the white moll-第7部分

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A　roar　of　rage；　a　burst　of　unbridled　profanity　went　up　from　Rough
Rorke　behind　her；　it　was　mingled　with　equally　angry　vituperation　in
the　young　man's　voice。　　She　looked　behind　her。　　The　two　men　were
swaying　around　crazily　in　each　other's　arms。　　She　ran　on　…　faster
than　she　had　ever　run　in　her　life。　　The　corner　was　not　far　ahead。
Her　brain　was　working　with　lightning　speed。　　Gypsy　Nan's　house　was
just　around　the　corner。　　If　she　could　get　out　of　sight　…　hide　…　it
would。。。

She　glanced　behind　her　again；　as　her　ears　caught　the　pound　of　racing
feet。　　The　young　man　was　sitting　in　the　middle　of　the　sidewalk；
shaking　his　fist；　Rough　Rorke；　perhaps　a　bare　fifty　yards　away；　was
chasing　her　at　top　speed。

Her　face　set　hard。　　She　could　not　out…run　a　man！　　There　was　only
one　hope　for　her　…　just　one　…　to　gain　Gypsy　Nan's　doorway　before
Rorke　got　around　the　corner。

A　yard　…　another　…　still　another！　　She　swerved　around　the　corner。
And；　as　she　turned；　she　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　detective。　　The　man
was　nearer　…　much　nearer。　　But　it　was　only　a　little　way；　just　a
little　way；　to　Gypsy　Nan's　…　not　so　far　as　the　distance　between
her　and　Rorke　…　and　…　and　if　the　man　didn't　gain　too　fast；　then
…　then　…　A　little　cry　of　dismay　came　with　a　new　and　terrifying
thought。　　Quite　apart　from　Rorke；　some　one　else　might　see　her　enter
Gypsy　Nan's！　　She　strained　her　eyes　in　all　directions　as　she　ran。
There　wasn't　any　one　…　she　didn't　see　any　one　…　only　Rorke；　around
the　corner　there；　was　bawling　out　at　the　top　of　his　voice；　and
…　and。。。

She　flung　herself　against　Gypsy　Nan's　door；　stumbled　in；　and；
closing　it；　heard　Rorke　just　swinging　around　the　corner。　　Had　he
seen　her？　　She　didn't　know。　　She　was　panting；　gasping　for　her
breath。　　It　seemed　as　though　her　lungs　would　burst。　　She　held
her　hand　tightly　to　her　bosom　as　she　made　for　the　stairs　…　she
mustn't　make　any　noise　…　they　mustn't　hear　her　breathing　like　that
…　they　…　they　mustn't　hear　her　going　up　the　stairs。

How　dark　it　was！　　If　she　could　only　see　…　so　that　she　would　be　sure
not　to　stumble！　　She　couldn't　go　fast　now　…　she　would　make　a　noise
if　she　did。　　Stair　after　stair　she　climbed　stealthily。　　Perhaps　she
was　safe　now　…　it　had　taken　her　a　long　time　to　get　up　here　to　the
second　floor；　and　there　wasn't　any　sound　yet　from　the　street　below。

And　now　she　mounted　the　short；　ladder…like　steps　to　the　attic；　and；
feeling　with　her　hand　for　the　crack　in　the　flooring　under　the
partition；　reached　in　for　the　key。　　As　her　fingers　closed　upon　it；
she　choked　back　a　cry。　　Some　one　had　been　here！　　A　piece　of　paper
was　wrapped　around　the　key。　　What　did　it　mean？　　What　did　all　these
strange；　yes；　sinister；　things　that　had　happened　to…night　mean？
How　had　Rorke　known　that　a　robbery　was　to　be　committed　at　Skarbolov's？
Who　was　that　man　who　had　effected　her　escape；　and　who；　she　knew　now；
was　no　more　drunk　than　she　was？　　Fast；　quick；　piling　one　upon　the
other；　the　questions　raced　through　her　mind。

She　fought　them　back。　　There　was　no　time　for　speculation　now！　　There
was　only　one　question　that　mattered：　Was　she　safe？

She　stood　up；　thrust　the　paper　for　safe…keeping　into　her　bosom；　and
unlocked　the　door。　　If　…　if　Rorke　did　not　know　that　she　had　entered
this　house　here；　she　could　remain　hidden　for　a　few　hours；　it　would
give　her　time　to　think；　and。。。

It　came　this　time；　no　strength　of　will　would　hold　it　back；　a　little
moan。　　The　front　door　below　had　opened；　a　heavy　footstep　sounded　in
the　lower　hall。　　She　couldn't　see；　of　course。　　But　she　knew。　　It　was
Rorke！　　She　heard　him　coming　up　the　stairs。

And　then；　in　a　flash；　it　seemed；　her　brain　responded　to　her
despairing　cry。　　There　was　still　a　way　…　a　desperate　one　…　but　still
a　way　…　if　there　was　time！　　She　darted　inside　the　garret；　locked　the
door；　found　the　matches　and　candle；　and；　running　silently　to　the　rear
wall；　pushed　up　the　board　in　the　ceiling。　　In　frantic　haste　she　tore
off　her　outer　garments；　her　stockings　and　shoes；　pulled　on　the　rough
stockings　and　coarse　boots　that　Gypsy　Nan　had　worn；　slipped　the　other's
greasy；　threadbare　skirt　over　her　head；　and　pinned　the　shawl　tight
about　her　shoulders。　　There　was　a　big；　voluminous　pocket　in　the　skirt；
and　into　this　she　dropped　Gypsy　Nan's　revolver；　and　the　paper　she　had
found　wrapped　around　the　key。

She　could　hear　a　commotion　from　below　now。　　It　was　the　one　thing　she
had　counted　upon。　　Rough　Rorke　might　know　she　had　entered　the　house；
but　he　could　not　know　whereabouts　in　the　house　she　was；　and　he　would
naturally　search　each　room　as　he　came　to　it　on　the　way　up。　　She　fitted
the　gray…streaked　wig　of　tangled；　matted　hair　upon　her　head；　plunged
her　hand　into　the　box　that　Gypsy　Nan　used　for　her　make…up　and　daubed
some　of　the　grime　upon　both　hands　and　face；　adjusted　the　spectacles
upon　her　nose；　hid　her　own　clothing；　closed　the　narrow　trap…door　in
the　ceiling；　and　ran　back；　carrying　the　candle；　to　the　washstand。

Here；　there　was　a　small　and　battered　mirror；　and　more　coolly；　more
leisurely　now；　for　the　commotion　still　continued　from　the　floor　below；
she　spread　and　rubbed　in；　as　craftily　as　she　could；　the　grime　streaks
on　her　face　and　hands。　　It　was　neither　artistic　nor　perfect；　but　in
the　meager；　flickering　light　now　the　face　of　Gypsy　Nan　seemed　to
stare　reassuringly　back　at　her。　　It　might　not　deceive　any　one　in
daylight　…　she　did　not　know；　and　it　did　not　matter　now　…　but　with　only
this　candle　to　light　the　garret；　since　the　lamp　was　empty；　she　could
fairly　count　on　her　identity　not　being　questioned。

She　blew　out　the　candle；　left　it　on　the　washstand；　because；　if　she
could　help　it；　she　did　not　want　to　risk　having　it　lighted　near　the
bed　or　door；　and；　tiptoeing　now；　went　to　the　door；　unlocked　it；　then
threw　herself　down　upon　the　bed。

Possibly　a　minute　went　by；　possibly　two；　and　then　there　was　a　quick
step　on　the　ladder…like　stairs；　the　door　handle　was　rattled　violently；
and　the　door　was　flung　open　and　slammed　shut　again。

Rhoda　Gray　sat　upright　on　the　bed。　　It　was　her　wits　now；　her　wits
against　Rough　Rorke's；　nothing　else　could　save　her。　　She　could　not
even　make　out　the　man's　form；　it　was　so　dark；　but；　as　he　had　not
moved；　she　was　quite　well　aware　that　he　was　standing　with　his　back
to　the　door；　evidently　trying　to　place　his　surroundings。

It　was　Gypsy　Nan；　not　Rhoda　Gray；　who　spoke。

〃Who's　dere？〃　she　screeched。　　〃D'ye　hear；　blast　youse；　who's　dere？〃

Rough　Rorke　laughed　gratingly。

〃That　you；　Nan；　my　dear？〃

〃Who　d'youse　t'ink　it　is…me　gran'mother？〃　demanded　Rhoda　Gray
caustically。　　〃Who　are　youse？〃

〃Rorke；〃　said　Rorke　shortly。　　〃I　guess　you　know；　don't　you？〃

〃Is　dat　so？〃　snorted　Rhoda　Gray。　　〃Well　den；　youse　can　beat　it　…　hop
it　…　on　de　jump！　　Wot　t'hell　right　have　youse　got　bustin'　into　me
room　at　dis　time　of　night　…　eh？　　I　ain't　done　nothin'！〃

Rough　Rorke；　his　feet　scuffling　to　feel　the　way；　came　forward。

〃Cut　it　out！〃　he　snarled。　　〃I　ain't　the　only　visitor　you've　got！
It's　not　you　I　want；　it's　the　White　Moll。〃

〃Wot's　dat　got　to　do　wid　me？〃　Rhoda　Gray　flung　back　hotly。　　〃She
ain't　here；　is　she？〃

〃Yes；　she's　here！〃　Rough　Rorke's　voice　held　an　ugly　menace。　　〃I　lost
her　around　the　corner；　but　a　woman　from　a　window　across　the　street；
who　heard　the　row；　saw　her　run　into　this　house。　　She　ain't　downstairs
…　so　you　can　figure　the　rest　out　the　same　way　I　do。〃

〃De　woman　was　kiddin'　youse！〃　　Rhoda　Gray；　alias　Gypsy　Nan；　cackled
derisively。　　〃Dere　ain't　nobody　here　but　me。〃

〃We'll　see　about　that！〃　said　Rough　Rorke　shortly。　　〃Strike　a　light！〃

〃Aw；　strike　it　yerself！〃　retorted　Rhoda　Gray。　　〃I　ain't　yer　servant！
Dere's　a　candle　over　dere　on　de　washstand　against　de　wall；　if　youse
wants　it。〃

A　match　crackled　and　spurted　into　flame；　its　light　fell　upon　the
lamp　standing　on　the　chair　beside　the　bed。　　Rough　Rorke　stepped
toward　it。

〃Dere　ain't　any　oil　in　dat；〃　croaked　Rhoda　Gray。　　〃Didn't　I　tell
youse　de　candle　was　over　dere　on　de　washstand；　an'　…〃

The　words　seemed　to　freeze　in　her　throat；　the　chair；　the　lamp；　the
shadowy　figure　of　the　man　in　the　match　flame　to　swirl　before　her
eyes；　and　a　sick　nausea　to　come　upon　her　soul　itself。　　With　a　short；
triumphant　oath；　Rough　Rorke　had　stopped　suddenly　and　reached　in
under　the　chair。　　And　now　he　was　dangling　a　new；　black　kid　glove　in
front　of　her。　　Caught！　　Yes；　she　was　caught！　　She　remembered　Gypsy
Nan's　attempt　to　put　on　her　gloves　…　one　must　have　fallen　to　the　floor
unnoticed　by　either　of　them　when　Gypsy　Nan　had　thought　to　put　them
in　her　pocket！　　The　man's　voice　came　to　her　as　from　some　great
distance：

〃So；　she　ain't　here　…　ain't　she！　　I'll　teach　you　to　lie　to　me！
I'll　…〃　The　match　was　dying　out。　　Rorke　raised　it　higher；　and　with
the　last　flicker　located　the　washstand；　and　made　toward　it；　obviously
for　the　candle。

Her　wits　against　Rough　Rorke's！　　Nothing　else　could　save　her！
Failing　to　find　any　one　here　but　herself；　certain　now　that　the　White
Moll　was　here；　only　a　fool　could　have　failed　in　his　deduction　…　and
Rough　Rorke　was　not　a　fool。　　Her　wits　against　Rough　Rorke's！　　There
was　the　time　left　her　while　the　garret　was　still　in　darkness；　just
that；　no　more！

With　a　quick　spring　she　leaped　from　the　bed；　seized　the　chair；
sending　the　lamp　to　the　floor；　and；　dragging　the　chair　after　her　to
make　as　much　noise　and　confusion　as　she　could；　she　rushed　for　the
door；　screeching　at　the　top　of　her　voice：

〃Run；　dearie；　run！　　Run！〃　　She　was　scuffling　with　her　feet；
clattering　the　chair；　as　she　wrenched　the　door　open。　　And　then；　in
her　own　voice：　〃Nan；　I　won't！　　I　won't　let　you　stand　for　this；　I　…〃

Then　as　Gypsy　Nan　again：　〃Run；　dearie！　　Don't　youse　mind　old　Nan！〃
She　banged　the　door　shut；　locked　it；　and　whipped　out　the　key。　　It　had
taken　scarcely　a　second。　　She　was　still　screeching　at　the　top　of　her
voice　to　cover　the　absence　of　flying　footers　on　the　stairs。　　〃Run；
dearie；　run！　　Run！〃

And　then；　in　the　darkness；　the　candle　still　unlighted；　Rough　Rorke
was　on　her　like　a　madman。　　With　a　sweep　of　his　arm　he　sent　her
crashing　to　the　floor；　and　wrenched　at　the　door。　　The　next　instant
he　was　on　her　again。

〃The　key！　　Give　me　that　key！〃　he　roared。

For　answer　she　flung　it　from　her。　　It　fell　with　a　tinkle　on　the
floor　at　the　far　end　of