the white moll-第32部分

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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；　moved　up　there。

The　knocking　ceased；　and　now　the　form　seemed　to　bend　down　and　grope
along　the　floor；　and　then；　an　instant　later；　it　began　to　descend　the
ladder…like　steps　…　and　abruptly　Rhoda　Gray；　too；　moved　forward。　　It
wasn't　Danglar。　　That　was　what　had　instantly　taken　hold　of　her　mind；
and　she　knew　a　sudden　relief　now。　　The　man　on　the　stairs　…　she　could
see　that　it　was　a　man　now　…　though　he　moved　silently；　swayed　in　a
grotesquely　jerky　way　as　though　he　were　lame。　　It　wasn't　Danglar！
She　would　go　to　any　length　to　track　Danglar　to　his　lair；　but　not
here　…　here　in　the　darkness　…　here　in　the　garret。　　Here　she　was
afraid　of　him　with　a　deadly　fear；　here　alone　with　him　there　would
be　a　thousand　chances　of　exposure　incident　to　the　slightest　intimacy
he　might　show　the　woman　whom　he　believed　to　be　his　wife　…　a　thousand
chances　here　against　hardly　one　in　any　other　environment　or
situation。　　But　the　man　on　the　stairs　wasn't　Danglar。

She　halted　now　and　uttered　a　sharp　exclamation；　as　though　she　had
caught　sight　of　the　man　for　the　first　time。

The　other；　too；　had　halted　…　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs。　　A　plaintive
drawl　reached　her：

〃Don't　screech；　Bertha！　　It's　only　your　devoted　brother…in…law。
Curse　your　infernal　ladder；　and　my　twisted　back！〃

Danglar's　brother！　　Bertha！　　She　snatched　instantly　at　the　cue　with
an　inward　gasp　of　thankfulness。　　She　would　not　make　the　mistake　of
using　the　vernacular　behind　which　Gypsy　Nan　sheltered　herself。　　Here
was　some　one　who　knew　that　Gypsy　Nan　was　but　a　role。　　But　she　had　to
remember　that　her　voice　was　slightly　hoarse；　that　her　voice；　at　least；
could　not　sacrifice　its　disguise　to　any　one。　　Danglar　had　been　a
little　suspicious　of　it　until　she　had　explained　that　she　was
suffering　from　a　cold。

〃Oh！〃　she　said　calmly。　　〃It's　you；　is　it？　　And　what　brought　you
here？〃

〃What　do　you　suppose？〃　he　complained　irritably。　　〃The　same　old
thing；　all　I'm　good　for　…　to　write　out　code　messages　and　deliver
them　like　an　errand　boy！　　It's　a　sweet　job；　isn't　it？　　How'd　you
like　to　be　a　deformed　little　cripple？〃

She　did　not　answer　at　once。　　The　night　seemed　suddenly　to　be　opening
some　strange；　even　premonitory；　vista。　　The　code　messages！　　Their
mode　of　delivery！　　Here　was　the　answer！

〃Maybe　I'd　like　it　better　than　being　Gypsy　Nan！〃　she　flung　back
significantly。

He　laughed　out　sharply。

〃I'd　like　to　trade　with　you；〃　he　said；　a　quick　note　of　genuine　envy
in　his　voice。　　〃You　can　pitch　away　your　clothes；　I　can't　pitch　away
a　crooked　spine。　　And；　anyway；　after　to…night；　you'll　be　living
swell　again。

She　leaned　toward　him；　staring　at　him　in　the　semi…darkness。　　That
premonitory　vista　was　widening；　his　words　seemed　suddenly　to　set　her
brain　in　tumult。　　After　to…night！　　She　was　to　resume；　after　to…night；
the　character　that　was　supposed　to　lay　behind　the　disguise　of　Gypsy
Nan！　　She　was　to　resume　her　supposedly　true　character　…　that　of
Pierre　Danglar's　wife！

〃What　do　you　mean？〃　she　demanded　tensely。

〃Aw；　come　on！〃　he　said　abruptly。　　〃This　isn't　the　place　to　talk。
Pierre　wants　you　at　once。　　That's　what　the　message　was　for。　　I
thought　you　were　out；　and　I　left　it　in　the　usual　place　so　you'd　get
it　the　minute　you　got　back　and　come　along　over。　　So；　come　on　now
with　me。〃

He　was　moving　down　the　hallway；　blotching　like　some　misshapen　toad
in　the　shadowy　light；　lurching　in　his　walk；　that　was；　nevertheless；
almost　uncannily　noiseless。　　Mechanically　she　followed　him。　　She　was
trying　to　think；　striving　frantically　to　bring　her　wits　to　play　on
this　sudden　and　unexpected　denouement。　　It　was　obvious　that　he　was
taking　her　to　Danglar。　　She　had　striven　desperately　last　night　to
run　Danglar　to　earth　in　his　lair。　　And　here　was　a　self…appointed
guide！　　And　yet　her　emotions　conflicted　and　her　brain　was　confused。
It　was　what　she　wanted；　what　through　bitter　travail　of　mind　she　had
decided　must　be　her　course；　but　she　found　herself　shrinking　from　it
with　dread　and　fear　now　that　it　promised　to　become　a　reality。　　It
was　not　like　last　night　when　of　her　own　initiative　she　had　sought
to　track　Danglar；　for　then　she　had　started　out　with　a　certain　freedom
of　action　that　held　in　reserve　a　freedom　to　retreat　if　it　became
necessary。　　To…night　it　was　as　though　she　were　deprived　of　that
freedom；　and　being　led　into　what　only　too　easily　might　develop　into
a　trap　from　which　she　could　not　retreat　or　escape。

Suppose　she　refused　to　go？

They　had　reached　the　street　now；　and　now　she　obtained　a　better　view
of　the　misshapen　thing　that　lurched　jerkily　along　beside　her。　　The
man　was　deformed；　miserably　deformed。　　He　walked　most　curiously；
half　bent　over；　and　one　arm；　the　left；　seemed　to　swing　helplessly；
and　the　left　hand　was　like　a　withered　thing。　　Her　eyes　sought　the
other's　face。　　It　was　an　old　face；　much　older　than　Danglar's；　and
it　was　white　and　pinched　and　drawn；　and　in　the　dark　eyes；　as　they
suddenly　darted　a　glance　at　her；　she　read　a　sullen；　bitter　brooding
and　discontent。　　She　turned　her　head　away。　　It　was　not　a　pleasant
face；　it　struck　her　as　b