The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-03-27

1lIe without saving the Sparrow s. That way was closed to her from the start. As the White Mo1l, then? Out side there in the great city, every pIain-clothes man, every policeman on every beat, was staring into every woman's face he met-searching for the White Mor.
 She wrung her hands in cruel des- peration- Even to her own problem she had found no solution, though she had wrest1ed with 1t all last night, and all through the day; no solution save the negative one of clinging to this one refuge that remained to her, such as it was. enlporarily. She had found no solution to that; what so- lution was there to this! She had thought of leaving the city as Gypsy Nan, and then somewhere, far away, of sloughing off the character of Gypsy Nan, and of resuming her own personality again under an assumed name But that would have meant the loss of everything she had in life, her little partimony, the irredeema- ble stamp of shame upon the name she once had owned; and also the constant fear and read that at any moment the police net, wide as the COuliHenI was W1ue, WOulu cIOS6 around her. It had seemed that her only chance was to keep on striving to play the role of Gypsy Nan, be- cause it was these associates of Gyp- sy Nan who were at the bottom of the crime of which she, Rhoda Gray was held guilty, and because there was always the hope that in this way, through condolences to g. supposed confederate. she could find the evil dence that would convist those actu- ally guilty. and so prove her own in- nocence. But in holding to the role of Gypsy Nan for the purpose of re- ceiving those criminal confidences she had no thought of this-that up- on her would rest the moral respon- sibility of other crimes of which she would have knowledge, and. least of all, that she should be faced with what lay before her now, tonight, at the first contact with those who had been Gypsy Mans confederates.
 What was she to do? Upon her and upon her alone, depended a mans life, and, adding to her distrac- ton, she knew the man-the Spar row, who had already done time; that was the vile ingenuity of it all. And there would be corroborative evil dence, of course; they would have seen to that. If the Sparrow disap- peared and was never heard of again, even a child would deduce the as- sumption that the proceeds of the robbery had disappeared with him.
 Her brain seemed to grow panicky. She was standing here helplessly. And time, the one precious ally that she possessed, was slipping away from her. She could not go to the police as Gypsy Nan-and, much less, as the White MoI,! She could not go to the police in any case, for the ''corroborative" evidence. that ob- viously must exist, unless Danglar ana those with him were fools, would indubitabiy damn the Sparrow to an other prison term, even supposing that through the intervention of the police his life were saved. What was she to do :?
 And then, for a.. moment, her eyes lighted in relief. The Adventurer. She thrust her hand into the pocket of her skirt, and drew out the torn piece of paper, and studied the tel ephone number upon it-and slowly the hurt and misery came back into her eyes again. Who was he? He had told her. An adventurer. He had given her to understand that he, if she had not been just a few min utes ahead of him, would have taken that money rom SharDOION 5 eScr1- toire last night. Therefore he was a crook. Dang1ar had said that some one had been getting in ahead of them lately and snatching the plum der from under their noses; and Danglar now believed that it had been the White Mou. A wan smile came to her lips. Instead of the Wh: Moll, it appeared to be quite obvious that it was the Adventurer. It therefore appeared to be quite as iob- vious that the man was a professional thief. and an extremely clever one, at that. She dared not trust him. To enlist his aid she would have to ex- plain the gangs plot; and while the Adventurer might go to the Sparrow's assistance, he might also be very much more interested in the diamond necklace that was involved, and not be entirely averse to Danglar's plan of using the Sparrow as a spawn, who. in that case, would make a very convenient scapegoat for the Adven- turer-instead of Danglar, She dar- ed not trust the man. She could not absolve her conscience by stalking an others life on a. hazard, on the suppo- sition that the Adventurer might do this or that. It was no good enough.
 She was quick in her movements now Subconsciously her decision had been made. There was only one way-onIy one. She gathered up the jewels from the bed and thrust them. with the Adventurer's torn piece of paper, into her pocket. And now she reached for the little note book that she had hidden under the blanket. It contained the gangs sec ret code, and she had found it in the cash box in Gypsy Mans strange hid ing place that evening. Half running now. carrying the candle, she started toward the lower end of the attic, where the roof sloped down to little more than shoulder high Seven
 Three-Nine'" Danglar had almost deeoded the message word for word in the course of his conversation. In the little noteboork, set against the figures, were the words: Danger. The game is off. Make no further
 move" It was only one of many, that arbitrary arrangement of fig ures, each combination having it's
 own special significance; but, be-