re were two exits, and she might have missed
him--and...

A cold fear upon her, she shrank back in her chair. The three men had
halted at the table, and were clustered around her. They began a jocular
quarrel amongst themselves as to who should dance with her. Her heart
was pounding. She stood up, and pushed them away.

"Oh, no, you don't!" hiccoughed one of the three. "Gotta see
your--hic!--pretty face, anyhow!"

She put up her hands frantically and clutched at her veil--but just an
instant too late to save it from being wrenched aside. Wildly her eyes
flew to Danglar. His attention had been attracted by the scene. She saw
him rise from his seat; she saw his eyes widen--and then, stumbling over
his chair in his haste, he made toward her. Danglar had recognized the
White Moll!

She turned and ran. Fear, horror, desperation, lent her strength. It was
not like this that she had counted on her reckoning with Danglar! She
brushed the roisterers aside, and darted for the door. Over her shoulder
she glimpsed Danglar following her. She reached the door, burst through
a knot of people there, and, her torn veil clutched in her hand, dashed
down the steps. She could only run--run, and pray that in some way she
might escape.

And then a mad exultation came upon her. She saw the man in the
chauffeur's seat of the first car in the line lean out and swing the
door open. And in a flash she grasped the situation. The man was waiting
for just this--for a woman to come running for her life down the steps
of the Silver Sphinx. She put her hand up to her face, hiding it with
the torn veil, raced for the car, and flung herself into the tonneau.

The door slammed. The car leaped from the curb. Danglar was coming down
the steps. She heard him shout. The chauffeur, in a startled way, leaned
out, as he evidently recognized Danglar's voice--but Rhoda Gray was
mistress of herself now. The tonneau of the car was not separated from
the driver's seat, and bending forward, she wrenched her revolver from
her pocket, and pressed the muzzle of her weapon to the back of the
man's neck.

"Don't stop!" she gasped, struggling for her breath. "Go on! Quick!"

The man, with a frightened oath, obeyed. The car gained speed. A glance
through the window behind showed Danglar climbing into the other car.

And then for a moment Rhoda Gray sat there fighting for her
self-control, with the certain knowledge in her soul that upon her
wits, and her wits alon