the white moll-第7节
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upon her； was the sense of ruin and disaster that the realization
of a quite different and more desperate situation brought her now。
She knew the man。 She had seen those square； heavy； clamped jaws
scores of times。 Those sharp； restless black eyes under
over…hanging； shaggy eyebrows were familiar to the whole East Side。
It was Rorke … 〃Rough〃 Rorke； of headquarters。
He came toward her； and halfway across the room another exclamation
burst from his lips； but this time it held a jeer； and in the jeer
a sort of cynical and savage triumph。
〃The White Moll！〃
He was close beside her now； and now he snatched from her hand the
banknotes that； all unconsciously； she had still been clutching
tightly。
〃So this is what all the sweet charity's been about； eh？〃 he
snapped。 〃The White Moll； the Little Saint of the East Side； that
lends a helping hand to the crooks to get 'em back on the straight
and narrow again！ The White Moll…hell！ You crooked little devil！〃
Again she did not answer。 Her mind was clear now； brutally clear；
brutally keen； brutally virile。 What was there for her to say？
She was caught here at one o'clock in the morning after breaking
into the place； caught red…handed in the very act of taking the
money。 What story could she tell that would clear her of that！
That she had taken it so that it wouldn't be stolen； and that she
was going to give it back in the morning？ Was there anybody in the
world credulous enough to believe anything like that！ Tell Gypsy
Nan's story； all that had happened to…night？ Yes； she might have
told that to…morrow； after she had returned the money； and been
believed。 But now…no！ It would even make her appear in a still
worse light。 They would credit her with being a member of this
very gang to which Gypsy Nan belonged； one in the secrets of an
organized band of criminals； who was trying to clear her own skirts
at the expense of her confederates。 Everything； every act of hers
to…night； pointed to that construction being placed upon her story；
pointed to duplicity。 Why had she hidden the identity of Gypsy Nan？
Why had she not told the police that a crime was to be committed；
and left it to the police to frustrate it？ It would fit in with the
story； of course … but the story was the result of having been
caught in the act of stealing twenty thousand dollars in cash！ What
was there to say … and； above all； to this man； whose reputation
for callous brutality in the handling of those who fell into his
hands had earned him the sobriquet of 〃Rough〃 Rorke？ Sick at heart；
desperate； but with her hands clenched now； she stood there； while
the man felt unceremoniously over her clothing for a concealed
weapon。
Finding none； he stooped； picked up the flashlight； tested it； and
found it broken from its fall。
〃Too bad you bust this； we'll have to go out in the dark after I
switch off the light；〃 he said with unpleasant facetiousness。 〃I
didn't have one with me； or time to get one； when I got tipped off
there was something doing here to…night。〃 He caught her ungently
by the arm。 〃Well； come along； my pretty lady！ This'll make a
stir； this will！ The White Moll！〃 He led her to the electric…light
switch； turned off the light； and； with his grasp tight upon her；
made for the front door。 He chuckled in a sinister manner。 〃Say；
you're a prize； you are！ And pretty clever； too； aren't you？ I
wasn't looking for a woman to pull this。 The White Moll！ Some
saint！〃
Rhoda Gray shivered。 Disgrace； ruin； stared her in the face。 A
sea of faces in a courtroom； morbid faces； hideous faces； leered at
her。 Gray walls rose before her； walls that shut out sunshine and
hope； pitiless； cold things that seemed to freeze the blood in her
veins。 And to…night； in just a few minutes more … a cell！
From the street outside came the sound of some one making a cheery；
but evidently a somewhat inebriated； attempt to whistle some ragtime
air。 It seemed to enhance her misery； to enhance by contrast in its
care…free cheeriness the despair and misery that were eating into
her soul。 Her hands clenched and unclenched。 If there were only a
chance … somewhere … somehow！ If only she were not a woman！ If she
could only fight this hulking form that gripped so brutally at her
arm！
Rough Rorke opened the door； and pulled her out to the street。 She
shrank back instinctively。 It was quite light here from a nearby
street lamp； and the owner of the whistle； a young man； fashionably
dressed； decidedly unsteady on his legs； and just opposite the door
as they came out； had stopped both his whistle and his progress
along the street to stare at them owlishly。
〃'Ullo！〃 said the young man thickly。 〃What'sh all this about … eh？
What'sh you two doing in that place this time of night … eh？〃
〃Beat it！〃 ordered Rough Rorke curtly。
〃That'sh all right。〃 The young man came nearer。 He balanced himself
with difficulty； but upon him there appeared to have descended
suddenly a vast dignity。 〃I'm … hic … law … 'biding citizen。 Gotta
know。 Gotta show me。 Damn funny … coming out of there this time
of night！ Eh … what'sh the idea？〃
Rough Rorke； with his free hand； grabbed the young man by the
shoulder angrily。
〃Mind your own business； or you'll get into trouble！〃 he rasped out。
〃I'm an officer； and this woman is under arrest。 Beat it！ D'ye
hear？ Beat it … or I'll run you in； too！〃
〃Is that'sh so！〃 The young man's tones expressed a fuddled defiance。
He rocked on his feet and stared from one to the other。 〃Shay； is
that'sh so！ You will … eh？ Gotta show me。 How do I know you're
… hic … officer？ Eh？ More likely damned thief yourself！ I …〃
The young man lurched suddenly and violently forward； breaking Rough
Rorke's grip on Rhoda Gray … and； as his arms swept out to grasp at
the detective in an apparently wild effort to preserve his balance；
Rhoda Gray felt a quick； significant push upon her shoulder。
For the space of time it takes a watch to tick she stood startled
and amazed； and then； like a flash； she was speeding down the street。
A roar of rage； a burst of unbridled profanity went up from Rough
Rorke behind her； it was mingled with equally angry vituperation in
the young man's voice。 She looked behind her。 The two men were
swaying around crazily in each other's arms。 She ran on … faster
than she had ever run in her life。 The corner was not far ahead。
Her brain was working with lightning speed。 Gypsy Nan's house was
just around the corner。 If she could get out of sight … hide … it
would。。。
She glanced behind her again； as her ears caught the pound of racing
feet。 The young man was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk；
shaking his fist； Rough Rorke； perhaps a bare fifty yards away； was
chasing her at top speed。
Her face set hard。 She could not out…run a man！ There was only
one hope for her … just one … to gain Gypsy Nan's doorway before
Rorke got around the corner。
A yard … another … still another！ She swerved around the corner。
And； as she turned； she caught a glimpse of the detective。 The man
was nearer … much nearer。 But it was only a little way； just a
little way； to Gypsy Nan's … not so far as the distance between
her and Rorke … and … and if the man didn't gain too fast； then
… then … A little cry of dismay came with a new and terrifying
thought。 Quite apart from Rorke； some one else might see her enter
Gypsy Nan's！ She strained her eyes in all directions as she ran。
There wasn't any one … she didn't see any one … only Rorke； around
the corner there； was bawling out at the top of his voice； and
… and。。。
She flung herself against Gypsy Nan's door； stumbled in； and；
closing it； heard Rorke just swinging around the corner。 Had he
seen her？ She didn't know。 She was panting； gasping for her
breath。 It seemed as though her lungs would burst。 She held
her hand tightly to her bosom as she made for the stairs … she
mustn't make any noise … they mustn't hear her breathing like that
… they … they mustn't hear her going up the stairs。
How dark it was！ If she could only see … so that she would be sure
not to stumble！ She couldn't go fast now … she would make a noise
if she did。 Stair after stair she climbed stealthily。 Perhaps she
was safe now … it had taken her a long time to get up here to the
second floor； and there wasn't any sound yet from the street below。
And now she mounted the short； ladder…like steps to the attic； and；
feeling with her hand for the crack in the flooring under the
partition； reached in for the key。 As her fingers closed upon it；
she choked back a cry。 Some one had been here！ A piece of paper
was wrapped around the key。 What did it mean？ What did all these
strange； yes； sinister； things that had happened to…night mean？
How had Rorke known that a robbery was to be committed at Skarbolov's？
Who was that man who had effected her escape； and who； she knew now；
was no more drunk than she was？ Fast； quick； piling one upon the
other； the questions raced through her mind。
She fought them back。 There was no time for speculation now！ There
was only one question that mattered： Was she safe？
She stood up； thrust the
