choice between that and the quick, painless end that
a bullet would bring; but there are some things that a man can't stand.
Get me? We'll try a few of those on the Pug, and, believe me, before
we're through, there won't be any secrets wrapped up in his bosom."

Rhoda Gray stood motionless. Thank God it had grown dark--dark enough to
hide the whiteness that she knew had crept over her face, and the horror
that had crept into her eyes. "You mean"--her voice was very low--"you
mean you're going to torture him into talking?"

"Sure!" said Danglar. "What do you think!"

"And after that?"

"We bump him off, of course," said Danglar callously. "He knows all
about us, don't he? And I guess we'll square up on what's coming to him!
He's put the crimp into us for the last time!" Danglar's voice pitched
suddenly hoarse in fury. "That's a hell of a question to ask! What do
you think we'd do with a yellow cur that's double-crossed us like that?"

Plead for the Adventurer's life? It was useless; it was worse than
useless--it would only arouse suspicion toward herself. From the
standpoint of any one of the gang, the Adventurer's life was forfeit.
Her mind was swift, cruelly swift, in its workings now. There came the
prompting to disclose her own identity to tell Danglar that he need not
go to the Adventurer to discover the whereabouts of the White Moll, that
she was here now before him; there came the prompting to offer herself
in lieu of the man she loved. But that, too, was useless, and worse than
useless; they would still do away with the Adventurer because he had
been the Pug, and the only chance he now had, as represented by whatever
she might be able to do, would be gone, since she would but have
delivered herself into their hands.

She drew back suddenly. Danglar had stepped toward her. She was unable
to avoid him, and his arm encircled her waist. She shivered as the
pressure of his arm tightened.

"It's all right, old girl!" he said exuberantly. "You've been through
hell, you have; but it's all right at last. You leave it to me! Your
husband's got a kiss to make up for every drop of that grease you've had
to put on the prettiest face in New York."

It seemed as though she must scream out. It was hideous. She could not
force herself to endure it another instant even for safety's safe. She
pushed him away. It was unbearable--at any risk, cost what it might.
Mind, soul and body recoiled from the embrace.

"Leave me alo