ff, if
necessary, through the plea of haste, and on the ground that there was
not time to-night for an unnecessary word. He had given her, believing
her to be Gypsy Nan, his telephone number, which she, in turn, was to
transmit to the White Moll--in other words, herself! But the White
Moll, so he believed, had never received that message--and it must
of necessity be as the White Moll that she must communicate with him
to-night! It would be hard to explain--she meant to evade it. The one
vital point was that she remembered the telephone number he had given
her that night when he and Danglar had met in the garret. She was not
likely to have forgotten it!

Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, scuffled along. Was she inconsistent? The
Adventurer would be in his element in going to the Pug's room, and in
relieving Pinkie Bonn of that money; but the Adventurer, too, was
a thief-wasn't he? Why, then, did she propose, for her mind was now
certainly made up as to her course of action, to trust a thief to
recover that money for her?

She smiled a little wearily as she reached the drug store, stepped into
the telephone booth, and gave central her call. Trust a thief! No, it
wasn't because her heart prompted her to believe in him; it was because
her head assured her she was safe in doing so. She could trust him in an
instance such as this because--well, because once before, for her sake
he had foregone the opportunity of appropriating a certain diamond
necklace worth a hundred times the sum that she would ask him--yes, if
necessary, for her sake--to recover to-night. There was no...

She was listening in a startled way now at the instrument. Central had
given her "information"; and "information" was informing her that the
number she had asked for had been disconnected.

She hung up the receiver, and went out again to the street in a dazed
and bewildered way. And then suddenly a smile of bitter self-derision
crossed her lips. She had been a fool! There was no softer word--a fool!
Why had she not stopped to think? She understood now! On the night the
Adventurer had confided that telephone number to her as Gypsy Nan, he
had had every reason to believe that Gypsy Nan would, as she had already
apparently done, befriend the White Moll even to the extent of accepting
no little personal risk in so doing. But since then things had taken a
very different turn. The White Moll was now held by the gang, of which
Gypsy Nan was supposed to be a membe