d, eluding him, her revolver leveled.

"Youse keep yer dirty paws off me!" she screamed. "Yah, wot can youse
do! Wot do I care! She was good to me, she was, an--"

Rough Rorke was gone-taking the stairs three and four at a time. Then
she heard the street door slam.

She rose slowly to her feet--and suddenly reached out, grasping at the
door to steady herself. It seemed as though every muscle had gone limp,
as though her limbs had not strength to support her. And for a moment
she hung there, then she locked the door, staggered back, sank down
on the edge of the bed, and, with her chin in her hands, stared at
the guttering stub of candle. And presently, in an almost aimless,
mechanical way, she felt in her pocket for the piece of paper that she
had found wrapped around the key, and drew it out. There were three
figures scrawled upon it--nothing else.

7 3 9

She dropped her chin in her hands again, and stared again at the candle.
And after a while the candle went out.

IV. THE ADVENTURER

Twenty-Four hours had passed. Twenty four hours! Was it no more than
that since--Rhoda Gray, in the guise of Gypsy Nan, as she sat on the
edge of the disreputable, poverty-stricken cot, grew suddenly tense,
holding her breath as she listened. The sound reached the attic so
faintly that it might be but the product solely of the imagination.
No--it came again! And it even defined itself now--a stealthy footstep
on the lower stairs.

A small, leather-bound notebook, in which she had been engrossed, was
tucked instantly away under the soiled blanket, and she glanced sharply
around the garret. A new candle, which she had bought in the single
excursion she had ventured to make from the house during the day, was
stuck in the neck of the gin bottle, and burned now on the chair beside
her. She had not bought a new lamp--it gave too much light! The old one,
the pieces of it, lay over there, brushed into a heap in the corner on
the floor.

The footstep became more audible. Her lips tightened a little. The
hour was late. It must be already after eleven o'clock. Her eyes grew
perturbed. Perhaps it was only one of the unknown tenants of the floor
below going to his or her room; but, on the other hand, no one had come
near the garret since last night, when that strange and, yes, sinister
trick of fate had thrust upon her the personality of Gypsy Nan, and it
was hoping for too much to expect such seclusio