She moved now slightly, without a sound, parting the clothing away from in front of her, and moving the cretonne hanging by the fraction of an inch where it touched the side wall of the room. And now she could see the Pug, with his dirty and discolored celluloid eye-patch, and his ingeniously contorted face; and she could see Pinkie Bonn's pasty-white, drug-stamped countenance It was not a large room. The two men in the opposite corner along the wall from her were scarcely more than ten feet away. They swung the washstand out from the wall, and the Pug, going in behind it, began to work on one of the wall boards. Pinkie Bonn, an unlighted cigarette dangling from his lip, leaned over the washstand watching his companion.
A minute passed - another. It was still in the room, except only for the distant sounds of the world outside - a clatter of wheels upon the pavement, the muffled roar of the elevated, the clang of a trolley bell. And then the Pug began to mutter to himself. Rhoda Gray smiled a little grimly. She was not the only one, it would appear, who experienced difficulty with old Jake Luertz's crafty hiding place!
"Say, dis is de limit!" the Pug growled out suddenly. "Dere's more damned knots in dis board dan I ever save in any piece of wood in me life before, an' -" He drew back abruptly from the wall, twisting his head sharply around. "D'ye hear dat, Pinkie!" he whispered tensely. "Quick! Put out de light! Quick! Dere's some one down at de front door!"
Rhoda Gray felt the blood ebb from her face. She had heard nothing save the rattle and bump of a wagon along the street below; but she had had reason to appreciate on a certain occasion before that the Pug, alias the Adventurer, was possessed of a sense of hearing that was abnormally acute. If it was some one else - who was it? What would it mean to her? What complication here in this room would result? What...
The light was out. Pinkie Bonn had stepped silently across the room to the gas jet near the door. Her eyes, strained, she could just make out the Adventurer's form kneeling by the wall, and then - was she mad! Was the faint night-light of the city filtering in through the window mocking her? The Adventurer, hidden from his companion by the washstand, was working swiftly and without a sound - or else it was a phantasm of shadows that tricked her!
A door in the wall opened; the Adventurer thrust in his hand, drew out a package, and, leaning around, slipped it quickly into the bottom of the washstand, where, with its little doors, there was a most convenient and very commodious apartment. He turned again then, seemed to take something from his pocket and place it in the opening in the wall, and then the panel closed.
It had taken scarcely more than a second.
Rhoda Gray brushed her hand across her eyes. No, it wasn't a phantasm! She had misjudged the Adventurer - quite misjudged him!
The Adventurer, even with one of the gang present - to furnish an unimpeachable alibi for him! - was plucking the gang's fruit again for his own and undivided enrichment!
Pinkie Bonn's voice came in a guarded whisper from the doorway.
"I don't hear nothin'!" said Pinkie Bonn anxiously.
The Pug tiptoed across the room, and joined his companion. She could not see them now, but apparently they stood together by the door listening. They stood there for a long time. Occasionally she heard them whisper to each other; and then finally the Pug spoke in a less guarded voice.
"All right," he said. "I guess me nerves are gettin' de creeps.
Shoot de light on again, an' let's get back on de job. An' youse can take a turn dis time pushin' de knots, Pinkie; mabbe youse'll have better luck."
The light went on again. Both men came back across the room, and now Pinkie Bonn knelt at the wall while the Pug leaned over the washstand watching him. Pinkie Bonn was not immediately successful; the Pug's nerves, of which he had complained, appeared shortly to get the better of him.
"Fer Gawd's sake, hurry up!" he urged irritably. "Or else lemme take another crack at it, Pinkie, an'...
A low, triumphant exclamation came from Pinkie Bonn, as the small door in the wall swung suddenly open.
"There she is, my bucko!" he grinned. "Some nifty vault, eh? The old guy-" He stopped. He had thrust in his hand, and drawn it out again. His fingers gripped a sheet of notepaper - but he was seemingly unconscious of that fact. He was leaning forward, staring into the aperture. "It's empty!" he choked.
"Wot's dat?" cried the Pug, and sprang to his companion's side.
"Youse're crazy, Pinkie! He thrust his head toward the opening - and then turned and stared for a moment helplessly at Pinkie Bonn.
"So help me!" he said heavily. "It's - it's empty." He shook his fist suddenly. "De Crab's handed us one, dat's wot! But de Crab'll get his fer -"
"It wasn't the Crab!" Pinkie Bonn was stuttering his words. He stood, jaws dropped, his eyes glued now on the paper in his hand.
The Pug, his face working, the personification of baffled rage and intolerance, leered at Pinkie Bonn. "Well, who was it, den?" he snarled.
Pinkie Bonn licked his lips.
"The White Moll!" He licked his lips again.
"De White Moll!" echoed the Pug incredulously.
"Yes," said Pinkie Bonn. "Listen to what's on this paper that I fished out of there I Listen! She's got all the nerve of the devil!
'With thanks, and my most grateful appreciation - the White Moll.'"
The Pug snatched the paper from Pinkie Bonn's hand, as though to assure himself that it was true. Rhoda Gray smiled faintly. It was good acting, very excellently done - seeing that the Pug had written the note and placed it in the hiding place himself!
"My God!" mumbled Pinkie Bonn thickly. "I ain't afraid of most things, but I'm gettin' scared of her. She ain't human. Last night you know what happened, and the night before, and -" He gulped suddenly. "Let's get out of here !" he said hurriedly.
The Pug made no reply, except for a muttered growl of assent and a nod of his head.
