the white moll-第45部分

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and　stole　close　to　the　side　window；　through　which；　she　had　noted
from　the　street；　there　shone　a　light。　　Yes；　they　were　there；　the
two　of　them　…　she　could　see　them　quite　distinctly　even　through
the　shutters。

She　went　back　to　the　front　door　then；　and　knocked。　　And　presently
the　old　woman　came　and　opened　the　door。

〃This　is　yours；〃　Rhoda　said；　and　thrust　the　package　into　the　woman's
hand。　　And　as　the　woman　looked　from　her　to　the　package
uncomprehendingly；　Rhoda　Gray　flung　a　quick　〃good…night〃　over　her
shoulder；　and　ran　down　the　steps　again。

But　a　few　moments　later　she　stole　back；　and　stood　for　an　instant
once　more　by　the　shuttered　window　in　the　alleyway。　　And　suddenly
her　eyes　grew　dim。　　She　saw　an　old　man；　white　and　haggard；　with
bandaged　head；　sitting　in　a　chair；　the　tears　streaming　down
his　face；　and　on　the　floor；　her　face　hidden　on　the　other's　knees；
a　woman　knelt　…　and　the　man's　hand　stroked　and　stroked　the　thin
gray　hair　on　the　woman'　s　head。

And　Rhoda　Gray　turned　away。　　And　out　in　the　street　her　face　was
lifted　and　she　looked　upward；　and　there　were　myriad　stars。　　And
there　seemed　a　beauty　in　them　that　she　had　never　seen　before；　and
a　great；　comforting　serenity。　　And　they　seemed　to　promise　something
…　that　through　the　window　of　that　stark　and　evil　garret　to　which
she　was　going　now；　they　would　keep　her　dreaded　vigil　with　her　until
morning　came　again。


XIV。　　THE　LAME　MAN

Another　night　…　another　day！　　And　the　night　again　had　been　without
rest；　lest　Danglar's　dreaded　footstep　come　upon　her　unawares；　and
the　day　again　had　been　one　of　restless；　abortive　activity；　now
prowling　the　streets　as　Gypsy　Nan；　now　returning　to　the　garret　to
fling　herself　upon　the　cot　in　the　hope　that　in　daylight；　when
she　might　risk　it；　sleep　would　come；　but　it　had　been　without　avail；
for；　in　spite　of　physical　weariness；　it　seemed　to　Rhoda　Gray　as
though　her　tortured　mind　would　never　let　her　sleep　again。　　Danglar's
wife！　　That　was　the　horror　that　was　in　her　brain；　yes；　and　in　her
soul；　and　that　would　not　leave　her。

And　now　night　was　coming　upon　her　once　more。　　It　had　even　begun　to
grow　dark　here　on　the　lower　stairway　that　led　up　to　that　wretched；
haunted　garret　above　where　in　the　shadows　stark　terror　lurked。
Strange！　　Most　strange！　　She　feared　the　night　…　and　yet　she　welcomed
it。　　In　a　little　while；　when　it　grew　a　little　darker；　she　would
steal　out　again　and　take　up　her　work　once　more。　　It　was　only　during
the　night；　under　the　veil　of　darkness；　that　she　could　hope　to　make
any　progress　in　reaching　to　the　heart　and　core　of　this　criminal
clique　which　surrounded　her；　whose　members　accepted　her　as　Gypsy
Nan；　and；　therefore；　as　one　of　themselves；　and　who　would　accord　to
her；　if　they　but　even　suspected　her　to　be　the　White　Mall；　less　mercy
than　would　be　shown　to　a　mad　dog。

She　climbed　the　stairs。　　Fear　was　upon　her　now；　because　fear　was
always　there；　and　with　it　was　abhorrence　and　loathing　at　the
frightful　existence　fate　had　thrust　upon　her；　but；　somehow；　to…night
she　was　not　so　depressed；　not　so　hopeless；　as　she　had　been　the　night
before。　　There　had　been　a　little　success；　she　had　come　a　little
farther　along　the　way；　she　knew　a　little　more　than　she　had　known
before　of　the　inner　workings　of　the　gang　who　were　at　the　bottom　of
the　crime　of　which　she　herself　was　accused。　　She　knew　now　the
Adventurer's　secret；　that　the　Pug　and　the　Adventurer　were　one；　and
she　knew　where　the　Adventurer　lived；　now　in　one　character；　now　in
the　other；　in　those　two　rooms　almost　opposite　each　other　across
that　tenement　hall。

And　so　it　seemed　that　she　had　the　right　to　hope；　even　though　there
were　still　so　many　things　she　did　not　know；　that　if　she　allowed　her
mind　to　dwell　upon　that　phase　of　it；　it　staggered　her　…　where　those
code　messages　came　from；　and　how；　why　Rough　Rorke　of　headquarters
had　never　made　a　sign　since　that　first　night；　why　the　original
Gypsy　Nan；　who　was　dead　now；　had　been　forced　into　hiding　with　the
death　penalty　of　the　law　hanging　over　her；　why　Danglar；　though　Gypsy
Nan's　husband；　was　comparatively　free。　　These；　and　a　myriad　other
things！　　But　she　counted　now　upon　her　knowledge　of　the　Adventurer's
secret　to　force　from　him　everything　he　knew；　and；　with　that　to　work
on；　a　confession　from　some　of　the　gang　in　corroboration　that　would
prove　the　authorship　of　the　crime　of　which　she　had　seemingly　been
caught　in　the　act　of　committing。

Yes；　she　was　beginning　to　see　the　way　at　last　…　through　the
Adventurer。　　It　seemed　a　sure　and　certain　way。　　If　she　presented
herself　before　him　as　Gypsy　Nan；　whom　he　believed　to　be　not　only
one　of　the　gang；　but　actually　Danglar's　wife；　and　let　him　know
that　she　was　aware　of　the　dual　role　he　was　playing；　and　that　the
information　he　thus　acquired　as　the　Pug　he　turned　to　his　own
account　and　to　the　undoing　of　the　gang；　he　must　of　necessity　be　at
her　mercy。　　Her　mercy！　　What　exquisite　irony！　　Her　mercy！　　The　man
her　heart　loved；　the　thief　her　common　sense　abhorred！　　What　irony！
When　she；　too；　played　a　double　role；　when　in　their　other　characters；
that　of　the　Adventurer　and　the　White　Moll；　he　and　she　were　linked
together　by　the　gang　as　confederates；　whereas；　in　truth；　they　were
wider　apart　than　the　poles　of　the　earth！

Her　mercy！　　How　merciful　would　she　be　…　to　the　thief　she　loved？　　He
knew；　he　must　know；　all　the　inner　secrets　of　the　gang。　　She　smiled
wanly　now　as　she　reached　the　landing。　　Would　he　know　that　in　the
last　analysis　her　threat　would　be　only　an　idle　one；　that；　though　her
future；　her　safety；　her　life　depended　on　obtaining　the　evidence　she
felt　he　could　supply；　her　threat　would　be　empty；　and　that　she　was
powerless　…　because　she　loved　him。　　But　he　did　not　know　she　loved
him　…　she　was　Gypsy　Nan。　　If　she　kept　her　secret；　if　he　did　not
penetrate　her　disguise　as　she　had　penetrated　his；　if　she　were　Gypsy
Nan　and　Danglar's　wife　to　him；　her　threat　would　be　valid　enough；
and　…　and　he　would　be　at　her　mercy！

A　flush；　half　shamed；　half　angry；　dyed　the　grime　that　was　part　of
Gypsy　Nan's　disguise　upon　her　face。　　What　was　she　saying　to　herself？
What　was　she　thinking？　　That　he　did　not　know　she　loved　him！　　How
would　he？　　How　could　he？　　Had　a　word；　an　act；　a　single　look　of　hers
ever　given　him　a　hint　that；　when　she　had　been　with　him　as　the　White
Moll；　she　cared！　　It　was　unjust；　unfair；　to　fling　such　a　taunt　at
herself。　　It　seemed　as　though　she　had　lost　nearly　everything　in
life；　but　she　had　not　yet　lost　her　womanliness　and　her　pride。

She　had　certainly　lost　her　senses；　though！　　Even　if　that　word；　that
look；　that　act　had　passed　between　them；　between　the　Adventurer　and
the　White　Moll；　he　still　did　not　know　that　Gypsy　Nan　was　the　White
Moll　…　and　that　was　the　one　thing　now　that　he　must　not　know；　and。。。

Rhoda　Gray　halted　suddenly；　and　stared　along　the　hallway　ahead　of
her；　and　up　the　short；　ladder…like　steps　that　led　to　the　garret。
Her　ears　…　or　was　it　fancy？　…　had　caught　what　sounded　like　a　low
knocking　up　there　upon　her　door。　　Yes；　it　came　again　now　distinctly。
It　was　dusk　outside；　in　here；　in　the　hall；　it　was　almost　dark。　　Her
eyes　strained　through　the　murk。　　She　was　not　mistaken。　　Something
darker　than　the　surrounding　darkness；　a　form