How　minutely　every　detail　of　the　night　now　seemed　to　explain　itself
  and　dovetail　with　every　other　one！　　At　the　time；　when　Shluker　had
  been　present；　it　had　struck　her　as　a　little　forced　and　unnecessary
  that　the　Pug　should　have　volunteered　to　seek　out　Danglar　with
  explanations　after　the　money　had　been　secured。　　But　she　understood
  now　the　craft　and　guile　that　lay　behind　his　apparently　innocent　plan。
  The　Adventurer　needed　both　time　and　an　alibi；　and　also　he　required
  an　excuse　for　making　Pinkie　Bonn　the　custodian　of　the　stolen　money；
  and　of　getting　Pinkie　alone　with　that　money　in　the　Pug's　room。
  Going　to　Danglar　supplied　all　this。　　He　had　hurried　back；　changed
  in　that　room　from　the　Pug　to　the　Adventurer；　and　proposed　in　the
  latter　character　to　relieve　Pinkie　of　the　money；　to　return　then
  across　the　hall；　become　the　Pug　again；　and　then　go　back；　as　though
  he　had　just　come　from　Danglar；　to　find　his　friend　and　ally；　Pinkie
  Bonn；　robbed　by　their　mutual　arch…enemy　…　the　Adventurer！
  The　Pug…the　Adventurer！　　She　did　not　quite　seem　to　grasp　its
  significance　as　applied　to　her　in　a　personal　way。　　It　seemed　to
  branch　out　into　endless　ramifications。　　She　could　not　somehow　think
  logically；　coolly　enough　now；　to　decide　what　this　meant　in　a
  concrete　way　to　her；　and　her　to…morrow；　and　the　days　after　the
  to…morrow。
  She　hurried　on。　　To…night；　as　she　would　lay　awake　through　the　hours
  that　were　to　come；　for　sleep　was　a　thing　denied；　perhaps　a　clearer
  vision　would　be　given　her。　　For　the　moment　there　…　there　was
  something　else　…　wasn't　there？　　The　money　that　belonged　to　the　old
  couple。
  She　hurried　on。　　She　came　again　to　the　street　where　the　old　couple
  lived。　　It　was　a　dirty　street；　and　from　the　curb　she　stooped　and
  picked　up　a　dirty　piece　of　old　newspaper。　　She　wrapped　the　banknotes
  in　the　paper。
  There　were　not　many　people　on　the　street　as　she　neared　the　mean
  little　frame　house；　but　she　loitered　until　for　the　moment　the
  immediate　vicinity　was　deserted；　then　she　slipped　into　the　alleyway；
  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；　moved　up　th