The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-04-18

| turned to his own account and to l the undoing of the gang, he must of ] necessity be at her mercy. Her 1 mercy! What exquisite ironyi Her | mercy! The man her. heart loved; | the theft her common sense abhorred! | What irony! When she, too, played | a double role; when in their other 1 characters, that of the Adventurer
 and the White Mo1l, he and she were
 linked together by the gang as con- | federates, whereas, in truth, they were
 wider apart than thep oles of the 1 earth!
 Her mercy! How merctfuI would
 she be-to the thief she loved?. He
 knew. he must know, all the inner | secrets of the gang. She smiled wanly now as she reached the land
 ing. Would he know that in the
 last analysis her threat would be
 only an idle one; that. though her | future, her safety, her life depended 1 on obtaining the evidence she felt | he could supply, her threat would
 be empty, and that she was powerIess l l-because she loved him. But he | did not know she loved him-she
 was Gypsy Nan. If she kept her | secret, if he did not penetrate her disguise as she had penetrated his, wife to him, her threat would be valid enough, and-and he would be at her mercy!
 A flush, half shamed, half angry, dyed the grime that was part of Gypsy Mans disguise upon her face. What was she saying to herself? What was she thinking? That he
 did not know she loved him! How would be? How could he? Had
 a word, an act. single look of hers ever given him hint that, when she
 had been with him, the White
 MoIl, she cared! It was unjust, un-
 fair, to fling such a taunt at her
 self It seemed as though she had lost nearly everything in life, but she had not yet lost her womanliness and her pride.
 She had certainly lost her senses,
 though! Even if that word, that look, that act had passed between them, between the Adventurer and the White MolI, he still did not know that Gypsy Nan was the White Mo1l and that was the one thing now that he must not know, and
 Rhoda Gray halted suddenly, and | stared along the hallway ahead of | her, and mp the short, 1adder-Eke | steps that led to the garret. Her | ears-or was it fancy ?-had caught l what sounded like low knocking l up there upon her door. Yes. it | came again now distinctly. It was l
  was almost dark. Her eyes strained l 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 l like steps-and abruptly Rhoda Gray, too moved forward wasn't | Danglar. That was what had in- stantly taken hold of her mind, and she knew sudden relief nowo. The man on the stairs-she couo1d see that 1t was a man now-though he moved silently, swayed in a gro were lame. It wasn't Danglari She would go to any length to track Danglar to his lair: but not here here in the darakness-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 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 p1aintive drawl ! reached her: ,..
 Don't screech, Berthat It's only your devoted brother-in-law. Curse your internal ladder, and my twisted backr
 Danglar's brotherI Berthat She snatched instantly at the cue with an Inward gasp of thankfulness. She would not make the mistake of us- ing the vernacular behind which Gypsy Nan sheltered herself. Here was some one who knew that Gypsy Nan was but a role. But she had 70 remember that her voice was slightly hoarse; that her voice, at east, could not sacrifice its disguise 10 any one. Danglar had been a little suspicious of it until she had cold.
 "Oh." she said calmly. Its you, s it? And what brought you here?'
 What do you suppose?"- he com olained irritably. '"The same old hing, all I'm good for-to write out code messages and deliver them like LII errand boy, It's a sweet job isn't t? How'd you like to be a. deform- I'd little cripple?"
 She did not answer at once. The night seemed suddenly~t to be opening some strange, even premonitory, vista. The code messages! Their mode of ieliveryi Here was the answeri
 Maybe I'd like it better than be- ng Gypsy Nan!" she flung back sig 
 He laughed out sharply.
 .sTd like to trade with you" he 'aid, "a quick note of genuine envy n his voice. You can pitch away rour clothes; I can't pitch away crooked spine. And, anyway, after onight, you'H be living swell again."
 She leaned toward Ehim. staring at 1im in the semi-darkness. That pre- nonitary vista was widening; his words seemed suddenly to set her brain in tumult. After tonight She vas to resume, after tonight, the character that was supposed to lay