the white moll-第12部分

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grimy；　dissolute　and　haggard　aspect　which　was　so　simple　and　yet　so
efficient　a　disguise。

She　worked　rapidly　now；　changing　her　clothes。　　She　could　not　go；　or
act；　as　Gypsy　Nan；　and　so　she　must　go　in　her　own　character；　go　as
the　White　Moll　…　because　that　was　the　lesser　danger；　the　one　that
held　the　only　promise　of　success。　　There　wasn't　any　other　way。　　She
could　not　very　well　refuse　to　risk　her　capture　by　the　police；　could
she；　when　by　so　doing　she　might　save　another's　life？　　She　could　not
balance　in　cowardly　selfishness　the　possibility　of　a　prison　term　for
herself；　hideous　as　that　might　be；　against　the　penalty　of　death
that　the　Sparrow　would　pay　if　she　remained　inactive。　　But　she　could
not　leave　here　as　the　White　Moll。　　Somewhere；　somewhere　out　in　the
night；　somewhere　away　from　this　garret　where　all　connection　with　it
was　severed；　she　must　complete　the　transformation　from　Gypsy　Nan　to
the　White　Moll。　　She　could　only　prepare　for　that　now　as　best　she
could。

And　there　was　not　a　moment　to　lose。　　The　thought　made　her　frantic。
Over　her　own　clothes　she　put　on　again　Gypsy　Nan's　greasy　skirt；　and
drew　on　again；　over　her　own　silk　ones；　Gypsy　Nan's　coarse　stockings。
She　put　on　Gypsy　Nan's　heavy　and　disreputable　boots；　and　threw　the
old　shawl　again　over　her　head　and　shoulders。　　And　then；　with　her
hat　…　for　the　small　shape　of　which　she　breathed　a　prayer　of
thankfulness！　…　and　her　own　shoes　under　her　arm　and　covered　by　the
shawl；　she　took　the　candle　again；　closed　the　trap…door；　and　stepped
over　to　the　washstand。　　Here；　she　dampened　a　rag；　that　did　duty　as
a　facecloth；　and　thrust　it　into　her　pocket；　then；　blowing　out　the
candle；　she　groped　her　way　to　the　door；　locked　it　behind　her；　and
without　any　attempt　at　secrecy　made　her　way　downstairs。


VI。　　THE　RENDEZVOUS

Rhoda　Gray's　movements　were　a　little　unsteady　as　she　stepped　out
on　the　sidewalk。　Gypsy　Nan's　accepted　inebriety　was　not　without
its　compensation。　　It　enabled　her；　as　she　swayed　for　a　moment；　to
scrutinize　the　street　in　all　directions。　　Were　any　of　Rough　Rorke's
men　watching　the　house？　　She　did　not　know；　she　only　knew　that　as
far　as　she　had　been　able　to　discover；　she　had　not　been　followed
when　she　had　gone　out　that　afternoon。　　Up　the　street；　to　her　right；
there　were　a　few　pedestrians；　to　her　left；　as　far　as　the　corner；
the　block　was　clear。　　She　turned　in　the　latter　direction。　　She
had　noticed　that　afternoon　that　there　was　a　lane　between　Gypsy　Nan's
house　and　the　corner；　she　gained　this　and　slipped　into　it　unobserved。

And　now；　in　the　comparative　darkness；　she　hurried　her　steps。
Somewhere　here　in　the　lane　she　would　make　the　transformation　from
Gypsy　Nan　to　the　White　Moll　complete；　it　required　only　some　place
in　which　she　could　with　safety　leave　the　garments　that　she　discarded；
and　…　Yes；　this　would　do！　　A　tumble…down　old　shed；　its　battered　door
half　open；　ample　proof　that　the　place　was　in　disuse；　intersected
the　line　of　high　board　fence　on　her　right。

She　stole　inside。　　It　was　utterly　dark；　but　she　had　no　need　for
light。　　It　was　a　matter　of　perhaps　three　minutes；　and　then；　the
revolver　transferred　to　the　pocket　of　her　jacket；　the　stains　removed
from　her　face　by　the　aid　of　the　damp　cloth；　her　hands　neatly　gloved
in　black　kid；　the　skirt；　boots；　stockings；　shawl；　spectacles　and
wig　of　Gypsy　Nan　carefully　piled　together　and　hidden　in　a　hole　under
the　rotting　boards　of　the　floor；　behind　the　door；　she　emerged　as　the
White　Moll；　and　went　on　again。

But　at　the　end　of　the　lane；　where　it　met　a　cross　street；　and　the
street　lamp　flung　out　an　ominous　challenge；　and；　dim　though　it　was；
seemed　to　glare　with　the　brightness　of　daylight；　she　faltered　for
a　moment　and　drew　back。　　She　knew　where　Shluker's　place　was；　because
she　knew；　as　few　knew　it；　every　nook　and　cranny　in　the　East　Side；
and　it　was　a　long　way　to　that　old　junk　shop；　almost　over　to　the　East
River；　and　…　and　there　would　be　lights　like　this　one　here　that　barred
her　exit　from　the　lane；　thousands　of　them；　lights　all　the　way；　and
…　and　out　there　they　were　searching　everywhere；　pitilessly；　for　the
White　Moll。

And　then；　with　her　lips　tightened；　the　straight　little　shoulders
thrown　resolutely　back；　she　slipped　from　the　lane　to　the　sidewalk；
and；　hugging　the　shadows　of　the　buildings；　started　forward。

She　was　alert　now　in　mind　and　body；　every　faculty　strained　and　in
tension。　　It　was　a　long　way；　and　it　would　take　a　great　while　…　by
wide　detours；　by　lanes　and　alleyways；　for　only　on　those　streets　that
were　relatively　deserted　and　poorly　lighted　would　she　dare　trust
herself　to　the　open。　　And　as　she　went　along；　now　skirting　the　side
of　a　street；　now　through　some　black　courtyard；　now　forced　to　take
a　fence；　and　taking　it　with　the　agility　born　of　the　open；　athletic
life　she　had　led　with　her　father　in　the　mining　camps　of　South
America；　now　hiding　at　the　mouth　of　a　lane　waiting　her　chance　to
cross　an　intersecting　street　when　some　receding　footstep　should　have
died　away；　the　terror　of　delay　came　gripping　at　her　heart　with　an
icy　clutch；　submerging　the　fear　of　personal　peril　in　the　agony　of
dread　that；　with　her　progress　so　slow；　she　would；　after　all；　be　too
late。　　And　at　times　she　almost　cried　out　in　her　vexation　and　despair；
as　once；　when　crouched　behind　a　door…stoop；　a　policeman；　not　two
yards　from　her；　stood　and　twirled　his　night　stick　under　the　street
lamp　while　the　minutes　sped　and　raced　themselves　away。

When　she　could　run；　she　ran　until　it　seemed　her　lungs　must　burst；
but　it　was　slow　progress　at　best；　and　always　the　terror　grew　upon
her。　　Had　Danglar　met　the　men　yet　who　had　looted　the　millionaire's
safe？　　Had　he　already　joined　Skeeny　in　that　old　room　behind　Shluker's
place？　　Had　the　Sparrow　…　She　would　not　let　her　mind　frame　that
question　in　concrete　words。　　The　Sparrow！　　His　real　name　was　Martin；
Martin　Finch　…　Marty；　for　short。　　Times　without　number　she　had
visited　the　sick　and　widowed　mother　…　while　the　Sparrow　had　served
a　two…years'　sentence　for　his　first　conviction　in　safe…breaking。
The　Sparrow；　from　a　first…class　chauffeur　mechanic；　had　showed　signs
of　becoming　a　first…class　cracksman；　it　was　true；　but　the　Sparrow
was　young；　and　she　had　never　believed　that　he　was　inherently　bad。
Her　opinion　had　been　confirmed　when；　some　six　months　ago；　on　his
release；　listening　both　to　her　own　pleadings　and　to　those　of　his
mother；　the　Sparrow　had　sworn　that　he　would　stick　to　the　〃straight
and　narrow。〃　　And　Hayden…Bond；　the　millionaire；　referred　to　by　a
good　many　people　as　eccentric；　had　further　proved　his　claims　to
eccentricity　in　the　eyes　of　a　good　many　people　by　giving　a　prison
bird　a　chance　to　make　an　honest　living；　and　had　engaged　the　Sparrow
as　his　chauffeur。　　It　was　a　vile　and　an　abominable　thing　that　they
were　doing；　even　if　they　had　not　planned　to　culminate　it　with　murder。
What　chance　would　the　Sparrow　have　had！

It　had　taken　a　long　time。　　She　did　not　know　how　long；　as；　at　last；
she　stole　unnoticed　into　a　black　and　narrow　driveway　that　led　in；
between　two　blocks　of　down…at…the…heels　tenements；　to　a　courtyard
in　the　rear。　　Shluker　had　his　junk　shop　here。　　Her　lips　pursed　up
as　though　defiant　of　a　tinge　of　perplexity　that　had　suddenly　taken
possession　of　her。　　She　did　not　know　Shluker；　or　anything　about
Shluker's　place　except　its　locality；　but　surely　〃the　old　room　behind
Shluker's〃　was　direction　enough；　and　…　She　had　just　emerged　from　the
end　of　the　driveway　now；　and　now；　startled；　she　turned　her　head
quickly；　as　she　heard　a　brisk　step　turning　in　from　the　street　behind
her。　　But　in　the　darkness　she　could　see　no　one；　and　satisfied；
therefore；　that　she　in　turn　had　not　been　seen；　she　moved　swiftly
to　one　side；　and　crouched　down　against　the　rear　wall　of　one　of　the
tenements。　　A　long　moment；　that　seemed　an　eternity；　passed；　and
then　a　man's　form　came　out　from　the　driveway；　and　started　across
the　courtyard。

She　drew　in　her　breath　sharply；　a　curious　mingling　of　relief　and　a
sudden　panic　fear　upon　her。　　It　was　not　so　dark　in　the　courtyard
as　it　had　been　in　the　driveway；　and；　unless　she　were　strangely
mistaken　that　form　out　there　was　Danglar's。　　She　watched　him　as　he
headed　toward　a　small　building　that　loomed　up　like　a　black；
irregular　shadow　across　the　courtyard；　and　which　was　Shluker's　shop
…　watched　him　in　a　tense；　fascinated　way。　　She　was　in　time；　then
…　only　…　only　somehow　now　her　limbs　seemed　to　have　become　weak　and
powerless。　　It　seemed　suddenly　as　though　she　craved　with　all　her
soul　the　protecting　shadows　of　the　tenement；　and　that　every　impulse
bade　her　cling　there；　flattened　against　the　wall；　until　she　could
make　her　escape。　　She　was　afraid　now；　she　shrank　from　the　next　step。
It　wasn't　illogical。　　She　had　set　out　with　a　purpose　in　view；　and
she　had　not　been　blind　to　the　danger　that　she　ran；　but　the
prospective　and　mental　encounter　with　danger　did　not　hold　the　terror
that　the　tangible；　concrete　and　actual　presence　of　that　peril　did
…　and　that　was　Danglar　there。

She　felt　her　face　whiten；　and　she　felt　the　tremor　of　her　lips；
tightly　as　they　were　drawn　together。　　Yes；　she　was　afraid；　afraid
in　every　fiber　of　her　being；　but　there　was　a　difference；　wasn't
there；　between　being　afraid　and　being　a　coward？　　Her　small；　gloved
hands　clenched；　her　lips　parted　slightly。　　She　laughed　a　little
now；　low；　without　mirth。　　Upon　what　she　did　or　did　not　do；　upon　the
margin　between　fear　and　cowardice　as　applied　to　herself；　there　hung
a　man's　life。　　Danglar　was　disappearing　around　the　side　of　Shluker's
shop。　　She　moved　out　from　the　wall；　and　swiftly；　silently；　crossed
the　courtyard；　gained　the　side　of　the　junk　shop　in　turn；　skirted　it；
and　halted；　listening；　peering　around　her；　as　she　reached　the　rear
corner　of　the　building。　　A　door　closed　somewhere　ahead　of　her；　from
above；　upstairs；　faint　streaks　of　light　showed　through　the
interstices　of　a　shuttered　window。

She　crept　forward　now；　hugging　the　rear　wall；　reached　a　door…the
one；　obviously；　through　which　Danglar　had　disappeared；　and　which
she　had　heard　as　it　was　closed　…　tried　the　door；　found　it　unlocked；
and；　noiselessly；　inch　by　inch；　pushed　it　open；　and　a　moment　later；
stepping　over　the　threshold；　she　closed　it　softly　behind　her。　　A
dull　glow　of　light；　emanating　evi