The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-03-27
ssTHE WHITE MOLL" FRANK L. PACKARD Appearing every day in serial form in the Magazine Section of The Times.
FRANK l.. PACKARD
(Continued from Saturday.

began to scoop up the gems froTn her lap and allow them to trickle back through her fingers. They flashed and scintillated brilliantly, even in the meager light. They seemedl alive with some premonitory, baleful fire.
 "Yes. there's some pretty slick stuff there, said Danglar,with an apprais- ing chuckle: "but there'u be some thing tonight t1at'Il make all that bunch look like chicken-feed. The boys are at work now, and we'll have old Hayden-Bond's necklace in an- other hour. Skeeny's got the Spar row tied up in the old room behind Shluker's place, and once we're sure there's no backfire anywhere. the Sparrow will chirp his last chirp-'' He laughed out suddenly, and, leaning forward. clapped Rhoda Gray exult- antly on the shoulder 'It was like taking candy from a kid! The Spar row and the old man fell for the sick mother needing her son all night stuff without batting a. lid; but the Sparrow hasn't been holding the old lady's hand at the bedside yet. We took care of that"
 Again Rhoda Gray made no com nent- She wondered. as she gripped al the rings and brooches in hand, so fiercely that the settings pricked into the flesh, if her face mirrored in any way the cold. sick misery that had suddenly taken possession of her soul The Sparrow! She knew the Spar row; she knew the Sparrow's sick mother. That part of it was true The Sparrow did have an old mother who was sick. A fine old lady-finer than the son-Finch. her name was. Indirectly, she knew old Hayden Bond. the millionaire. and - AL most subconscious1y she was aware that Danglar was speaking again.
 "I guess luck's breaking our way again." he grinned. ''The old boy paid a hundred thousand cold for that necklace. You know how long we've been waiting to get our hooks on it, and we've never had our eyes off his house for two months. We'll, it pays to wait. and it pays to do things right. It broke our way at last tonight, all right, all right! To- days Saturday-and the safety de- posit vaults aren't open Sunday. Mrs. Hayden-Bond's been away all week visiting, but she comes back tomorrow, and there's some swell so- ciety fuss fixed for tomorrow night, and she wants her necklace to make a sp1urge, she writes MT. H-hyphen-B, and out it comes from the safety deposit vault. and into the library safe. The old man isn't long social stunts, and he's got pretty we'll set in his habits; one of those must have-nine-hours' sleep bugs, and he's always in bed by ten-when his wife'n let him. She being away tonight, the boys were able to get to work early. They ought to be able to crack that box without making any noise about it in an hour and a half at the outside" He pulled out his watch-and whistled low under his breath. Its a quarter after eleven now,' he said hurriedly. and moved abruptly toward the door. '1 can't stick around here any longer. I've got to be on deck where they can slip me the white ones and then there's Skeeny waiting for the word to bump the Sparrow" He jerked his hand suddenly toward the jewels in her lap. Salt those away before any more adventurers blow in!'' he said, half sharply, half joculariy. And don't let the White Mou slip you-at any cost. Remember! She's bound to come to you again. Play her-and send out the call. You un- derstand, don't you? There's never been a yip out of the police. Our methods are too good for that. Look at the Sparrow tonight Where there's no chance taken of suspicion going anywhere except where we lead it, there's no chance of any trouble for us. But this cursed she-fiends another story. We're not planting plum trees for her to pick any more of the fruit. Understand ?"
 She answered him mechanically.
 "Yes," she said.
 "Al1 right, then; that end of it is up to you,'' he said significantly You're clever, clever as the devil. Bertha. Use your brains now-we need 'em- Good night, old girl See you later"
 Good night said Rhoda Gray duly.
 The door closed. The short, lad der-like steps to the hallway below creaked once, and then all was still. Danglar did have on rubber-soled shoes She sat upright, her hands, clenched now, pressed hard against her throbbing temples. It wasn't true! None of this was true-this fove1 of a place, those jewels glint- ing like evil eyes in her lap; her ex- istence itself wasn't true; it was only her brain now, sick like her soul, that conjured up these ugly phantonls with horrible. plausible ingenuity And then an inner voice seemed to answer her with a calmness that was hideous fin its finaHty. It was true. All of 1t was true. Those words of Danglar, and their bald meaning were true Men did such things; men made in the image of their Maker did such things. They were going to kill a man tonight-an in nocent man whom they had made their pawn.
 She swept the jewels from her lap to the blanket, and rising, seized the candle, went to the door, looked out, and. holding the candle high above her head, peered down the stairs. Yes. he was gone. There was no one there.
 She locked the door again, returned to the bed, set the candle down upon the chair, and sod there, her face white and drawn, staring with wide, torraented eyes about her. Murder. Darglar had spoken of it with inhu- man ca1Iousness-and had laughed at it. They were going to take a mans life. And there was only herself, al- ready driven to extremity. already with her own back against the wall