The White Moll

by Frank L. Packard

  XX. A LONE HAND

  And now Rhoda Gray was in the radius of the arc lamp, and distinctlyvisible to any one coming down the yard. How near were they? Yes, shesaw them now--three forms-perhaps a little more than a hundred yardsaway. She moved a few steps deliberately toward them, as though quiteunconscious of their presence; and then, as a shout from one of themannounced that she was seen, she halted, hesitated as though surprised,terrified and uncertain, and, as they sprang forward, she turned andran--making for the side of the shed away from the side door.

  A voice rang out--Danglar's:

  "By God, it's the White Moll!"

  It was the only way! She had the pack in cry now. They would pay noattention to the Adventurer while the White Moll was seemingly almostwithin their grasp. If she could only hold them now for a littlewhile--just a little while--the Adventurer wasn't hurt--only cramped andnumbed--he would be all right again and able to take care of himself ina little while--and meanwhile the Sparrow would help him to get away.

  She was running with all her speed. She heard them behind her--thepound, pound, pound of feet. She had gained the side of the shed. Thelight from the arc lamp was shut off from her now, and they would onlybe able to see her, she knew, as a dim, fleeting shadow. Where was thatiron casting? Pray God, it was heavy enough; and pray God, it was nottoo heavy! Yes, here it was! She pretended to stumble--and caught thething up in her arms. An exultant cry went up from behind her as sheappeared to fall--oaths, a chorus of them, as she went on again.

  They had not gained on her before; but with the weight in her arms,especially as she was obliged to carry it awkwardly in order to shieldit from their view with her body, she could not run so fast now, andthey were beginning to close up on her. But she was on the wharf now,and there was not much farther to go, and--and surely she could hold allthe lead she needed until she reached the edge.

  The light from the arc lamp held her in view again out here on the wharfwhere she was clear of the shed; but she knew they would not fire at herexcept as a last resort. They could not afford to sound an alarm thatwould attract notice to the spot--when they had, or believed they had,both the Adventurer and the White Moll within their grasp now.

  She was running now with short, hard, panting gasps. There were stillfive yards to go-three-one! She looked around her like a hunted animalat bay, as she reached the end of the wharf and stood there poised atthe edge. Yes, thank God, they were still far enough behind to give herthe few seconds she needed! She cried out loudly as though in despairand terror--and sprang from the edge of the wharf. And as she sprang shedropped the casting; but even as it struck the water with a loudsplash, Rhoda Gray, in frantic haste, was crawling in through the littlelocker-like opening under the decked-over bow of the half scow, halfboat into which she had leaped. And quick as a flash, huddled inside,she reached out and drew the heap of what proved to be sailcloth nearerto her to cover the opening-and lay still.

  A few seconds passed; then she heard them at the edge of the wharf, andheard Danglar s voice.

  "Watch where she comes up! She can't get away!"

  A queer, wan smile twisted Rhoda Gray's lips. The casting had served herwell; the splash had been loud enough! She listened, straining her earsto catch every sound from above. It was miserably small this hidingplace into which she had crawled, scarcely large enough to hold her--shewas beginning to be painfully cramped and uncomfortable already.

  Another voice, that she recognized as Pinkie Bonn's now, reached her:

  "It's damned hard to spot anything out there; the water's blacker'nhell."

  Came a savage and impatient oath from Danglar.

  "She's got to come up, ain't she--or drown!" he rasped. "Maybe she'sswum under the wharf, or maybe she's swum under water far enough outso's we can't see her from here. Anyway, jump into that boat there, andwe'll paddle around till we get her."

  Rhoda Gray held her breath. The boat rocked violently as, one afteranother, the men jumped into it. Her right hand was doubled under her,it was hard to reach her pocket and her automatic. She moved a little;they were cursing, splashing with their oars, making too much noise tohear any slight rustle that she might make.

  A minute, two, went by. She had her automatic now, and she lay there,grim-lipped, waiting. Even if they found her now, she had her own wayout; and by now, beyond any question, the Adventurer and the Sparrowwould have reached the street, and, even if they had to hide out theresomewhere until the Adventurer had recovered the use of his limbs, theywould be safe.

  She could not see, of course. Once the boat bumped, and again. They wereprobably searching around under the wharf. She could not hear what theysaid, for they were keeping quiet now, talking in whispers--so as not togive her warning of their whereabouts undoubtedly!

  The time dragged on. Her cramped position was bringing her excruciatingagony now. She could understand how the Adventurer, in far worse casein the brutal position in which they had bound him, had fainted. Shewas afraid she would faint herself--it was not only the pain, but it wasterribly close in the confined space, and her head was swimming.

  Occasionally the oars splashed; and then, after an interminable time,the men, as though hopeless of success, and as though caution were nolonger of any service, began to talk louder.

  The third man was Shluker. She recognized his voice, too.

  "It's no use!" he snarled. "If she's a good swimmer, she could getacross the river easy. She's got away; that's sure. What the hell'sthe good of this? We're playing the fool. Beat it back! She was nosingaround the shed. How do we know she didn't let the Pug loose before wesaw her?"

  Pinkie Bonn whined:

  "If he's gone too, we're crimped! The whole works is bust up! The Pugknows everything, where our money is, an' everything. They'll have uscold!"

  "Close your face, Pinkie!" It was Danglar speaking, his voice hoarsewith uncontrollable rage. "Go on back, then, Shluker. Quick!"

  Rhoda Gray heard the hurried splashing of the oars now; and presentlyshe felt the bumping of the boat against the wharf, and its violentrocking as the men climbed out of it again. But she did not move--savewith her hand to push the folds of sailcloth a cautious inch or two awayfrom the opening. It did not ease the agony she was suffering fromher cramped position, but it gave her fresher air, and she could hearbetter--the ring of their boot-heels on the wharf above, for instance.

  The footsteps died away. There was silence then for a moment; and then,faintly, from the direction of the shed, there came a chorus of baffledrage and execration. She smiled a little wearily to herself. It was allright. That was what she wanted to know. The Adventurer had got away.

  Still she lay there. She dared not leave the boat yet; but she couldchange her position now. She crawled half out from under the docking,and lay with her head on the sailcloth. It was exquisite relief! Theycould not come back along the wharf without her hearing them, and shecould retreat under the decking again in an instant, if necessary.

  Voices reached her now occasionally from the direction of the shed.Finally a silence fell. The minutes passed--ten--fifteen--twenty ofthem. And then Rhoda Gray climbed warily to the wharf, made her waywarily past the shed, and gained the road--and three-quarters of an hourlater, in another shed, in the lane behind the garret, she was changingquickly into the rags of Gypsy Nan again.

  It was almost the end now. To-night, she would keep the appointmentDanglar had given her--and keep it ahead of time. It was almost the end.Her lips set tightly. The Adventurer had been warned. There was nothingnow to stand in the way of her going to the police, save only thesubstantiation of that one point in her own story which Danglar mustsupply.

  Her transformation completed, she reached in under the flooring andtook out the package of jewels--they would help very materially when shefaced Danglar!--and, though it was somewhat large, tucked it insideher blouse. It could not be noticed. The black, greasy shawl hid iteffectively.

  She stepped out into the lane, and from there to the street, and beganto mak
e her way across town. She did not have to search for Danglarto-night. She was to meet him at Matty's at midnight, and it was notmore than halfpast eleven now. Three hours and a half! Was that allsince at eight o'clock, as nearly as she could place it, he had lefther in the lane? It seemed as many years; but it was only twenty minutesafter eleven, she had noticed, when she had left the subway on herreturn a few minutes ago. Her hand clenched suddenly. She was to meethim at Matty's--and, thereafter, if it took all night, she would notleave him until she had got him alone somewhere and disclosed herself.The man was a coward in soul. She could trust to the effect upon him ofan automatic in the hands of the White Mall to make him talk.

  Rhoda Gray walked quickly. It was not very far. She turned the cornerinto the street where Danglar's deformed brother, Matty, cloaked theexecutive activities of the gang with his cheap little notion store--andhalted abruptly. The store was just ahead of her, and Danglar himself,coming out, had just closed the door.

  He saw her, and stepping instantly to her side, grasped her arm roughlyand wheeled her about.

  "Come on!" he said--and a vicious oath broke from his lips.

  The man was in a towering, ungovernable passion. She cast a furtiveglance at his face. She had seen him before in anger; but now, with hislips drawn back and working, his whole face contorted, he seemed utterlybeside himself.

  "What's the matter?" she inquired innocently. "Wouldn't the Pug talk, oris it a case of 'another hour or so,' and--"

  He swung on her furiously.

  "Hold your cursed tongue!" he flared. "You'll snicker on the wrong sideof your face this time!" He gulped, stared at her threateningly, andquickened his step, forcing her to keep pace with him. But he spokeagain after a minute, savagely, bitterly, but more in control ofhimself. "The Pug got away. The White Moll queered us again. But it'sworse than that. The game's up! I told you to be here at midnight. It'sonly half past eleven yet. I figured you would still be over in thegarret, and I was going there for you. That's where we're going now.There's no chance at those rajah's jewels now; there's no chance offixing Cloran so's you can swell it around in the open again--the onlychance we've got is to save what we can and beat it!"

  She did not need to simulate either excitement or disquiet.

  "What is it? What's happened?" she asked tensely.

  "The gang's thrown us down!" he said between his teeth. "They're scared;they've got cold feet--they're going to quit. Shluker and Pinkie werewith me at the iron plant. We went back to Matty's from there. Matty'swith them, too. They say the Pug knows every one of us, and every gamewe've pulled, and that in revenge for our trying to murder him he'llwise up the police--that he could do it easily enough without gettingnipped himself, by sending them a letter, or even telephoning the namesand addresses of the whole layout. They're scared--he curs! They sayhe knows where all our coin is too; and they're for splitting it upto-night, and ducking it out of New York for a while to get undercover." He laughed out suddenly, raucously. "They will--eh? I'll showthem--the yellow-streaked pups! They wouldn't listen to me--and it meantthat you and I were thrown down for fair. If we're caught, it's thechair. I'll show them! When I saw it wasn't any use trying to get themto stick, I pretended to agree with them. See? I said they could goaround and dig up the rest of the gang, and if the others felt thesame way about it, they were all to come over to the garret, and I'd bewaiting for them,--and we'd split up the swag, and everybody'd be on hisown after that." Again he laughed out raucously. "It'll take them halfan hour to get together--but it won't take that long for us to grab allthat's worth grabbing out of that trap-door, and making our getaway.See? I'll teach them to throw Pierre Danglar down! Come on, hurry!"

  "Sure!" she mumbled mechanically.

  Her mind was sifting, sorting, weighing what he had said. She was notsurprised. She remembered Pinkie Bonn's outburst in the boat. She walkedon beside Danglar. The man was muttering and cursing under his breath.Well, why shouldn't she appear to fall in with his plans? Under whatchoicer surroundings could she get him alone than in the garret? Andhalf an hour would be ample time for her, too! Yes, yes, she began tosee! With Danglar, when she had got what she wanted out of him herself,held up at the point of her automatic, she could back to the door andlock him in there--and notify the police--and the police would not onlyget Danglar and the ill-gotten hoard hidden in the ceiling behind thattrap-door, but they would get all the rest of the gang as the latterin due course appeared on the scene. Yes, why not? She experienced anexhilaration creeping upon her; she even increased, unconsciously, therapid pace which Danglar had set.

  "That's the stuff!" he grunted in savage approval. "We need every minutewe've got."

  They reached the house where once--so long ago now, it seemed!--RhodaGray had first found the original Gypsy Nan; and, Danglar leading,mounted the dark, narrow stairway to the hall above, and from there upthe short, ladder-like steps to the garret. He groped in the apertureunder the partition for the key, opened the door, and stepped inside.Rhoda Gray, following, removed the key, inserted it on the inside ofthe door, and, as she too entered, locked the door behind her. It waspitch-black here in the attic. Her face was set now, her lips firm. Shehad been waiting for this, hadn't she? It was near the end at last.She had Danglar--alone. But not in the darkness! He was too tricky! Shecrossed the garret to where the candle-stub, stuck in the neck of thegin bottle, stood on the rickety washstand.

  "Come over here and light the candle," she said. "I can't find mymatches."

  Her hand was in the pocket of her skirt now, her fingers tight-closed onthe stock of her automatic, as he shuffled his way across the attic toher side. A match spurted into flame; the candle wick flickered, thensteadied, dispersing little by little, as it grew brighter, the nearershadows--and there came a startled cry from Danglar--and Rhoda Gray, theweapon in her pocket forgotten, was staring as though stricken of hersenses across the garret. The Adventurer was sitting on the edge ofthe cot, and a revolver in his hand held a steady bead upon Danglar andherself..