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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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！
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。
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。
XVIII。 THE OLD SHED
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。
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。
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！
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。
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。
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