the white moll-第36章

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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　corner　Danglar　as　she　had
planned　to　do　last　night。　　She　had　still　only　to　get　the　man　alone
somewhere。

Rhoda　Gray's　hands　clenched　tightly。　　That　was　all　that　was　necessary
…　just　the　substantiation　of　her　own　story　that　the　plot　to　rob
Skarbolov　lay　at　the　door　of　Danglar　and　his　gang；　or；　rather；　perhaps；
that　the　plot　was　in　existence　before　she　had　ever　heard　of　Skarbolov。
It　would　prove　her　own　statement　of　what　the　dying　woman　had　said。
It　would　exonerate　her　from　guilt；　it　would　prove　that；　rather　than
having　any　intention　of　committing　crime；　she　had　taken　the　only　means
within　her　power　of　preventing　one。　　The　real　Gypsy　Nan；　Danglar's
wife；　who　had　died　that　night；　bad；　even　in　eleventh…hour　penitence；
refused　to　implicate　her　criminal　associates。　　There　was　a　crime
projected　which；　unless　she；　Rhoda　Gray；　would　agree　to　forestall
it　in　person　and　would　give　her　oath　not　to　warn　the　police　about
it　and　so　put　the　actual　criminals　in　jeopardy；　would　go　on　to　its
fulfillment！

She　remembered　that　night　in　the　hospital。　　The　scene　came　vividly
before　her　now。　　The　woman's　pleading；　the　woman's　grim　loyalty
even　in　death　to　her　pals。　　She；　Rhoda　Gray；　had　given　her　oath。

It　became　necessary　only　to　substantiate　those　facts。　　Danglar
could　be　made　to　do　it。　　She　had　now　in　her　possession　the　evidence
that　would　convict　him　of　complicity　in　the　murder　of　Deemer；　and
for　which　murder　the　original　Gypsy　Nan　had　gone　into　hiding；　she
even　had　in　her　possession　the　missing　jewels　that　had　prompted　that
murder；　she　had；　too；　the　evidence　now　to　bring　the　entire　gang　to
justice　for　their　myriad　depredations；　she　knew　where　their　secret
hoard　of　ill…gotten　gains　was　hidden　…　here　in　this　attic；　behind
that　ingeniously　contrived　trap…door　in　the　ceiling。　　She　knew　all
this；　and　this　information　placed　before　the　police；　providing
only　it　was　backed　by　the　proof　that　the　scheme　to　rob　Skarbolov
was　to　be　carried　out　by　the　gang；　as　she；　Rhoda　Gray；　would　say
the　dying　woman　had　informed　her；　would　be　more　than　enough　to
clear　her。　　She　had　not　had　this　proof　on　that　first　night　when
she　had　snatched　at　the　mantle　of　Gypsy　Nan　as　the　sole　means　of
escape　from　Rough　Rorke；　of　headquarters；　she　did　not　have　it
now　…　but　she　would　have　it；　stake　all　and　everything　in　life　she
had　to　have　it；　for　it；　in　itself；　literally　meant　everything　and
all　…　and　Danglar　would　make　a　written　confession；　or　else　…　or
else　…　　She　smiled　mirthlessly。　　That　was　all！　　Last　night　she　had
failed。　　To…night　she　would　not　fail。　　Before　morning　came；　if　it
were　humanly　within　her　power；　she　and　Danglar　would　have　played
out　their　game　…　to　the　end。

And　now　a　pucker　came　and　gathered　her　forehead　into　little　furrows；
and　anxiety　and　perplexity　crept　into　her　eyes。　　Another　thought
tormented　her。　　In　the　exposure　that　was　to　come　the　Adventurer；
alias　the　Pug；　was　involved。　　Was　there　any　way　to　save　the　man　to
whom　she　owed　so　much；　the　splendidly　chivalrous；　high…couraged
gentleman　she　loved；　the　thief　she　abhorred？

She　pushed　the　remains　of　her　frugal　meal　away　from　her；　stood　up
abruptly　from　the　rickety　washstand　at　which　she　had　been　seated；
and　commenced　to　pace　nervously　up　and　down　the　stark；　bare　garret。
Where　was　the　line　of　demarcation　between　right　and　wrong？　　Was　it
a　grievous　sin；　or　an　infinitely　human　thing　to　do；　to　warn　the
man　she　loved；　and　give　him　a　chance　to　escape　the　net　she　meant
to　furnish　the　police？　　He　was　a　thief；　even　a　member　of　the　gang
…　though　he　used　the　gang　as　his　puppets。　　Did　ethics　count　when
one　who　had　stood　again　and　again　between　her　and　peril　was　himself
in　danger　now？　　Would　it　be　a　righteous　thing；　or　an　act　of
despicable　ingratitude；　to　trap　him　with　the　rest？

She　laughed　out　shortly。　　Warn　him！　　Of　course；　she　would　warn　him！
But　then　…　what？　　She　shivered　a　little；　and　her　face　grew　drawn　and
tired。　　It　was　the　old；　old　story　of　the　pitcher　and　the　well。　　It　was
almost　inevitable　that　sooner　or　later；　for　some　crime　or　another；
the　man　she　loved　would　be　caught　at　last；　and　would　spend　the
greater　portion　of　his　days　behind　prison　bars。　　That　was　what　the
love　that　had　come　into　her　life　held　as　its　promise　to　her！　　It　was
terrible　enough　without　her　agency　being　the　means　of　placing　him
there！

She　did　not　want　to　think　about　it。　　She　forced　her　mind　into　other
channels；　though　they　were　scarcely　less　disquieting。　　Why　was　it
that　during　the　day　just　past　there　had　been　not　a　sign　from　Danglar
or　any　one　of　the　gang；　when　every　plan　of　theirs　had　gone　awry　last
night；　and　she　had　failed　to　keep　her　appointment　in　the　role　of
Danglar's　wife？　　Why　was　it？　　What　did　it　mean？　　Surely　Danglar
would　never　allow　what　had　happened　to　pass　unchallenged；　and　…　was
that　some　one　now？

She　halted　suddenly　by　the　door　to　listen；　her　hand　going
instinctively　to　the　wide；　voluminous　pocket　of　her　greasy　skirt
for　her　revolver。　　Yes；　there　was　a　footstep　in　the　hall　below；　but
it　was　descending　now　to　the　ground　floor；　not　coming　up。　　She　even
heard　the　street　door　close；　but　still　she　hung　there　in　a　strained；
tense　way；　and　into　her　face　there　came　creeping　a　gray　dismay。　　Her
pocket　was　empty。

The　revolver　was　gone！　　Its　loss；　pregnant　with　a　hundred　ominous
possibilities；　seemed　to　bring　a　panic　fear　upon　her；　holding　her
for　a　moment　inert　…　and　then　she　rushed　frantically　to　the　cot。
Perhaps　it　had　fallen　out　of　her　pocket　during　the　hours　she　had
lain　there　asleep。　　She　searched　the　folds　of　the　soiled　and
crumpled　blanket；　that　was　the　cot's　sole　covering；　then　snatched
the　blanket　completely　off　the　cot　and　shook　it；　and　then；　down　on
her　knees；　she　searched　the　floor　under　the　cot。　　There　was　no　sign
of　the　revolver。

Rhoda　Gray　stood　up；　and　stared　in　a　stunned　way　about　her。　　Was
this；　then；　the　explanation　of　her　having　seemingly　been　left
undisturbed　here　all　through　the　day？　　Had　some　one；　after　all；
been　here；　and　…？　　She　shook　her　head　suddenly　with　a　quick；
emphatic　gest