A roar of rage； a burst of unbridled profanity went up from Rough
Rorke behind her； it was mingled with equally angry vituperation in
the young man's voice。 She looked behind her。 The two men were
swaying around crazily in each other's arms。 She ran on … faster
than she had ever run in her life。 The corner was not far ahead。
Her brain was working with lightning speed。 Gypsy Nan's house was
just around the corner。 If she could get out of sight … hide … it
would。。。
She glanced behind her again； as her ears caught the pound of racing
feet。 The young man was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk；
shaking his fist； Rough Rorke； perhaps a bare fifty yards away； was
chasing her at top speed。
Her face set hard。 She could not out…run a man！ There was only
one hope for her … just one … to gain Gypsy Nan's doorway before
Rorke got around the corner。
A yard … another … still another！ She swerved around the corner。
And； as she turned； she caught a glimpse of the detective。 The man
was nearer … much nearer。 But it was only a little way； just a
little way； to Gypsy Nan's … not so far as the distance between
her and Rorke … and … and if the man didn't gain too fast； then
… then … A little cry of dismay came with a new and terrifying
thought。 Quite apart from Rorke； some one else might see her enter
Gypsy Nan's！ She strained her eyes in all directions as she ran。
There wasn't any one … she didn't see any one … only Rorke； around
the corner there； was bawling out at the top of his voice； and
… and。。。
She flung herself against Gypsy Nan's door； stumbled in； and；
closing it； heard Rorke just swinging around the corner。 Had he
seen her？ She didn't know。 She was panting； gasping for her
breath。 It seemed as though her lungs would burst。 She held
her hand tightly to her bosom as she made for the stairs … she
mustn't make any noise … they mustn't hear her breathing like that
… they … they mustn't hear her going up the stairs。
How dark it was！ If she could only see … so that she would be sure
not to stumble！ She couldn't go fast now … she would make a noise
if she did。 Stair after stair she climbed stealthily。 Perhaps she
was safe now … it had taken her a long time to get up here to the
second floor； and there wasn't any sound yet from the street below。
And now she mounted the short； ladder…like steps to the attic； and；
feeling with her hand for the crack in the flooring under the
partition； reached in for the key。 As her fingers closed upon it；
she choked back a cry。 Some one had been here！ A piece of paper
was wrapped around the key。 What did it mean？ What did all these
strange； yes； sinister； things that had happened to…night mean？
How had Rorke known that a robbery was to be committed at Skarbolov's？
Who was that man who had effected her escape； and who； she knew now；
was no more drunk than she was？ Fast； quick； piling one upon the
other； the questions raced through her mind。
She fought them back。 There was no time for speculation now！ There
was only one question that mattered： Was she safe？
She stood up； thrust the paper for safe…keeping into her bosom； and
unlocked the door。 If … if Rorke did not know that she had entered
this house here； she could remain hidden for a few hours； it would
give her time to think； and。。。
It came this time； no strength of will would hold it back； a little
moan。 The front door below had opened； a heavy footstep sounded in
the lower hall。 She couldn't see； of course。 But she knew。 It was
Rorke！ She heard him coming up the stairs。
And then； in a flash； it seemed； her brain responded to her
despairing cry。 There was still a way … a desperate one … but still
a way … if there was time！ She darted inside the garret； locked the
door； found the matches and candle； and； running silently to the rear
wall； pushed up the board in the ceiling。 In frantic haste she tore
off her outer garments； her stockings and shoes； pulled on the rough
stockings and coarse boots that Gypsy Nan had worn； slipped the other's
greasy； threadbare skirt over her head； and pinned the shawl tight
about her shoulders。 There was a big； voluminous pocket in the skirt；
and into this she dropped Gypsy Nan's revolver； and the paper she had
found wrapped around the key。
She could hear a commotion from below now。 It was the one thing she
had counted upon。 Rough Rorke might know she had entered the house；
but he could not know whereabouts in the house she was； and he would
naturally search each room as he came to it on the way up。 She fitted
the gray…streaked wig of tangled； matted hair upon her head； plunged
her hand into the box that Gypsy Nan used for her make…up and daubed
some of the grime upon both hands and face； adjusted the spectacles
upon her nose； hid her own clothing； closed the narrow trap…door in
the ceiling； and ran back； carrying the candle； to the washstand。
Here； there was a small and battered mirror； and more coolly； more
leisurely now； for the commotion still continued from the floor below；
she spread and rubbed in； as craftily as she could； the grime streaks
on her face and hands。 It was neither artistic nor perfect； but in
the meager； flickering light now the face of Gypsy Nan seemed to
stare reassuringly back at her。 It might not deceive any one in
daylight … she did not know； and it did not matter now … but with only
this candle to light the garret； since the lamp was empty； she could
fairly count on her identity not being questioned。
She blew out the candle； left it on the washstand； because； if she
could help it； she did not want to risk having it lighted near the
bed or door； and； tiptoeing now； went to the door； unlocked it； then
threw herself down upon the bed。
Possibly a minute went by； possibly two； and then there was a quick
step on the ladder…like stairs； the door handle was rattled violently；
and the door was flung open and slammed shut again。
Rhoda Gray sat upright on the bed。 It was her wits now； her wits
against Rough Rorke's； nothing else could save her。 She could not
even make out the man's form； it was so dark； but； as he had not
moved； she was quite well aware that he was standing with his back
to the door； evidently trying to place his surroundings。
It was Gypsy Nan； not Rhoda Gray； who spoke。
〃Who's dere？〃 she screeched。 〃D'ye hear； blast youse； who's dere？〃
Rough Rorke laughed gratingly。
〃That you； Nan； my dear？〃
〃Who d'youse t'ink it is…me gran'mother？〃 demanded Rhoda Gray
caustically。 〃Who are youse？〃
〃Rorke；〃 said Rorke shortly。 〃I guess you know； don't you？〃
〃Is dat so？〃 snorted Rhoda Gray。 〃Well den； youse can beat it … hop
it … on de jump！ Wot t'hell right have youse got bustin' into me
room at dis time of night … eh？ I ain't done nothin'！〃
Rough Rorke； his feet scuffling to feel the way； came forward。
〃Cut it out！〃 he snarled。 〃I ain't the only visitor you've got！
It's not you I want； it's the White Moll。〃
〃Wot's dat got to do wid me？〃 Rhoda Gray flung back hotly。 〃She
ain't here； is she？〃
〃Yes； she's here！〃 Rough Rorke's voice held an ugly menace。 〃I lost
her around the corner； but a woman from a window across the street；
who heard the row； saw her run into this house。 She ain't downstairs
… so you can figure the rest out the same way I do。〃
〃De woman was kiddin' youse！〃 Rhoda Gray； alias Gypsy Nan； cackled
derisively。 〃Dere ain't nobody here but me。〃
〃We'll see about that！〃 said Rough Rorke shortly。 〃Strike a light！〃
〃Aw； strike it yerself！〃 retorted Rhoda Gray。 〃I ain't yer servant！
Dere's a candle over dere on de washstand against de wall； if youse
wants it。〃
A match crackled and spurted into flame； its light fell upon the
lamp standing on the chair beside the bed。 Rough Rorke stepped
toward it。
〃Dere ain't any oil in dat；〃 croaked Rhoda Gray。 〃Didn't I tell
youse de candle was over dere on de washstand； an' …〃
The words seemed to freeze in her throat； the chair； the lamp； the
shadowy figure of the man in the match flame to swirl before her
eyes； and a sick nausea to come upon her soul itself。 With a short；
triumphant oath； Rough Rorke had stopped suddenly and reached in
under the chair。 And now he was dangling a new； black kid glove in
front of her。 Caught！ Yes； she was caught！ She remembered Gypsy
Nan's attempt to put on her gloves … one must have fallen to the floor
unnoticed by either of them when Gypsy Nan had thought to put them
in her pocket！ The man's voice came to her as from some great
distance：
〃So； she ain't here … ain't she！ I'll teach you to lie to me！
I'll …〃 The match was dying out。 Rorke raised it higher； and with
the last flicker located the washstand； and made toward it； obviously
for the candle。
Her wits against Rough Rorke's！ Nothing else could save her！
Failing to find any one here but herself； certain now that the White
Moll was here； only a fool could have failed in his deduction … and
Rough Rorke was not a fool。 Her wits against Rough Rorke's！ There
was the time left her while the garret was still in darkness； just
that； no more！
With a quick spring she leaped from the bed； seized the chair；
sending the lamp to the floor； and； dragging the chair after her to
make as much noise and confusion as she could； she rushed for the
door； screeching at the top of her voice：
〃Run； dearie； run！ Run！〃 She was scuffling with her feet；
clattering the chair； as she wrenched the door open。 And then； in
her own voice： 〃Nan； I won't！ I won't let you stand for this； I …〃
Then as Gypsy Nan again： 〃Run； dearie！ Don't youse mind old Nan！〃
She banged the door shut； locked it； and whipped out the key。 It had
taken scarcely a second。 She was still screeching at the top of her
voice to cover the absence of flying footers on the stairs。 〃Run；
dearie； run！ Run！〃
And then； in the darkness； the candle still unlighted； Rough Rorke
was on her like a madman。 With a sweep of his arm he sent her
crashing to the floor； and wrenched at the door。 The next instant
he was on her again。
〃The key！ Give me that key！〃 he roared。
For answer she flung it from her。 It fell with a tinkle on the
floor at the far end of