the white moll-第16章
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stepping over the threshold； she closed it softly behind her。 A
dull glow of light； emanating evidently from an open door above；
disclosed the upper portion of a stairway over on her left； but
apart from that the place was in blackness； and save that she knew；
of course； she was in the rear of Shluker's junk shop； she could
form no idea of her surroundings。 But she could； at last； hear。
Voices； one of which she recognized as Danglar's； though she could
not distinguish the words； reached her from upstairs。
Slowly； with infinite care； she crossed to the stairs； and on hands
and knees now； lest she should make a sound； began to crawl upward。
And a little way up； panic fear seized upon her again； and her heart
stood still； and she turned a miserable face in the darkness back
toward the door below； and fought against the impulse to retreat
again。
And then she heard Danglar speak； and from her new vantage point
his words came to her distinctly this time：
〃Good work； Skeeny！ You've got the Sparrow nicely trussed up； I
see。 Well； he'll do as he is for a while there。 I told the boys
to hold off a bit。 It's safer to wait an hour or two yet； before
moving him away from here and bumping him off。〃
〃Two jobs instead of one！〃 a surly voice answered。 〃We might just
as well have finished him and slipped him away for keeps when we
first got our hooks on him。〃
〃Got a little sick of your wood…carving； while you stuck around by
your lonesome and watched him … eh？〃 Danglar's tones were jocularly
facetious。 〃Don't grouch； Skeeny！ We're not killing for fun … it
doesn't pay。 Supposing anything had broken wrong up the Avenue … eh？
We wouldn't have had our friend the Sparrow there for the next time
we tried it！〃
There was something abhorrently callous in the laugh that followed。
It seemed to fan into flame a smoldering fire of passionate anger
in Rhoda Gray's soul。 And before it panic fled。 Her hand felt
upward for the next stair…tread； and she crept on again； as a face
seemed to rise before her … not the Sparrow's face … a woman's face。
It was a face that was crowned with very thin white hair； and its
eyes were the saddest she had ever seen； and yet they were brave；
steady old eyes that had not lost their faith； nor had the old；
care…lined face itself； in spite of suffering； lost its gentleness
and sweetness。 And then suddenly it seemed to change； that face；
and become wreathed in smiles； and happy tears to run coursing down
the wrinkled cheeks。 Yes； she remembered！ It had brought the tears
to her own eyes。 It was the night that the wayward Sparrow； home
from the penitentiary； on his knees； his head buried in his mother's
lap； had sworn that he would go straight。
Fear！ It seemed as though she never had known； never could know
fear … that only a merciless； tigerish； unbridled fury had her in
its thrall。 And she went on up； step after step； as Danglar spoke
again：
〃There's nothing to it！ The Sparrow there fell for the telephone
when Stevie played the doctor。 And old Hayden…Bond of course grants
his prison…bird chauffeur's request to spend the night with his
mother； who the doctor says is taken worse； because the old guy
knows there is a mother who really is sick。 Only Mr。 Hayden…Bond；
and the police with him； will maybe figure it a little differently
in the morning when they find the safe looted； and that the Sparrow；
instead of ever going near the poor old dame； has flown the coop
and can't be found。 And in case there's any lingering doubt in
their minds； that piece of paper with the grease…smudges and the
Sparrow's greasy finger…prints on it； that you remember we copped
a few days ago in the garage； will set them straight。 The Cricket
slipped it in among the papers he pulled out of the safe and tossed
around on the floor。 It looks as though a tool had been wiped with
it while the safe was being cracked； and that it got covered over
by the stuff that was emptied out； and had been forgotten。 I guess
they won't be long in comparing the finger…prints with the ones the
Sparrow kindly left with them when they measured him for his striped
suit the time they sent him up the river … eh？〃
Rhoda Gray could see now。 Her eyes were on a level with the landing；
and diagonally across from the head of the stairs was the open
doorway of a lighted room。 She could not see all of the interior；
but she could see quite enough。 Two men sat； side face to her；
one at each end of a rough； deal table … Danglar； and an ugly；
pock…marked； unshaven man； in a peaked cap that was drawn down over
his eyes； who whittled at a stick with a huge jack…knife。 The
latter was Skeeny； obviously； and the jack…knife and the stick；
quite as obviously； explained Danglar's facetious reference to
wood…carving。 And then her eyes shifted； and widened as they rested
on a huddled form that she could see by looking under and beyond the
table； and that lay sprawled out against the far wall of the room。
Skeeny pushed the peak of his cap back with the point of his
knife…blade。
〃What's the haul size up at？〃 he demanded。 〃Anything in the safe
besides the shiners？〃
〃A few hundred dollars；〃 Danglar replied。 〃I don't know exactly
how much。 I told the Cricket to divide it up among the boys who
did the rough work。 That's good enough； isn't it； Skeeny？ It
gives you a little extra。 You'll get yours。〃
Skeeny grunted compliance。
〃Well； let's have a look at the white ones； then；〃 he said。
Rhoda Gray was standing upright in the little hallway now； and now；
pressed close against the wall； she edged toward the door…jamb。
And a queer； grim little smile came and twisted the sensitive lips；
as she drew her revolver from her pocket。 The merciless； pitiless
way in which the newspapers had flayed the White Moll was not； after
all； to be wholly regretted！ The cool； clever resourcefulness； the
years of reckless daring attributed to the White Moll； would stand
her in good stead now。 Everybody on the East Side knew her by sight。
These men knew her。 It was not merely a woman ambitiously attempting
to beard two men who； perhaps； holding her sex in contempt in an
adventure of this kind； might throw discretion to the winds and give
scant respect to her revolver； for behind the muzzle of that revolver
was the reputation of the White Moll。 They would take her at face
value … as one who not only knew how to use that revolver； but as
one who would not hesitate an instant to do so。
From the room she heard Skeeny whistle low under his breath； as
though in sudden and amazed delight … and then she was standing full
in the open doorway； and her revolver in her outflung； gloved hand
covered the two men at the table。
There was a startled cry from Skeeny； a scintillating flash of light
as a magnificent string of diamonds fell from his hand to the table。
But Danglar did not move or speak； only his lips twitched； and a
queer whiteness came and spread itself over his face。
〃Put up your hands…both of you！〃 she ordered； in a low； tense voice。
It was Skeeny who spoke； as both men obeyed her。 〃The White Moll；
so help me！〃 he mumbled； and swallowed hard。
Danglar's eyes never seemed to leave her face； and they narrowed
now； full of hatred and a fury that lie made no attempt to conceal。
She smiled at him coldly。 She quite understood！ He had already
complained that evening that the White Moll for the last few weeks
had been robbing them of the fruits of their laboriously planned
schemes。 And now…again！ Well； she would not dispel his illusion！
He had given the White Moll that role … and it was the safest role
to play。
She stepped forward now； and with her free hand suddenly pulled the
table toward her out of their reach； and then； as she picked up the
necklace； she appeared for the first time to become aware of the
presence of the huddled form on the floor near the wall。 She could
see that the Sparrow was bound and gagged； and as he squirmed now
he turned his face toward her。
〃Why； it's the Sparrow； isn't it？〃 she exclaimed sharply； then；
evenly； to the two men： 〃I had no idea you were so hospitable！
Push your chairs closer together … with your feet
