"He wanted the White Moll, too," said Rhoda Gray, with a short laugh.
"Oh, he did, eh!" Danglar' s lips twisted into a sudden, merciless smile. "Well, go on! Who is he?"
"I don't know who he is," Rhoda Gray answered a little impatiently. "He said he was an adventurer—if you can make anything out of that. He said he got the White Moll away from Rough Rorke last night, after Rorke had arrested her; and then he doped the rest out the same as you have—that he could find the White Moll again through Gypsy Nan. I don't know what he wanted her for."
"That's better!" snarled Danglar, the merciless smile still on his lips. "I thought she must have had a pal, and we know now who her pal is. It's open and shut that she's sitting so tight she hasn't been able to get into touch with him, and that's what's worrying Mr. Adventurer."
Rhoda Gray, save for a nod of her head, made no answer.
Danglar laughed suddenly, as though in relief; then, coming closer to the bed, plunged his hand into his coat pocket, and tossed a handful of jewelry carelessly into Rhoda Gray's lap.
"I feel better than I did!" he said, and laughed again. "It's a cinch now that we'll get them both through you, and it's a cinch that the White Moll won't cut in to-night. Put those sparklers away with the rest until we get ready to 'fence' them."
Rhoda Gray did not speak. Mechanically, as though she were living through some hideous nightmare, she began to scoop up the gems from her lap and allow them to trickle back through her fingers: They flashed and scintillated brilliantly, even in the
