the white moll-第23节

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place　from　top　to　bottom。　　From　its　exterior　it　might　have　been
uninhabited；　even　long　deserted。　　But　to　one　who　knew；　it　was　quite
the　normal　condition；　quite　what　one　would　expect。　　Those　who　lived
there　confined　their　activities　mostly　to　the　night；　and　their
exodus　to　their　labors　began　when　the　labors　of　the　world　at　large
ended　…　with　the　fall　of　darkness。

For　a　little　while　she　watched　the　place；　and　kept　glancing　up　and
down　the　street；　and　then；　seizing　her　opportunity　when　for　half　a
block　or　more　the　street　was　free　of　pedestrians；　she　stole　forward
and　reached　the　tenement　door。　　It　was　half　open；　and　she　slipped
quickly　inside　into　the　hall。

She　stood　here　for　a　moment　motionless；　listening；　striving　to
accommodate　her　eyes　to　the　darkness；　and　instinctively　her　hand
went　to　her　pocket　for　the　reassuring　touch　of　her　revolver。　　It
was　black　back　there　in　the　hallway　of　Gypsy　Nan's　lodging；　she　had
not　thought　that　any　greater　degree　of　blackness　could　exist；　but
it　was　blacker　here。　　Only　the　sense　of　touch　promised　to　be　of　any
avail。　　If　one　could　have　moved　as　noiselessly　as　a　shadow　moves；
one　could　have　passed　another　within　arm's…length　unseen。　　And　so
she　listened；　listened　intently。　　And　there　was　very　little　sound。
Once　she　detected　a　footstep　from　the　interior　of　some　room　as　it
moved　across　a　bare　floor；　once　she　heard　a　door　creak　somewhere
upstairs；　and　once；　from　some　indeterminate　direction；　she　thought
she　heard　voices　whispering　together　for　a　moment。

She　moved　suddenly　then；　abruptly；　almost　impulsively；　but　careful
not　to　make　the　slightest　noise。　　She　dared　not　remain　another
instant　inactive。　　It　was　what　she　had　expected；　what　she　had
counted　upon　as　an　ally；　this　darkness；　but　she　was　not　one　who
laughed；　even　in　daylight；　at　its　psychology。　　It　was　beginning
to　attack　her　now；　her　imagination　to　magnify　even　the　actual
dangers　that　she　knew　to　be　around　her。　　And　she　must　fight　it　off
before　it　got　a　hold　upon　her；　and　before　panic　voices　out　of　the
blackness　began　to　shriek　and　clamor　in　her　ears；　as　she　knew　they
would　do　with　pitifully　little　provocation；　urging　her　to　turn　and
flee　incontinently。

The　staircase；　she　remembered；　was　at　her　right；　and　feeling　out
before　her　with　her　hands；　she　reached　the　stairs；　and　began　to
mount　them。　　She　went　slowly；　very　slowly。　　They　were　bare；　the
stairs；　and　unless　one　were　extremely　careful　they　would　creak　out
through　the　silence　with　a　noise　that　could　be　heard　from　top　to
bottom　of　the　tenement。　　But　she　was　not　making　any　noise；　she
dared　not　make　any　noise。

Halfway　up　she　halted　and　pressed　her　body　close　against　the　wall。
Was　that　somebody　coming？　　She　held　her　breath　in　expectation。
There　wasn't　a　sound　now；　but　she　could　have　sworn　she　had　heard
a　footstep　on　the　hallway　above；　or　on　the　upper　stairs。　　She　bit
her　lips　in　vexation。　　Panic　noises！　　That's　what　they　were！　　That；
and　the　thumping　of　her　heart！　　Why　was　it　that　alarms　and
exaggerated　fancies　came　and　tried　to　unnerve　her？　　What；　after　all；
was　there　really　to　be　afraid　of？　　She　had　almost　a　clear　two　hours
before　she　need　even　anticipate　any　actual　danger　here；　and；　if
Nicky　Viner　were　in；　she　would　be　away　from　the　tenement　again　in
another　fifteen　minutes　at　the　latest。

Rhoda　Gray　went　on　again；　and　gaining　the　landing；　halted　once　more。
And　here　she　smiled　at　herself　with　the　tolerant　chiding　she　would
have　accorded　a　child　that　was　frightened　without　warrant。　　She
could　account　for　those　whisperings　and　that　footstep　now。　　The　door
to　the　left；　the　one　next　to　Nicky　Viner's　squalid；　two…room
apartment；　was　evidently　partially　open；　and　occasionally　some　one
moved　within；　and　the　voices　came　from　there　too；　and；　low…toned　to
begin　with；　were　naturally　muffled　into　whispers　by　the　time　they
reached　her。

She　had　only；　then；　to　step　the　five　or　six　feet　across　the　narrow
hall　in　order　to　reach　Nicky　Viner's　door；　and　unless　by　some
unfortunate　chance　whoever　was　in　that　room　happened　to　come　out
into　the　hall　at　the　same　moment；　she　would　…　Yes；　it　was　all　right！
She　was　trying　Nicky　Viner's　door　now。　　It　was　unlocked；　and　as　she
opened　it　for　the　space　of　a　crack；　there　showed　a　tiny　chink　of
light；　so　faint　and　meager　that　it　seemed　to　shrink　timorously　back
again　as　though　put　to　rout　by　the　massed　blackness　…　but　it　was
enough　to　evidence　the　fact　that　Nicky　Viner　was　at　home。　　It　was
all　simple　enough　now。　　Old　Viner　would　undoubtedly　make　some
exclamation　at　her　sudden　and　stealthy　entrance；　but　once　she　was
inside　without　those　in　the　next　room　either　having　heard　or　seen
her；　it　would　not　matter。

Another　inch　she　pushed　the　door　open；　another　…　and　then　another。
And　then　quickly；　silently；　she　tip…toed　over　the　threshold　and
closed　the　door　softly　behind　her。　　The　light　came　from　the　inner
room　and　shone　through　the　connecting　door；　which　was　open；　and
there　was　movement　from　within；　and　a　low；　growling　voice；　petulant；
whining；　as　though　an　old　man　were　mumbling　complainingly　to　himself。
She　smiled　coldly。　　It　was　very　like　Nicky　Viner　…　it　was　a　habit
of　his　to　talk　to　himself；　she　remembered。　　And；　also；　she　had　never
heard　Nicky　Viner　do　anything　else　but　grumble　and　complain。

But　she　could　not　see　fully　into　the　other　room；　only　into　a　corner
of　it；　for　the　two　doors　were　located　diagonally　across　from　one
another；　and　her　hand；　in　a　startled　way；　went　suddenly　to　her　lips；
as　though　mechanically　to　help　choke　back　and　stifle　the　almost
overpowering　impulse　to　cry　out　that　arose　within　her。　　Nicky　Viner
was　not　alone　in　there！　　A　figure　had　come　into　her　line　of　vision
in　that　other　room；　not　Nicky　Viner；　not　any　of　the　gang　…　and　she
stared　now　in　incredulous　amazement；　scarcely　able　to　believe　her
eyes。　　And　then；　suddenly　cool　and　self…possessed　again；　relieved
in　a　curious　way　because　the　element　of　personal　danger　was　as　a
consequence　eliminated；　she　began　to　understand　why　she　had　been
forestalled　in　her　efforts　at　Perlmer's　office　when　she　had　been　so
sure　that　she　would　be　first　upon　the　scene。　　It　was　not　Danglar；
or　the　Cricket；　or　Skeeny；　or　any　of　the　band　who　had　forestalled
her　…　it　was　the　Adventurer。　　That　was　the　Adventurer　standing　in
there　now；　side　face　to　her；　in　Nicky　Viner's　inner　room！


X。　　ON　THE　BRINK

Rhoda　Gray　moved　quietly；　inch　by　inch；　along　the　side　of　the　wall
to　gain　a　point　of　vantage　more　nearly　opposite　the　lighted　doorway。
And　then　she　stopped　again。　　She　could　see　quite　clearly　now　…　that
is；　there　was　nothing　now　to　obstruct　her　view；　but　the　light　was
miserable　and　poor；　and　the　single　gas…jet　that　wheezed　and　flickered
did　little　more　than　disperse　the　shadows　from　its　immediate
neighborhood　in　that　inner　room。　　But　she　could　see　enough　…　she
could　see　the　bent　and　ill…clad　figure　of　Nicky　Viner；　as　she
remembered　him；　an　old；　gray…bearded　man；　wringing　his　hands　in
groveling　misery；　while　the　mumbling　voice；　now　whining　and　pleading；
now　servile；　now　plucking　up　courage　to　indulge　in　abuse；　kept　on
without　even；　it　seemed；　a　pause　for　breath。　　And　she　could　see　the
Adventurer；　quite　unmoved；　quite　debonair；　a　curiously　patient　smile
on　his　face；　standing　there；　much　nearer　to　her；　his　right　hand　in
the　side　pocket　of　his　coat；　a　somewhat　significant　habit　of　his；
his　left　hand　holding　a　sheaf　of　folded；　legal…looking　documents。

And　then　she　heard　the　Adventurer　speak。

〃What　a　flow　of　words！〃　said　the　Adventurer；　in　a　bored　voice。
〃You　will　forgive　me；　my　dear　Mr。　Viner；　if　I　appear　to　be　facetious；
which　I　am　not　…　but　money　talks。〃

〃You　are　a　thief；　a　robber！〃　　The　old　gray…bearded　figure　rocked　on
its　feet　and　kept　wringing　its　hands。　　〃Get　out　of　here！　　Get　out！
Do　you　hear？　　Get　out！　　You　come　to　steal　from　a　poor　old　man；　and　…〃

〃Must　we　go　all　over　that　again？〃　interrupted　the　Adventurer　wearily。
〃I　have　not　come　to　steal　anything；　I　have　simply　come　to　sell　you
these　papers；　which　I　am　quite　sure；　once　you　control　yourself　and
give　the　matter　a　little　calm　consideration；　you　are　really　most
anxious　to　buy　…　at　any　price。

〃It's　a　lie！〃　the　other　croaked　hoarsely。　　〃Those　papers　are　a　lie！
I　am　innocent。　　And　I　haven't　got　any　money。　　None！　　I　haven't　any。
I　am　poor　…　an　old　man　…　and　poor。〃

Rhoda　Gray　felt　the　blood　flush　hotly　to　her　cheeks。　　Somehow　she
could　feel　no　sympathy　for　that　cringing　figure　in　there；　but　she
felt　a　hot　resentment　toward　that　dapper；　immaculately　dressed　and
self…possessed　young　man；　who　stood　there；　silently　now；　tapping　the
papers　with　provoking　coolness　against　the　edge　of　the　plain　deal
table　in　front　of　him。　　And　somehow　the　resentment　seemed　to　take　a
most　peculiar　phase。　　She　resented　the　fact　that　she　should　feel
resentment；　no　matter　what　the　man　did　or　said。　　It　was　as　though；
instead　of　anger；　impersonal　anger；　at　this　low；　miserable　act　of
his；　she　felt　ashamed　of　him。　　Her　hand　clenched　fiercely　as　she
crouched　there　against　the　wall。　　It　wasn't　true！　　She　felt　nothing
of　the　sort！　　Why　should　she　be　ashamed　of　him？　　What　was　he　to　her？
He　was　frankly　a　thief；　wasn't　he？　　And　he　was　at　his　pitiful
calling　now