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！
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？
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。。。
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。
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！
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。
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。
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。
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：
〃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。〃
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。
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。
〃All right； Pug；〃 said Pinkie Bonn； 〃I …〃
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。
There was an almost stupid look of bewilderment on Pinkie Bonn's
face。
Rhoda Gray threw back her veil。
〃My Gawd！〃 mumbled Pinkie Bonn … and licked his lips。 〃The White
Moll！〃
〃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！〃
Pinkie Bonn； like an automaton moved purely by mechanical means；
obeyed。
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。
〃I haven't much time；〃 she said icily。 〃I'll trouble you now for
the cash you took from Marny Day and French Pete。〃
〃My Gawd！〃 he mumbled again。 〃You know about that！〃
〃Quick！〃 she said imperatively。 〃Put it on the table there； and
then go back again to the wall！〃
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。
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。
〃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 f