The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-04-11
CContinued from Yesterday

the CFOWOb Sne cOuId see Qulte pI91n-
 ly. There were two or three low
 steps that led up to the doorway, and
 a man and woman were standing g
 there. The woman was wretchedly
 dressed, but with most strange incon-
 gruity she held in her ha ad, obviously
 subconsciously, obviously quite ob-
 nvious of it. a huge basket full of
 overf1owing with, as nearly as Rhoda
 Gray could judge, all sorts of pur-
 chases, as though out of the midst of
 abject poverty a, golden shower had
 suddenly descended upon her. And
 she was gray. and well beyond mid
 dle age, and crying bitterly; and her
 free hand, whether to support herself
 or with the instinctive idea of sup
 porting her companion, was ctutched
 tightly around the mans shoulders. And the man rocked unsteadily upon
 his feet He was tall and angular
 and older than the woman, and cad
 averous of feature, and miserably thin of shoulder, and blood trickled
 over his forehead and down one ashen
 hollow cheek-and above the excited
 exclamations of the crowd Rhoda Gray heard him cough.
 Rhoda Gray glanced around her.
 Where scarcely a second before she had been on the outer fringe of the
 crowd, she now appeared to be in the very center of it. Women were push ing up behind her. women who wore shawls as she did, only the shawls were mostly of gaudy colors; and men pushed up behind her, mostly men of swarthy conference, who fore circlets of gold in their ears; and brushing her skirts, seeking vantage points, ragged, fll-clad children wrIg- gled and wormed their way deeper into the press. It was a crowd com- posed almost entirely of the foreign element which inhabited that quarter and the crowd chattered and gesti- culated with ever-increasing violence. She did not understand. And she could not see so we'll now. That pitt full tab1eau in the doorway was being shut out from her by man, directly in front of her, who had hoisted a half-naked tot of three or four to a reserved seat upon his head.
 And than a young man, one whom, from her years in the Bad Lands as the White Moll, she recognized as a hanger-on at gambling hell in the Chatham Square district, came to- ward her, blowing his way, contempt uous of obstructions, out of the crowd.
 Say. wot's de row?' she demand ed
 The young man grinned.
 Somebody pinched a million from de old guy!" He shifted his cigar cite with a delft movement of his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other. and grinned again. Gan youse beat it! Accordin' to him, ne had enough coin to annex de whole of Moo Yoik! De molrs his wife. He went out to hell-an'- gone some where for a. few years huntin' gold while he old girl starved. Den back he comes an bloks in today wid his pockets full, am de old girl grabs a handful. an goes out to buy up all de grub in sight cause she ain't had none for so long. An wen she comes back she finds de old geezer gagged an tied in a chain, an some guys hit him a crack on de bean an flown de coop wfd de mazuma. But youse had better get out of here before youse gets run overI Dis ani't no place for an old skirt like youse. De bulls I'll be down here on de hop in minute, an wen dis mob starts sprinklin' de street wid deir f1eetin' footsteps. youse are likely to get hurt. See?' The young man started to force his way through the crowd again. "Youse had better cut loose, mother!" he warned over his shoul- der.
 It was good advice. Rhoda Gray took it. She had scarcely reached the next block when the crowd be- hind her was being scattered pell- men and without ceremony in all d. rections by the police. as the young man had predicted. She went on. There was nothing that she could do. The mans face and the woman's face haunted her. They had seemed stamped with such abject misery and despair. But there was nothing that she could do. It was one of those sore and gr1evous cross-sect1ons out of the lives of the swarming thou sands down here in this quarter which she knew so intimately and so well. And there were so many. many of those oss-sections! Once. in a small, pitifully measer and restricted way. she had been able to help some of these hurt lives, but now-Her lips frightened a little. She was go- ing to Shluker's junk shop.
 Her forehead gathered fin little fur rows as she walked along. She had weighed the pros and cons of thIs visit a hundred times already during the day; but even so. instinctively to reassure herself lest some apparently minor, but nevertheless fatally vital, point might have been overlooked, her mind revertel to it again. From Shluker's viewpoint. whether Gypsy Nan was in the habit of mingling with or visiting the other members Of the gang or not-a matter upon which she could not even hazard a guess-her visit tonight must appear entirely logical. There was last night as a natural corollary, her equally natural anxiety on her sup posed husbands account, providing, of course, that ShIuker was aware that Gypsy Nan was Danglar's wife. But even if Shluker did not not know Iaat, he knew at least that Gypsy Nan was one of the gang, and, as such, he must equally accept 1t as natural chat she should be anxious and dis turbed over what had happened. She would be on safe ground either way. She would pretend to know only what had appeared in the papers; in other words, that the police. attracted to the spot by the sound of revolver shots, had found Danglar handcuffed to the fire escape of a well known thieves resort in an all too well known and questionable locality.