intuition。
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。
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。
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！
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。
〃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。〃
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？〃
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。
〃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。〃
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。
〃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？〃
〃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。〃
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。
〃Oh！〃 she said ungraciously。 〃Well； you know where it is； don't
you？ Suppose you go and get it yourself！〃
〃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。〃
She did not answer。
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。
〃Why the devil don't you get another lamp？〃 he grumbled … and
started toward the rear of the garret。
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。
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。
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。
He was smiling with curious complacency。
〃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？〃
〃No；〃 said Rhoda Gray shortly。 〃I haven't any report to make。〃
〃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。
〃What do you mean？〃 demanded Rhoda Gray quickly。 〃What are you
going to do？〃
〃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