The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-04-26
'THE WHITE MOLL"
FRANK L. PACKARD
Appearing every day in serial form in the
Magazine Section of The Times
FRANK L. PACKARD

ne TSd4 gypsy Nan, W1IS,
who had died that night, had, even
in eleventh-hour penitence, refused
to implicate her criminal associates
There was a crime projected which,
unless she. Rhoda Gray, would agree
to forestaIl it in person and would
give her oath not to warn the police
about it and so put the actual GRIM
inals in jeopardy, would go on to its
fulfillment!
She remembered that night in the
hospital. The scene came wildly
before her now. The woman's plead
ing, the woman's grim loyalty even
IN death to her pals. She, Rhoda
Gray, had given her oath.
1t became necessary only to sub
stantiate those facts. DangJar could
be made to do it, She had now in
her possession the evidence that
would convict him of completely in
the murder of Deemer, and for
which murder the original Gypsy
Nan had gone into hiding; she even
had in her possession the missing
jewels that had prompted that muir
der; she had, too, the evidence now
to bring the entire gang to justice
for their myriad depredations; she
knew where their secret hoard of ILL
gotten gains was h.dden-here in this
attic, behind that ingentously con-
trived trap-door in the ceiling. She
knew all this; and this information
placed before the police, providing
only it was backed by the poof that
the scheme to rob Skarbolov was to
be carried out by the gang, as she,
Rhoda Gray, would say the dying
woman had informed her would be
more than enough to clear her. She
had not had this proof on that first
night when she had snatched at the
mo Y,fI Of
means of escape from Rough Rorke,
of headquarters; she did not have it
now-but she would have it, stake
all and everything in life she had
to have it, for it. in itself. literally
meant everything and all and
Danglar would make q written con-
fession. OF else-or else She
smiled mirthlessly. That was all!
Last night she had failed Tonight
she would not fail. Before morning
came, if it were humanity within her
power, she and Danglar would have
played out their game-to the end.
And now a pucker came and gath
cred her forehead into little fur
rows, and anxiety and perplexity
crept into her eyes. Another thought
tormented her. In the exposure that
was to come the Adventurer, alias the
Pug, was involved. Was there any
owed so much, the sp1endidly chival-
rous. high-couraged gentleman she
loved, the thief she abhorred?
She pushed the remains of her
frugal meal away from her, stood up
abruptly from the rickety washstand
at which she had been seated, and
commenced to pace nervously up and
down the stark. bare garnet. Where
was the line of demarcation between
right and wrong? Was it a grievous
sin, or an infinitely human thing to
do, to warn the man she loved, and
give him a chance to escape the net
she meant to furnish the police? He
was a thief, even a member of the
gang-though he used the gang as
his puppets. Did ethics count when
one had stood again and again be-
tween her and peril was himself in
danger now? Would it be a right
eous thing, or an act of despfcable
ingratitude to trap him with the rest?
She laughed out shortly. Warn
him! OF course, she would warn
him! But then-what? She shiv-
cred a little and her face grew drawn
and tired. It was almost inevitable
that sooner or later, for some crime
or another, the man she loved would
be caught at last, and would spend
the greater portion of his days be-
hind prison BARS. That was what
the love that had come into her life
held as its promise to her! 1t was
terrible enough without her agency
being the means of placing him
therei
T'e did not want to thing about it.
She forced her mind into other chan
nels, though they were scarcely less
disquieting. Why was it that during
the day just past there had been not
a sign from Danglar or any one of
the gang, when every plan of theirs
had gone awray last night, and she
had failed to keep her appointment in
the role of Danglar's wife? Why
was it? What did it mean? Surely
Danglar would never allow what had
happened to pass unchallenged, and
was that some one now?
She halted suddenly by the door to
listen, her hand going instinctively to
the wide, voluminous pocket of her
greasy skirt for her revolver. Yes,
there was a footstep in the hall below,
but it was descending now to the
ground floor. not coming up. She
even heard the street door close, but
still she hung there in g. strained,
tense way, and into her face there
came creeping a gray dismay. Her
pocket was empty.
The revolver was gonei Its loss
pregnant with hundred ominous
possibilities. seemed to bring a panic
fear Uron her. holding her for a mo-
ment inert-and then she rushed
frantically to the cot. Perhaps it had
fallen out of her pocket during the
hours she had lain there asleep. She
searched the folds of the soiled and
crumpled blanket, that was the cots
sole covering, then snatched the
blanket completely off the cot and
shook it; and then. down on her
knees, she searched the floor under
the cot. There was no sign of the
revolver.
Rhoda Gray stood up, and stared in
a stunned way about her. Was this,
then, the explanation of her having
seemingly been left undisturbed here
all through the day? Had some one
after all, been here. and? She
shook her head suddenly with a