Cloran uptown first. Come on, Matty, let us out.” + </p> + <p> + The place stifled her. She got up and moved quickly through the + intervening room. She heard Danglar and his crippled brother talking + earnestly together as they followed her. And then the cripple brushed by + her in the darkness, and opened the front door—and Danglar had drawn + her to him in a quick embrace. She did not struggle; she dared not. Her + heart seemed to stand still. Danglar was whispering in her ear: + </p> + <p> + “I promised I'd make it up to you, Bertha, old girl. You'll see—after + to-night. We'll have another honey-moon. You go on ahead now—I can't + be seen with Gypsy Nan. And don't be late—the Silver Sphinx at + eleven.” + </p> + <p> + She ran out on the street. Her fingers mechanically clutched at her shawl + to loosen it around her throat. It seemed as though she were choking, that + she could not breathe. The man's touch upon her had seemed like contact + with some foul and loathsome thing; the scene in that room back there like + some nightmare of horror from which she could not awake. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. THE SECRET PANEL + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda Gray hurried onward, back toward the garret, her mind in riot and + dismay. It was not only the beginning of the end; it was very near the + end! What was she to do? The Silver Sphinx—at eleven! That was the + end—after eleven—wasn't it? She could impersonate Gypsy Nan; + she could not, if she would, impersonate the woman who was dead! And then, + too, there were the stolen jewels at old Jake Luertz's! She could not turn + to the police for help there, because then the Pug might fall into their + hands, and—and the Pug was—was the Adventurer. + </p> + <p> + And then a sort of fatalistic calm fell upon her. If the masquerade was + over, if the end had come, there remained only one thing for her to do. + There were no risks too desperate to take now. It was she who must strike, + and strike first. Those jewels in old Luertz's bedroom became suddenly + vital to her. They were tangible evidence. With those jewels in her + possession she should be able to force Danglar to his knees. She could get + them—before Pinkie Bonn and the Pug—if she hurried. Afterward + she would know where to find Danglar—at the Silver Sphinx. Nothing + would happen to Cloran, because, through her failure to cooperate, the + plan would be abortive; but, veiled, as the White Moll, she could pick up + Danglar's trail again there. Yes, it would be the end—one way or the + other—between eleven o'clock and daylight! + </p> + <p> + She quickened her steps. Old Luertz was to be inveigled away from his home + about ten o'clock. At a guess, she made it only a little after nine now. + She would need the skeleton keys in order to get into old Luertz's place, + and, yes, she would need a flashlight, too. Well, she would have time + enough to get them, and time enough, then, to run to the deserted shed in + the lane behind the garret and change her clothes. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, as Gypsy Nan, went on as speedily as she dared without + inviting undue attention to herself, reached the garret, secured the + articles she sought, hurried out again, and went down the lane in the rear + to the deserted shed. She remained longer here than in the attic, perhaps + ten minutes, working mostly in the darkness, risking the flashlight only + when it was imperative; and then, the metamorphosis complete, a veiled + figure, in her own person, as Rhoda Gray, the White Moll, she was out on + the street again, and hastening back in the same general direction from + which she had just come. + </p> + <p> + She knew old Jake Luertz's place, and she knew the man himself very + intimately by reputation. There were few such men and such places that she + could have escaped knowing in the years of self-appointed service that she + had given to the worst, and perhaps therefore the most needy, element in + New York. The man ostensibly conducted a little secondhand store; in + reality he probably “shoved” more stolen goods for his clientele, which at + one time or another undoubtedly embraced nearly every crook in the + underworld, than any other “fence” in New York. She knew him for an oily, + cunning old fox who lived alone in the two rooms over his miserable store—unless, + of late, his young henchman, the Crab, had taken to living with him; + though, as far as that was concerned, it mattered little to-night, since + the Crab, for the moment, thanks to the gang, was eliminated from + consideration. + </p> + <p> + She reached the secondhand store—and walked on past it. There was a + light upstairs in the front window. Old Luertz therefore had not yet gone + out in response to the gang's fake message. She knew old Luertz's + reputation far too well for that; the man would never go out and leave a + gas jet burning—which he would have to pay for! + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to do but wait. Rhoda Gray sought the shelter of a + doorway across the street. She was nervously impatient now. The minutes + dragged along. Why didn't 'the man hurry and go out? “About ten o'clock,” + Danglar had said—but that was very indefinite. Pinkie Bonn and the + Pug might be as late as that; but, equally, they might be earlier! + </p> + <p> + It seemed an interminable time. And then, her eyes strained across the + street upon that upper window, she drew still farther back into the + protecting shadows of the doorway. The light had gone out. + </p> + <p> + A moment more passed. The street door of the house opposite to her—a + door separate from that of the secondhand store-opened, and a bent, + gray-bearded man, stepped out, peered around, locked the door behind him, + and scuffled down the street. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray scanned the dingy and ill-lighted little street. It was + virtually deserted. She crossed the road, and stepped into the doorway + from which the old “fence” had just emerged. It was dark here, well out of + the direct radius of the nearest street lamp, and, with luck, there was no + reason why she should be observed—if she did not take too long in + opening the door! She had never actually used a skeleton key in her life + before, and... + </p> + <p> + She inserted one of her collection of keys in the lock. It would not work. + She tried another, and still another-with mounting anxiety and perplexity. + Suppose that—yes! The door was open now! With a quick glance over + her shoulder, scanning the street in both directions to make sure that she + was not observed, she stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it + again. + </p> + <p> + Her flashlight stabbed through the darkness. Narrow stairs immediately in + front of her led upward; at her right was a connecting door to the + secondhand shop. Without an instant's hesitation she ran up the stairs. + There was no need to observe caution since the place was temporarily + untenanted; there was need only of haste. She opened the door at the head + of the stairs, and, with a quick, eager nod of satisfaction, as the + flashlight swept the interior, stepped over the threshold. It was the room + she sought—old Luertz's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + And now the flashlight played inquisitively about her. The bed occupied a + position by the window; across one corner of the room was a cretonne + hanging, that evidently did service as a wardrobe; across another corner + was a large and dilapidated washstand; there were a few chairs, and a + threadbare carpet; and, opposite the bed, another door, closed, which + obviously led into the front room. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stepped to this door, opened it, and peered in. She was not + concerned that it was evidently used for kitchen, dining-room and the + stowage of everything that overflowed from the bedroom; she was concerned + only with the fact that it offered no avenue through which any added risk + or danger might reach her. She closed the door as she had found it, and + gave her attention now to the walls of old Luertz's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + She smiled a little whimsically. The Crab had used a somewhat dignified + term when he had referred to “panels.” True, the walls were of stained + wood, but the wood was of the cheapest variety of matched boards, and the + stain was of but a single coat, and a very meager one at that! The smile + faded. There were a good many knots; and there were four corners to the + room, and therefore eight boards, each one of which would answer to the + description of being the “sixth panel.” + </p> + <p> + She went to the corner nearest her, and dropped down on her knees. As well + start with this one! She had not dared press Danglar, or Danglar's + deformed brother, for more definite directions, had she? She counted the + boards quickly from the corner to her right; and then, the flashlight + playing steadily, she began to press first one knot after another, in the + board before her, working from the bottom up. There were many knots; she + went over each one with infinite care. There was no result. + </p> + <p> + She turned then to the sixth board from the corner to her left. The result + was the same. She stood up, her brows puckered, a sense of anxious + impatience creeping upon her. She had been quite a while over even these + two boards, and it might be any one of the remaining six! + </p> + <p> + Her eyes traversed the room, following the ray of the flashlight. If she + only knew which one, it would—Was it an inspiration? Her eyes had + fixed on the cretonne hanging across one of the far corners from the door, + and she moved toward it now quickly. The hanging might very well serve for + an other purpose than that of merely a wardrobe! It seemed suddenly to be + the most likely of the four corners because it was ingeniously concealed. + </p> + <p> + She parted the hanging. A heterogeneous collection of clothing hung from + pegs and nails. Eagerly, hastily now, she brushed these aside, and, close + to the wall, dropped down on her knees again. The minutes passed. Twice + she went over the sixth board from the corner to her right. She felt so + sure now that it was this corner. And then, still eagerly, she turned to + the corresponding board at her left. + </p> + <p> + It was warm and close here. The clothing hanging from the pegs and nails + enveloped her, and, with the cretonne hanging itself, shut out the air, + what little of it there was, that circulated through the room. + </p> + <p> + Over the board, from the tiniest knot to the largest, her fingers pressed + carefully. Had she missed one anywhere? She must have missed one! She was + sure the panel in question was here behind this hanging. Well, she would + try again, and... + </p> + <p> + What was that? + </p> + <p> + In an instant the flashlight in her hand was out, and she was listening + tensely. Yes, there was a footstep—two of them—not only on the + stairs, but already just outside the door. It seemed as though a deadly + fear, cold and numbing, settled upon her and robbed her of even the power + of movement. She was caught! If it was Pinkie Bonn and the Pug, and if + this corner hid the secret panel as she still believed it did, this was + the first place to which they would come, and they would find her here + amongst the clothing—which had evidently been the cause of deadening + any sound on those stairs out there until it was too late. + </p> + <p> + She held her breath, her hands tight upon her bosom. There was no time to + reach the sanctuary of the other room—the footsteps were already + crossing the threshold from the head of the stairs. And then a voice + reached her—the Pug's. It was the Pug and Pinkie Bonn. + </p> + <p> + “Strike a light, Pinkie! Dere's no use messin' around wid a flash. De old + geezer'll be back on de hop de minute he finds out he's been bunked, an' + de quicker we work de better.” + </p> + <p> + A match crackled into flame. An air-choked gas jet, with a protesting + hiss, was lighted. And then Rhoda Gray's drawn face relaxed a little, and + a strange, mirthless smile came hovering over her lips. What was she + afraid of? The Pug was the Adventurer, wasn't he? This was one of the + occasions when he could not escape the entanglements of the gang, and must + work for the gang instead of appropriating all the loot for his own + personal and nefarious ends; but he was the Adventurer. The White Moll + need not fear him, even though he appeared, linked with Pinkie Bonn, in + the role of the Pug! So there was only Pinkie Bonn to fear. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray took her revolver from her pocket. She was well armed—and + in more than a material sense. The Adventurer did not know that she was + aware of the Pug's identity. Her smile, still mirthless, deepened. She + might even turn the tables upon them, and still secure the stolen stones. + She had turned the tables upon Pinkie Bonn last night; to-night, if she + used her wits, she could do it again! + </p> + <p> + And then, suddenly, she stifled an exclamation, as the Pug's voice reached + her again: + </p> + <p> + “Wot are youse gapin' about? Dere ain't anything else worth pinchin' + around here except wot's in de old gent's safety vault. Get a move on! We + ain't got all night! It's de corner behind de washstand. Give us a hand to + move de furniture!” + </p> + <p> + It wasn't here behind the cretonne hanging! Rhoda Gray bit her lips in a + crestfallen little way. Well, her supposition had been natural enough, + hadn't it? And she would have tried every corner before she was through if + she had had the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + She moved now slightly, without a sound, parting the clothing away from in + front of her, and moving the cretonne hanging by the fraction of an inch + where it touched the side wall of the room. And now she could see the Pug, + with his dirty and discolored celluloid eye-patch, and his ingeniously + contorted face; and she could see Pinkie Bonn's pasty-white, drug-stamped + countenance. + </p> + <p> + It was not a large room. The two men in the opposite corner along the wall + from her were scarcely more than ten feet away. They swung the washstand + out from the wall, and the Pug, going in behind it, began to work on one + of the wall boards. Pinkie Bonn, an unlighted cigarette dangling from his + lip, leaned over the washstand watching his companion. + </p> + <p> + A minute passed—another. It was still in the room, except only for + the distant sounds of the world outside—a clatter of wheels upon the + pavement, the muffled roar of the elevated, the clang of a trolley bell. + And then the Pug began to mutter to himself. Rhoda Gray smiled a little + grimly. She was not the only one, it would appear, who experienced + difficulty with old Jake Luertz's crafty hiding place! + </p> + <p> + “Say, dis is de limit!” the Pug growled out suddenly. “Dere's more damned + knots in dis board dan I ever save in any piece of wood in me life before, + an'—” He drew back abruptly from the wall, twisting his head sharply + around. “D'ye hear dat, Pinkie!” he whispered tensely. “Quick! Put out de + light! Quick! Dere's some one down at de front door!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray felt the blood ebb from her face. She had heard nothing save + the rattle and bump of a wagon along the street below; but she had had + reason to appreciate on a certain occasion before that the Pug, alias the + Adventurer, was possessed of a sense of hearing that was abnormally acute. + If it was some one else—who was it? What would it mean to her? What + complication here in this room would result? What... + </p> + <p> + The light was out. Pinkie Bonn had stepped silently across the room to the + gas jet near the door. Her eyes, strained, she could just make out the + Adventurer's form kneeling by the wall, and then—was she mad! Was + the faint night-light of the city filtering in through the window mocking + her? The Adventurer, hidden from his companion by the washstand, was + working swiftly and without a sound—or else it was a phantasm of + shadows that tricked her! A door in the wall opened; the Adventurer thrust + in his hand, drew out a package, and, leaning around, slipped it quickly + into the bottom of the washstand, where, with its little doors, there was + a most convenient and very commodious apartment. He turned again then, + seemed to take something from his pocket and place it in the opening in + the wall, and then the panel closed. + </p> + <p> + It had taken scarcely more than a second. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray brushed her hand across her eyes. No, it wasn't a phantasm! She + had misjudged the Adventurer—quite misjudged him! The Adventurer, + even with one of the gang present—to furnish an unimpeachable alibi + for him!—was plucking the gang's fruit again for his own and + undivided enrichment! + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn's voice came in a guarded whisper from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear nothin'!” said Pinkie Bonn anxiously. + </p> + <p> + The Pug tiptoed across the room, and joined his companion. She could not + see them now, but apparently they stood together by the door listening. + They stood there for a long time. Occasionally she heard them whisper to + each other; and then finally the Pug spoke in a less guarded voice. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “I guess me nerves are gettin' de creeps. Shoot de + light on again, an' let's get back on de job. An' youse can take a turn + dis time pushin' de knots, Pinkie; mabbe youse'll have better luck.” + </p> + <p> + The light went on again. Both men came back across the room, and now + Pinkie Bonn knelt at the wall while the Pug leaned over the washstand + watching him. Pinkie Bonn was not immediately successful; the Pug's + nerves, of which he had complained, appeared shortly to get the better of + him. + </p> + <p> + “Fer Gawd's sake, hurry up!” he urged irritably. “Or else lemme take + another crack at it, Pinkie, an'...” + </p> + <p> + A low, triumphant exclamation came from Pinkie Bonn, as the small door in + the wall swung suddenly open. + </p> + <p> + “There she is, my bucko!” he grinned. “Some nifty vault, eh? The old guy-” + He stopped. He had thrust in his hand, and drawn it out again. His fingers + gripped a sheet of notepaper—but he was seemingly unconscious of + that fact. He was leaning forward, staring into the aperture. “It's + empty!” he choked. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's dat?” cried the Pug, and sprang to his companion's side. “Youse're + crazy, Pinkie!” He thrust his head toward the opening—and then + turned and stared for a moment helplessly at Pinkie Bonn. “So help me!” he + said heavily. “It's—it's empty.” He shook his fist suddenly. “De + Crab's handed us one, dat's wot! But de Crab'll get his fer—” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the Crab!” Pinkie Bonn was stuttering his words. He stood, jaws + dropped, his eyes glued now on the paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + The Pug, his face working, the personification of baffled rage and + intolerance, leered at Pinkie Bonn. “Well, who was it, den?” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn licked his lips. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” He licked his lips again. + </p> + <p> + “De White Moll!” echoed the Pug incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Pinkie Bonn. “Listen to what's on this paper that I fished out + of there I Listen! She's got all the nerve of the devil! 'With thanks, and + my most grateful appreciation—the White Moll.'” + </p> + <p> + The Pug snatched the paper from Pinkie Bonn's hand, as though to assure + himself that it was true. Rhoda Gray smiled faintly. It was good acting, + very excellently done—seeing that the Pug had written the note and + placed it in the hiding place himself! + </p> + <p> + “My God!” mumbled Pinkie Bonn thickly. “I ain't afraid of most things, but + I'm gettin' scared of her. She ain't human. Last night you know what + happened, and the night before, and—” He gulped suddenly. “Let's get + out of here!” he said hurriedly. The Pug made no reply, except for a + muttered growl of assent and a nod of his head. + </p> + <p> + The two men crossed the room. The light went out. Their footsteps echoed + back as they descended the stairs, then died away. + </p> + <p> + And then Rhoda Gray moved for the first time. She brushed aside the + cretonne hanging, ran to the washstand, possessed herself of the package + she had seen the Pug place there, and then made her way, cautious now of + the slightest sound, downstairs. + </p> + <p> + She tried the door that led into the secondhand shop from the hall, found + it unlocked, and with a little gasp of relief slipped through, and closed + it gently behind her. She did not dare risk the front entrance. Pinkie + Bonn and the Pug were not far enough away yet, and she did not dare wait + until they were. Too bulky to take the risk of attempting to conceal it + about his person while with Pinkie Bonn, the Pug, it was obvious, would + come back alone for that package, and it was equally obvious that he would + not be long in doing so. There was old Luertz's return that he would have + to anticipate. It would not take wits nearly so sharp as those possessed + by the Pug to find an excuse for separating promptly from Pinkie Bonn! + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray groped her way down the shop, groped her way to a back door, + unbolted it, working by the sense of touch, and let herself out into a + back yard. Five minutes later she was blocks away, and hurrying rapidly + back toward the deserted shed in the lane behind Gypsy Nan's garret. + </p> + <p> + Her lips formed into a tight little curve as she went along. There was + still work to do to-night—if this package really contained the + stolen legacy of gems left by Angel Jack. She had first of all to reach a + place where she could examine the package with safety; then a place to + hide it where it would be secure; and then—Danglar! + </p> + <p> + She gained the lane, stole along it, and disappeared into the shed through + the broken door that hung, partially open, on sagging hinges. Here she + sought a corner, and crouched down so that her body would smother any + reflection from her flashlight. And now, eagerly, feverishly, she began to + undo the package; and then, a moment later, she gazed, stupefied and + amazed, at what lay before her. Precious stones, scores of them, nestled + on a bed of cotton; they were of all colors and of all sizes—but + each one of them seemed to pulsate and throb, and from some wondrous, + glorious depth of its own to fling back from the white ray upon it a + thousand rays in return, as though into it had been breathed a living and + immortal fire. + </p> + <p> + And Rhoda Gray, crouched there, stared—until suddenly she grew + afraid, and suddenly with a shudder she wrapped the package up again. + These were the stones for whose fabulous worth the woman whose personality + she, Rhoda Gray, had usurped, had murdered a man; these were the stones + which were indirectly the instrumentality—since but for them Gypsy + Nan would never have existed—that made her, Rhoda Gray, to-night, + now, at this very moment, a hunted thing, homeless, friendless, fighting + for her very life against police and underworld alike! + </p> + <p> + She rose abruptly to her feet. She had no longer any need of a flashlight. + There was even light of a sort in the place—she could see the stars + through the jagged holes in the roof, and through one of these, too, the + moonlight streamed in. The shed was all but crumbling in a heap. + Underfoot, what had once been flooring, was now but rotting, broken + boards. Under one of these, beside the clothing of Gypsy Nan which she had + discarded but a little while before, she deposited the package; then + stepped out into the lane, and from there to the street again. + </p> + <p> + And now she became suddenly conscious of a great and almost overpowering + physical weariness. She did not quite understand at first, unless it was + to be attributed to the reaction from the last few hours—and then, + smiling wanly to herself, she remembered. For two nights she had not + slept. It seemed very strange. That was it, of course, though she was not + in the least sleepy now—just tired, just near the breaking point. + </p> + <p> + But she must go on. To-night was the end, anyhow. To-night, failing to + keep her appointment as “Bertha,” the crash must come; but before it came, + as the White Moll, armed with the knowledge of the crime that had driven + Danglar's wife into hiding, and which was Danglar's crime too, and with + the evidence in the shape of those jewels in her possession, she and + Danglar would meet somewhere—alone. Before the law got him, when he + would be close-mouthed and struggling with all his cunning to keep the + evidence of other crimes from piling up against him and damning whatever + meager chances he might have to escape the penalty for Deemer's murder, + she meant—yes, even if she pretended to compound a felony with him—to + force or to inveigle from him, it mattered little which, a confession of + the authorship and details of the scheme to rob Skarbolov that night when + she, Rhoda Gray, in answer to a dying woman's pleading, had tried to + forestall the plan, and had been caught, apparently, in the very act of + committing the robbery herself! With that confession in her possession, + with the identity of the unknown woman who had died in the hospital that + night established, her own story would be believed. + </p> + <p> + And so, if she were weary, what did it matter? It was only until morning. + Danglar was at the Silver Sphinx now with the man he meant that she should + help him murder, only—only that plan would fail, because there would + be no “Bertha” to lure the man to his death, and she, Rhoda Gray, had only + to keep track of Danglar until somewhere, where he lived perhaps, she + should have that final scene, that final reckoning with him alone. + </p> + <p> + It was a long way to the Silver Sphinx, which she knew, as every one in + the underworld, and every one in New York who was addicted to slumming + knew, was a combination dance-hall and restaurant in the Chatham Square + district. She tried to find a taxi, but with out avail. A clock in a + jeweler's window which she passed showed her that it was ten minutes after + eleven. She had had no idea that it was so late. At eleven, Danglar had + said. Danglar would be growing restive! She took the elevated. If she + could risk the protection of her veil in the Silver Sphinx, she could risk + it equally in an elevated train! + </p> + <p> + But, in spite of the elevated, it was, she knew, well on towards half past + eleven when she finally came down the street in front of the Silver + Sphinx. From under her veil, she glanced, half curiously, half in a sort + of grim irony, at the taxis lined up before the dancehall. The two leading + cars were not taxis at all, though they bore the ear-marks, with their + registers, of being public vehicles for hire; they were large, roomy, + powerful, and looked, with their hoods up, like privately owned motors. + Well, it was of little account! She shrugged her shoulders, as—she + mounted the steps of the dance-hall. Neither “Bertha” nor Cloran would use + those cars to-night! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE SILVER SPHINX + </h2> + <p> + A Bedlam of noise smote Rhoda Gray's ears as she entered the Silver + Sphinx. A jazz band was in full swing; on the polished section of the + floor in the center, a packed mass of humanity swirled and gyrated and + wriggled in the contortions of the “latest” dance, and laughed and howled + immoderately; and around the sides of the room, the waiters rushed this + way and that amongst the crowded tables, mopping at their faces with their + aprons. It seemed as though confusion itself held sway! + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray scanned the occupants of the tables. The Silver Sphinx was + particularly riotous to-night, wasn't it? Yes, she understood! A great + many of the men were wearing little badges. Some society or other was + celebrating—and was doing it with abandon. Most of the men were half + drunk. It was certainly a free-and-easy night! Everything went! + </p> + <p> + Danglar! Yes, 'there he was—quite close to her, only a few tables + away—and beside him sat a heavy built, clean-shaven man of middle + age. That would be Cloran, of course—the man who was to have been + lured to his death. And Danglar was nervous and uneasy, she could see. His + fingers were drumming a tattoo on the table; his eyes were roving + furtively about the room; and he did not seem to be paying any but the + most distrait attention to his companion, who was talking to him. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray sank quickly into a vacant chair. Three men, linked arm in arm, + and decidedly more than a little drunk, were approaching her. She turned + her head away to avoid attracting their attention. It was too free and + easy here to-night, and she began to regret her temerity at having + ventured inside; she would better, perhaps, have waited until Danglar came + out—only there were two exits, and she might have missed him—and... + </p> + <p> + A cold fear upon her, she shrank back in her chair. The three men had + halted at the table, and were clustered around her. They began a jocular + quarrel amongst themselves as to who should dance with her. Her heart was + pounding. She stood up, and pushed them away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you don't!” hiccoughed one of the three. “Gotta see your—hic!—pretty + face, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + She put up her hands frantically and clutched at her veil—but just + an instant too late to save it from being wrenched aside. Wildly her eyes + flew to Danglar. His attention had been attracted by the scene. She saw + him rise from his seat; she saw his eyes widen—and then, stumbling + over his chair in his haste, he made toward her. Danglar had recognized + the White Moll! + </p> + <p> + She turned and ran. Fear, horror, desperation, lent her strength. It was + not like this that she had counted on her reckoning with Danglar! She + brushed the roisterers aside, and darted for the door. Over her shoulder + she glimpsed Danglar following her. She reached the door, burst through a + knot of people there, and, her torn veil clutched in her hand, dashed down + the steps. She could only run—run, and pray that in some way she + might escape. + </p> + <p> + And then a mad exultation came upon her. She saw the man in the + chauffeur's seat of the first car in the line lean out and swing the door + open. And in a flash she grasped the situation. The man was waiting for + just this—for a woman to come running for her life down the steps of + the Silver Sphinx. She put her hand up to her face, hiding it with the + torn veil, raced for the car, and flung herself into the tonneau. + </p> + <p> + The door slammed. The car leaped from the curb. Danglar was coming down + the steps. She heard him shout. The chauffeur, in a startled way, leaned + out, as he evidently recognized Danglar's voice—but Rhoda Gray was + mistress of herself now. The tonneau of the car was not separated from the + driver's seat, and bending forward, she wrenched her revolver from her + pocket, and pressed the muzzle of her weapon to the back of the man's + neck. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop!” she gasped, struggling for her breath. “Go on! Quick!” + </p> + <p> + The man, with a frightened oath, obeyed. The car gained speed. A glance + through the window behind showed Danglar climbing into the other car. + </p> + <p> + And then for a moment Rhoda Gray sat there fighting for her self-control, + with the certain knowledge in her soul that upon her wits, and her wits + alone, her life depended now. She studied the car's mechanism over the + chauffeur's shoulder, even as she continued to hold her revolver pressed + steadily against the back of the man's neck. She could drive a car—she + could drive this one. The presence of this chauffeur, one of the gang, was + an added menace; there were too many tricks he might play before she could + forestall them, any one of which would deliver her into the hands of + Danglar behind there—an apparently inadvertent stoppage due to + traffic, for instance, that would bring the pursuing car alongside—that, + or a dozen other things which would achieve the same end. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door on your side!” she commanded abruptly. “And get out—without + slowing the car! Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + He turned his head for a half incredulous, half frightened look at her. + She met his eyes steadily—the torn veil, quite discarded now, was in + her pocket. She did not know the man; but it was quite evident from the + almost ludicrous dismay which spread over his face that he knew her. + </p> + <p> + “The—the White Moll!” he stammered. “It's the White Moll!” + </p> + <p> + “Jump!” she ordered imperatively—and her revolver pressed still more + significantly against the man's flesh. + </p> + <p> + He seemed in even frantic haste to obey her. He whipped the door open, + and, before she could reach to the wheel, he had leaped to the street. The + car swerved sharply. She flung herself over into the vacated seat, and + snatched at the wheel barely in time to prevent the machine from mounting + the curb. + </p> + <p> + She looked around again through the window of the hood. The man had swung + aboard Danglar's car, which was only a few yards behind. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray drove steadily. Here in the city streets her one aim must be + never to let the other car come abreast of her; but she could prevent that + easily enough by watching Danglar's movements, and cutting across in front + of him if he attempted anything of the sort. But ultimately what was she + to do? How was she to escape? Her hands gripped and clenched in a sudden, + almost panic-like desperation at the wheel. Turn suddenly around a corner, + and jump from the car herself? It was useless to attempt it; they would + keep too close behind to give her a chance to get out of sight. Well, + then, suppose she jumped from the car, and trusted herself to the + protection of the people on the street. She shook her head grimly. + Danglar, she knew only too well, would risk anything, go to any length, to + put an end to the White Moll. He would not hesitate an instant to shoot + her down as she jumped and he would be fairly safe himself in doing it. A + few revolver shots from a car that speeded away in the darkness offered an + even chance of escape. And yet, unless she forced an issue such as that, + she knew that Danglar would not resort to firing at her here in the city. + He would want to be sure that was the only chance he had of getting her, + before he accepted the risk that he would run of being caught for it by + the police. + </p> + <p> + She found herself becoming strangely, almost unnaturally, cool and + collected now. The one danger, greater than all others, that menaced her + was a traffic block that would cause her to stop, and allow those in the + other car behind to rush in upon her as she sat here at the wheel. And + sooner or later, if she stayed in the city, a block such as that was + inevitable. She must get out of the city, then. It was only to invite + another risk, the risk that Danglar was in the faster car of the two but + there was no other way. + </p> + <p> + She drove more quickly, made her way to the Bridge, and crossed it. The + car behind followed with immutable persistence. It made no effort to close + the short gap between them; but, neither, on the other hand, did it permit + that gap to widen. + </p> + <p> + They passed through Brooklyn; and then, reaching the outskirts, Rhoda + Gray, with headlights streaming into the black, with an open Long Island + road before her, flung her throttle wide, and the car leaped like a thing + of life into the night. It was a sudden start, it gained her a hundred + yards but that was all. + </p> + <p> + The wind tore at her and whipped her face; the car rocked and reeled as in + some mad frenzy. There was not much traffic, but such as there was it + cleared away from before her as if by magic, as, seeking shelter from the + wild meteoric thing running amuck, the few vehicles, motor or horse, that + she encountered hugged; the edge of the road, and the wind whisked to her + ears fragments of shouts and execrations. Again and again she looked back + two fiery balls of light blazed behind her always those same two fiery + balls. + </p> + <p> + She neither gained nor lost. Rigid, like steel, her little figure was + crouched over the wheel. She did not know the road. She knew nothing save + that she was racing for her life. She did not know the end; she could not + see the end. Perhaps there would be some merciful piece of luck for her + that would win her through a break-down to that roaring thing, with its + eyes that were balls of fire, behind. + </p> + <p> + She passed through a town with lighted streets and lighted windows or was + it only imagination? It was gone again, anyhow, and there was just black + road ahead. Over the roar of the car and the sweep of the wind, then, she + caught, or fancied she caught, a series of faint reports. She looked + behind her. Yes, they were firing now. Little flashes leaped out above and + at the sides of those blazing headlights. + </p> + <p> + How long was it since she had left the Silver Sphinx? Minutes or hours + would not measure it, would they? But it could not last much longer! She + was growing very tired; the strain upon her arms, yes, and upon her eyes, + was becoming unbearable. She swayed a little in her seat, and the car + swerved, and she jerked it back again into the straight. She began to + laugh a little hysterically and then, suddenly, she straightened up, tense + and alert once more. + </p> + <p> + That swerve was the germ of an inspiration! It took root swiftly now. It + was desperate—but she was desperate. She could not drive much more, + or much longer like this. Mind and body were almost undone. And, besides, + she was not outdistancing that car behind there by a foot; and sooner or + later they would hit her with one of their shots, or, perhaps what they + were really trying to do, puncture one of her tires. + </p> + <p> + Again she glanced over her shoulder. Yes, Danglar was just far enough + behind to make the plan possible. She began to allow the car to swerve + noticeably at intervals, as though she were weakening and the car was + getting beyond her control—which was, indeed, almost too literally + the case. And now it seemed to her that each time she swerved there came + an exultant shout from the car behind. Well, she asked for nothing better; + that was what she was trying to do, wasn't it?—inspire them with the + belief that she was breaking under the strain. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes searched anxiously down the luminous pathway made by her + high-powered headlights. If only she could reach a piece of road that + combined two things—an embankment of some sort, and a curve just + sharp enough to throw those headlights behind off at a tangent for an + instant as they rounded it, too, in following her. + </p> + <p> + A minute, two, another passed. And then Rhoda Gray, tight-lipped, her face + drawn hard, as her own headlights suddenly edged away from the road and + opened what looked like a deep ravine on her left, while the road curved + to the right, flung a frenzied glance back of her. It was her chance—her + one chance. Danglar was perhaps a little more than a hundred yards in the + rear. Yes—now! His headlights were streaming out on her left as he, + too, touched the curve. The right-hand side of her car, the right-hand + side of the road were in blackness. She checked violently, almost to a + stop, then instantly opened the throttle wide once more, wrenching the + wheel over to head the machine for the ravine; and before the car picked + up its momentum again, she dropped from the right-hand side, darted to the + far edge of the road, and flung herself flat down upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + The great, black body of her car seemed to sail out into nothingness like + some weird aerial monster, the headlights streaming uncannily through + space—then blackness—and a terrific crash. + </p> + <p> + And now the other car had come to a stop almost opposite where she lay. + Danglar and the two chauffeurs, shouting at each other in wild excitement, + leaped out and rushed to the edge of the embankment. And then suddenly the + sky grew red as a great tongue-flame shot up from below. It outlined the + forms of the three men as they stood there, until, abruptly, as though + with one accord, they rushed pell-mell down the embankment toward the + burning wreckage. And as they disappeared from sight Rhoda Gray jumped to + her feet, sprang for Danglar's car, flung herself into the driver's seat, + and the car shot forward again along the road. + </p> + <p> + A shout, a wild chorus of yells, the reports of a fusillade of shots + reached her; she caught a glimpse of forms running insanely after her + along the edge of the embankment—then silence save for the roar of + the speeding car. + </p> + <p> + She drove on and on. Somewhere, nearing a town, she saw a train in the + distance coming in her direction. She reached the station first, and left + the car standing there, and, with the torn veil over her face again, took + the train. + </p> + <p> + She was weak, undone, exhausted. Even her mind refused its functions + further. It was only in a subconscious way she realized that, where she + had thought never to go to the garret again, the garret and the role of + Gypsy Nan were, more than ever now, her sole refuge. The plot against + Cloran had failed, but they could not blame that on “Bertha's” + non-appearance; and since it had failed she would not now be expected to + assume the dead woman's personality. True, she had not, as had been + arranged, reached the Silver Sphinx at eleven, but there were a hundred + excuses she could give to account for her being late in keeping the + appointment so that she had arrived just in time, say, to see Danglar dash + wildly in pursuit of a woman who had jumped into the car that she was + supposed to take! + </p> + <p> + The garret! The garret again—and Gypsy Nan! Her surroundings seemed + to become a blank to her; her actions to be prompted by some purely + mechanical sense. She was conscious only that finally, after an + interminable time, she was in New York again; and after that, long, long + after that, dressed as Gypsy Nan, she was stumbling up the dark, + ladder-like steps to the attic. + </p> + <p> + How her footsteps dragged! She opened the door, staggered inside, locked + the door again, and staggered toward the cot, and dropped upon it; and the + gray dawn came in with niggardly light through the grimy little window + panes, as though timorously inquisitive of this shawled and dissolute + figure prone and motionless, this figure who in other dawns had found + neither sleep nor rest—this figure who lay there now as one dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. THE OLD SHED + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda Gray opened her eyes, and, from the cot upon which she lay, stared + with drowsy curiosity around the garret—and in another instant was + sitting bolt upright, alert and tense, as the full flood of memory swept + upon her. + </p> + <p> + There was still a meager light creeping in through the small, grimy window + panes, but it was the light of waning day. She must have slept, then, all + through the morning and the afternoon, slept the dead, heavy sleep of + exhaustion from the moment she had flung herself down here a few hours + before daybreak. + </p> + <p> + She rose impulsively to her feet. It was strange that she had not been + disturbed, that no one had come to the garret! The recollection of the + events of the night before were crowding themselves upon her now. In view + of last night, in view of her failure to keep that appointment in the role + of Danglar's wife, it was very strange indeed that she had been left undisturbed! + </p> + <p> + Subconsciously she was aware that she was hungry, that it was long since + she had eaten, and, almost mechanically, she prepared herself something + now from the store the garret possessed; but, even as she ate, her mind + was far from thoughts of food. From the first night she had come here and + self-preservation had thrust this miserable role of Gypsy Nan upon her, + from that first night and from the following night when, to save the + Sparrow, she had been whirled into the vortex of the gang's criminal + activities, her mind raced on through the sequence of events that seemed + to have spanned some vast, immeasurable space of time until they had + brought her to—last night. + </p> + <p> + Last night! She had thought it was the end last night, but instead—The + dark eyes grew suddenly hard and intent. Yes, she had counted upon last + night, when, with the necessary proof in her possession with which to + confront Danglar with the crime of murder, she could wring from the man + all that now remained necessary to substantiate her own story and clear + herself in the eyes of the law of that robbery at Skarbolov's antique + store of which she was held guilty—and instead she had barely + escaped with her life. That was the story of last night. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes grew harder. Well, the way was still open, wasn't it? Last night + had changed nothing in that respect. To-night, as the White Moll, she had + only to find and corner Danglar as she had planned to do last night. She + had still only to get the man alone somewhere. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray's hands clenched tightly. That was all that was necessary—just + the substantiation of her own story that the plot to rob Skarbolov lay at + the door of Danglar and his gang; or, rather, perhaps, that the plot was + in existence before she had ever heard of Skarbolov. It would prove her + own statement of what the dying woman had said. It would exonerate her + from guilt; it would prove that, rather than having any intention of + committing crime, she had taken the only means within her power of + preventing one. The real Gypsy Nan, Danglar's wife, who had died that + night, bad, even in eleventh-hour penitence, refused to implicate her + criminal associates. There was a crime projected which, unless she, Rhoda + Gray, would agree to forestall it in person and would give her oath not to + warn the police about it and so put the actual criminals in jeopardy, + would go on to its fulfillment! + </p> + <p> + She remembered that night in the hospital. The scene came vividly before + her now. The woman's pleading, the woman's grim loyalty even in death to + her pals. She, Rhoda Gray, had given her oath. + </p> + <p> + It became necessary only to substantiate those facts. Danglar could be + made to do it. She had now in her possession the evidence that would + convict him of complicity in the murder of Deemer, and for which murder + the original Gypsy Nan had gone into hiding; she even had in her + possession the missing jewels that had prompted that murder; she had, too, + the evidence now to bring the entire gang to justice for their myriad + depredations; she knew where their secret hoard of ill-gotten gains was + hidden—here in this attic, behind that ingeniously contrived + trap-door in the ceiling. She knew all this; and this information placed + before the police, providing only it was backed by the proof that the + scheme to rob Skarbolov was to be carried out by the gang, as she, Rhoda + Gray, would say the dying woman had informed her, would be more than + enough to clear her. She had not had this proof on that first night when + she had snatched at the mantle of Gypsy Nan as the sole means of escape + from Rough Rorke, of headquarters; she did not have it now—but she + would have it, stake all and everything in life she had to have it, for + it, in itself, literally meant everything and all—and Danglar would + make a written confession, or else—or else—She smiled + mirthlessly. That was all! Last night she had failed. To-night she would + not fail. Before morning came, if it were humanly within her power, she + and Danglar would have played out their game—to the end. + </p> + <p> + And now a pucker came and gathered her forehead into little furrows, and + anxiety and perplexity crept into her eyes. Another thought tormented her. + In the exposure that was to come the Adventurer, alias the Pug, was + involved. Was there any way to save the man to whom she owed so much, the + splendidly chivalrous, high-couraged gentleman she loved, the thief she + abhorred? + </p> + <p> + She pushed the remains of her frugal meal away from her, stood up abruptly + from the rickety washstand at which she had been seated, and commenced to + pace nervously up and down the stark, bare garret. Where was the line of + demarcation between right and wrong? Was it a grievous sin, or an + infinitely human thing to do, to warn the man she loved, and give him a + chance to escape the net she meant to furnish the police? He was a thief, + even a member of the gang—though he used the gang as his puppets. + Did ethics count when one who had stood again and again between her and + peril was himself in danger now? Would it be a righteous thing, or an act + of despicable ingratitude, to trap him with the rest? + </p> + <p> + She laughed out shortly. Warn him! Of course, she would warn him! But then—what? + She shivered a little, and her face grew drawn and tired. It was the old, + old story of the pitcher and the well. It was almost inevitable that + sooner or later, for some crime or another, the man she loved would be + caught at last, and would spend the greater portion of his days behind + prison bars. That was what the love that had come into her life held as + its promise to her! It was terrible enough without her agency being the + means of placing him there! + </p> + <p> + She did not want to think about it. She forced her mind into other + channels, though they were scarcely less disquieting. Why was it that + during the day just past there had been not a sign from Danglar or any one + of the gang, when every plan of theirs had gone awry last night, and she + had failed to keep her appointment in the role of Danglar's wife? Why was + it? What did it mean? Surely Danglar would never allow what had happened + to pass unchallenged, and—was that some one now? + </p> + <p> + She halted suddenly by the door to listen, her hand going instinctively to + the wide, voluminous pocket of her greasy skirt for her revolver. Yes, + there was a footstep in the hall below, but it was descending now to the + ground floor, not coming up. She even heard the street door close, but + still she hung there in a strained, tense way, and into her face there + came creeping a gray dismay. Her pocket was empty. + </p> + <p> + The revolver was gone! Its loss, pregnant with a hundred ominous + possibilities, seemed to bring a panic fear upon her, holding her for a + moment inert—and then she rushed frantically to the cot. Perhaps it + had fallen out of her pocket during the hours she had lain there asleep. + She searched the folds of the soiled and crumpled blanket, that was the + cot's sole covering, then snatched the blanket completely off the cot and + shook it; and then, down on her knees, she searched the floor under the + cot. There was no sign of the revolver. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stood up, and stared in a stunned way about her. Was this, + then, the explanation of her having seemingly been left undisturbed here + all through the day? Had some one, after all, been here, and—? She + shook her head suddenly with a quick, emphatic gesture of dissent. The + door was still locked, she could see the key on the inside; and, besides, + as a theory, it wasn't logical. They wouldn't have taken her revolver and + left her placidly asleep! + </p> + <p> + The loss of the revolver was a vital matter. It was her one safeguard; the + one means by which she could first gain and afterwards hold the whip-hand + over Danglar in the interview she proposed to have with him; the one means + of escape, the last resort, if she herself were cornered and fell into his + power. It had sustained her more than once, that resolution to turn it + against herself if she were in extremity. It meant everything to her, that + weapon, and it was gone now; but the panic that had seized upon her was + gone too, and she could think rationally and collectively again. + </p> + <p> + Last night, or rather this morning, when she had made her way back to the + shed out there in the lane behind the garret, she had been in a state of + almost utter exhaustion. She had changed from the clothes of the White + Moll to those of Gypsy Nan, but she must have done so almost mechanically + for she had no concrete recollection of it. It was quite likely then, even + more than probable, that she had left the revolver in the pocket of her + other clothes; for she had certainly had, not only her revolver, but her + flashlight and her skeleton keys with her when she had visited old + Luertz's place last night, and later on too, when she had jumped into that + automobile in front of the Silver Sphinx, she had had her revolver, for + she had used it to force the chauffeur out of the car—and she had no + one of those articles now. + </p> + <p> + Of course! That was it! She stepped impulsively to the door, and, opening + it, made her way quickly down the stairs to the street. The revolver was + undoubtedly in the pocket of her other skirt, and she felt a surge of + relief sweep upon her; but a sense of relief was far from enough. She + would not feel safe until the weapon was again in her possession, and + intuitively she felt that she had no time to lose in securing it. She had + already been left too long alone not to make a break in that unaccountable + isolation they had accorded her as something to be expected at any moment. + She hurried now down the street to the lane that intervened between Gypsy + Nan's house and the next corner, glanced quickly about her, and, seeing no + one in her immediate vicinity, slipped into the lane. She gained the + deserted shed some fifty yards along the lane, entered through the broken + door that hung, half open, on sagging hinges, and, dropping on her knees, + reached in under the decayed and rotting flooring. She pushed aside + impatiently the package of jewels, at whose magnificence she had gazed + awe-struck and bewildered the night before, and drew out the bundle that + comprised her own clothing. Her hand sought the pocket eagerly. Yes, it + was here—at least the flashlight was, and so were the skeleton keys. + That was what had happened! She had been near utter collapse last night, + and she had forgotten, and—Rhoda Gray, unconscious even that she + still held the clothing in her hands, rose mechanically to her feet. There + was a sudden weariness in her eyes as she stared unseeingly about her. + Yes, the flashlight and the keys were here—but the revolver was not! + Her brain harked back in lightning flashes over the events of the + preceding night. She must have lost it somewhere, then. Where? She had had + it in the automobile, that she knew positively; but after that she did not + remember, unless—yes, it must have been that! When she had jumped + from the car and flung herself down at the roadside! It must have fallen + out of her pocket then. + </p> + <p> + Her heart seemed to stand still. Suppose they had found it! They would + certainly recognize it as belonging to Gypsy Nan! They were not fools. The + deduction would be obvious—the identity of the White Moll would be + solved. Was that why no one had apparently come near her? Were they + playing at cat-and-mouse, watching her before they struck, so that she + would lead them to those jewels under the flooring here that were worth a + king's ransom? They certainly believed that the White Moll had them. The + Adventurer's note, so ironically true, that he had intended as an alibi + for himself, and which he had exchanged for the package in old Luertz's + place, would have left no doubt in their minds but that the stones were in + her possession. Was that it? Were they—She held her breath. It + seemed as though suddenly her limbs were refusing to support her weight. + In the soft earth outside she had heard no step, but she saw now a shadow + fall athwart the half-open door-way. There was no time to move, even had + she been capable of action. It seemed as though even her soul had turned + to stone, and, with the White Moll's clothes in her hands, she stood there + staring at the doorway, and something that was greater than fear, because + it mingled horror, ugly and forbidding, fell upon her. It was still just + light enough to see. The shadow moved forward and came inside. She wanted + to scream, to rush madly in retreat to the farthest corner of the shed; + but she could not move. It was Danglar who was standing there. He seemed + to sway a little on his feet, and the dark, sinister face seemed blotched, + and he seemed to smile as though possessed of some unholy and perverted + sense of humor. + </p> + <p> + She was helpless, at his mercy, unarmed, saved for her wits. Her wits! + Were wits any longer of avail? She could believe nothing else now except + that he had been watching her—before he struck. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here, and what are those clothes you've got in your + hands?” he rasped out. + </p> + <p> + She could only fence for time in the meager hope that some loophole would + present itself. She forced an assumed defiance into her tones and manner, + that was in keeping with the sort of armed truce, which, from her first + meeting with Danglar, she had inaugurated as a barrier between them. + </p> + <p> + “You have asked me two questions,” she said tartly. “Which one do you want + me to answer first?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he snapped, “you cut that out! There's one or two things need + explaining—see? What are those clothes?” + </p> + <p> + Her wits! Perhaps he did not know as much as she was afraid he did! She + seemed to have become abnormally contained, her mind abnormally acute and + active. It was not likely that the woman, his wife, whom he believed she + was, had worn her own clothes in his presence since the day, some two + years ago, when she had adopted the disguise of Gypsy Nan; and she, Rhoda + Gray, remembered that on the night Gypsy Nan, re-assuming her true + personality, had gone to the hospital, the woman's clothes, like these she + held now, had been of dark material. It was not likely that a man would be + able to differentiate between those clothes and the clothes of the White + Moll, especially as the latter hung folded in her hands now, and even + though he had seen them on her at the Silver Sphinx last night. + </p> + <p> + “What clothes do you suppose they are but my own?—though I haven't + had a chance to wear them much lately!” she countered crisply. + </p> + <p> + He scowled at her speculatively. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing with them out here in this hole, then?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I had to wear them last night, hadn't I?” she retorted. “I'd have looked + well coming out of Gypsy Nan's garret dressed as myself if any one had + seen me!” She scowled at him in turn. She was beginning to believe that he + had not even an inkling of her identity. Her safest play was to stake + everything on that belief. “Say, what's the matter with you?” she inquired + disdainfully. “I came out here and changed last night; and I changed into + these rags I'm wearing now when I got back again; and I left my own + clothes here because I was expecting to get word that I could put them on + again soon for keeps—though I might have known from past experience + that something would queer the fine promises you made at Matty's last + night! And the reason I'm out here now is because I left some things in + the pocket, amongst them”—she stared at him mockingly—“my + marriage certificate.” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's face blackened. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you!” he burst out angrily. “When you get your tantrums on, you've + got a tongue, haven't you! You'd have been wearing your clothes now, if + you'd have done as you were told. You're the one that queered things last + night.” His voice was rising; he was rocking even more unsteadily upon his + feet. “Why in hell weren't you at the Silver Sphinx?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray squinted at him through Gypsy Nan's spectacles. She knew an + hysterical impulse to laugh outright in the sure consciousness of + supremacy over him now. The man had been drinking. He was by no means + drunk; but, on the other hand, he was by no means sober—and she was + certain now that, though she did not know how he had found her here in the + shed, not the slightest suspicion of her had entered his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I was at the Silver Sphinx,” she announced coolly. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” he said hoarsely. “You weren't! I told you to be there at + eleven, and you weren't. You lie! What are you lying to me for—eh? + I'll find out, you—you—” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray dashed the clothes down on the floor at her feet, and faced the + man as though suddenly overcome in turn herself with passion, shaking both + closed fists at him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you talk to me like that, Pierre Danglar!” she shrilled. “I lie, do + I? Well, I'll prove to you I don't! You said you were going to have supper + with Cloran at about eleven o'clock, and perhaps I was a few minutes after + that, but maybe you think it's easy to get all this Gypsy Nan stuff off me + face and all, and rig up in my own clothes that I haven't seen for so long + it's a wonder they hold together at all. I lie, do I? Well, just as I got + to the Silver Sphinx, I saw a woman breaking her neck to get down the + steps with you after her. She jumped into the automobile it was doped out + I was to take, and you jumped into the other one, and both beat it down + the street. I thought you'd gone crazy. I was afraid that Cloran would + come out and recognize me, so I turned and ran, too. The safest thing I + could do was to get back into the Gypsy Nan game again, and that's what I + did. And I've been lying low ever since, waiting to get word from some of + you, and not a soul came near me. You're a nice lot, you are! And now you + come sneaking here and call me a liar! How'd you get to this shed, + anyway?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar pushed his hand in a heavy, confused way across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he said heavily. “So that's it, is it?” His voice became + suddenly conciliating in its tones. “Look here, Bertha, old girl, don't + get sore. I didn't understand, see? And there was a whole lot that looked + queer. We even lost the jewels at old Luertz's last night. Do you know who + that woman was? It was the White Moll! She led us a chase all over Long + Island, and—” + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” ejaculated Rhoda Gray. And then her laugh, short and + jeering, rang out. The tables were turned. She had him on the defensive + now. “You needn't tell me I She got away again, of course! Why don't you + hire a detective to help you? You make me weary! So, it was the White + Moll, was it? Well, I'm listening—only I'd like to know first how + you got here to this shed.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing in that!” he answered impatiently. “There's something + more important to talk about. I was coming over to the garret, and just as + I reached the corner I saw you go into the lane. I followed you; that's + all there is to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she sniffed. She stared at him for a moment. There was something in + which there was the uttermost of irony now, it seemed, in this meeting + between them. Last night she had striven to meet him alone, and she had + meant to devote to-night to the same purpose; and she was here with him + now, and in a place than which, in her wildest hopes, she could have + imagined one no better suited to the reckoning she would have demanded and + forced. And she was helpless, powerless to make use of it. She was + unarmed. Her revolver was gone. Without that to protect her, at an + intimation that she was the White Moll she would never leave the shed + alive. The spot would be quite as ideal under those circumstances for him, + as it would have been under other circumstances for her. She shrugged her + shoulders. Danglar's continued silence evidently invited further comment + on her part. “Oh!” she sniffed again. “And I suppose, then, that you have + been chasing the White Moll ever since last night at eleven, and that's + why you didn't get around sooner to allay my fears, even though you knew I + must be half mad with anxiety at the way things broke last night. She'll + have us down and out for keeps if you haven't got brains enough to beat + her. How much longer is this thing going on?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar's little black eyes narrowed. She caught a sudden glint of triumph + in them. It was Danglar now who laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Not much longer!” His voice was arrogant with malicious satisfaction. + “The luck had to turn, hadn't it? Well, it's turned! I've got the White + Moll at last!” + </p> + <p> + She felt the color leave her face. It seemed as though something had + closed with an icy clutch upon her heart. She had heard aright, hadn't + she?—that he had said he had got the White Moll at last. And there + was no mistaking the mans s sinister delight in making that announcement. + Had she been premature, terribly premature, in assuring herself that her + identity was still safe as far as he was concerned? Did it mean that, + after all, he had been playing at cat-and-mouse with her, as she had at + first feared? + </p> + <p> + “You—you've got the White Moll?” She forced the words from her lips, + striving to keep her voice steady and in control, and to infuse into it an + ironical incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” he said complacently. “The showdown comes to-night. In another + hour or so we'll have her where we want her, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” She laughed almost hysterically in relief. “I thought so! You + haven't got her yet. You're only going to get her—in another hour or + so! You make me tired! It's always in 'another hour or so' with you—and + it never comes off!” + </p> + <p> + Danglar scowled at her under the taunt. + </p> + <p> + “It'll come off this time!” he snarled in savage menace. “You hold that + tongue of yours! Yes, it'll come off! And when it does”—a sweep of + fury sent the red into his working face—“I'll keep the promise I + made her once—that she'd wish she had never been born! D'ye hear, + Bertha?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” she said indifferently. “But would you mind telling me how you + are going to do it? I might believe you then—perhaps!” + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, Bertha!” he exploded. “Sometimes I'd like to wring that pretty + neck of yours; and sometimes!”—he moved suddenly toward her—“I + would sell my soul for you, and—” + </p> + <p> + She retreated from him coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about that! This isn't a love scene!” she purred caustically. + “And as for the other, save it for the White Moll. What makes you think + you've got her at last?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think—I know.” He stood gnawing at his lips, eying her + uncertainly, half angrily, half hungrily. And then he shrugged his + shoulders. “Listen!” he said. “I've got some one else, too! And I know now + where the leak that's queered every one of our games and put the White + Moll wise to every one of our plans beforehand has come from. I guess + you'll believe me now, won't you? We've got that dude pal of hers fastened + up tighter than the night he fastened me with his cursed handcuffs! Do you + know who that same dude pal is?” He laughed in an ugly, immoderate way. + “You don't, of course, so I'll tell you. It's the Pug!” Rhoda Gray did not + answer. It was growing dark here in the shed now—perhaps that was + why the man's form blended suddenly into the doorway and wall, and blurred + before her. She tried to think, but there seemed to have fallen upon her a + numbed and agonized stupefaction. There was no confusing this issue. + Danglar had found out that the Adventurer was the Pug. And it meant—oh, + what did it mean? They would kill him. Of course, they would kill him! The + Adventurer, discovered, would be safer at the mercy of a pack of starved + pumas, and... + </p> + <p> + “I thought that would hold you!” said Danglar with brutal serenity. + “That's why I didn't get around till now. I didn't get back from that + chase until daylight—the she-fiend stole our car—and then I + went to bed to get a little sleep. About three o'clock this afternoon + Pinkie Bonn woke me up. He was half batty with excitement. He said he was + over in the tenement in the Pug's room. The Pug wasn't in, and Pinkie was + waiting for him, and then all of a sudden he heard a woman screaming like + mad from somewhere. He went to the door and looked out, and saw a man dash + out of a room across the hall, and burst in the door of the next room. + There was a woman in there with her clothes on fire. She'd upset a + coal-oil stove, or something. The man Pinkie had seen beats the fire out, + and everybody in the tenement begins to collect around the door. And then + Pinkie goes pop-eyed. The man's face was the face of the White Moll's dude + pal—but he had on the Pug's clothes. Pinkie's a wise guy. He slips + away to me without getting himself in the limelight or spilling any beans. + And I didn't ask him if he'd been punching the needle again overtime, + either. It fitted like a glove with what happened at old Luertz's last + night. You don't know about that. Pinkie and this double-crossing snitch + went there—and only found a note from the White Moll. He'd tipped + her off before, of course, and the note made a nice little play so's he'd + be safe himself with us. Well, that's about all. We had to get him—where + we wanted him—and we got him. We waited until he showed up again as + the Pug, and then we put over a frame-up deal on him that got him to go + over to that old iron plant in Harlem, you know, behind Jake Malley's + saloon, where we had it fixed to hand Cloran his last night—and the + Pug's there now. He's nicely gagged, and tied, and quite safe. The plant's + been shut down for the last two months, and there's only the watchman + there, and he's 'squared.' We gave the Pug two hours of solitary + confinement to think it over and come across. We just asked him for the + White Moll's address, so's we could get her and the sparklers she swiped + at Old Luertz's place last night.” + </p> + <p> + Still Rhoda Gray did not speak for a moment. She seemed to be held in + thrall by both terror and a sickening dismay. It did not seem real, her + surroundings here, this man, and the voice that was gloatingly pronouncing + the death sentence upon the man who had come unbidden into her life, and + into her heart, the man she loved. Yes, she understood! Danglar's words + had been plain enough. The Adventurer had been trapped—not through + Danglar's cunning, or lack of cunning on the Adventurer's own part, but + through force of circumstances that had caused him to fling all thought of + self-consideration to the winds in an effort to save another's life. Her + hands, hidden in the folds of her skirt, clenched until they hurt. And it + was another self, it seemed, subconsciously enacting the role of Gypsy + Nan, alias Danglar's wife, who spoke at last. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool! You are all fools!” she cried tempestuously. “What do you + expect to gain by that? Do you imagine you can make the Pug come across + with any information by a threat to kill him if he doesn't? You tried that + once. You had him cold, or at least you thought you had, and so did he, + that night in old Nicky Viner's room, and he laughed at you even when he + expected you to fire the next second. He's not likely to have changed any + since then, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Danglar, with a vicious chuckle; “and that's why I'm not trying + the same game twice. That's why we've got him over in the old iron plant + now.” + </p> + <p> + There was something she did not like in Danglar's voice, something of + ominous assurance, something that startled her. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lonely place,” said Danglar complacently. “There's no one around + but the watchman, and he's an old friend of Shluker's; and it's so roomy + over there that no one could expect him to be everywhere at once. See? + That let's him out. He's been well greased, and he won't know anything. + Don't you worry, old girl! That's what I came here for—to tell you + that everything is all right, after all. The Pug will talk. Maybe he + wouldn't if he just had his choice between that and the quick, painless + end that a bullet would bring; but there are some things that a man can't + stand. Get me? We'll try a few of those on the Pug, and, believe me, + before we're through, there won't be any secrets wrapped up in his bosom.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray stood motionless. Thank God it had grown dark—dark enough + to hide the whiteness that she knew had crept over her face, and the + horror that had crept into her eyes. “You mean”—her voice was very + low—“you mean you're going to torture him into talking?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” said Danglar. “What do you think!” + </p> + <p> + “And after that?” + </p> + <p> + “We bump him off, of course,” said Danglar callously. “He knows all about + us, don't he? And I guess we'll square up on what's coming to him! He's + put the crimp into us for the last time!” Danglar's voice pitched suddenly + hoarse in fury. “That's a hell of a question to ask! What do you think + we'd do with a yellow cur that's double-crossed us like that?” + </p> + <p> + Plead for the Adventurer's life? It was useless; it was worse than useless—it + would only arouse suspicion toward herself. From the standpoint of any one + of the gang, the Adventurer's life was forfeit. Her mind was swift, + cruelly swift, in its workings now. There came the prompting to disclose + her own identity to tell Danglar that he need not go to the Adventurer to + discover the whereabouts of the White Moll, that she was here now before + him; there came the prompting to offer herself in lieu of the man she + loved. But that, too, was useless, and worse than useless; they would + still do away with the Adventurer because he had been the Pug, and the + only chance he now had, as represented by whatever she might be able to + do, would be gone, since she would but have delivered herself into their + hands. + </p> + <p> + She drew back suddenly. Danglar had stepped toward her. She was unable to + avoid him, and his arm encircled her waist. She shivered as the pressure + of his arm tightened. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, old girl!” he said exuberantly. “You've been through + hell, you have; but it's all right at last. You leave it to me! Your + husband's got a kiss to make up for every drop of that grease you've had + to put on the prettiest face in New York.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though she must scream out. It was hideous. She could not + force herself to endure it another instant even for safety's safe. She + pushed him away. It was unbearable—at any risk, cost what it might. + Mind, soul and body recoiled from the embrace. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone!” she panted. “You've been drinking. Leave me alone!” + </p> + <p> + He drew back, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Not very much,” he said. “The celebration hasn't started yet, and you'll + be in on that. I guess your nerves have been getting shaky lately, haven't + they? Well, you can figure on the swellest rest-cure you ever heard of, + Bertha. Take it from me! We're going down to keep the Pug company + presently. You blow around to Matty's about midnight and get the election + returns. We'll finish the job after that by getting Cloran out of the road + some way before morning, and that will let you out for keeps—there + won't be any one left to recognize the woman who was with Deemer the night + he shuffled out.” He backed to the doorway. “Get me? Come over to Matty's + and see the rajah's sparklers about midnight. We'll have 'em then—and + the she-fiend, too. So long, Bertha!” + </p> + <p> + She scarcely heard him; she answered mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. DREAD UPON THE WATERS + </h2> + <p> + For a moment after Danglar had gone, Rhoda Gray stood motionless; and + then, the necessity for instant action upon her, she moved quickly toward + the doorway herself. There was only one thing she could do, just one; but + she must be sure first that Danglar was well started on his way. She + reached the doorway, looked out—and suddenly caught her breath in a + low, quick inhalation, In the semi-darkness she could just make out + Danglar's form, perhaps twenty-five yards away now, heading along the lane + toward the street; but behind Danglar, at a well-guarded distance in the + rear, hugging the shadows of the fence, she saw the form of another man. + Her brows knitted in a perplexed and anxious frown. The second man was + undoubtedly following Danglar. That was evident. But why? Who was it? What + did it mean? + </p> + <p> + She retreated back into the shed, and commenced hastily to disrobe and + dress again in her own clothes, which she had flung down upon the floor. + In the last analysis, did it matter who it was that was following Danglar—even + if it were one of the police? For, supposing that the man who was + shadowing Danglar was a plain-clothes man, and suppose he even followed + Danglar and the rest of the gang to the old iron plant, and suppose that + with the necessary assistance he rounded them all up, and in that sense + effected the Adventurer's rescue, it scarcely meant a better fate for the + Adventurer! It simply meant that the Adventurer, as one of the gang, and + against whom every one of the rest would testify as the sole means left to + them of wreaking their vengeance upon one who had tricked and outwitted + them again and again for his own ends, would stand his trial with the + others, and with the others go behind prison bars for a long term of + years. + </p> + <p> + She hurried now, completing the last touches that transformed her from + Gypsy Nan into the veiled figure of the White Moll, stepped out into the + lane, and walking rapidly, reached the street and headed, not in the + direction of Harlem, but deeper over into the East Side. Even as Danglar + had been speaking she had realized that, for the Adventurer's own sake, + and irrespective of what any premature disclosure of her own identity to + the authorities might mean to her, she could not call upon the police for + aid. There was only one way, just one—to go herself, to reach the + Adventurer herself before Danglar returned there and had an opportunity of + putting his worse than murderous intentions into effect. + </p> + <p> + Well, she was going there, wasn't she? And if she lost no time she should + be there easily ahead of them, and her chances would be excellent of + releasing the Adventurer with very little risk. From what Danglar had + said, the Adventurer was there alone. Once tied and gagged there had been + no need to leave anybody to guard him, save that the watchman would + ordinarily serve to keep any one off the premises, which was all that was + necessary. But that he had been left at all worried her greatly. He had, + of course, already refused to talk. What they had done to him she did not + know, but the 'solitary confinement' Danglar had referred to was + undoubtedly the first step in their efforts to break his spirit. Her lips + tightened as she went along. Surely she could accomplish it! She had but + to evade the watchman—only, first, the lost revolver, the one + safeguard against an adverse turn of fortune, must be replaced, and that + was where she was going now. She knew, from her associations with the + underworld as the White Moll in the old days, where such things could be + purchased and no questions asked, if one were known. And she was known in + the establishment to which she was going, for evil days had once fallen + upon its proprietor, one “Daddy” Jacques, in that he had incurred the + enmity of certain of his own ilk in the underworld, and on a certain + night, which he would not be likely to forget, she had stood between him + and a manhandling that would probably have cost him his life, and—Yes, + this was the place. + </p> + <p> + She entered a dirty-windowed, small and musty pawnshop. A little old man, + almost dwarf-like in stature, with an unkempt, tawny beard, who wore a + greasy and ill-fitting suit, and upon whose bald head was perched an + equally greasy skull cap, gazed at her inquiringly from behind the + counter. + </p> + <p> + “I want a gun, and a good one, please,” she said, after a glance around + her to assure herself that they were alone. + </p> + <p> + The other squinted at her through his spectacles, as he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got any, lady,” he answered. “We're not allowed to sell them + without—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you have, Daddy,” she contradicted quietly, as she raised her + veil. “And quick, please; I'm in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + The little old man leaned forward, staring at her for a moment as though + fascinated; and then his hand, in a fumbling way, removed the skull cap + from his bead. There was a curious, almost wistful reverence in his voice + as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she smiled. “But the gun, Daddy. Quick! I haven't an instant to + lose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” he said eagerly—and shuffled away. + </p> + <p> + He was back in a moment, an automatic in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's loaded, of course?” she said, as she took the weapon. She slipped it + into her pocket as he nodded affirmatively. “How much, Daddy?” + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll!” He seemed still under the spell of amazement. “It is + nothing. There is no charge. It is nothing, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Daddy!” she said softly—and laid a bill upon the + counter, and stepped back to the door. “Good-night!” she smiled. + </p> + <p> + She heard him call to her; but she was already on the street again, and + hurrying along. She felt better, somehow, in a mental way, for that little + encounter with the shady old pawnbroker. She was not so much alone, + perhaps, as she had thought; there were many, perhaps, even if they were + of the underworld, who had not swerved from the loyalty they had once + professed to the White Moll. + </p> + <p> + It brought a new train of thought, and she paused suddenly in her walk. + She might rally around her some of those underworld intimates upon whose + allegiance she felt she could depend, and use them now, to-night, in + behalf of the Adventurer; she would be sure then to be a match for + Danglar, no matter what turn affairs took. And then, with an impatient + shake of her head, she hurried on again. There was no time for that. It + would take a great deal of time to find and pick her men; she had even + wasted time herself, where there was no time to spare, in the momentary + pause during which she had given the thought consideration. + </p> + <p> + She reached the nearest subway station, which was her objective, and + boarded a Harlem train, satisfied that her heavy veil would protect her + against recognition. Unobtrusively she took a window seat. No one paid her + any attention. Hours passed, it seemed to her impatience, while the black + walls rushed by, punctuated by occasional scintillating signal lights, + and, at longer intervals, by the fuller glare from the station platforms. + </p> + <p> + In the neighborhood of 125th street she left the train, and, entering the + first drug store she found, consulted a directory. She did not know this + section of New York at all; she did not know either the location or the + firm name of the iron plant to which Danglar, assuming naturally, of + course, that she was conversant with it, had referred; and she did not + care to ask to be directed to Jake Malley's saloon, which was the only + clew she had to guide her. The problem, however, did not appear to be a + very difficult one. She found the saloon's address, and, asking the clerk + to direct her to the street indicated, left the drug store again. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, it was not so easy; no easier than for one unacquainted + with any locality to find one's way about. Several times she found herself + at fault, and several times she was obliged to ask directions again. She + had begun to grow panicky with fear and dread at the time she had lost, + before, finally, she found the saloon. She was quite sure that it was + already more than half an hour since she had left the drug store; and that + half an hour might easily mean the difference between safety and disaster, + not only for the Adventurer, but for herself as well. Danglar might have + been in no particular hurry, and he would probably have gone first to + whatever rendezvous he had appointed for those of the gang selected to + accompany him, but even to have done so in a leisurely way would surely + not have taken more than that half hour! + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was Jake Malley's saloon now, across the road from her, but she + could not recall the time that was already lost! They might be there now—ahead + of her. + </p> + <p> + She quickened her steps almost to a run. There should be no difficulty in + finding the iron plant now. “Behind Jake Malley's saloon,” Danglar had + said. She turned down the cross street, passed the side entrance to the + saloon, and hastened along. The locality was lonely, deserted, and none + too well lighted. The arc lamps, powerful enough in themselves, were so + far apart that they left great areas of shadow, almost blackness, between + them. And the street too was very narrow, and the buildings, such as they + were, were dark and unlighted—certainly it was not a residential + district! + </p> + <p> + And now she became aware that she was close to the river, for the sound of + a passing craft caught her attention. Of course! She understood now. The + iron plant, for shipping facilities, was undoubtedly on the bank of the + river itself, and—yes, this was it, wasn't it?—this picket + fence that began to parallel the right-hand side of the street, and + enclose, seemingly, a very large area. She halted and stared at it—and + suddenly her heart sank with a miserable sense of impotence and dismay. + Yes, this was the place beyond question. Through the picket fence she + could make out the looming shadows of many buildings, and spidery iron + structures that seemed to cobweb the darkness, and—and—Her + face mirrored her misery. She had thought of a single building. Where, + inside there, amongst all those rambling structures, with little time, + perhaps none at all, to search, was she to find the Adventurer? + </p> + <p> + She did not try to answer her own question—she was afraid that her + dismay would get the better of her if she hesitated for an instant. She + crossed the street, choosing a spot between two of the arc lamps where the + shadows were blackest. It was a high fence, but not too high to climb. She + reached up, preparatory to pulling herself to the top—and drew back + with a stifled cry. She was too late, then—already too late! They + were here ahead of her—and on guard after all! A man's form, + appearing suddenly out of the darkness but a few feet away, was making + quickly toward her. She wrenched her automatic from her pocket. The touch + of the weapon in her hand restored her self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Don't come any nearer!” she cried out sharply. “I will fire if you do!” + </p> + <p> + And then the man spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It's you, ain't it?” he called in guarded eagerness. “It's the White + Moll, ain't it? Thank God, it's you!” + </p> + <p> + Her extended hand with the automatic fell to her side. She had recognized + his voice. It wasn't Danglar, it wasn't one of the gang, or the watchman + who was no better than an accomplice; it was Marty Finch, alias the + Sparrow. + </p> + <p> + “Marty!” she exclaimed. “You! What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm here to keep you from goin' in there!” he answered excitedly. “And—and, + say, I was afraid I was too late. Don't you go in there! For God's sake, + don't you go! They're layin' a trap for you! They're goin' to bump you + off! I know all about it!” + </p> + <p> + “You know? What do you mean?” she asked quickly. “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I quit my job a few days after that fellow you called Danglar tried to + murder me that night you saved me,” said the Sparrow, with a savage laugh. + “I knew he had it in for you, and I guess I had something comm' to him on + my own account too, hadn't I? That's the job I've been on ever since—tryin' + to find the dirty pup. And I found him! But it wasn't until to-night, + though you can believe me there weren't many joints in the old town where + I didn't look for him. My luck turned to-night. I spotted him comin' out + of Italian Joe's bar. See? I followed him. After a while he slips into a + lane, and from the street I saw him go into a shed there. I worked my way + up quiet, and got as near as I dared without bein' heard and seen, and I + listened. He was talkin' to a woman. I couldn't hear everything they said, + and they quarreled a lot; but I heard him say something about framin' up a + job to get somebody down to the old iron plant behind Jake Malley's saloon + and bump 'em off, and I heard him say there wouldn't be any White Moll by + morning, and I put two and two together and beat it for here.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray reached out and caught the Sparrow's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Marty! You haven't got it quite right—though, thank + Heaven, you got it the way you did, since you are here now!” she said + fervently. “It wasn't me, it wasn't the White Moll, they expected to get + here; it's the man who helped me that night to clear you of the + Hayden-Bond robbery that Danglar meant to make you shoulder. He risked his + life to do it, Marty. They've got him a prisoner somewhere in there; and + they're coming back to—to torture him into telling them where I am, + and—and afterwards to do away with him. That's why I'm here, Marty—to + get him away, if I can, before they come back.” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow whistled low under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I guess it's my hunt too,” he said coolly. “And I guess this + is where a prison bird horns in with the goods. Ever since I've been + looking for that Danglar guy, I've been carryin' a full kit—because + I didn't know what might break, or what kind of a mess I might want to get + out of. Come on! We ain't got no time. There's a couple of broken pickets + down there. We might be seen climbin' the fence. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + Bread upon the waters! With a sense of warm gratitude upon her, Rhoda Gray + followed the ex-convict. They made their way through the fence. A long, + low building, a storage shed evidently, showed a few yards in front of + them. It seemed to be quite close to the river, for now she could see the + reflection of lights from here and there playing on the black, mirror-like + surface of the water. Farther on, over beyond the shed, the yard of the + plant, dotted with other buildings and those spidery iron structures which + she had previously noticed, stretched away until it was lost in the + darkness. Here, however, within the radius of one of the street arc lamps + it was quite light. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray had paused in almost hopeless indecision as to how or where to + begin her search, when the Sparrow spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like we got a long hunt,” whispered the Sparrow; “but a few + minutes before you came, a guy with a lantern comes from over across the + yard there and nosed around that shed, and acted kind of queer, and I + could see him stick his head up against them side doors there as though he + was listenin' for something inside. Does that wise you up to anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she breathed tensely. “That was the watchman. He's one of them. The + man we want is in that shed beyond a doubt. Hurry, Marty—hurry!” + </p> + <p> + They ran together now, and reached the double side-door. It was evidently + for freight purposes only, and probably barred on the inside, for they + found there was no way of opening it from without. + </p> + <p> + “There must be an entrance,” she said feverishly—and led the way + toward the front of the building in the direction away from the river. + “Yes, here it is!” she exclaimed, as they rounded the end of the shed. + </p> + <p> + She tried the door. It was locked. She felt in her pocket for her skeleton + keys, for she had not been unprepared for just such an emergency, but the + Sparrow brushed her aside. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me!” he said quickly. “I'll pick that lock like one o'clock! + It won't take me more'n a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray did not stand and watch him. Minutes were priceless things, and + she could put the minute he asked for to better advantage than by idling + it away. With an added injunction to hurry and that she would be back in + an instant, she was already racing around the opposite side of the shed. + If they were pressed, cornered, by the arrival of Danglar, it might well + mean the difference between life and death to all of them if she had an + intimate knowledge of the surroundings. + </p> + <p> + She was running at top speed. Halfway down the length of the shed she + tripped and fell over some object. She pushed it aside as she rose. It was + an old iron casting, more bulky in shape than in weight, though she found + it none too light to lift comfortably. She ran on. A wharf projected out, + she found, from this end of the shed. At the edge, she peered over. It was + quite light here again; away from the protecting shadows of the shed, the + rays of the arc lamp played without hindrance on the wharf just as they + did on the shed's side door. Below, some ten or twelve feet below, and at + the corner of the wharf, a boat, or, rather, a sort of scow, for it was + larger than a boat though oars lay along its thwarts, was moored. It was + partly decked over, and she could see a small black opening into the + forward end of it, though the opening itself was almost hidden by a heap + of tarpaulin, or sailcloth, or something of the kind, that lay in the + bottom of the craft. She nodded her head. They might all of them use that + boat to advantage! + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray turned and ran back. The Sparrow, with a grunt of satisfaction, + was just opening the door. She stepped through the doorway. The Sparrow + followed. + </p> + <p> + “Close it!” said Rhoda Gray, under her breath. She felt her heart beat + quicken, the blood flood her face and then recede. Her imagination had + suddenly become too horribly vivid. Suppose they—they had already + gone farther than... + </p> + <p> + With an effort she controlled herself—and the round, white ray of + her flashlight swept the place. A moment more, and, with a low cry, she + was running forward to where, on the floor near the wall of the shed + opposite the side door, she made out the motionless form of a man. She + reached him, and dropped on her knees beside him. It was the Adventurer. + She spoke to him. He did not answer. And then she remembered what Danglar + had said, and she saw that he was gagged. But—but she was not sure + that was the reason why he did not answer. The flashlight in her hand + wavered unsteadily as it played over him. Perhaps the whiteness of the ray + itself exaggerated it, but his face held a deathly pallor; his eyes were + closed; and his hands and feet were twisted cruelly and tightly bound. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your knife—quick—Sparrow!” she called. “Then go and + keep watch just outside.” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow handed her his knife, and hurried back to the door. + </p> + <p> + She worked in the darkness now. She could not use both hands and still + hold the flashlight; and, besides, with the door partially open now where + the Sparrow was on guard there was always the chance, if Danglar and those + of the gang with him were already in the vicinity, of the light bringing + them all the more quickly to the scene. + </p> + <p> + Again she spoke to the Adventurer, as she removed the gag—and a fear + that made her sick at heart seized up on her. There was still no answer. + And now, as she worked, cutting at the cords on his hands and feet, the + love that she knew for the man, its restraint broken by the sense of dread + and fear at his condition, rose dominant within her, and impulse that she + could not hold in least took possession of her, and in the darkness, since + he would not know, and there was none to see, she bent her head, and, half + crying, her lips pressed upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + She drew back startled, a crimson in her face that the darkness hid. What + had she done? Did he know? Had he returned to consciousness, if he really + had been unconscious, in time to know? She could not see; but she knew his + eyes had opened. + </p> + <p> + She worked frantically with the bonds. He was free now. She cast them off. + </p> + <p> + He spoke then—thickly, with great difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “It's you, the White Moll, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He raised himself up on his elbow, only to fall back with a suppressed + groan. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how you found me, but get away at once—for God's sake, + get away!” he cried. “Danglar'll be here at any minute. It's you he wants. + He thinks you know where some—some jewels are, and that I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about Danglar,” she said hurriedly. “And I know all about the + jewels, for I've got them myself.” + </p> + <p> + He was up on his knees now, swaying there. She caught at his shoulder to + support him. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he cried out incredulously. “You—you've got them? Say that + again! You—you've—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, and with an effort steadied her voice. He—he was a + thief. Cost her what it might, with all its bitter hurt, she must remember + that, even—even if she had forgotten once. “Yes,” she said. “And I + mean to turn them over to the police, and expose every one of Danglar's + gang. I—you are entitled to a chance; you once stood between me and + the police. I can do no less by you. I couldn't turn the police loose on + the gang without giving you warning, for, you see, I know you are the + Pug.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he stammered. “You know that, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Try and walk,” she said breathlessly. “There isn't any time. And once you + are away from here, remember that when Danglar is in the hands of the + police he will take the only chance for revenge he has left, and give the + police all the information he can, so that they will get you too.” + </p> + <p> + He stumbled pitifully. + </p> + <p> + “I can't walk much yet.” He was striving to speak coolly. “They trussed me + up a bit, you know—but I'll be all right in a little while when I + get the cramps out of my joints and the circulation back. And so, Miss + Gray, won't you please go at once? I'm free now, and I'll manage all + right, and—” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow came running back from the door. + </p> + <p> + “They're comm'!” he said excitedly. “They're comm' from a different way + than we came in. I saw 'em sway up there across the yard for a second when + they showed up under a patch of light from an arc lamp on the other + street. There's three of 'em. We got about a couple of minutes, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Get those side doors open! Quick! And no noise!”' ordered Rhoda Gray + tersely. And then to the Adventurer: “Try—try and walk! I'll help + you.” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer made a desperate attempt at a few steps. It was miserably + slow. At that rate Danglar would be upon them before they could even cross + the shed itself. + </p> + <p> + “I can crawl faster,” laughed the Adventurer with bitter whimsicality. + “Give me your revolver, Miss Gray, and you two go—and God bless + you!” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow was opening the side door, but she realized now that even if + they could carry the Adventurer they could not get away in time. Her mind + itself seemed stunned for an instant—and then, in a lightning flash, + inspiration came. She remembered that iron casting, and the wharf, and the + other side of the shed in shadow. It was desperate, perhaps almost + hopeless, but it was the only way that gave the Adventurer a chance for + his life. + </p> + <p> + She spoke rapidly. The little margin of time they had must be narrowing + perilously. + </p> + <p> + “Marty, help this gentleman! Crawl to the street, if you have to. The only + thing is that you are not to make the slightest noise, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” demanded the Adventurer hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take the only chance there is for all of us,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + She started toward the front door of the shed; but he reached out and held + her back. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to take the only chance there is for me!” he cried + brokenly. “You're going out there—where they are. Oh, my God! I + know! You love me! I—I was only half conscious, but I am sure you + kissed me a little while ago. And but for this you would never have known + that I knew it, because, please God, whatever else I am, I am not coward + enough to take that advantage of you. But I love you, too! Rhoda! I have + the right to speak, the right our love gives me. You are not to go—that + way. Run—run through the side door there—they will not see + you.” + </p> + <p> + She was trembling. Repudiate her love? Tell him there could be nothing + between them because he was a thief? She might never live to see him + again. Her soul was in riot, the blood flaming hot in her cheeks. He was + clinging to her arm. She tore herself forcibly away. The seconds were + counting now. She tried to bid him good-by, but the words choked in her + throat. She found herself running for the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Sparrow—quick! Do as I told you!” she half sobbed over her shoulder—and + opening the door, stepped out and dosed it behind her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. A LONE HAND + </h2> + <p> + And now Rhoda Gray was in the radius of the arc lamp, and distinctly + visible to any one coming down the yard. How near were they? Yes, she saw + them now—three forms-perhaps a little more than a hundred yards + away. She moved a few steps deliberately toward them, as though quite + unconscious of their presence; and then, as a shout from one of them + announced that she was seen, she halted, hesitated as though surprised, + terrified and uncertain, and, as they sprang forward, she turned and ran—making + for the side of the shed away from the side door. + </p> + <p> + A voice rang out—Danglar's: + </p> + <p> + “By God, it's the White Moll!” + </p> + <p> + It was the only way! She had the pack in cry now. They would pay no + attention to the Adventurer while the White Moll was seemingly almost + within their grasp. If she could only hold them now for a little while—just + a little while—the Adventurer wasn't hurt—only cramped and + numbed—he would be all right again and able to take care of himself + in a little while—and meanwhile the Sparrow would help him to get + away. + </p> + <p> + She was running with all her speed. She heard them behind her—the + pound, pound, pound of feet. She had gained the side of the shed. The + light from the arc lamp was shut off from her now, and they would only be + able to see her, she knew, as a dim, fleeting shadow. Where was that iron + casting? Pray God, it was heavy enough; and pray God, it was not too + heavy! Yes, here it was! She pretended to stumble—and caught the + thing up in her arms. An exultant cry went up from behind her as she + appeared to fall—oaths, a chorus of them, as she went on again. + </p> + <p> + They had not gained on her before; but with the weight in her arms, + especially as she was obliged to carry it awkwardly in order to shield it + from their view with her body, she could not run so fast now, and they + were beginning to close up on her. But she was on the wharf now, and there + was not much farther to go, and—and surely she could hold all the + lead she needed until she reached the edge. + </p> + <p> + The light from the arc lamp held her in view again out here on the wharf + where she was clear of the shed; but she knew they would not fire at her + except as a last resort. They could not afford to sound an alarm that + would attract notice to the spot—when they had, or believed they + had, both the Adventurer and the White Moll within their grasp now. + </p> + <p> + She was running now with short, hard, panting gasps. There were still five + yards to go-three-one! She looked around her like a hunted animal at bay, + as she reached the end of the wharf and stood there poised at the edge. + Yes, thank God, they were still far enough behind to give her the few + seconds she needed! She cried out loudly as though in despair and terror—and + sprang from the edge of the wharf. And as she sprang she dropped the + casting; but even as it struck the water with a loud splash, Rhoda Gray, + in frantic haste, was crawling in through the little locker-like opening + under the decked-over bow of the half scow, half boat into which she had + leaped. And quick as a flash, huddled inside, she reached out and drew the + heap of what proved to be sailcloth nearer to her to cover the opening-and + lay still. + </p> + <p> + A few seconds passed; then she heard them at the edge of the wharf, and + heard Danglar s voice. + </p> + <p> + “Watch where she comes up! She can't get away!” + </p> + <p> + A queer, wan smile twisted Rhoda Gray's lips. The casting had served her + well; the splash had been loud enough! She listened, straining her ears to + catch every sound from above. It was miserably small this hiding place + into which she had crawled, scarcely large enough to hold her—she + was beginning to be painfully cramped and uncomfortable already. + </p> + <p> + Another voice, that she recognized as Pinkie Bonn's now, reached her: + </p> + <p> + “It's damned hard to spot anything out there; the water's blacker'n hell.” + </p> + <p> + Came a savage and impatient oath from Danglar. + </p> + <p> + “She's got to come up, ain't she—or drown!” he rasped. “Maybe she's + swum under the wharf, or maybe she's swum under water far enough out so's + we can't see her from here. Anyway, jump into that boat there, and we'll + paddle around till we get her.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray held her breath. The boat rocked violently as, one after + another, the men jumped into it. Her right hand was doubled under her, it + was hard to reach her pocket and her automatic. She moved a little; they + were cursing, splashing with their oars, making too much noise to hear any + slight rustle that she might make. + </p> + <p> + A minute, two, went by. She had her automatic now, and she lay there, + grim-lipped, waiting. Even if they found her now, she had her own way out; + and by now, beyond any question, the Adventurer and the Sparrow would have + reached the street, and, even if they had to hide out there somewhere + until the Adventurer had recovered the use of his limbs, they would be + safe. + </p> + <p> + She could not see, of course. Once the boat bumped, and again. They were + probably searching around under the wharf. She could not hear what they + said, for they were keeping quiet now, talking in whispers—so as not + to give her warning of their whereabouts undoubtedly! + </p> + <p> + The time dragged on. Her cramped position was bringing her excruciating + agony now. She could understand how the Adventurer, in far worse case in + the brutal position in which they had bound him, had fainted. She was + afraid she would faint herself—it was not only the pain, but it was + terribly close in the confined space, and her head was swimming. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally the oars splashed; and then, after an interminable time, the + men, as though hopeless of success, and as though caution were no longer + of any service, began to talk louder. + </p> + <p> + The third man was Shluker. She recognized his voice, too. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use!” he snarled. “If she's a good swimmer, she could get across + the river easy. She's got away; that's sure. What the hell's the good of + this? We're playing the fool. Beat it back! She was nosing around the + shed. How do we know she didn't let the Pug loose before we saw her?” + </p> + <p> + Pinkie Bonn whined: + </p> + <p> + “If he's gone too, we're crimped! The whole works is bust up! The Pug + knows everything, where our money is, an' everything. They'll have us + cold!” + </p> + <p> + “Close your face, Pinkie!” It was Danglar speaking, his voice hoarse with + uncontrollable rage. “Go on back, then, Shluker. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray heard the hurried splashing of the oars now; and presently she + felt the bumping of the boat against the wharf, and its violent rocking as + the men climbed out of it again. But she did not move—save with her + hand to push the folds of sailcloth a cautious inch or two away from the + opening. It did not ease the agony she was suffering from her cramped + position, but it gave her fresher air, and she could hear better—the + ring of their boot-heels on the wharf above, for instance. + </p> + <p> + The footsteps died away. There was silence then for a moment; and then, + faintly, from the direction of the shed, there came a chorus of baffled + rage and execration. She smiled a little wearily to herself. It was all + right. That was what she wanted to know. The Adventurer had got away. + </p> + <p> + Still she lay there. She dared not leave the boat yet; but she could + change her position now. She crawled half out from under the docking, and + lay with her head on the sailcloth. It was exquisite relief! They could + not come back along the wharf without her hearing them, and she could + retreat under the decking again in an instant, if necessary. + </p> + <p> + Voices reached her now occasionally from the direction of the shed. + Finally a silence fell. The minutes passed—ten—fifteen—twenty + of them. And then Rhoda Gray climbed warily to the wharf, made her way + warily past the shed, and gained the road—and three-quarters of an + hour later, in another shed, in the lane behind the garret, she was + changing quickly into the rags of Gypsy Nan again. + </p> + <p> + It was almost the end now. To-night, she would keep the appointment + Danglar had given her—and keep it ahead of time. It was almost the + end. Her lips set tightly. The Adventurer had been warned. There was + nothing now to stand in the way of her going to the police, save only the + substantiation of that one point in her own story which Danglar must + supply. + </p> + <p> + Her transformation completed, she reached in under the flooring and took + out the package of jewels—they would help very materially when she + faced Danglar!—and, though it was somewhat large, tucked it inside + her blouse. It could not be noticed. The black, greasy shawl hid it + effectively. + </p> + <p> + She stepped out into the lane, and from there to the street, and began to + make her way across town. She did not have to search for Danglar to-night. + She was to meet him at Matty's at midnight, and it was not more than + halfpast eleven now. Three hours and a half! Was that all since at eight + o'clock, as nearly as she could place it, he had left her in the lane? It + seemed as many years; but it was only twenty minutes after eleven, she had + noticed, when she had left the subway on her return a few minutes ago. Her + hand clenched suddenly. She was to meet him at Matty's—and, + thereafter, if it took all night, she would not leave him until she had + got him alone somewhere and disclosed herself. The man was a coward in + soul. She could trust to the effect upon him of an automatic in the hands + of the White Mall to make him talk. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray walked quickly. It was not very far. She turned the corner into + the street where Danglar's deformed brother, Matty, cloaked the executive + activities of the gang with his cheap little notion store—and halted + abruptly. The store was just ahead of her, and Danglar himself, coming + out, had just closed the door. + </p> + <p> + He saw her, and stepping instantly to her side, grasped her arm roughly + and wheeled her about. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” he said—and a vicious oath broke from his lips. + </p> + <p> + The man was in a towering, ungovernable passion. She cast a furtive glance + at his face. She had seen him before in anger; but now, with his lips + drawn back and working, his whole face contorted, he seemed utterly beside + himself. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” she inquired innocently. “Wouldn't the Pug talk, or + is it a case of 'another hour or so,' and—” + </p> + <p> + He swung on her furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your cursed tongue!” he flared. “You'll snicker on the wrong side of + your face this time!” He gulped, stared at her threateningly, and + quickened his step, forcing her to keep pace with him. But he spoke again + after a minute, savagely, bitterly, but more in control of himself. “The + Pug got away. The White Moll queered us again. But it's worse than that. + The game's up! I told you to be here at midnight. It's only half past + eleven yet. I figured you would still be over in the garret, and I was + going there for you. That's where we're going now. There's no chance at + those rajah's jewels now; there's no chance of fixing Cloran so's you can + swell it around in the open again—the only chance we've got is to + save what we can and beat it!” + </p> + <p> + She did not need to simulate either excitement or disquiet. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What's happened?” she asked tensely. + </p> + <p> + “The gang's thrown us down!” he said between his teeth. “They're scared; + they've got cold feet—they're going to quit. Shluker and Pinkie were + with me at the iron plant. We went back to Matty's from there. Matty's + with them, too. They say the Pug knows every one of us, and every game + we've pulled, and that in revenge for our trying to murder him he'll wise + up the police—that he could do it easily enough without getting + nipped himself, by sending them a letter, or even telephoning the names + and addresses of the whole layout. They're scared—he curs! They say + he knows where all our coin is too; and they're for splitting it up + to-night, and ducking it out of New York for a while to get under cover.” + He laughed out suddenly, raucously. “They will—eh? I'll show them—the + yellow-streaked pups! They wouldn't listen to me—and it meant that + you and I were thrown down for fair. If we're caught, it's the chair. I'll + show them! When I saw it wasn't any use trying to get them to stick, I + pretended to agree with them. See? I said they could go around and dig up + the rest of the gang, and if the others felt the same way about it, they + were all to come over to the garret, and I'd be waiting for them,—and + we'd split up the swag, and everybody'd be on his own after that.” Again + he laughed out raucously. “It'll take them half an hour to get together—but + it won't take that long for us to grab all that's worth grabbing out of + that trap-door, and making our getaway. See? I'll teach them to throw + Pierre Danglar down! Come on, hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” she mumbled mechanically. + </p> + <p> + Her mind was sifting, sorting, weighing what he had said. She was not + surprised. She remembered Pinkie Bonn's outburst in the boat. She walked + on beside Danglar. The man was muttering and cursing under his breath. + Well, why shouldn't she appear to fall in with his plans? Under what + choicer surroundings could she get him alone than in the garret? And half + an hour would be ample time for her, too! Yes, yes, she began to see! With + Danglar, when she had got what she wanted out of him herself, held up at + the point of her automatic, she could back to the door and lock him in + there—and notify the police—and the police would not only get + Danglar and the ill-gotten hoard hidden in the ceiling behind that + trap-door, but they would get all the rest of the gang as the latter in + due course appeared on the scene. Yes, why not? She experienced an + exhilaration creeping upon her; she even increased, unconsciously, the + rapid pace which Danglar had set. + </p> + <p> + “That's the stuff!” he grunted in savage approval. “We need every minute + we've got.” + </p> + <p> + They reached the house where once—so long ago now, it seemed!—Rhoda + Gray had first found the original Gypsy Nan; and, Danglar leading, mounted + the dark, narrow stairway to the hall above, and from there up the short, + ladder-like steps to the garret. He groped in the aperture under the + partition for the key, opened the door, and stepped inside. Rhoda Gray, + following, removed the key, inserted it on the inside of the door, and, as + she too entered, locked the door behind her. It was pitch-black here in + the attic. Her face was set now, her lips firm. She had been waiting for + this, hadn't she? It was near the end at last. She had Danglar—alone. + But not in the darkness! He was too tricky! She crossed the garret to + where the candle-stub, stuck in the neck of the gin bottle, stood on the + rickety washstand. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here and light the candle,” she said. “I can't find my + matches.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand was in the pocket of her skirt now, her fingers tight-closed on + the stock of her automatic, as he shuffled his way across the attic to her + side. A match spurted into flame; the candle wick flickered, then + steadied, dispersing little by little, as it grew brighter, the nearer + shadows—and there came a startled cry from Danglar—and Rhoda + Gray, the weapon in her pocket forgotten, was staring as though stricken + of her senses across the garret. The Adventurer was sitting on the edge of + the cot, and a revolver in his hand held a steady bead upon Danglar and + herself.. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. THE RECKONING + </h2> + <h3> + It was the Adventurer who spoke first. + </h3> + <p> + “Both of you! What charming luck!” he murmured whimsically. “You'll + forgive the intrusion won't you? A friend of mine, the Sparrow by name—I + think you are acquainted with him, Danglar—was good enough to open + the door for me, and lock it again on the outside. You see, I didn't wish + to cause you any alarm through a premature suspicion that you might have a + guest!” His voice hardened suddenly as he rose from the cot, and, though + he limped badly, stepped quickly toward them. “Don't move, Danglar—or + you, Mrs. Danglar!” he ordered sharply—and with a lightning movement + of his hand felt for, and whipped Danglar's revolver from the latter's + pocket. “Pardon me!” he said—and his hand was in and out of Rhoda + Gray's pocket. He tossed the two weapons coolly over onto the cot. “Well, + Danglar,” he smiled grimly, “there's quite a change in the last few hours, + isn't there?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar made no answer. His face was ashen; his little black eyes, like + those of a cornered rat, and as though searching for some avenue of + escape, were darting hunted glances all around the garret. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, the first shock of surprise gone, leaned back against the + washstand with an air of composure that she did not altogether feel. What + was the Adventurer going to do? True, she need have no fear of personal + violence—she had only to disclose herself. But—but there were + other considerations. She saw that reckoning of her own with Danglar at an + end, though—yes!—perhaps the Adventurer would become her ally + in that matter. But, then, there was something else. The Adventurer was a + thief, and she could not let him get away with those packages of banknotes + up there behind the trap-door in the ceiling, if she could help it. That + was perhaps what he had come for, and—and—Her mind seemed to + tumble into chaos. She did not know what to do. She stared at the + Adventurer. He was still dressed as the Pug, though the eye-patch was + gone, and there was no longer any sign of the artificial facial + disfigurements. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you sit down—Mrs. Danglar?” He pushed the single chair the + garret possessed toward her—and shrugged his shoulders as she + remained motionless. “You'll pardon me, then, if I sit down myself.” He + appropriated the chair, and faced them, his revolver dangling with ominous + carelessness in his hand. “I've had a rather upsetting experience this + evening, and I am afraid I am still a little the worse for it—as + perhaps you know, Danglar?” + </p> + <p> + “You damned traitor!” Danglar burst out wildly. “I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so!” said the Adventurer smoothly. “But we'll get to that in a + minute. Do you mind if I inflict a little story on you? I promise you it + won't take long. It's a little personal history which I think will be + interesting to you both; but, in any case, as my hosts, I am sure you will + be polite enough to listen. It concerns the murder of a man named Deemer; + but in order that you may understand my interest in the matter, I must go + back quite a little further. Perhaps I even ought to introduce myself. My + name, my real name, you know, is David Holt. My father was in the American + Consular service in India when I was about ten. He eventually left it and + went into business there through the advice of a very warm friend of his, + a certain very rich and very powerful rajah in the State of Chota Nagpur + in the Province of Bengal, where we then lived. I became an equally + intimate friend of the rajah's son, and—do I bore you, Danglar?” + </p> + <p> + Danglar was like a crouched animal, his head drawn into his shoulders, his + hands behind him with fingers twisting and gripping at the edge of the + washstand. + </p> + <p> + “What's your proposition?” he snarled. “Curse you, name your price, and + have done with it! You're as big a crook as I am!” + </p> + <p> + “You are impatient!” The Adventurer's shoulders went up again. “In due + time the rajah decided that a trip through Europe and back home through + America would round out his son's education, and broaden and fit him for + his future duties in a way that nothing else would. It was also decided, I + need hardly say to my intense delight, that I should accompany him. We + come now to our journey through the United States—you see, Danglar, + that I am omitting everything but the essential details. In a certain city + in the Middle West—I think you will remember it well, Danglar—the + young rajah met with an accident. He was out riding in the outskirts of + the city. His horse took fright and dashed for the river-bank. He was an + excellent horseman, but, pitched from his seat, his foot became tangled in + the stirrup, and as he hung there head down, a blow from he horse's hoof + rendered him unconscious, and he was being dragged along, when a man by + the name of Deemer, at the risk of his own life, saved the rajah's son. + The horse plunged over the bank and into the water with both of them. They + were both nearly drowned. Deemer, let me say in passing, did one of the + bravest things that any man ever did. Submerged, half drowned himself, he + stayed with the maddened animal until he had succeeded in freeing the + unconscious man. All this was some two years ago.” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer paused. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gray, hanging on his words, was leaning tensely forward—it + seemed as though some great, dawning wonderment was lifting her out of + herself, making her even unconscious of her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “The rajah's son remained at the hotel there for several days to + recuperate,” continued the Adventurer deliberately; “and during that time + he saw a great deal of Deemer, and, naturally, so did I. And, + incidentally, Danglar, though I thought nothing much of it then, I saw + something of you; and something of Mrs. Danglar there, too, though—if + she will permit me to say it—in a more becoming costume than she is + now wearing!” Once more he shrugged his shoulders as Danglar snarled. + “Yes, yes; I will hurry. I am almost through. While it was not made public + throughout the country, inasmuch as the rajah's son was more or less an + official guest of the government, the details of the accident were of + course known locally, as also was the fact that the young rajah in token + of his gratitude had presented Deemer with a collection of jewels of + almost priceless worth. We resumed our journey; Deemer, who was a man in + very moderate circumstances, and who had probably never had any means in + his life before, went to New York, presumably to have his first real + holiday, and, as it turned out, to dispose of the stones, or at least a + portion of them. When we reached the coast we received two advices + containing very ill news. The first was an urgent message to return + instantly to India on account of the old rajah's serious illness; the + second was to the effect that Deemer had been murdered by a woman in New + York, and that the jewels had been stolen.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Adventurer paused, and, eying Danglar, smiled—not + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “I will not attempt to explain to you,” he went on, “the young rajah's + feelings when he heard that the gift he had given Deemer in return for his + own life had cost Deemer his. Nor will I attempt to explain the racial + characteristics of the people of whom the young rajah was one, and who do + not lightly forget or forgive. But an eye for an eye, Danglar—you + will understand that. If it cost all he had, there should be justice. He + could not stay himself; and so I stayed-because he made me swear I would, + and because he made me swear that I would never allow the chase to lag + until the murderers were found. + </p> + <p> + “And so I came East again. I remembered you, Danglar—that on several + occasions when I had come upon Deemer unawares, you, sometimes accompanied + by a woman, and sometimes not, had been lurking in the background. I went + to Cloran, the house detective at the hotel here in New York where Deemer + was murdered. He described the woman. She was the same woman that had been + with you. I went to the authorities and showed my credentials, with which + the young rajah had seen to it I was supplied from very high sources + indeed. I did not wish to interfere with the authorities in their handling + of the case; but, on the other hand, I had no wish to sit down idly and + watch them, and it was necessary therefore that I should protect myself in + anything I did. I also made myself known to one of New York's assistant + district attorneys, who was an old friend of my father's. And then, + Danglar, I started out after you. + </p> + <p> + “I discovered you after about a month; then I wormed myself into your gang + as the Pug. That took about a year. I was almost another year with you as + an accepted member of the gang. You know what happened during that period. + A little while ago I found out that the woman we wanted—with you, + Danglar—was your wife, living in hiding in this garret as Gypsy Nan. + But the jewels themselves were still missing. To-night they are not. A—a + friend of mine, one very much misjudged publicly, I might say, has them, + and has told me they would be handed to the police. + </p> + <p> + “And so, Danglar, after coming here to-night, I sent the Sparrow out to + gather together a few of the authorities who are interested in the case—my + friend the assistant district attorney; Cloran, the house detective; Rough + Rorke of headquarters, who on one occasion was very much interested in + Gypsy Nan; and enough men to make the round of arrests. They should be + conveniently hidden across the road now, and waiting for my signal. My + idea, you see, was to allow Mrs. Danglar to enter here without having her + suspicions aroused, and to see that she did not get away again if she + arrived before those who are duly qualified—which I am not—to + arrest her did; also, in view of what transpired earlier this evening, I + must confess I was a little anxious about those several years' + accumulation of stolen funds up there in the ceiling. As I said at the + beginning, I hardly expected the luck to get you both at the same time; + though we should have got you, Danglar, and every one of the rest of the + gang before morning, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You,” Rhoda Gray whispered, “you—are not a thief!” Brain and soul + seemed on fire. It seemed as though she had striven to voice those words a + dozen times since he had been speaking, but that she had been afraid—afraid + that this was not true, this great, wonderful thing, that it could not be + true. “You—you are not a—a thief!” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer's face lost its immobility. He half rose from his chair, + staring at her in a startled way—but it was Danglar now who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” he screamed out. “It's a lie!” The man's reason appeared to + be almost unhinged; a mad terror seemed to possess him. “It's all a lie! I + never heard of this rajah bunk before in my life! I never heard of Deemer, + or any jewels before. You lie! I tell you, you lie! You can't prove it; + you can't—” + </p> + <p> + “But I can,” said Rhoda Gray in a low voice. The shawl fell from her + shoulders; from her blouse she took the package of jewels and held them + out to the Adventurer. “Here are the stones. I got them from where you had + put them in old Luertz's room. I was hidden there all the time last + night.” She was removing her spectacles and her wig of tangled gray hair + as she spoke, and now she turned her face full upon Danglar. “I heard you + discuss Deemer's murder with your brother last night, and plan to get rid + of Cloran, who you thought was the only existing witness you need fear, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” The Adventurer cried out. “You—Rhoda! The White Moll! I—I + don't understand, though I can see you are not the woman who originally + masqueraded as Gypsy Nan, for I knew her, as I said, by sight.” + </p> + <p> + He was on his feet now, his face aflame with a great light. He took a step + toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she said hurriedly. She glanced at Danglar. The man's face was + blanched, his body seemed to have shriveled up, and there was a light in + his eyes as they held upon her that was near to the borderland of + insanity. “That night at Skarbolov's!” she said, and tried to hold her + voice in control. “Gypsy Nan, this man's wife, died that night in the + hospital. I had found her here sick, and I had promised not to divulge her + secret. I helped her get to the hospital. She was dying; she was penitent + in a way; she wanted to prevent a crime that she said was to be + perpetrated that night, but she would not inform on her accomplices. She + begged me to forestall them, and return the money anonymously the next + day. That was the choice I had—either to allow the crime to be + carried out, or else swear to act alone in return for the information that + would enable me to keep the money away from the thieves without bringing + the police into it. I—I was caught. You—you saved me from + Rough Rorke, but he followed me. I put on Gypsy Nan's clothes, and managed + to outwit him. I had had no opportunity to return the money, which would + have been proof of my innocence; the only way I could prove it, then, was + to try and find the authors of the crime myself. I—I have lived + since then as Gypsy Nan, fighting this hideous gang of Danglar's here to + try and save myself, and—and to-night I thought I could see my way + clear. I—I knew enough at last about this man to make him give me a + written statement that it was a pre-arranged plan to rob Skarbolov. That + would substantiate my story. And”—she looked again at Danglar; the + man was still crouched there, eying her with that same mad light in his + eyes—“and he must be made to—to do it now for—” + </p> + <p> + “But why didn't you ask me?” cried the Adventurer. “You knew me as the + Pug, and therefore must have believed that I, too, know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, and turned her head away to hide the color she felt was + mounting to her cheeks. “I—I thought of that. But I thought you were + a thief, and—and your testimony wouldn't have been much good unless, + with it, I could have handed you, too, over to the police, as I intended + to do with Danglar; and—and—I—I couldn't do that, and—Oh, + don't you see?” she ended desperately. + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda! Rhoda!” There was a glad, buoyant note in the Adventurer's voice. + “Yes, I see! Well, I can prove it for you now without any of those fears + on my behalf to worry you! I went to Skarbolov's myself, knowing their + plans, to do exactly what you did. I did not know you then, and, as Rough + Rorke, who was there because, as I heard later, his suspicions had been + aroused through seeing some of the gang lurking around the back door in + the lane the night before, had taken the actual money from you, I + contrived to let you get away, because I was afraid that you were some new + factor in the game, some member of the gang that I did not know about, and + that I must watch, too! Don't you understand? The jewels were still + missing. I had not got the general warning that was sent out to the gang + that night to lay low, for at the last moment it seems that Danglar here + found out that Rough Rorke had suspicions about Skarbolov's place.” He + came close to her—and with the muzzle of his revolver he pushed + Danglar's huddled figure back a little further against the washstand. + “Rhoda—you are clear. The assistant district attorney who had your + case is the one I spoke of a few minutes ago. That night at Hayden-Bond's, + though I did not understand fully, I knew that you were the bravest, + truest little woman into whom God had ever breathed the breath of life. I + told him the next day there was some mistake, something strange behind it + all. I told him what happened at Hayden-Bond's. He agreed with me. You + have never been indicted. Your case has never come before the grand jury. + And it never will now! Rhoda! Rhoda! Thank God for you! Thank God it has + all come out right, and—” + </p> + <p> + A peal of laughter, mad, insane, horrible in its perverted mirth, rang + through the garret. Danglar's hands were creeping queerly up to his + temples. And then, oblivious evidently in his frenzy of the revolver in + the Adventurer's hand, and his eye catching the weapons that lay upon the + cot, he made a sudden dash in that direction—and Rhoda Gray, + divining his intention, sprang for the cot, too, at the same time. But + Danglar never reached his objective. As Rhoda Gray caught up the weapons + and thrust them into her pocket, she heard Danglar's furious snarl, and + whirling around, she saw the two men locked and struggling in each other's + embrace. + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer's voice reached her, quick, imperative: + </p> + <p> + “Show the candle at the window, Rhoda! The Sparrow is waiting for it in + the yard below. Then open the door for them.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden terror and fear seized her. The Adventurer was not fit, after + what he had been through to-night to cope with Danglar. He had been + limping badly even a few minutes ago. It seemed to her, as she rushed + across the garret and snatched up the candle, that Danglar was getting the + best of it even now. And the Adventurer could have shot him down, and been + warranted in doing it! She reached the window, waved the candle + frantically several times across the pane, then setting the candle down on + the window ledge, she ran for the door. + </p> + <p> + She looked back again, as she turned the key in the lock. With a crash, + pitching over the chair, both men went to the floor—and the + Adventurer was underneath. She cried out in alarm, and wrenched the door + open—and stood for an instant there on the threshold in a startled + way. + </p> + <p> + They couldn't be coming already! The Sparrow hadn't had time even to get + out of the yard. But there were footsteps in the hall below, many of them. + She stepped out on the landing; it was too dark to see, but... + </p> + <p> + A sudden yell as she showed even in the faint light of the open garret + door, the quicker rush of feet, reached her from below. + </p> + <p> + “The White Moll! That's her! The White Moll!” She flung herself flat down, + wrenching both the automatic and the revolver from her pocket. She + understood now! That was Pinkie Bonn's voice. It was the gang arriving to + divide up the spoils, not the Sparrow and the police. Her mind was racing + now with lightning speed. If they got her, they would get the Adventurer + in there, too, before the police could intervene. She must hold this + little landing where she lay now, hold those short, ladder-like steps that + the oncoming footsteps from below there had almost reached. + </p> + <p> + She fired once—twice—again; but high, over their heads, to + check the rush. + </p> + <p> + Yells answered her. A vicious tongue-flame from a revolver, another and + another, leaped out at her from the black below; the spat, spat of bullets + sounded from behind her as they struck the walls. + </p> + <p> + Again she fired. They were at least more cautious now in their rush—no + one seemed anxious to be first upon the stairs. She cast a wild glance + through the open door into the garret at her side. The two forms in there, + on their feet again, were spinning around and around with the strange, + lurching gyrations of automatons—and then she saw the Adventurer + whip a terrific blow to Danglar's face—and Danglar fall and lie + still—and the Adventurer come leaping toward her. + </p> + <p> + But faces were showing now above the level of the floor, and there was + suddenly an increased uproar from further back in the rear until it seemed + that pandemonium itself were loosed. + </p> + <p> + “It's the police! The police behind us!” she heard Shluker's voice shriek + out. + </p> + <p> + She jumped to her feet. Two of the gang had reached the landing and were + smashing at the Adventurer. There seemed to be a swirling mob in riot + there below. The Adventurer was fighting like a madman. It was hand to + hand now. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! Quick!” she cried to the Adventurer. “Jump back through the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you don't!” It was Skeeny—she could see the man's brutal + face now. “Oh, no, you don't, you she-devil!” he shouted, and, + over-reaching the Adventurer's guard, struck at her furiously with his + clubbed revolver. + </p> + <p> + It struck her a glancing blow on the head, and she reeled and staggered, + but recovered herself. And now it seemed as though it were another battle + that she fought—and one more desperate; a battle to fight back a + horrible giddiness from overpowering her, and with which her brain was + swimming, to fight it back for just a second, the fraction of a second + that was needed until—until—“Jump!” she cried again, and + staggered over the threshold, and, as the Adventurer leaped backward + beside her, she slammed the door, and locked it—and slid limply to + the floor. + </p> + <p> + When she regained consciousness she was lying on the cot. It seemed very + still, very quiet in the garret. She opened her eyes. It—it must be + all right, for that was the Sparrow standing there watching her, and + shifting nervously from foot to foot, wasn't it? He couldn't be there, + otherwise. She held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Marty,” she said, and smiled with trembling lips, “we—we owe you a + great deal.” + </p> + <p> + The Sparrow gulped. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, you're all right again! They said it wasn't nothin', but you had me + scared worse'n down at the iron plant when I had to do the rough act with + that gent friend of yours to stop him from crawlin' after you and fightin' + it out, and queerin' the whole works. You don't owe me nothin', Miss Gray; + and, besides, I'm gettin' a lot more than is comm' to me, 'cause that same + gent friend of yours there says I'm goin' to horn in on the rewards, and I + guess that's goin' some, for they got the whole outfit from Danglar down, + and the stuff up in the ceiling there, too.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head. The Adventurer was coming toward the cot. + </p> + <p> + “Better?” he called cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “Quite! Only I—I'd like to get away from here, from + this—this horrible place at once, and back to—to my flat if + they'll let me. Are—are they all gone?” + </p> + <p> + The Adventurer's gray eyes lighted with a whimsical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly all!” he said softly. “And—er—Sparrow, suppose you go + and find a taxi!” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Sure! Of course! Sure!” said the Sparrow hurriedly, and retreated + through the door. + </p> + <p> + She felt the blood flood her face, and she tried to avert it. + </p> + <p> + He bent his head close to hers. + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda,” his voice was low, passionate, “I—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she said. “Your friend—the assistant district attorney—did + he come?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Adventurer. “But I shooed them all out, as soon as we + found you were not seriously hurt. I thought you had had enough excitement + for one night. He wants to see you in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “To see me”—she rose up anxiously on her elbow—“in the + morning?” + </p> + <p> + He was smiling at her. His hands reached out and took her face between + them, and made her look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda,” he said gently, “I knew to-night in the iron plant that you + cared. I told him so. What he wants to see you for is to tell you that he + thinks I am the luckiest man in all the world. You are clear, dear. Even + Rough Rorke is singing your praises; he says you are the only woman who + ever put one over on him.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer for a moment; and then with a little sob of glad + surrender she buried her face on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “It—it is very wonderful,” she said brokenly, “for—for even + we, you and I, each thought the other a—a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “And so we were, thank God!” he whispered—and lifted her head until + now his lips met hers. “We were both thieves, Rhoda, weren't we? And, + please God, we will be all our lives—for we have stolen each other's + heart.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Moll, by Frank L. Packard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE MOLL *** + +***** This file should be named 1741-h.htm or 1741-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/4/1741/ + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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