e, her life depended now. She studied the car's
mechanism over the chauffeur's shoulder, even as she continued to hold
her revolver pressed steadily against the back of the man's neck.
She could drive a car--she could drive this one. The presence of this
chauffeur, one of the gang, was an added menace; there were too many
tricks he might play before she could forestall them, any one of which
would deliver her into the hands of Danglar behind there--an apparently
inadvertent stoppage due to traffic, for instance, that would bring
the pursuing car alongside--that, or a dozen other things which would
achieve the same end.

"Open the door on your side!" she commanded abruptly. "And get
out--without slowing the car! Do you understand?"

He turned his head for a half incredulous, half frightened look at her.
She met his eyes steadily--the torn veil, quite discarded now, was in
her pocket. She did not know the man; but it was quite evident from the
almost ludicrous dismay which spread over his face that he knew her.

"The--the White Moll!" he stammered. "It's the White Moll!"

"Jump!" she ordered imperatively--and her revolver pressed still more
significantly against the man's flesh.

He seemed in even frantic haste to obey her. He whipped the door open,
and, before she could reach to the wheel, he had leaped to the street.
The car swerved sharply. She flung herself over into the vacated seat,
and snatched at the wheel barely in time to prevent the machine from
mounting the curb.

She looked around again through the window of the hood. The man had
swung aboard Danglar's car, which was only a few yards behind.

Rhoda Gray drove steadily. Here in the city streets her one aim must be
never to let the other car come abreast of her; but she could prevent
that easily enough by watching Danglar's movements, and cutting across
in front of him if he attempted anything of the sort. But ultimately
what was she to do? How was she to escape? Her hands gripped and
clenched in a sudden, almost panic-like desperation at the wheel. Turn
suddenly around a corner, and jump from the car herself? It was useless
to attempt it; they would keep too close behind to give her a chance
to get out of sight. Well, then, suppose she jumped from the car, and
trusted herself to the protection of the people on the street. She shook
her head grimly. Danglar, she knew only too well, would risk anything,
go to any length, to put an end to the White Moll. H