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eyes strained through the murk。 She was not mistaken。 Something
darker than the surrounding darkness； a form； moved up there。
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。
She halted now and uttered a sharp exclamation； as though she had
caught sight of the man for the first time。
The other； too； had halted … at the foot of the stairs。 A plaintive
drawl reached her：
〃Don't screech； Bertha！ It's only your devoted brother…in…law。
Curse your infernal ladder； and my twisted back！〃
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。
〃Oh！〃 she said calmly。 〃It's you； is it？ And what brought you
here？〃
〃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？〃
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！
〃Maybe I'd like it better than being Gypsy Nan！〃 she flung back
significantly。
He laughed out sharply。
〃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。
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！
〃What do you mean？〃 she demanded tensely。
〃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。〃
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。
Suppose she refused to go？
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。
Suppose she refused to go？
〃What did you mean by 'after to…night'？〃 she asked again。
〃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！〃
The creature flung a bitter smile at her； and lurched on。
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。
There was no longer any question as to whether she would go or not。
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。
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。
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 t