IV. THE ADVENTURER
Twenty-Four hours had passed. Twenty four hours! Was it no more thanthat since--Rhoda Gray, in the guise of Gypsy Nan, as she sat on theedge of the disreputable, poverty-stricken cot, grew suddenly tense,holding her breath as she listened. The sound reached the attic sofaintly that it might be but the product solely of the imagination.No--it came again! And it even defined itself now--a stealthy footstepon the lower stairs.
A small, leather-bound notebook, in which she had been engrossed, wastucked instantly away under the soiled blanket, and she glanced sharplyaround the garret. A new candle, which she had bought in the singleexcursion she had ventured to make from the house during the day, wasstuck in the neck of the gin bottle, and burned now on the chair besideher. 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 onthe floor.
The footstep became more audible. Her lips tightened a little. Thehour was late. It must be already after eleven o'clock. Her eyes grewperturbed. Perhaps it was only one of the unknown tenants of the floorbelow going to his or her room; but, on the other hand, no one had comenear the garret since last night, when that strange and, yes, sinistertrick of fate had thrust upon her the personality of Gypsy Nan, and itwas hoping for too much to expect such seclusion to obtain much longer.There were too many who must be interested, vitally interested, in GypsyNan! There was Rough Rorke, of headquarters; he had given no sign, butthat did not mean he had lost interest in Gypsy Nan. There was the deathof the real Gypsy Nan, which was pregnant with possibilities; and thoughthe newspapers, that she, Rhoda Gray, had bought and scanned with suchtragic eagerness, had said nothing about the death of one CharlotteGreen in the hospital, much less had given any hint that the identityGypsy Nan had risked so much to hide had been discovered, it did notmean that the police, with their own ends in view, might not be fullyinformed, and were but keeping their own counsel while they baited atrap.
Also, and even more to be feared, there were those of this criminalorganization to which Gypsy Nan had belonged, and to which she, RhodaGray, through a sort of hideous proxy, now belonged herself! Sooner orlater, they must show their hands, and the test of her identity wouldcome. And here her danger was the greater because she did not know whoany of them were, unless the man who had stepped in between Rough Rorkeand herself last night was one of them--which was a question that hadharassed 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 clutchesof Rough Rorke; but, against this, he had seen her simply as herselfthen, the White Moll, and what could the criminal associates of GypsyNan have cared as to what became of the White Moll?
A newspaper, to procure which had been the prime motive that had luredher out of her retreat that afternoon, caught her eye now, and sheshivered a little as, from where it lay on the floor, the headlinesseemed to leer up at her, and mock, and menace her. "The WhiteMoll....The Saint of the East Side Exposed....Vicious Hypocrisy....LowlyCharity for Years Cloaks a Consummate Thief..." They had not spared her!
Her lips firmed suddenly, as she listened. The stealthy footfall had notpaused 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 feetfarther away, so that the bed would be beyond the immediate radius ofthe candle light. Then she shuffled across the floor to the door. "Who'sdere?" she demanded again, and her hand, deep in the voluminous pocketof Gypsy Nan's greasy skirt, closed tightly around the stock of GypsyNan'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 herewithout being either seen or heard!"
For an instant Rhoda Gray hesitated--there seemed something familiarabout the voice--then she unlocked the door, and retreated toward thebed.
The door opened and closed softly. Rhoda Gray, reaching the edge of thebed, sat down. It was the fashionably-attired, immaculate young man,who had saved her from Rough Rorke last night. She stared at him inthe faint light without a word. Her mind was racing in a mad turmoil ofdoubt, uncertainty, fear. Was he one of the gang, or not? Was she, inthe role of Gypsy Nan, supposed to know him, or not? Did he know thatthe real Gypsy Nan, too, had but played a part, and, therefore, when shespoke must it be in the vernacular of the East Side--or not? And thensudden enlightenment, with its incident relief, came to her.
"My dear lady"--the young man's soft felt hat was under his arm, and hewas plucking daintily at the fingers of his yellow gloves as he removedthem--"I beg you to pardon the intrusion of a perfect stranger. I offeryou my very genuine apologies. My excuse is that I come from a--I hope Iam not overstepping the bounds in using the term--mutual friend." RhodaGray snorted disdainfully.
"Aw, cut out de boudoir talk, an' get down to cases!" she croaked. "Whoare youse, anyway?"
The young man had gray eyes--and they lighted up now humorously.
"Boudoir? Ah--yes! Of course! Awfully neat!" His eyes, from the chairthat held the candle, strayed around the scantily furnished, murkygarret as though in search of a seat, and finally rested inquiringly onRhoda Gray.
"Youse can put de candle on de floor, if youse like," she saidgrudgingly. "Dat's de only chair dere is."
"Thank you!" he said.
Rhoda Gray watched him with puckered brow, as he placed the gin bottlewith its candle on the floor, and appropriated the chair. He might,from his tone, have been thanking her for some priceless boon. He worea boutonniere. His clothes fitted him like gloves. He exuded a certainstudied, almost languid fastidiousness--that was wholly out of keepingwith the quick, daring, agile wit that he had exhibited the nightbefore. She found her hand toying unconsciously with the weapon in herpocket. She was aware that she was fencing with unbuttoned foils. Howmuch did he know--about last night?
"Well, why don't youse spill it?" she invited curtly. "Who are youse?"
"Who am I?" He lifted the lapel of his coat, carrying the boutonniere tohis nose. "My dear lady, I am an adventurer."
"Youse don't say!" observed Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan. "An' wot's datw' en it's at home?"
"In my case, first of all a gentleman, I trust," he said pleasantly;"after that, I do not quarrel with the accepted definition of theterm--though it is not altogether complimentary."
Rhoda Gray scowled. As Rhoda Gray, she might have answered him; as GypsyNan, it was too subtle, and she was beyond her depth.
"Youse look to me like a slick crook!" she said bluntly.
"I will admit," he said, "that I have at times, perhaps, taken libertieswith the law."
"Well, den," she snapped, "cut out de high-brow stuff, an' come acrosswid wot brought youse here. I ain't holdin' no reception. Who's defriend youse was talkin' about?"
The Adventurer looked around him, and lowered his voice.
"The White Moll," he said.
Rhoda Gray eyed the man for a long minute; then she shook her head.
"I take back wot I said about youse bein' a slick crook," she announcedcoolly. "I guess youse're a dick from headquarters. Well, youse have gotde wrong number--see? Me fingers are crossed. Try next door!"
The Adventurer's eyes were fixed on the newspaper headlines on thefloor. He raised them now significantly to hers.
"You helped her to get away from Rough Rorke last night," he saidgently. "Well, so did I. I am very anxious to find the White Moll, and,as I know of no other way except through you, I have got to make youbelieve in me, if I can. Listen, my dear lady--and don't look at me sosuspiciously. I have already admitted that I have taken liberties withthe law. Let me add now that last night there was a little fortune ofquite a few thousand dollars that I had already made up my mind wasas good as in my pocket. I was on my way to get
it--the newspaperwill already have given you the details--when I found that I had beenforestalled by the young lady, who, the papers say, is known as theWhite Moll." He smiled whimsically. "Even though one might be a slickcrook as you suggest, it is no reason why he should fail in his duty tohimself--as a gentleman. What other course was open to me? I discovereda very charming young lady in the grip of a hulking police brute. Shealso, apparently, took liberties with the law. There was a bond betweenus. I--er--took it upon myself to do what I could. And, besides, I wasnot insensible to the fact that I was under a certain obligation to her,quixotic as it may sound, in view of the fact that we were evidentlycompetitors after the same game. You see, if she had not forestalled meand been caught herself, I should most certainly have walked into thetrap that our friend of headquarters had prepared. I--er--as I say, didwhat I could. She got away; but somehow Rough Rorke later discovered herhere in this room, I understand that he was not happy over the result;that, thanks to you, she escaped again, and has not been heard of since."
Rhoda Gray dropped her chin in her grime-smeared hand, staringspeculatively at the other. The man sat there, apparently aself-confessed crook and criminal, but, also, he sat there as the manto whom she owed the fact that at the present moment she was not behindprison bars. He proclaimed himself in the same breath both a thief anda gentleman, as far as she could make out. They were characteristicswhich, until now, she had never associated together; but now, curiouslyenough, they did not seem so utterly at variance. Of course they wereat variance, must of necessity be so; but in the personality of this manthe incongruity seemed somehow lost. Perhaps it was a sense of gratitudetoward him that modified her views. He looked a gentleman. There wassomething about him that appealed. The gray eyes seemed full of cool,confident, self-possession; and, quiet as his manner was, she sensed alatent dynamic something lurking near the surface all the time--that shewas conscious she would much prefer to have enlisted on her behalf thanagainst her. The strong, firm chin bore this out. He was not handsome,but--with a sort of mental jerk, she forced her mind back to the starkrealities of her surroundings. She could not thank him for what he haddone last night. She could not tell him that she was the White Moll.She could only play out the role of Gypsy Nan until--until--Her handtightened with a fierce, involuntary pressure upon her chin until itbrought a physical hurt. Until what? God alone knew what the end of thismiserable, impossible horror, in which she found herself engulfed, wouldbe!
Her eyes sought his face again. The Adventurer was tactfully engagedin carefully smoothing out the fingers of his yellow gloves. Thiefand gentleman, whatever he might be, whatever he might choose to callhimself, what, exactly, was it that had brought him here to-night? TheWhite Moll, he had said; but what did he want with the White Moll?
He answered her unspoken question now, almost as though he had read herthoughts.
"She is very clever," he said quietly. "She must be exceedingly cleverto have beaten the police the way she has for the last few years;and--er--I worship at the shrine of cleverness--especially if it bea woman's. The idea struck me last night that if she and Ishould--er--pool our resources, we should not have to complain of thereward."
"Oh, so youse wants to work wid her, eh?" sniffed Rhoda Gray. "So dat'sit, is it?"
"Partially," he said. "But, quite apart from that, the reason I want tofind her is because she is in very great danger. Clever as she is, it isa very different matter to-day now that the police have found her out.She has been forced into hiding, and, if alone and without any friendto help her, her situation, to put it mildly, must be desperate inthe extreme. You befriended her last night, and I honor you for theunselfishness with which you laid yourself open to the future attentionsof that animal Rorke, but that very fact has deprived her of what mightotherwise have been a refuge and a quite secure retreat here with you. Ido not wish to intrude, or force myself upon her, but I believe I couldbe of very material help, and so I have come to you, as I have said,because you are the only source through which I can hope to findher, and because, through your act of last night, I know you to be atrustworthy, and, perhaps, even an intimate, friend of hers."
"Aw, go on!" said Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, deprecatingly. "Dat don'tprove nothin'! I'd have done as much for a stray cat if de bulls waschasm' her. See? I told youse once youse had de wrong number. She didn'tleave no address. Dat's flat, an' dat's de end of it."
"I'm sorry," said the Adventurer gravely. "Perhaps I haven't made out agood enough case. Or perhaps, even believing me, you consider thatthe White Moll, and not yourself, should be the judge as to whether myservices are acceptable or not?"
"Youse can dope it out any way youse likes," said Rhoda Grayindifferently. "Me t'roat's gettin' hoarse tellin' youse dere's nothin'doin'!"
"I'm sorry," said the Adventurer again. He smiled suddenly, and tuckinghis gloves into his pocket, leaned forward and tore off a small piecefrom the margin of the newspaper on the floor--but his head the whilewas now cocked in a curious listening attitude in the direction of thedoor. "You will pardon me, my dear lady, if I confess that, in spite ofwhat you say, I still harbor the belief that you know where to reachthe White Moll; and so--" He stopped abruptly, and she found his glance,sharp and critical, upon her. "You are expecting a visitor, perhaps?" heinquired softly.
Rhoda Gray stared in genuine perplexity.
"Wot's de answer?" she demanded.
"There is some one on the stairs," replied the Adventurer.
Rhoda Gray listened--and her perplexity deepened. She could hearnothing.
"Youse must have good ears!" she scoffed.
"I have," returned the Adventurer coolly. "My hearing is one of theresources that I wanted to pool with the White Moll."
"Well, den, mabbe it's Rough Rorke." Her tone still held its scoffingnote; but her words voiced the genuine enough, that had come flashingupon her. "An' if it is, after last night, an' he finds youse an' metogether, dere'll be--"
"My dear lady," interposed the Adventurer calmly, "if there were theremotest possibility that it could be Rough Rorke, I would not be here."
"Wot do youse mean?" She had unconsciously towered her voice.
The Adventurer shrugged his shoulders whimsically. He had laid the pieceof paper on his knee, and, with a small gold pencil which he had takenfrom his pocket, was writing something upon it.
"The fact that I can assure you that, whoever else it may be, the personoutside there cannot be Rough Rorke, is simply a proof that, if I hadthe opportunity, I could be of real assistance to the White Moll,"he said imperturbably. "Well"--a grim little smile flickered suddenlyacross his lips--"do you hear any one now?"
Quite low, but quite unmistakably, the short, ladder-like steps justoutside the door were voicing a creaky protest now as some one mountedthem. Rhoda Gray did not move. It seemed as though she could hear thesudden thumping of her own heart. Who was it this time? How was she toact? What was she to say? It was so easy to make the single little slipof word or manner that would spell ruin and disaster.
"Rubber heels and rubber soles," murmured the Adventurer. "But, at that,it is extremely well done." He held out the torn piece of paper to RhodaGray.
"If"--he smiled significantly--"if, by any good fortune, you see theWhite Moll again, please give her this and let her decide for herself.It is a telephone number. She can always reach me there by askingfor--the Adventurer." He was still extending the piece of paper."Quick!" he whispered, as the door knob rattled.