tightened　as　she　went　along。　　Surely　she　could　accomplish　it！　　She
  had　but　to　evade　the　watchman　…　only；　first；　the　lost　revolver；
  the　one　safeguard　against　an　adverse　turn　of　fortune；　must　be
  replaced；　and　that　was　where　she　was　going　now。　　She　knew；　from　her
  associations　with　the　underworld　as　the　White　Moll　in　the　old　days；
  where　such　things　could　be　purchased　and　no　questions　asked；　if　one
  were　known。　　And　she　was　known　in　the　establishment　to　which　she
  was　going；　for　evil　days　had　once　fallen　upon　its　proprietor；　one
  〃Daddy〃　Jacques；　in　that　he　had　incurred　the　enmity　of　certain　of
  his　own　ilk　in　the　underworld；　and　on　a　certain　night；　which　he
  would　not　be　likely　to　forget；　she　had　stood　between　him　and　a
  manhandling　that　would　probably　have　cost　him　his　life；　and　…　Yes；
  this　was　the　place。
  She　entered　a　dirty…windowed；　small　and　musty　pawnshop。　　A　little
  old　man；　almost　dwarf…like　in　stature；　with　an　unkempt；　tawny　beard；
  who　wore　a　greasy　and　ill…fitting　suit；　and　upon　whose　bald　head
  was　perched　an　equally　greasy　skull　cap；　gazed　at　her　inquiringly
  from　behind　the　counter。
  〃I　want　a　gun；　and　a　good　one；　please；〃　she　said；　after　a　glance
  around　her　to　assure　herself　that　they　were　alone。
  The　other　squinted　at　her　through　his　spectacles；　as　he　shook　his
  head。
  〃I　haven't　got　any；　lady；〃　he　answered。　　〃We're　not　allowed　to　sell
  them　without　…〃
  〃Oh；　yes；　you　have；　Daddy；〃　she　contradicted　quietly；　as　she　raised
  her　veil。　　〃And　quick；　please；　I'm　in　a　hurry。〃
  The　little　old　man　leaned　forward；　staring　at　her　for　a　moment　as
  though　fascinated；　and　then　his　hand；　in　a　fumbling　way；　removed
  the　skull　cap　from　his　bead。　　There　was　a　curious；　almost　wistful
  reverence　in　his　voice　as　he　spoke。
  〃The　White　Moll！〃　he　said。
  〃Yes；〃　she　smiled。　　〃But　the　gun；　Daddy。　　Quick！　　I　haven't　an
  instant　to　lose。〃
  〃Yes；　yes！〃　he　said　eagerly　…　and　shuffled　away。
  He　was　back　in　a　moment；　an　automatic　in　his　hand。
  〃It's　loaded；　of　course？〃　she　said；　as　she　took　the　weapon。　　She
  slipped　it　into　her　pocket　as　he　nodded　affirmatively。　　〃How　much；
  Daddy？〃
  〃The　White　Moll！〃　　He　seemed　still　under　the　spell　of　amazement。
  〃It　is　nothing。　　There　is　no　charge。　　It　is　nothing；　of　course。〃
  〃Thank　you；　Daddy！〃　she　said　softly　…　and　laid　a　bill　upon　the
  counter；　and　stepped　back　to　the　door。　　〃Good…night！〃　she　smiled。
  She　heard　him　call　to　her；　but　she　was　already　on　the　street　again；
  and　hurrying　along。　　She　felt　better；　somehow；　in　a　mental　way；　for
  that　little　encounter　with　the　shady　old　pawnbroker。　　She　was　not
  so　much　alone；　perhaps；　as　she　had　thought；　there　were　many；　perhaps；
  even　if　they　were　of　the　underworld；　who　had　not　swerved　from　the
  loyalty　they　had　once　professed　to　the　White　Moll。
  It　brought　a　new　train　of　thought；　and　she　paused　suddenly　in　her
  walk。　　She　might　rally　around　her　some　of　those　underworld　intimates
  upon　whose　allegiance　she　felt　she　could　depend；　and　use　them　now；
  to…night；　in　behalf　of　the　Adventurer；　she　would　be　sure　then　to　be
  a　match　for　Danglar；　no　matter　what　turn　affairs　took。　　And　then；
  with　an　impatient　shake　of　her　head；　she　hurried　on　again。　　There
  was　no　time　for　that。　　It　would　take　a　great　deal　of　time　to　find
  and　pick　her　men；　she　had　even　wasted　time　herself；　where　there　was
  no　time　to　spare；　in　the　momentary　pause　during　which　she　had　given
  the　thought　consideration。
  She　reached　the　nearest　subway　station；　which　was　her　objective；
  and　boarded　a　Harlem　train；　satisfied　that　her　heavy　veil　would
  protect　her　against　recognition。　　Unobtrusively　she　took　a　window
  seat。　　No　one　paid　her　any　attention。　　Hours　passed；　it　seemed　to
  her　impatience；　while　the　black　walls　rushed　by；　punctuated　by
  occasional　scintillating　signal　lights；　and；　at　longer　intervals；
  by　the　fuller　glare　from　the　station　platforms。
  In　the　neighborhood　of　125th　street　she　left　the　train；　and；
  entering　the　first　drug　store　she　found；　consulted　a　directory。
  She　did　not　know　this　section　of　New　York　at　all；　she　did　not　know
  either　the　location　or　the　firm　name　of　the　iron　plant　to　which
  Danglar；　assuming　naturally；　of　course；　that　she　was　conversant
  with　it；　had　referred；　and　she　did　not　care　to　ask　to　be　directed
  to　Jake　Malley's　saloon；　which　was　the　only　clew　she　had　to　guide
  her。　　The　problem；　however；　did　not　appear　to　be　a　very　difficult
  one。　　She　found　the　saloon's　address；　and；　asking　the　clerk　to
  direct　her　to　the　street　indicated；　left　the　drug　store　again。
  But；　after　all；　it　was　not　so　easy；　no　easier　than　for　one
  unacquainted　with　any　locality　to　find　one's　way　about。　　Several
  times　she　found　herself　at　fault；　and　several　times　she　was　obliged
  to　ask　directions　again。　　She　had　begun　to　grow　panicky　with　fear
  and　dread　at　the　time　she　had　lost；　before；　finally；　she　found　the
  saloon。　　She　was　quite　sure　that　it　was　already　more　than　half　an
  hour　since　she　had　left　the　drug　store；　and　that　half　an　hour　might
  easily　mean　the　difference　between　safety　and　disaster；　not　only
  for　the　Adventurer；　but　for　herself　as　well。　　Danglar　might　have
  been　in　no　particular　hurry；　and　he　would　probably　have　gone　first
  to　whatever　rendezvous　he　had　appointed　for　those　of　the　gang
  selected　to　accompany　him；　but　even　to　have　done　so　in　a　leisurely
  way　would　surely　not　have　taken　more　than　that　half　hour！
  Yes；　that　was　Jake　Malley's　saloon　now；　across　the　road　from　her；
  but　she　could　not　recall　the　time　that　was　already　lost！　　They
  might　be　there　now　…　ahead　of　her。
  She　quickened　her　steps　almost　to　a　run。　　There　should　be　no
  difficulty　in　finding　the　iron　plant　now。　　〃Behind　Jake　Malley's
  saloon；〃　Danglar　had　said。　　She　turned　down　the　cross　street；
  passed　the　side　entrance　to　the　saloon；　and　hastened　along。　　The
  locality　was　lonely；　deserted；　and　none　too　well　lighted。　　The　arc
  lamps；　powerful　enough　in　themselves；　were　so　far　apart　that　they
  left　great　areas　of　shadow；　almost　blackness；　between　them。　　And
  the　street　too　was　very　narrow；　and　the　buildings；　such　as　they
  were；　were　dark　and　unlighted　…　certainly　it　was　not　a　residential
  district！
  And　now　she　became　aware　that　she　was　close　to　the　river；　for　the
  sound　of　a　passing　craft　caught　her　attention。　　Of　course！　　She
  understood　now。　　The　iron　plant；　for　shipping　facilities；　was
  undoubtedly　on　the　bank　of　the　river　itself；　and　…　yes；　this　was
  it；　wasn't　it？　…　this　picket　fence　that　began　to　parallel　the
  right…hand　side　of　the　street；　and　enclose；　seemingly；　a　very　large
  area。　　She　halted　and　stared　at　it　…　and　suddenly　her　heart　sank
  with　a　miserable　sense　of　impotence　and　dismay。　　Yes；　this　was　the
  place　beyond　question。　　Through　the　picket　fence　she　could　make
  out　the　looming　shadows　of　many　buildings；　and　spidery　iron
  structures　that　seemed　to　cobweb　the　darkness；　and　…　and　…　　Her
  face　mirrored　her　misery。　　She　had　thought　of　a　single　building。
  Where；　inside　there；　amongst　all　those　rambling　structures；　with
  little　time；　perhaps　none　at　all；　to　search；　was　she　to　find　the
  Adventurer？
  She　did　not　try　to　answer　her　own　question　…　she　was　afraid　that
  her　dismay　would　get　the　better　of　her　if　she　hesitated　for　an
  instant。　　She　crossed　the　street；　choosing　a　spot　between　two　of
  the　arc　lamps　where　the　shadows　were　blackest。　　It　was　a　high　fence；
  but　not　too　high　to　climb。　　She　reached　up；　preparatory　to　pulling
  herself　to　the　top　…　and　drew　back　with　a　stifled　cry。　　She　was　too
  late；　then　…　already　too　late！　　They　were　here　ahead　of　her　…　and
  on　guard　after　all！　　A　man's　form；　appearing　suddenly　out　of　the
  darkness　but　a　few　feet　away；　was　making　quickly　toward　her。　　She
  wrenched　her　automatic　from　her　pocket。　　The　touch　of　the　weapon
  in　her　hand　restored　her　self…control。
  〃Don't　come　any　nearer！〃　she　cried　out　sharply。　　〃I　will　fire　if
  you　do！〃
  And　then　the　man　spoke。
  〃It's　you；　ain't　it？〃　he　called　in　guarded　eagerness。　　〃It's　the
  White　Moll；　ain't　it？　　Thank　God；　it's　you！〃
  Her　extended　hand　with　the　automatic　fell　to　her　side。　　She　had
  recognized　his　voice。　　It　wasn't　Danglar；　it　wasn't　one　of　the
  gang；　or　the　watchman　who　was　no　better　than　an　accomplice；　it　was
  Marty　Finch；　alias　the　Sparrow。
  〃Marty！〃　she　exclaimed。　　〃You！　　What　are　you　doing　here？〃
  〃I'm　here　to　keep　you　from　goin'　in　there！〃　he　answered　excitedly。
  〃And　…　and；　say；　I　was　afraid　I　was　too　late。　　Don't　you　go　in
  there！　　For　God's　sake；　don't　you　go！　　They're　layin'　a　trap　for
  you！　　They're　goin'　to　bump　you　off！　　I　know　all　about　it！〃
  〃You　know？　　What　do　you　mean？〃　she　asked　quickly。　　〃How　do　you
  know？〃
  〃I　quit　my　job　a　few　days　after　that　fellow　you　called　Danglar
  tried　to　murder　me　that　night　you　saved　me；〃　said　the　Sparrow；　with
  a　savage　laugh。　　〃I　knew　he　had　it　in　for　you；　and　I　guess　I　had
  something　comm'　to　him　on　my　own　account　too；　hadn't　I？　　That's　the
  job　I've　been　on　ever　since　…　tryin'　to　find　the　dirty　pup。　　And　I
  found　him！　　But　it　wasn't　until　to…night；　though　you　can　believe　me
  there　weren't　many　joints　in　the　old　town　where　I　didn't　look　for
  him。　　My　luck　turned　to…night。　　I　spotted　him　comin'　out　of　Italian
  Joe's　bar。　　See？　　I　followed　him。　　After　a　while　he　slips　into　a
  lane；　and　from　the　street　I　saw　him　go　into　a　she