o you know who that same dude pal is?" He laughed in an
ugly, immoderate way. "You don't, of course, so I'll tell you. It's the
Pug!" Rhoda Gray did not answer. It was growing dark here in the shed
now--perhaps that was why the man's form blended suddenly into the
doorway and wall, and blurred before her. She tried to think, but there
seemed to have fallen upon her a numbed and agonized stupefaction. There
was no confusing this issue. Danglar had found out that the Adventurer
was the Pug. And it meant--oh, what did it mean? They would kill him. Of
course, they would kill him! The Adventurer, discovered, would be safer
at the mercy of a pack of starved pumas, and...

"I thought that would hold you!" said Danglar with brutal serenity.
"That's why I didn't get around till now. I didn't get back from that
chase until daylight--the she-fiend stole our car--and then I went to
bed to get a little sleep. About three o'clock this afternoon Pinkie
Bonn woke me up. He was half batty with excitement. He said he was over
in the tenement in the Pug's room. The Pug wasn't in, and Pinkie was
waiting for him, and then all of a sudden he heard a woman screaming
like mad from somewhere. He went to the door and looked out, and saw
a man dash out of a room across the hall, and burst in the door of the
next room. There was a woman in there with her clothes on fire. She'd
upset a coal-oil stove, or something. The man Pinkie had seen beats the
fire out, and everybody in the tenement begins to collect around the
door. And then Pinkie goes pop-eyed. The man's face was the face of the
White Moll's dude pal--but he had on the Pug's clothes. Pinkie's a wise
guy. He slips away to me without getting himself in the limelight or
spilling any beans. And I didn't ask him if he'd been punching the
needle again overtime, either. It fitted like a glove with what happened
at old Luertz's last night. You don't know about that. Pinkie and this
double-crossing snitch went there--and only found a note from the White
Moll. He'd tipped her off before, of course, and the note made a nice
little play so's he'd be safe himself with us. Well, that's about all.
We had to get him--where we wanted him--and we got him. We waited until
he showed up again as the Pug, and then we put over a frame-up deal on
him that got him to go over to that old iron plant in Harlem, you know,
behind Jake Malley's saloon, where we had it fixed to hand Cloran his
last night--and the Pug's the