er mind raced on through the sequence of events that seemed
to have spanned some vast, immeasurable space of time until they had
brought her to--last night.

Last night! She had thought it was the end last night, but instead--The
dark eyes grew suddenly hard and intent. Yes, she had counted upon last
night, when, with the necessary proof in her possession with which to
confront Danglar with the crime of murder, she could wring from the man
all that now remained necessary to substantiate her own story and clear
herself in the eyes of the law of that robbery at Skarbolov's antique
store of which she was held guilty--and instead she had barely escaped
with her life. That was the story of last night.

Her eyes grew harder. Well, the way was still open, wasn't it? Last
night had changed nothing in that respect. To-night, as the White Moll,
she had only to find and corner Danglar as she had planned to do last
night. She had still only to get the man alone somewhere.

Rhoda Gray's hands clenched tightly. That was all that was
necessary--just the substantiation of her own story that the plot to rob
Skarbolov lay at the door of Danglar and his gang; or, rather, perhaps,
that the plot was in existence before she had ever heard of Skarbolov.
It would prove her own statement of what the dying woman had said. It
would exonerate her from guilt; it would prove that, rather than having
any intention of committing crime, she had taken the only means within
her power of preventing one. The real Gypsy Nan, Danglar's wife, who
had died that night, bad, even in eleventh-hour penitence, refused to
implicate her criminal associates. There was a crime projected which,
unless she, Rhoda Gray, would agree to forestall it in person and would
give her oath not to warn the police about it and so put the actual
criminals in jeopardy, would go on to its fulfillment!

She remembered that night in the hospital. The scene came vividly before
her now. The woman's pleading, the woman's grim loyalty even in death to
her pals. She, Rhoda Gray, had given her oath.

It became necessary only to substantiate those facts. Danglar could be
made to do it. She had now in her possession the evidence that would
convict him of complicity in the murder of Deemer, and for which
murder the original Gypsy Nan had gone into hiding; she even had in her
possession the missing jewels that had prompted that murder; she had,
too, the evidence now to bring the entire gang to