The White Moll

by Frank L. Packard

  XIII. THE DOOR ACROSS THE HALL

  It was many blocks away before calmness came again to Rhoda Gray,and before it seemed, even, that her brain would resume its normalfunctions; but with the numbed horror once gone, there came in itsplace, like some surging tide, a fierce virility that would not bedenied. The money! The old couple on that doorstep, stripped of theirall! Wasn't that one reason why she had gone on with Pinkie Bonn andthe Pug? Hadn't she seen a way, or at least a chance, to get that moneyback?

  Rhoda Gray looked quickly about her. On the corner ahead she saw a drugstore, and started briskly in that direction. Yes, there was a way! Theidea had first come to her from the Pug's remark to Shluker that, afterthey had secured the money, Pinkie would return with it to the Pug'sroom, while the Pug would go and square things with Danglar. And also,at the same time, that same remark of the Pug's had given rise to ahope that she might yet trace Danglar to night through the Pug--but thecircumstances and happenings of the last few minutes had shattered thathope utterly. And so there remained the money. And, as she had walkedwith Pinkie and the Pug a little while ago, knowing that Pinkie would,if they were successful, carry the money back to the Pug's room, justas was being done now precisely in accordance with the Pug's originalintentions, she had thought of the Adventurer. It had seemed the onlyway then; it seemed the only way now--despite the fact that she would behard put to it to answer the Adventurer if he thought to ask her how, orby what means, she was in possession of the information that enabledher to communicate with him. But she must risk that--put him off, ifnecessary, through the plea of haste, and on the ground that there wasnot time to-night for an unnecessary word. He had given her, believingher to be Gypsy Nan, his telephone number, which she, in turn, was totransmit to the White Moll--in other words, herself! But the WhiteMoll, so he believed, had never received that message--and it mustof necessity be as the White Moll that she must communicate with himto-night! It would be hard to explain--she meant to evade it. The onevital point was that she remembered the telephone number he had givenher that night when he and Danglar had met in the garret. She was notlikely to have forgotten it!

  Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, scuffled along. Was she inconsistent? TheAdventurer would be in his element in going to the Pug's room, and inrelieving Pinkie Bonn of that money; but the Adventurer, too, wasa thief-wasn't he? Why, then, did she propose, for her mind was nowcertainly made up as to her course of action, to trust a thief torecover that money for her?

  She smiled a little wearily as she reached the drug store, stepped intothe telephone booth, and gave central her call. Trust a thief! No, itwasn't because her heart prompted her to believe in him; it was becauseher head assured her she was safe in doing so. She could trust him in aninstance such as this because--well, because once before, for her sakehe had foregone the opportunity of appropriating a certain diamondnecklace worth a hundred times the sum that she would ask him--yes, ifnecessary, for her sake--to recover to-night. There was no...

  She was listening in a startled way now at the instrument. Central hadgiven her "information"; and "information" was informing her that thenumber she had asked for had been disconnected.

  She hung up the receiver, and went out again to the street in a dazedand bewildered way. And then suddenly a smile of bitter self-derisioncrossed her lips. She had been a fool! There was no softer word--a fool!Why had she not stopped to think? She understood now! On the night theAdventurer had confided that telephone number to her as Gypsy Nan, hehad had every reason to believe that Gypsy Nan would, as she had alreadyapparently done, befriend the White Moll even to the extent of acceptingno little personal risk in so doing. But since then things had taken avery different turn. The White Moll was now held by the gang, of whichGypsy Nan was supposed to be a member, to be the one who had of lateprofited by the gang's plans to the gang's discomfiture; and theAdventurer was ranked but little lower in the scale of hatred, sincethey counted him to be the White Moll's accomplice. Knowing this,therefore, the first thing the Adventurer would naturally do would be todestroy the clew, in the shape of that telephone number, that would leadto his whereabouts, and which he of course believed he had put into thegang's hands when he had confided in Gypsy Nan. Had he not told her, nolater than last night, that Gypsy Nan was her worst enemy? He did notknow, did he, that Gypsy Nan and the White Moll were one! And so thattelephone had been disconnected--and to-night, now, just when she neededhelp at a crucial moment, when she had counted upon the Adventurer tosupply it, there was no Adventurer, no means of reaching him, and nomeans any more of knowing where he was!

  Rhoda Gray walked on along the street, her lips tight, her face drawnand hard. Failing the Adventurer, there remained--the police. If shetelephoned the police and sent them to the Pug's room, they would of acertainty recover the money, and with equal certainty restore it to itsrightful owners. She had already thought of that when she had been withPinkie and the Pug, and had been loath even then to take such a stepbecause it seemed to spell ruin to her own personal plans; but now therewas another reason, and one far more cogent, why she should not doso. There had been murder committed back there in that undergrounddrug-dive, and of that murder Pinkie Bonn was innocent; but if Pinkiewere found in possession of that money, and French Pete, to save his ownskin from the consequences of a greater crime, admitted to its originaltheft, Pinkie would be convicted out of hand, for there were the othersin that dive, who had come running along the passage, to testify thatan attack had been made on the door of French Pete and Marny Day'sroom, and that the thieves and murderers had fled through the cellar andescaped.

  Her lips pressed harder together. And so there was no Adventurer uponwhom she could call, and no police, and no one in all the millions inthis great pulsing city to whom she could appeal; and so there remainedonly--herself.

  Well, she could do it, couldn't she? Not as Gypsy Nan, of course--but asthe White Moll. It would be worth it, wouldn't it? If she were sincere,and not a moral hypocrite in her sympathy for those two outraged oldpeople in the twilight of their lives, and if she were not a moralcoward, there remained no question as to what her decision should be.

  Her mind began to mull over the details. Subconsciously, since themoment she had made her escape from that cellar, she found now that shehad been walking in the direction of the garret that sheltered her asGypsy Nan. In another five minutes she could reach that deserted shed inthe lane behind Gypsy Nan's house where her own clothes were hidden,and it would take her but a very few minutes more to effect thetransformation from Gypsy Nan to the White Moll. And then, in anotherten minutes, she should be back again at the Pug's room. The Pug hadsaid he would not be much more than half an hour, but, as nearly as shecould calculate it, that would still give her from five to ten minutesalone with Pinkie Bonn. It was enough--more than enough. The prestige ofthe White Moll would do the rest. A revolver in the hands of the WhiteMoll would insure instant and obedient respect from Pinkie Bonn, orany other member of the gang under similar conditions. And so--andso--it--would not be difficult. Only there was a queer fluttering at herheart now, and her breath came in hard, short little inhalations. Andshe spoke suddenly to herself:

  "I'm glad," she whispered, "I'm glad I saw those two old faces on thatdoorstep, because--because, if I hadn't, I--I would be afraid."

  The minutes passed. The dissolute figure of an old hag disappeared, likea deeper shadow in the blackness of a lane, through the broken door ofa deserted shed; presently a slim, neat little figure, heavily veiled,emerged. Again the minutes passed. And now the veiled figure let herselfin through the back door of the Pug's lodging house, and stole softlydown the dark hall, and halted before the Pug's door. It was the WhiteMoll now.

  From under the door, at the ill-fitting threshold, there showed athin line of light. Rhoda Gray, with her ear against the door panel,listened. There was no sound of voices from within. Pinkie Bonn, then,was still alone, and still waiting for the Pug. She glanced sharplyaround her. There was only darkness. Her gloved right hand
was hidden inthe folds of her skirt; she raised her left hand and knocked softly uponthe door-two raps, one rap, two raps. She repeated it. And as it hadbeen with Shluker, so it was now with her. A footstep crossed the floorwithin, the key turned in the lock, and the door was flung open.

  "All right, Pug," said Pinkie Bonn, "I--"

  The man's words ended in a gasp of surprised amazement. With a quickstep forward, Rhoda Gray was in the room. Her revolver, suddenlyoutflung, covered the other; and her free hand, reaching behind her,closed and locked the door again.

  There was an almost stupid look of bewilderment on Pinkie Bonn's face.

  Rhoda Gray threw back her veil.

  "My Gawd!" mumbled Pinkie Bonn--and licked his lips. "The White Moll!"

  "Yes!" said Rhoda Gray tersely. "Put your hands up over your head and goover there and stand against the wall--with your face to it!"

  Pinkie Bonn, like an automaton moved purely by mechanical means, obeyed.

  Rhoda Gray followed him, and with the muzzle of her revolver pressedinto the small of the man's back, felt rapidly over his clothes with herleft hand for the bulge of his revolver. She found and possessed herselfof the weapon, and, stepping back, ordered him to turn around again.

  "I haven't much time," she said icily. "I'll trouble you now for thecash you took from Marny Day and French Pete."

  "My Gawd!" he mumbled again. "You know about that!"

  "Quick!" she said imperatively. "Put it on the table there, and then goback again to the wall!"

  Pinkie Bonn fumbled in his pocket. His face was white, almost chalkywhite, and it held fear; but its dominant expression was one of helplessstupefaction. He placed the sheaf of banknotes on the table, andshuffled back again to the wall.

  Rhoda Gray picked up the money, and retreated to the door. Still facingthe man, working with her left hand behind her back, she unlocked thedoor again, and this time removed the key from the lock.

  "You are quite safe here," she observed evenly, "since there appears tobe no window through which you could get out; but you might make it alittle unpleasant for me if you gave the alarm and aroused the otheroccupants of the house before I had got well away. I dare say that wasin your mind, but"--she opened the door slightly, and inserted the keyon the outer side--"I am quite sure you will reconsider any suchintentions--Pinkie. It would be a very disastrous thing for you ifI were caught. Somebody is 'wanted' for the murder of Marny Day atCharlie's a little while ago, and a jury would undoubtedly decide thatthe guilty man was the one who broke in the door there and stole themoney. And if I were caught and were obliged to confess that I got itfrom you, and French Pete swore that it was whoever broke into the roomthat shot his pal, it might go hard with you, Pinkie--don't you thinkso?" She smiled coldly at the man's staring eyes and dropped jaw."Good-night, Pinkie; I know you won't make any noise," she saidsoftly--and suddenly opened the door, and in a flash stepped back intothe hall, and closed and locked the door, and whipped out the key fromthe lock.

  And inside Pinkie Bonn made no sound.

  It was done now. Rhoda Gray drew in her breath in a great choking gaspof relief. She found herself trembling violently. She found her limbswere bearing her none too steadily, as she began to grope her way nowalong the black hall toward the back door. But it was done now, and--No,she was not safe away, even yet! Some one was coming in through thatback door just ahead of her; or, at least, she heard voices out there.

  She was just at the end of the hall now. There was no time to go backand risk the front entrance. She darted across the hall to the oppositeside from that of the Pug's room, because on that side the opening ofthe door would not necessarily expose her, and crouched down in thecorner. It was black here, perhaps black enough to escape observation.She listened, her heart beating wildly. The voices outside continued.Why were they lingering there? Why didn't they do one thing or theother--either go away, or come in? There wasn't any too much time! ThePug might be back at any minute now. Perhaps one of those people outthere was the Pug! Perhaps it would be better after all to run back andgo out by the front door, risky as that would be. No, her escape in thatdirection now was cut off, too!

  She shrank as far back into the corner as she could. The door of the endroom on this side of the hall had opened, and now a man stepped out andclosed the door behind him. Would he see her? She held her breath. No!It--it was all right. He was walking away from her toward the frontof the hall. And now for a moment it seemed as though she had lost hersenses, as though her brain were playing some mad, wild trick upon her.Wasn't that the Pug's door before which the man had stopped? Yes, yes!And he seemed to have a key to it, for he did not knock, and the doorwas opening, and now for an instant, just an instant, the light fellupon the man as he stepped with a quick, lightning-like movement inside,and she saw his face. It was the Adventurer.

  She stifled a little cry. Her brain was in turmoil. And now the backdoor was opening. They--they might see her here! And--yes--it wassafer--safer to act on the sudden inspiration that had come to her. Thedoor of the room from which the Adventurer had emerged was almostwithin reach; and he had not locked it as he had gone out--she hadsubconsciously noted that fact. And she understood why he had notnow--that he had safeguarded himself against the loss of even the secondor two it would have taken him to unlock it when he ran back for coveragain from the Pug's room. Yes-that room! It was the safest thing shecould do. She could even get out that way, for it must be the room withthe low window, which she remembered gave on the back yard, and--Shedarted silently forward, and, as the back door opened, slipped into theroom the Adventurer had just vacated.

  It was pitch black. She must not make a sound; but, equally, she mustnot lose a second. What was taking place in the Pug's room betweenPinkie Bonn and the Adventurer she did not know. But the Adventurer wasobviously on one of his marauding expeditions, and he might staythere no more than a minute or two once he found out that he had beenforestalled. She must hurry--hurry!

  She felt her way forward in what she believed to be the direction ofthe window. She ran against the bed. But this afforded her something bywhich to guide herself. She kept her touch upon it, her hand trailingalong its edge. And then, halfway down its length, what seemed to be apiece of string caught in her extended, groping fingers. It seemed tocling, but also to yield most curiously, as she tried to shake it off;and then something, evidently from under the mattress, came away with alittle jerk, and remained, suspended, in her hand.

  It didn't matter, did it? Nothing mattered except to reach the window.Yes, here it was now! And the roller shade was drawn down; that was whythe room was so dark. She raised the shade quickly--and suddenly stoodthere as though transfixed, her face paling, as in the faint light bythe window she gazed, fascinated, at the object that still dangled by acord from her hand.

  And it seemed as if an inner darkness were suddenly riven as by a boltof lightning--a hundred things, once obscure and incomprehensible, wereclear now, terribly clear. She understood now how the Adventurer wasprivy to all the inner workings of the organization; she understood nowhow it was, and why, the Adventurer had a room so close to that otherroom across the hall. That dangling thing on an elastic cord was asmeared and dirty celluloid eye-patch that had once been flesh-colored!The Adventurer and the Pug were one!

  Her wits! Quick! He must not know! In a frenzy of haste she ran for thebed, and slipped the eye-patch in under the mattress again; and then,still with frenzied speed, she climbed to the window sill, drew theroller shade down again behind her, and dropped to the ground.

  Through the back yard and lane she gained the street, and sped onalong the street--but her thoughts outpaced her hurrying footsteps.How minutely every detail of the night now seemed to explain itselfand dovetail with every other one! At the time, when Shluker had beenpresent, it had struck her as a little forced and unnecessary that thePug should have volunteered to seek out Danglar with explanations afterthe money had been secured. But she understood now the craft and guilethat lay behind his
apparently innocent plan. The Adventurer needed bothtime and an alibi, and also he required an excuse for making Pinkie Bonnthe custodian of the stolen money, and of getting Pinkie alone withthat money in the Pug's room. Going to Danglar supplied all this. He hadhurried back, changed in that room from the Pug to the Adventurer, andproposed in the latter character to relieve Pinkie of the money, toreturn then across the hall, become the Pug again, and then go back,as though he had just come from Danglar, to find his friend and ally,Pinkie Bonn, robbed by their mutual arch-enemy--the Adventurer!

  The Pug-the Adventurer! She did not quite seem to grasp its significanceas applied to her in a personal way. It seemed to branch out intoendless ramifications. She could not somehow think logically, coollyenough now, to decide what this meant in a concrete way to her, and herto-morrow, and the days after the to-morrow.

  She hurried on. To-night, as she would lay awake through the hours thatwere to come, for sleep was a thing denied, perhaps a clearervision would be given her. For the moment there--there was somethingelse--wasn't there? The money that belonged to the old couple.

  She hurried on. She came again to the street where the old couple lived.It was a dirty street, and from the curb she stooped and picked up adirty piece of old newspaper. She wrapped the banknotes in the paper.

  There were not many people on the street as she neared the mean littleframe house, but she loitered until for the moment the immediatevicinity was deserted; then she slipped into the alleyway, and stoleclose to the side window, through which, she had noted from the street,there shone a light. Yes, they were there, the two of them--she couldsee them quite distinctly even through the shutters.

  She went back to the front door then, and knocked. And presently the oldwoman came and opened the door.

  "This is yours," Rhoda said, and thrust the package into the woman'shand. And as the woman looked from her to the package uncomprehendingly,Rhoda Gray flung a quick "good-night" over her shoulder, and ran downthe steps again.

  But a few moments later she stole back, and stood for an instant oncemore by the shuttered window in the alleyway. And suddenly her eyes grewdim. She saw an old man, white and haggard, with bandaged head, sittingin a chair, the tears streaming down his face; and on the floor, herface hidden on the other's knees, a woman knelt--and the man's handstroked and stroked the thin gray hair on the woman' s head.

  And Rhoda Gray turned away. And out in the street her face was liftedand she looked upward, and there were myriad stars. And there seemed abeauty in them that she had never seen before, and a great, comfortingserenity. And they seemed to promise something--that through the windowof that stark and evil garret to which she was going now, they wouldkeep her dreaded vigil with her until morning came again.