eyes　strained　through　the　murk。　　She　was　not　mistaken。　　Something
  darker　than　the　surrounding　darkness；　a　form；　moved　up　there。
  The　knocking　ceased；　and　now　the　form　seemed　to　bend　down　and　grope
  along　the　floor；　and　then；　an　instant　later；　it　began　to　descend　the
  ladder…like　steps　…　and　abruptly　Rhoda　Gray；　too；　moved　forward。　　It
  wasn't　Danglar。　　That　was　what　had　instantly　taken　hold　of　her　mind；
  and　she　knew　a　sudden　relief　now。　　The　man　on　the　stairs　…　she　could
  see　that　it　was　a　man　now　…　though　he　moved　silently；　swayed　in　a
  grotesquely　jerky　way　as　though　he　were　lame。　　It　wasn't　Danglar！
  She　would　go　to　any　length　to　track　Danglar　to　his　lair；　but　not
  here　…　here　in　the　darkness　…　here　in　the　garret。　　Here　she　was
  afraid　of　him　with　a　deadly　fear；　here　alone　with　him　there　would
  be　a　thousand　chances　of　exposure　incident　to　the　slightest　intimacy
  he　might　show　the　woman　whom　he　believed　to　be　his　wife　…　a　thousand
  chances　here　against　hardly　one　in　any　other　environment　or
  situation。　　But　the　man　on　the　stairs　wasn't　Danglar。
  She　halted　now　and　uttered　a　sharp　exclamation；　as　though　she　had
  caught　sight　of　the　man　for　the　first　time。
  The　other；　too；　had　halted　…　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs。　　A　plaintive
  drawl　reached　her：
  〃Don't　screech；　Bertha！　　It's　only　your　devoted　brother…in…law。
  Curse　your　infernal　ladder；　and　my　twisted　back！〃
  Danglar's　brother！　　Bertha！　　She　snatched　instantly　at　the　cue　with
  an　inward　gasp　of　thankfulness。　　She　would　not　make　the　mistake　of
  using　the　vernacular　behind　which　Gypsy　Nan　sheltered　herself。　　Here
  was　some　one　who　knew　that　Gypsy　Nan　was　but　a　role。　　But　she　had　to
  remember　that　her　voice　was　slightly　hoarse；　that　her　voice；　at　least；
  could　not　sacrifice　its　disguise　to　any　one。　　Danglar　had　been　a
  little　suspicious　of　it　until　she　had　explained　that　she　was
  suffering　from　a　cold。
  〃Oh！〃　she　said　calmly。　　〃It's　you；　is　it？　　And　what　brought　you
  here？〃
  〃What　do　you　suppose？〃　he　complained　irritably。　　〃The　same　old
  thing；　all　I'm　good　for　…　to　write　out　code　messages　and　deliver
  them　like　an　errand　boy！　　It's　a　sweet　job；　isn't　it？　　How'd　you
  like　to　be　a　deformed　little　cripple？〃
  She　did　not　answer　at　once。　　The　night　seemed　suddenly　to　be　opening
  some　strange；　even　premonitory；　vista。　　The　code　messages！　　Their
  mode　of　delivery！　　Here　was　the　answer！
  〃Maybe　I'd　like　it　better　than　being　Gypsy　Nan！〃　she　flung　back
  significantly。
  He　laughed　out　sharply。
  〃I'd　like　to　trade　with　you；〃　he　said；　a　quick　note　of　genuine　envy
  in　his　voice。　　〃You　can　pitch　away　your　clothes；　I　can't　pitch　away
  a　crooked　spine。　　And；　anyway；　after　to…night；　you'll　be　living
  swell　again。
  She　leaned　toward　him；　staring　at　him　in　the　semi…darkness。　　That
  premonitory　vista　was　widening；　his　words　seemed　suddenly　to　set　her
  brain　in　tumult。　　After　to…night！　　She　was　to　resume；　after　to…night；
  the　character　that　was　supposed　to　lay　behind　the　disguise　of　Gypsy
  Nan！　　She　was　to　resume　her　supposedly　true　character　…　that　of
  Pierre　Danglar's　wife！
  〃What　do　you　mean？〃　she　demanded　tensely。
  〃Aw；　come　on！〃　he　said　abruptly。　　〃This　isn't　the　place　to　talk。
  Pierre　wants　you　at　once。　　That's　what　the　message　was　for。　　I
  thought　you　were　out；　and　I　left　it　in　the　usual　place　so　you'd　get
  it　the　minute　you　got　back　and　come　along　over。　　So；　come　on　now
  with　me。〃
  He　was　moving　down　the　hallway；　blotching　like　some　misshapen　toad
  in　the　shadowy　light；　lurching　in　his　walk；　that　was；　nevertheless；
  almost　uncannily　noiseless。　　Mechanically　she　followed　him。　　She　was
  trying　to　think；　striving　frantically　to　bring　her　wits　to　play　on
  this　sudden　and　unexpected　denouement。　　It　was　obvious　that　he　was
  taking　her　to　Danglar。　　She　had　striven　desperately　last　night　to
  run　Danglar　to　earth　in　his　lair。　　And　here　was　a　self…appointed
  guide！　　And　yet　her　emotions　conflicted　and　her　brain　was　confused。
  It　was　what　she　wanted；　what　through　bitter　travail　of　mind　she　had
  decided　must　be　her　course；　but　she　found　herself　shrinking　from　it
  with　dread　and　fear　now　that　it　promised　to　become　a　reality。　　It
  was　not　like　last　night　when　of　her　own　initiative　she　had　sought
  to　track　Danglar；　for　then　she　had　started　out　with　a　certain　freedom
  of　action　that　held　in　reserve　a　freedom　to　retreat　if　it　became
  necessary。　　To…night　it　was　as　though　she　were　deprived　of　that
  freedom；　and　being　led　into　what　only　too　easily　might　develop　into
  a　trap　from　which　she　could　not　retreat　or　escape。
  Suppose　she　refused　to　go？
  They　had　reached　the　street　now；　and　now　she　obtained　a　better　view
  of　the　misshapen　thing　that　lurched　jerkily　along　beside　her。　　The
  man　was　deformed；　miserably　deformed。　　He　walked　most　curiously；
  half　bent　over；　and　one　arm；　the　left；　seemed　to　swing　helplessly；
  and　the　left　hand　was　like　a　withered　thing。　　Her　eyes　sought　the
  other's　face。　　It　was　an　old　face；　much　older　than　Danglar's；　and
  it　was　white　and　pinched　and　drawn；　and　in　the　dark　eyes；　as　they
  suddenly　darted　a　glance　at　her；　she　read　a　sullen；　bitter　brooding
  and　discontent。　　She　turned　her　head　away。　　It　was　not　a　pleasant
  face；　it　struck　her　as　being　both　morbid　and　cruel　to　a　degree。
  Suppose　she　refused　to　go？
  〃What　did　you　mean　by　'after　to…night'？〃　she　asked　again。
  〃You'll　see；〃　he　answered。　　〃Pierre'll　tell　you。　　You're　in　luck；
  that's　all。　　The　whole　thing　that　has　kept　you　under　cover　has　bust
  wide　open　your　way；　and　you　win。　　And　Pierre's　going　through　for　a
  clean…up。　　To…morrow　you　can　swell　around　in　a　limousine　again。　　And
  maybe　you'll　come　around　and　take　me　for　a　drive；　if　I　dress　up；　and
  promise　to　hide　in　a　corner　of　the　back　seat　so's　they　won't　see　your
  handsome　friend！〃
  The　creature　flung　a　bitter　smile　at　her；　and　lurched　on。
  He　had　told　her　what　she　wanted　to　know　…　more　than　she　had　hoped
  for。　　The　mystery　that　surrounded　the　character　of　Gypsy　Nan；　the
  evidence　of　the　crime　at　which　the　woman　who　had　originated　that
  role　had　hinted　on　the　night　she　died；　and　which　must　necessarily
  involve　Danglar；　was　hers；　Rhoda　Gray's；　now　for　the　taking。　　As
  well　go　and　give　herself　up　to　the　police　as　the　White　Moll　and
  have　done　with　it　all；　as　to　refuse　to　seize　the　opportunity　which
  fate；　evidently　in　a　kindlier　mood　toward　her　now；　was　offering
  her　at　this　instant。　　It　promised　her　the　hold　upon　Danglar　that
  she　needed　to　force　an　avowal　of　her　own　innocence；　the　very　hold
  that　she　had　but　a　few　minutes　before　been　hoping　she　could　obtain
  through　the　Adventurer。
  There　was　no　longer　any　question　as　to　whether　she　would　go　or　not。
  Her　hand　groped　down　under　the　shabby　black　shawl　into　the　wide；
  voluminous　pocket　of　her　greasy　skirt。　　Yes；　her　revolver　was　there。
  She　knew　it　was　there；　but　the　touch　of　her　fingers　upon　it　seemed
  to　bring　a　sense　of　reassurance。　　She　was　perhaps　staking　her　all
  in　accompanying　this　cripple　here　to…night　…　she　did　not　need　to　be
  told　that　…　but　there　was　a　way　of　escape　at　the　last　if　she　were
  cornered　and　caught。　　Her　fingers　played　with　the　weapon。　　If　the
  worst　came　to　the　worst　she　would　never　be　at　Danglar's　mercy　while
  she　possessed　that　revolver　and；　if　the　need　came；　turned　it　upon
  herself。
  They　walked　on　rapidly；　the　lurching　figure　beside　her　covering　the
  ground　at　an　astounding　rate　of　speed。　　The　man　made　no　effort　to
  talk。　　She　was　glad　of　it。　　She　need　not　be　so　anxiously　on　her
  guard　as　would　be　the　case　if　a　conversation　were　carried　on；　and
  she；　who　knew　so　much　and　yet　so　pitifully　little；　must　weigh　her
  every　word；　and　feel　her　way　with　every　sentence。　　And　besides；　too；
  it　gave　her　time　to　think。　　Where　were　they　going？　　What　sort　of　a
  place　was　it；　this　headquarters　of　the　gang？　　For　it　must　be　the
  headquarters；　since　it　was　from　there　the　code　messages　would
  naturally　emanate；　and　this　deformed　creature；　from　what　he　had
  said；　was　the　〃secretary〃　of　the　nefarious　clique　that　was　ruled
  by　his　brother。　　And　was　luck　really　with　her　at　last？　　Suppose　she
  had　been　but　a　few　minutes　later　in　reaching　Gypsy　Nan's　house；　and
  had　found；　instead　of　this　man　here；　only　the　note　instructing　her
  to　go　and　meet　Danglar！　　What　would　she　have　done？　　What　explanation
  could　she　have　made　for　her　nonappearance？　　Her　hands　would　have
  been　tied。　　She　would　have　been　helpless。　　She　could　not　have
  answered　the　summons；　for　she　could　have　had　no　idea　where　this
  gang…lair　was；　and　the　note　certainly　would　not　contain　such　details
  as　street　and　number；　which　she　was　obviously　supposed　to　know。　　She
  smiled　a　little　grimly　to　herself。　　Yes；　it　seemed　as　though　fortune
  were　beginning　to　smile　upon　her　again　…　fortune；　at　least；　had
  supplied　her　with　a　guide。
  The　twisted　figure　walked　on　the　inside　of　the　sidewalk；　and
  curiously　seemed　to　seek　as　much　as　possible　the　protecting　shadows
  of　the　buildings；　and　invariably　shrank　back　out　of　the　way　of　the
  passers…by　they　met。　　She　watched　him　narrowly　as　they　went　along。
  What　was　he　afraid　of？　　Recognition？　　It　puzzled　her　for　a　time；
  and　then　she　understood：　It　was　not　fear　of　recognition；　the　sullen；
  almost　belligerent　stare　with　which　he　met　the　eyes　of　those　with
  whom　he　came　into　close　contact　belied　t