s was the place.

She entered a dirty-windowed, small and musty pawnshop. A little old
man, almost dwarf-like in stature, with an unkempt, tawny beard, who
wore a greasy and ill-fitting suit, and upon whose bald head was perched
an equally greasy skull cap, gazed at her inquiringly from behind the
counter.

"I want a gun, and a good one, please," she said, after a glance around
her to assure herself that they were alone.

The other squinted at her through his spectacles, as he shook his head.

"I haven't got any, lady," he answered. "We're not allowed to sell them
without--"

"Oh, yes, you have, Daddy," she contradicted quietly, as she raised her
veil. "And quick, please; I'm in a hurry."

The little old man leaned forward, staring at her for a moment as though
fascinated; and then his hand, in a fumbling way, removed the skull
cap from his bead. There was a curious, almost wistful reverence in his
voice as he spoke.

"The White Moll!" he said.

"Yes," she smiled. "But the gun, Daddy. Quick! I haven't an instant to
lose."

"Yes, yes!" he said eagerly--and shuffled away.

He was back in a moment, an automatic in his hand.

"It's loaded, of course?" she said, as she took the weapon. She slipped
it into her pocket as he nodded affirmatively. "How much, Daddy?"

"The White Moll!" He seemed still under the spell of amazement. "It is
nothing. There is no charge. It is nothing, of course."

"Thank you, Daddy!" she said softly--and laid a bill upon the counter,
and stepped back to the door. "Good-night!" she smiled.

She heard him call to her; but she was already on the street again,
and hurrying along. She felt better, somehow, in a mental way, for that
little encounter with the shady old pawnbroker. She was not so much
alone, perhaps, as she had thought; there were many, perhaps, even if
they were of the underworld, who had not swerved from the loyalty they
had once professed to the White Moll.

It brought a new train of thought, and she paused suddenly in her walk.
She might rally around her some of those underworld intimates upon whose
allegiance she felt she could depend, and use them now, to-night, in
behalf of the Adventurer; she would be sure then to be a match for
Danglar, no matter what turn affairs took. And then, with an impatient
shake of her head, she hurried on again. There was no time for that. It
would take a great deal of time to find and pick her men; she had even
wasted time herself, where