the white moll-第11部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！



For　answer　she　flung　it　from　her。　　It　fell　with　a　tinkle　on　the
floor　at　the　far　end　of　the　garret。　　The　man　was　beside　himself
with　rage。

〃Damn　you；　if　I　had　time；　I'd　wring　your　neck　for　this；　you
she…devil！〃　he　bawled…and　raced　back；　evidently　for　the　candle
on　the　washstand。

Rhoda　Gray；　sprawled　on　the　floor　where　he　had　thrown　her；　did　not
move…except　to　take　the　revolver　from　the　pocket　of　her　dress。　　She
was　crooning　queerly　to　herself；　as　she　watched　Rough　Rorke　light
the　candle　and　grope　around　on　the　floor：

〃She　was　good　to　me；　de　White　Moll　was。　　Jellies　an'　t'ings　she
brought　me；　she　did。　　An'　Gypsy　Nan　don't　ferret。　　Gypsy　Nan　don't　…〃

She　sat　up　suddenly；　snarling。　　Rorke　had　found　the　key；　left　the
bottle　with　the　short　stub　of　guttering　candle　standing　on　the　floor；
and　was　back　again。

〃By　God！〃　he　gritted　through　his　teeth；　as　he　jabbed　the　key　with
frantic　haste　into　the　lock。　　〃I'll　fix　you　for　this！〃　　He　made　a
clutch　at　her　throat；　as　he　swung　the　door　open。

She　jerked　herself　backward；　eluding　him；　her　revolver　leveled。

〃Youse　keep　yer　dirty　paws　off　me！〃　she　screamed。　　〃Yah；　wot　can
youse　do！　　Wot　do　I　care！　　She　was　good　to　me；　she　was；　an　…〃

Rough　Rorke　was　gone…taking　the　stairs　three　and　four　at　a　time。
Then　she　heard　the　street　door　slam。

She　rose　slowly　to　her　feet　…　and　suddenly　reached　out；　grasping　at
the　door　to　steady　herself。　　It　seemed　as　though　every　muscle　had
gone　limp；　as　though　her　limbs　had　not　strength　to　support　her。
And　for　a　moment　she　hung　there；　then　she　locked　the　door；　staggered
back；　sank　down　on　the　edge　of　the　bed；　and；　with　her　chin　in　her
hands；　stared　at　the　guttering　stub　of　candle。　　And　presently；　in
an　almost　aimless；　mechanical　way；　she　felt　in　her　pocket　for　the
piece　of　paper　that　she　had　found　wrapped　around　the　key；　and　drew
it　out。　　There　were　three　figures　scrawled　upon　it　…　nothing　else。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　7　　　　　3　　　　　9　　　　　　　　　

She　dropped　her　chin　in　her　hands　again；　and　stared　again　at　the
candle。　　And　after　a　while　the　candle　went　out。


IV。　　THE　ADVENTURER

Twenty…Four　hours　had　passed。　　Twenty　four　hours！　　Was　it　no　more
than　that　since　…　Rhoda　Gray；　in　the　guise　of　Gypsy　Nan；　as　she　sat
on　the　edge　of　the　disreputable；　poverty…stricken　cot；　grew　suddenly
tense；　holding　her　breath　as　she　listened。　　The　sound　reached　the
attic　so　faintly　that　it　might　be　but　the　product　solely　of　the
imagination。　　No　…　it　came　again！　　And　it　even　defined　itself　now
…　a　stealthy　footstep　on　the　lower　stairs。

A　small；　leather…bound　notebook；　in　which　she　had　been　engrossed；
was　tucked　instantly　away　under　the　soiled　blanket；　and　she　glanced
sharply　around　the　garret。　　A　new　candle；　which　she　had　bought　in
the　single　excursion　she　had　ventured　to　make　from　the　house　during
the　day；　was　stuck　in　the　neck　of　the　gin　bottle；　and　burned　now　on
the　chair　beside　her。　　She　had　not　bought　a　new　lamp　…　it　gave　too
much　light！　　The　old　one；　the　pieces　of　it；　lay　over　there；　brushed
into　a　heap　in　the　corner　on　the　floor。

The　footstep　became　more　audible。　　Her　lips　tightened　a　little。　　The
hour　was　late。　　It　must　be　already　after　eleven　o'clock。　　Her　eyes
grew　perturbed。　　Perhaps　it　was　only　one　of　the　unknown　tenants　of
the　floor　below　going　to　his　or　her　room；　but；　on　the　other　hand；　no
one　had　come　near　the　garret　since　last　night；　when　that　strange　and；
yes；　sinister　trick　of　fate　had　thrust　upon　her　the　personality　of
Gypsy　Nan；　and　it　was　hoping　for　too　much　to　expect　such　seclusion
to　obtain　much　longer。　　There　were　too　many　who　must　be　interested；
vitally　interested；　in　Gypsy　Nan！　　There　was　Rough　Rorke；　of
headquarters；　he　had　given　no　sign；　but　that　did　not　mean　he　had
lost　interest　in　Gypsy　Nan。　　There　was　the　death　of　the　real　Gypsy
Nan；　which　was　pregnant　with　possibilities；　and　though　the
newspapers；　that　she；　Rhoda　Gray；　had　bought　and　scanned　with　such
tragic　eagerness；　had　said　nothing　about　the　death　of　one　Charlotte
Green　in　the　hospital；　much　less　had　given　any　hint　that　the
identity　Gypsy　Nan　had　risked　so　much　to　hide　had　been　discovered；
it　did　not　mean　that　the　police；　with　their　own　ends　in　view；　might
not　be　fully　informed；　and　were　but　keeping　their　own　counsel　while
they　baited　a　trap。

Also；　and　even　more　to　be　feared；　there　were　those　of　this　criminal
organization　to　which　Gypsy　Nan　had　belonged；　and　to　which　she；
Rhoda　Gray；　through　a　sort　of　hideous　proxy；　now　belonged　herself！
Sooner　or　later；　they　must　show　their　hands；　and　the　test　of　her
identity　would　come。　　And　here　her　danger　was　the　greater　because
she　did　not　know　who　any　of　them　were；　unless　the　man　who　had
stepped　in　between　Rough　Rorke　and　herself　last　night　was　one　of
them　…　which　was　a　question　that　had　harassed　her　all　day。　　The　man
had　been　no　more　drunk　than　she　had　been；　and　he　had　obviously　only
played　the　part　to　get　her　out　of　the　clutches　of　Rough　Rorke；　but；
against　this；　he　had　seen　her　simply　as　herself　then；　the　White　Moll；
and　what　could　the　criminal　associates　of　Gypsy　Nan　have　cared　as
to　what　became　of　the　White　Moll？

A　newspaper；　to　procure　which　had　been　the　prime　motive　that　had
lured　her　out　of　her　retreat　that　afternoon；　caught　her　eye　now；
and　she　shivered　a　little　as；　from　where　it　lay　on　the　floor；　the
headlines　seemed　to　leer　up　at　her；　and　mock；　and　menace　her。
〃The　White　Moll。。。。The　Saint　of　the　East　Side　Exposed。。。。Vicious
Hypocrisy。。。。Lowly　Charity　for　Years　Cloaks　a　Consummate　Thief。。。〃
They　had　not　spared　her！

Her　lips　firmed　suddenly；　as　she　listened。　　The　stealthy　footfall
had　not　paused　in　the　hall　below。　　It　was　on　the　short；　ladder…like
steps　now；　leading　up　here　to　the　garret　…　and　now　it　had　halted
outside　her　door；　and　there　came　a　low；　insistent　knocking　on　the
panels。

〃Who's　dere？〃　demanded　Rhoda　Gray；　alias　Gypsy　Nan；　in　a　grumbling
tone；　as；　getting　up　from　the　bed；　she　moved　the　chair　noiselessly
a　few　feet　farther　away；　so　that　the　bed　would　be　beyond　the
immediate　radius　of　the　candle　light。　　Then　she　shuffled　across　the
floor　to　the　door。　　〃Who's　dere？〃　she　demanded　again；　and　her　hand；
deep　in　the　voluminous　pocket　of　Gypsy　Nan's　greasy　skirt；　closed
tightly　around　the　stock　of　Gypsy　Nan's　revolver。

The　voice　that　answered　her　expostulated　in　a　plaintive　whisper：

〃My　dear　lady！　　And　after　all　the　trouble　I　have　taken　to　reach
here　without　being　either　seen　or　heard！〃

For　an　instant　Rhoda　Gray　hesitated　…　there　seemed　something
familiar　about　the　voice　…　then　she　unlocked　the　door；　and
retreated　toward　the　bed。

The　door　opened　and　closed　softly。　　Rhoda　Gray；　reaching　the　edge
of　the　bed；　sat　down。　　It　was　the　fashionably…attired；　immaculate
young　man；　who　had　saved　her　from　Rough　Rorke　last　night。　　She
stared　at　him　in　the　faint　light　without　a　word。　　Her　mind　was
racing　in　a　mad　turmoil　of　doubt；　uncertainty；　fear。　　Was　he　one
of　the　gang；　or　not？　　Was　she；　in　the　role　of　Gypsy　Nan；　supposed
to　know　him；　or　not？　　Did　he　know　that　the　real　Gypsy　Nan；　too；
had　but　played　a　part；　and；　therefore；　when　she　spoke　must　it　be
in　the　vernacular　of　the　East　Side　…　or　not？　　And　then　sudden
enli