wot! But de Crab'll get his fer--"

"It wasn't the Crab!" Pinkie Bonn was stuttering his words. He stood,
jaws dropped, his eyes glued now on the paper in his hand.

The Pug, his face working, the personification of baffled rage and
intolerance, leered at Pinkie Bonn. "Well, who was it, den?" he snarled.

Pinkie Bonn licked his lips.

"The White Moll!" He licked his lips again.

"De White Moll!" echoed the Pug incredulously.

"Yes," said Pinkie Bonn. "Listen to what's on this paper that I fished
out of there I Listen! She's got all the nerve of the devil! 'With
thanks, and my most grateful appreciation--the White Moll.'"

The Pug snatched the paper from Pinkie Bonn's hand, as though to assure
himself that it was true. Rhoda Gray smiled faintly. It was good acting,
very excellently done--seeing that the Pug had written the note and
placed it in the hiding place himself!

"My God!" mumbled Pinkie Bonn thickly. "I ain't afraid of most things,
but I'm gettin' scared of her. She ain't human. Last night you know what
happened, and the night before, and--" He gulped suddenly. "Let's get
out of here!" he said hurriedly. The Pug made no reply, except for a
muttered growl of assent and a nod of his head.

The two men crossed the room. The light went out. Their footsteps echoed
back as they descended the stairs, then died away.

And then Rhoda Gray moved for the first time. She brushed aside the
cretonne hanging, ran to the washstand, possessed herself of the package
she had seen the Pug place there, and then made her way, cautious now of
the slightest sound, downstairs.

She tried the door that led into the secondhand shop from the hall,
found it unlocked, and with a little gasp of relief slipped through, and
closed it gently behind her. She did not dare risk the front entrance.
Pinkie Bonn and the Pug were not far enough away yet, and she did not
dare wait until they were. Too bulky to take the risk of attempting
to conceal it about his person while with Pinkie Bonn, the Pug, it was
obvious, would come back alone for that package, and it was equally
obvious that he would not be long in doing so. There was old Luertz's
return that he would have to anticipate. It would not take wits nearly
so sharp as those possessed by the Pug to find an excuse for separating
promptly from Pinkie Bonn!

Rhoda Gray groped her way down the shop, groped her way to a back door,
unbolted it, working by the sense of touch, and let herself