the white moll-第12节
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the rings and brooches in hand； so fiercely that the settings
pricked into the flesh； if her face mirrored in any way the cold；
sick misery that had suddenly taken possession of her soul。 The
Sparrow！ She knew the Sparrow； she knew the Sparrow's sick mother。
That part of it was true。 The Sparrow did have an old mother who
was sick。 A fine old lady … finer than the son … Finch； her name
was。 Indirectly； she knew old Hayden…Bond； the millionaire； and
… Almost subconsciously she was aware that Danglar was speaking
again。
〃I guess luck's breaking our way again；〃 he grinned。 〃The old boy
paid a hundred thousand cold for that necklace。 You know how long
we've been waiting to get our hooks on it； and we've never had our
eyes off his house for two months。 Well； it pays to wait； and it
pays to do things right。 It broke our way at last to…night； all
right； all right！ To…day's Saturday … and the safety deposit vaults
aren't open on Sunday。 Mrs。 Hayden…Bond's been away all week
visiting； but she comes back to…morrow； and there's some swell
society fuss fixed for to…morrow night； and she wants her necklace
to make a splurge； so she writes Mr。 H…hyphen…B； and out it comes
from the safety deposit vault； and into the library safe。 The old
man isn't long on social stunts； and he's got pretty well set in
his habits； one of those must…have…nine…hours'…sleep bugs； and he's
always in bed by ten … when his wife'll let him。 She being away
to…night； the boys were able to get to work early。 They ought to
be able to crack that box without making any noise about it in an
hour and a half at the outside。〃 He pulled out his watch…and
whistled low under his breath。 〃It's a quarter after eleven now；〃
he said hurriedly； and moved abruptly toward the door。 〃I can't
stick around here any longer。 I've got to be on deck where they
can slip me the 'white ones；' and then there's Skeeny waiting for
the word to bump off the Sparrow。〃 He jerked his hand suddenly
toward the jewels in her lap。 〃Salt those away before any
more adventurers blow in！〃 he said； half sharply； half jocularly。
〃And don't let the White Moll slip you … at any cost。 Remember！
She's bound to come to you again。 Play her … and send out the
call。 You understand； don't you？ There's never been a yip out
of the police。 Our methods are too good for that。 Look at the
Sparrow to…night。 Where there's no chance taken of suspicion
going anywhere except where we lead it； there's no chance of any
trouble … for us！ But this cursed she…fiend's another story。
We're not planting plum trees for her to pick any more of the fruit。
Understand？〃
She answered him mechanically。
〃Yes；〃 she said。
〃All right； then； that end of it is up to you；〃 he said significantly。
〃You're clever； clever as the devil； Bertha。 Use your brains now
… we need 'em。 Good…night； old girl。 See you later。〃
〃Good…night；〃 said Rhoda Gray dully。
The door closed。 The short； ladder…like steps to the hallway below
creaked once； and then all was still。 Danglar did have on
rubber…soled shoes。 She sat upright； her hands； clenched now；
pressed hard against her throbbing temples。 It wasn't true！ None
of this was true … this hovel of a place； those jewels glinting
like evil eyes in her lap； her existence itself wasn't true； it was
only her brain now； sick like her soul； that conjured up these ugly
phantoms with horrible； plausible ingenuity。 And then an inner
voice seemed to answer her with a calmness that was hideous in its
finality。 It was true。 All of it was true。 Those words of Danglar；
and their bald meaning； were true。 Men did such things； men made in
the image of their Maker did such things。 They were going to kill
a man to…night … an innocent man whom they had made their pawn。
She swept the jewels from her lap to the blanket； and rising； seized
the candle； went to the door； looked out； and； holding the candle
high above her head； peered down the stairs。 Yes； he was gone。
There was no one there。
She locked the door again； returned to the bed； set the candle down
upon the chair； and stood there； her face white and drawn； staring
with wide； tormented eyes about her。 Murder。 Danglar had spoken
of it with inhuman callousness … and had laughed at it。 They were
going to take a man's life。 And there was only herself； already
driven to extremity； already with her own back against the wall in
an effort to save herself； only herself to carry the burden of the
responsibility of doing something…to save a man's life。
It seemed to plumb the depths of irony and mockery。 She could not
make a move as Gypsy Nan。 It would only result in their turning
upon her； of the discovery that she was not Gypsy Nan at all； of
the almost certainty that it would cost her her own life without
saving the Sparrow's。 That way was closed to her from the start。
As the White Moll； then？ Outside there in the great city； every
plain…clothes man； every policeman on every beat； was staring into
every woman's face he met … searching for the White Moll。
She wrung her hands in cruel desperation。 Even to her own problem
she had found no solution； though she had wrestled with it all last
night； and all through the day； no solution save the negative one
of clinging to this one refuge that remained to her； such as it
was； temporarily。 She had found no solution to that； what solution
was there to this！ She had thought of leaving the city as Gypsy Nan；
and then somewhere far away； of sloughing off the character of Gypsy
Nan； and of resuming her own personality again under an assumed name。
But that would have meant the loss of everything she had in life；
her little patrimony； the irredeemable stamp of shame upon the name
she once had owned； and also the constant fear and dread that at
any moment the police net； wide as the continent was wide； would
close around her； as； sooner or later； it was almost inevitable that
it would close around her。 It had seemed that her only chance was
to keep on striving to play the role of Gypsy Nan； because it was
these associates of Gypsy Nan who were at the bottom of the crime
of which she； Rhoda Gray； was held guilty； and because there was
always the hope that in this way； through confidences to a supposed
confederate； she could find the evidence that would convict those
actually guilty； and so prove her own innocence。 But in holding to
the role of Gypsy Nan for the purpose of receiving those criminal
confidences； she had not thought of this … that upon her would rest
the moral responsibility of other crimes of which she would have
knowledge； and； least of all； that she should be faced with what
lay before her now； to…night； at the first contact with those who
had been Gypsy Nan's confederates。
What was she to do？ Upon her； and upon her alone； depended a man's
life； and； adding to her distraction； she knew the man … the Sparrow；
who had already done time； that was the vile ingenuity of it all。
And there would le corroborative evidence； of course； they would
have seen to that。 If the Sparrow disappeared and was never heard
of again； even a child would deduce the assumption that the proceeds
of the robbery had disappeared with him。
Her brain seemed to grow panicky。 She was standing here helplessly。
And time； the one precious ally that she possessed； was slipping
away from her。 She could not go to the police as Gypsy Nan … and；
much less； as the White Moll！ She could not go to the police in any
case； for the 〃corroborative〃 evidence； that obviously must exist；
unless Danglar and those with him were fools； would indubitably damn
the Sparrow to another prison term； even supposing that through the
intervention of the police his life were saved。 What was she to do？
And then； for a moment； her eyes lighted in relief。 The Adventurer！
She thrust her hand into the pocket of her skirt； and drew out the
torn piece of paper； and studied the telephone number upon it … and
slowly the hurt and misery came back into her eyes again。 Who was
he？ He had told her。 An adventurer。 He had given her to understand
that he； if she had not been just a few minutes ahead of him； would
have taken that money from Skarbolov's escritoire last night。
Therefore he was a crook。 Danglar had said that some one had been
getting in ahead of them lately and snatching the plunder from under
their noses； and Danglar now believed that it had been the White
Moll。 A wan smile came to her lips。 Instead of the White Moll； it
appeared to be quite obvious that it was the Adventurer。 It
therefore appeared to be quite as obvious that the man was a
professional thief； and an extremely clever one； at that。 She dared
not trust him。 To enlist his aid she would have to explain the
gang's plot； and while the Adventurer might go to the Sparrow's
assistance； he might also be very much more interested in the
diamond necklace that was involved； and not be entirely averse to
Danglar's plan of using the Sparrow as a pawn； who； in that case；
would make a very convenient scapegoat for the Adventurer … instead
of Danglar！ She dared not trust the man。 She could not absolve
her conscience by staking another's life
