The White Moll, Page 2

  II. SEVEN--THREE--NINE

  For a moment neither spoke, then Gypsy Nan broke the silence with abitter laugh. She threw back the bedclothes, and, gripping at the edgeof the bed, sat up.

  "The White Moll!" The words rattled in her throat. A fleck of bloodshowed on her lips. "Well, you know now! You're going to help me, aren'tyou? I--I've got to get out of here--get to a hospital."

  Rhoda Gray laid her hands firmly on the other's shoulders.

  "Get back into bed," she said steadily. "Do you want to make yourselfworse? You'll kill yourself!"

  Gypsy Nan pushed her away.

  "Don't make me use up what little strength I've got left in talking,"she cried out piteously, and suddenly wrung her hands together. "I'mwanted by the police. If I'm caught, it's--it's that 'chair.' I couldn'thave a doctor brought here, could I? How long would it be before he sawthat Gypsy Nan was a fake? I can't let you go and have an ambulance,say, come and get me, can I, even with the disguise hidden away? They'dsay this is where Gypsy Nan lives. There's something queer here. Whereis Gypsy Nan? I've got to get away from here--away from Gypsy Nan--don'tyou understand? It's death one way; maybe it is the other, maybe it'llfinish me to get out of here, but it's the only thing left to do. Ithought some one, some one that I could trust, never mind who, wouldhave come to-day, but-but no one came, and--and maybe now it s too late,but there's just the one chance, and I've got to take it." Gypsy Nantore at the shawl around her throat as though it choked her, andflung it from her shoulders. Her eyes were gleaming with an unhealthy,feverish light. "Don't you see? We get out on the street. I collapsethere. You find me. I tell you my name is Charlotte Green. That's allyou know. There isn't much chance that anybody at the hospitalwould recognize me. I've got money. I take a private room. Don't youunderstand?"

  Rhoda Gray's face had gone a little white. There was no doubt about thewoman's serious condition, and yet--and yet--She stood there hesitant.There must be some other way! It was not likely even that the woman hadstrength enough to walk down the stairs to begin with. Strange thingshad come to her in this world of shadow, but none before like this. Ifthe law got the woman it would cost the woman her life; if the woman didnot receive immediate and adequate medical assistance it would cost thewoman her life. Over and over in her brain, like a jangling refrain,that thought repeated itself. It was not like her to stand hesitantbefore any emergency, no matter what that emergency might be. She hadnever done it before, but now...

  "For God's sake," Gypsy Nan implored, "don't stand there looking at me!Can't you understand? If I'm caught, I go out. Do you think I'd havelived in this filthy hole if there had been any other way to save mylife? Are you going to let me die here like a dog? Get me my clothes;oh, for God's sake, get them, and give me the one chance that's left!"

  A queer little smile came to Rhoda Gray's lips, and her shouldersstraightened back.

  "Where are your clothes?" she asked.

  "God bless you!" The tears were suddenly streaming down the grimy face."God bless the White Moll! It's true! It's true--all they said abouther!" The woman had lost control of herself.

  "Nan, keep your nerve!" ordered Rhoda Gray almost brutally. It was theWhite Moll in another light now, cool, calm, collected, efficient. Hereyes swept Gypsy Nan. The woman, who had obviously flung herself downon the bed fully dressed the night before, was garbed in coarse, heavyboots, the cheapest of stockings which were also sadly in need ofrepair, a tattered and crumpled skirt of some rough material, and,previously hidden by the shawl, a soiled, greasy and spotted blackblouse. Rhoda Gray's forehead puckered into a frown. "What about yourhands and face-they go with the clothes, don't they?"

  "It'll wash off," whispered Gypsy Nan. "It's just some stuff I keep in abox-over there--the ceiling-" Her voice trailed off weakly, then witha desperate effort strengthened again. "The door! I forgot the door!It isn't locked! Lock the door first! Lock the door! Then you take thecandle over there on the washstand, and--and I'll show you. You--you getthe things while I'm undressing. I--I can help myself that much."

  Rhoda Gray crossed quickly to the door, turned the key in the lock, andretraced her steps to the washstand that stood in the shadows againstthe wall on the opposite side from the bed, and near the far end of thegarret. Here she found the short stub of a candle that was stuck inthe mouth of a gin bottle, and matches lying beside it. She lighted thecandle, and turned inquiringly to Gypsy Nan.

  The woman pointed to the end of the garret where the roof sloped sharplydown until, at the wall itself, it was scarcely four feet above thefloor.

  "Go down there. Right to the wall--in the center," instructed Gypsy Nanweakly. And then, as Rhoda Gray obeyed: "Now push up on that wide boardin the ceiling."

  Rhoda Gray, already in a stooped position, reached up, and pushed ata rough, unplaned board. It swung back without a sound, like a narrowtrap-door, until it rested in an upright position against the outerframe of the house, disclosing an aperture through which, by standingerect, Rhoda Gray easily thrust her head and shoulders.

  She raised the candle then through the opening--and suddenly her darkeyes widened in amazement. It was a hiding place, not only ingenious,but exceedingly generous in expanse. As far as one could reach theceiling metamorphosed itself into a most convenient shelf. And it hadbeen well utilized! It held a most astounding collection ofthings. There was a cashbox, but the cashbox was apparently whollyinadequate--there must have been thousands of dollars in those piles ofbanknotes that were stacked beside it! There was a large tin box, thecover off, containing some black, pastelike substance--the "stuff,"presumably, that Gypsy Nan used on her face and hands. There was abunch of curiously formed keys, several boxes of revolver cartridges,an electric flashlight, and a great quantity of the choicest brandsof tinned and bottled fruits and provisions--and a little to one side,evidently kept ready for instant use, a suit of excellent material,underclothing, silk stockings shoes and hat were neatly piled together.

  Rhoda Gray took the clothing, and went back to the bedside. Gypsy Nanhad made little progress in disrobing. It seemed about all the womancould do to cling to the edge of the cot and sit upright.

  "What does all this mean, Nan," she asked tensely; "all those things upthere--that money?"

  Gypsy Nan forced a twisted smile.

  "It means I know how bad I am, or I wouldn't have let you see what youhave," she answered heavily. "It means that there isn't any other way.Hurry! Get these things off! Get me dressed!"

  But it took a long time. Gypsy Nan seemed with every moment to growweaker. The lamp on the chair went out for want of oil. There was onlythe guttering candle in the gin bottle to give light. It threw weird,flickering shadows around the garret; it seemed to enhance the alreadydeathlike pallor of the woman, as, using the pitcher of water and thebasin from the washstand now, Rhoda Gray removed the grime from GypsyNan's face and hands.

  It was done at last--and where there had once been Gypsy Nan, haglikeand repulsive, there was now a stylishly, even elegantly, dressed womanof well under middle age. The transformation seemed to have acted asa stimulant upon Gypsy Nan. She laughed with nervous hilarity she eventried valiantly to put on a pair of new black kid gloves, but, failingin this, pushed them unsteadily into the pocket of her coat.

  "I'm--I'm all right," she asserted fiercely, as Rhoda Gray, pausing inthe act of gathering up the discarded garments, regarded her anxiously."Bring me a package of that money after you've put those thingsaway--yes, and you'll find a flashlight there. We'll need it going downthe stairs."

  Rhoda Gray made no answer. There was no hesitation now in her actions,as, to the pile of clothing in her arms, she added the revolver that layon the blanket, and, returning to the little trap-door in the ceiling,hid them away; but her brain was whirling again in a turmoil of doubt.This was madness, utter, stark, blind madness, this thing that she wasdoing! It was suicide, literally that, nothing less than suicide forone in Gypsy Nan's condition to attempt this thing. But the woman wouldcertainly die here, too, with ou
t medical assistance--only there was thepolice! Rhoda Gray's face, as she stood upright in the little apertureagain, throwing the wavering candle-rays around her, seemed suddenlyto have grown pinched and wan. The police! The police! It was herconscience, then, that was gnawing at her--because of the police!Was that it? Well, there was also, then, another side. Could she turninformer, traitor, become a female Judas to a dying woman, who hadsobbed and thanked her Maker because she had found some one whom shebelieved she could trust? That was a hideous and an abominable thing todo! "You swore it! You swore you'd see me through!"--the words cameand rang insistently in her ears. The sweet, piquant little face set inhard, determined lines. Mechanically she picked up the flashlight and apackage of the banknotes, lowered the board in the ceiling into place,and returned to Gypsy Nan.

  "I'm ready, if there is no other way," she said soberly, as she watchedthe other tuck the money away inside her waist. "I said I would see youthrough, and I will. But I doubt if you are strong enough, even withwhat help I can give you, to get down the stairs, and even if you can, Iam afraid with all my soul of the consequences to you, and--"

  Gypsy Nan blew out the candle, and staggered to her feet.

  "There isn't any other way." She leaned heavily on Rhoda Gray's arm."Can't you see that? Don't you think I know? Haven't you seen enoughhere to convince you of that? I--I'm just spilling the dice for--forperhaps the last time--but it's the only chance--the only chance. Goon!" she urged tremulously. "Shoot the glim, and get me to the door.And--and for the love of God, don't make a sound! It's all up if we'reseen going out!"

  The flashlight's ray danced in crazy gyrations as the two figures swayedand crept across the garret. Rhoda Gray unlocked the door, and, as theypassed out, locked it again on the outside.

  "Hide the key!" whispered Gypsy Nan. "See--that crack in the floor underthe partition! Slip it in there!"

  The flashlight guiding her, Rhoda Gray stooped down to where, betweenthe rough attic flooring and the equally rough boarding of the garretpartition, there was a narrow space. She pushed the key in out of sight;and then, with her arm around Gypsy Nan's waist, and with the flashlightat cautious intervals winking ahead of her through the darkness, shebegan to descend the stairs.

  It was slow work, desperately slow, both because they dared not makethe slightest noise, and because, too, as far as strength was concerned,Gypsy Nan was close to the end of her endurance. Down one flight, andthen the other, they went, resting at every few steps, leaning backagainst the wall, black shadows that merged with the blackness aroundthem, the flashlight used only when necessity compelled it, lest itsgleam might attract the attention of some other occupant of the house.And at times Gypsy Nan's head lay cheek to Rhoda Gray's, and the other'sbody grew limp and became a great weight, so heavy that it seemed shecould no longer support it.

  They gained the street door, hung there tensely for a moment to makesure they were not observed by any chance passer-by, then stepped out onthe sidewalk. Gypsy Nan spoke then:

  "I--I can't go much farther," she faltered. "But--but it doesn't matternow we're out of the house--it doesn't matter where you find me--onlylet's try a few steps more."

  Rhoda Gray had slipped the flashlight inside her blouse.

  "Yes," she said. Her breath was coming heavily. "It's all right, Nan. Iunderstand."

  They walked on a little way up the block, and then Gypsy Nan's graspsuddenly tightened on Rhoda Gray's arm.

  "Play the game!" Gypsy Nan's voice was scarcely audible. "You'll playthe game, won't you? You'll--you'll see me through. That's a goodname--as good as any--Charlotte Green--that's all you know--but--butdon't leave me alone with them--you--you'll come to the hospital withme, won't you--I--"

  Gypsy Nan had collapsed in a heap on the sidewalk.

  Rhoda Gray glanced swiftly around her. In the squalid tenement beforewhich she stood there would be no help of the kind that was needed.There would be no telephone in there by means of which she could summonan ambulance. And then her glance rested on a figure far up the blockunder a street lamp--a policeman. She bent hurriedly over the prostratewoman, whispered a word of encouragement, and ran in the officer'sdirection.

  As she drew closer to the policeman, she called out to him. He turnedand came running toward, and, as he reached her, after a sharp glanceinto her face, touched his helmet respectfully.

  "What's wrong with the White Moll to-night?" he asked pleasantly.

  "There's--there's a woman down there"--Rhoda Gray was breathless fromher run--"on the sidewalk. She needs help at once."

  "Drunk?" inquired the officer laconically.

  "No, I'm sure it's anything but that," Rhoda Gray answered quickly."She appears to be very sick. I think you had better summon an ambulancewithout delay."

  "All right!" agreed the officer. "There's a patrol box down there inthe direction you came from. We'll have a look at her on the way." Hestarted briskly forward with Rhoda Gray beside him. "Who is she d'yeknow?" he asked.

  "She said her name was Charlotte Green," Rhoda Gray replied. "That's allshe could, or would, say about herself."

  "Then she ain't a regular around here, or I guess you'd know her!"grunted the policeman.

  Rhoda Gray made no answer.

  They reached Gypsy Nan. The officer bent over her, then picked her upand carried her to the tenement doorway.

  "I guess you're right, all right! She's bad! I'll send in a call," hesaid, and started on the run down the street.

  Gypsy Nan had lost consciousness. Rhoda Gray settled herself on thedoorstep, supporting the woman's head in her lap. Her face had setagain in grim, hard, perplexed lines. There seemed something unnatural,something menacingly weird, something even uncanny about it all. Perhapsit was because it seemed as though she could so surely foresee the end.Gypsy Nan would not live through the night. Something told her that. Thewoman's masquerade, for whatever purpose it had been assumed, was over."You'll play the game, won't you? You'll see me through?" There seemedsomething pitifully futile in those words now!

  The officer returned.

  "It's all right," he said. "How's she seem?"

  Rhoda Gray shook her head.

  A passer-by stopped, asked what was the matter--and lingered curiously.Another, and another, did the same. A little crowd collected. Theofficer kept them back. Came then the strident clang of a gong andthe rapid beat of horses' hoofs. A white-coated figure jumped fromthe ambulance, pushed his way forward, and bent over the form in RhodaGray's lap. A moment more, and they were carrying Gypsy Nan to theambulance.

  Rhoda Gray spoke to the officer:

  "I think perhaps I had better go with her."

  "Sure!" said the officer.

  She caught snatches of the officer's words, as he made a report to thedoctor:

  "Found her here in the street...Charlotte Green...nothing else...theWhite Moll, straight as God makes 'em...she'll see the woman through."He turned to Rhoda Gray. "You can get in there with them, miss."

  It took possibly ten minutes to reach the hospital, but, before thattime, Gypsy Nan, responding in a measure to stimulants, had regainedconsciousness. She insisted on clinging to Rhoda Gray's hand as theycarried in the stretcher.

  "Don't leave me!" she pleaded. And then, for the first time, Gypsy Nan'snerve seemed to fail her. "I--oh, my God--I--I don't want to die!" shecried out.

  But a moment later, inside the hospital, as the admitting officer beganto ask questions of Rhoda Gray, Gypsy Nan had apparently recovered hergrip upon herself.

  "Ah, let her alone!" she broke in. "She doesn't know me any more thanyou do. She found me on the street. But she was good to me, God blessher!"

  "Your name's Charlotte Green? Yes?" The man nodded. "Where do you live?"

  "Wherever I like!" Gypsy Nan was snarling truculently now. "What's itmatter where I live? Don't you ever have any one come here without aletter from the pastor of her church!" She pulled out the package ofbanknotes. "You aren't going to get stuck. This'll see you throughwhatever happens. Give
me a--a private room, and"--her voice wasweakening rapidly--"and"--there came a bitter, facetious laugh--"thebest you've got." Her voice was weakening rapidly.

  They carried her upstairs. She still insisted on clinging to RhodaGray's hand.

  "Don't leave me!" she pleaded again, as they reached the door of aprivate room, and Rhoda Gray disengaged her hand gently.

  "I'll stay outside here," Rhoda Gray promised. "I won't go away withoutseeing you again."

  Rhoda Gray sat down on a settee in the hall. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was five minutes of eleven. Doctors and nurses came and wentfrom the room. Then a great quiet seemed to settle down around her. Ahalf hour passed. A doctor went into the room, and presently came outagain. She intercepted him as he came along the corridor.

  He shook his head.

  She did not understand his technical explanation. There was somethingabout a clot and blood stoppage. But as she resumed her seat, sheunderstood very fully that the end was near. The woman was restingquietly now, the doctor had said, but if she, Rhoda Gray, cared to wait,she could see the other before leaving the hospital.

  And so she waited. She had promised Gypsy Nan she would.

  The minutes dragged along. A quarter of an hour passed. Still another.Midnight came. Fifteen minutes more went by, and then a nurse came outof the room, and, standing by the door, beckoned to Rhoda Gray.

  "She is asking for you," the nurse said. "Please do not stay more thana few minutes. I shall be outside here, and if you notice the slightestchange, call me instantly."

  Rhoda Gray nodded.

  "I understand," she said.

  The door closed softly behind her. She was smiling cheerily as shecrossed the room and bent over Gypsy Nan.

  The woman stretched out her hand.

  "The White Moll!" she whispered. "He told the truth, that bulldid--straight as they make 'em, and--"

  "Don't try to talk," Rhoda Gray interrupted gently. "Wait until you area little stronger."

  "Stronger!" Gypsy Nan shook her head. "Don't try to kid me! I know. Theytold me. I'd have known it anyway. I'm going out."

  Rhoda Gray found no answer for a moment. A great lump had risen in herthroat. Neither would she have needed to be told; she, too, would haveknown it anyway--it was stamped in the gray pallor of the woman's face.She pressed Gypsy Nan's hand.

  And then Gypsy Nan spoke again, a queer, yearning hesitancy in hervoice:

  "Do--do you believe in God?"

  "Yes," said Rhoda Gray simply.

  Gypsy Nan closed her eyes.

  "Do--do you think there is a chance--even at the last--if--if, withoutthrowing down one's pals, one tries to make good?"

  "Yes," said Rhoda Gray again.

  "Is the door closed?" Gypsy Nan attempted to raise herself on her elbow,as though to see for herself.

  Rhoda Gray forced the other gently back upon the pillows.

  "It is closed," she said. "You need not be afraid."

  "What time is it?" demanded Gypsy Nan.

  Rhoda Gray looked at her watch.

  "Twenty-five minutes after twelve," she answered.

  "There's time yet, then," whispered Gypsy Nan. "There's time yet."She lay silent for a moment, then her hand closed tightly around RhodaGray's. "Listen!" she said. "There's more about--about why I lived likethat than I told you. And--and I can't tell you now--I can't go out likea yellow cur--I'm not going to snitch on anybody else just because I'mthrough myself. But--but there's something on to-night that I'd--I'dlike to stop. Only the police, or anybody else, aren't to know anythingabout it, because then they'd nip my friends. See? But you can doit--easy. You can do it alone without anybody knowing. There's time yet.They weren't going to pull it until halfpast one--and there won't be anydanger for you. All you've got to do is get the money before they do,and then see that it goes back where it belongs to-morrow. Will you? Youdon't want to see a crime committed to-night if--if you can stop it, doyou?"

  Rhoda Gray's face was grave. She hesitated for a moment.

  "I'll have to know more than that before I can answer you, Nan," shesaid.

  "It's the only way to stop it!" Gypsy Nan whispered feverishly. "I won'tsplit on my pals--I won't--I won't! But I trust you. Will you promisenot to snitch if I tell you how to stop it, even if you don't go thereyourself? I'm offering you a chance to stop a twenty-thousand-dollarhaul. If you don't promise it's got to go through, because I've gotto stand by the ones that were in it with me. I--I'd like to makegood--just--once. But I can't do it any other way. For God's sake, yousee that, don't you?"

  "Yes," said Rhoda Gray in a low voice; "but the promise you ask for isthe same as though I promised to try to get the money you speak of. If Iknew what was going on, and did nothing, I would be an accomplice to thecrime, and guilty myself."

  "But I can't do anything else!" Gypsy Nan was speaking with greatdifficulty. "I won't get those that were with me in wrong--I won't! Youcan prevent a crime to-night, if you will--you--you can help me to--tomake good."

  Rhoda Gray's lips tightened, "Will you give me your word that I can dowhat you suggest--that it is feasible, possible?"

  "Yes," said Gypsy Nan. "You can do it easily, and--and it's safe. It--itonly wants a little nerve, and--and you've got that."

  "I promise, then," said Rhoda Gray.

  "Thank God!" Gypsy Nan pulled fiercely at Rhoda Gray's wrist. "Comenearer-nearer! You know Skarbolov, old Skarbolov, who keeps the antiquestore--on the street--around the corner from my place?" Rhoda Graynodded.

  "He's rich!" whispered Gypsy Nan. "Think of it! Him--rich! But he getsthe best of the Fifth Avenue crowd just because he keeps his joint inthat rotten hole. They think they're getting the real thing in antiques!He's a queer old fool. Afraid people would know he had money if he keptit in the bank--afraid of a bank, too. Understand? We found out thatevery once in a while he'd change a lot of small bills for a bigone--five-hundred-dollar bills--thousand-dollar bills. That put uswise. We began to watch him. It took months to find where he hid it.We've spent night after night searching through his shop. You can get ineasily. There's no one there--upstairs is just a storage place for hisextra stock. There's a big padlock on the back door, but there's a falselink in the chain--count three links to the right from the padlock--weput it there, and--"

  Gypsy Nan's voice had become almost inaudible. She pulled at RhodaGray's wrist again, urging her closer.

  "Listen--quick! I--my strength!" she panted. "An antique he neversells--old escritoire against rear wall--secret drawer--take out widemiddle drawer--reach in and rub your hand along the top--you'll feelthe spring. We waited to--to get--get counterfeits--put counterfeitsthere--understand? Then he'd never know he'd been robbed--not for along time anyway--discovered perhaps when he was dead--old wife--sufferthen--I--got to make good--make good--I--" She came up suddenly on bothher elbows, the dark eyes staring wildly. "Yes, yes!" she whispered."Seven-three-nine! Look out!" Her voice rang with sudden terror, risingalmost to a scream. "Look out! Can't you understand, you fool! I've toldyou! Seven-three-nine! Seven-three..."

  Rhoda Gray's arms had gone around the other's shoulders. She heard thedoor open-and then a quick, light step. There wasn't any other soundnow. She made way mechanically for the nurse. And then, after a moment,she rose from her knees. The nurse answered her unspoken question.

  "Yes; it's over."