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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。
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？
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。
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。
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。
VI。 THE RENDEZVOUS
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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！
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 perplexi