the edge of the bed, sat up.

"The White Moll! The words rattled in her throat. A fleck of blood
showed on her lips. "Well, you know now! You're going to help me,
aren't you? I - I've got to get out of here - get to a hospital."

Rhoda Gray laid her hands firmly on the other's shoulders.

"Get back into bed," she said steadily. "Do you want to make
yourself worse? You'll kill yourself!"

Gypsy Nan pushed her away.

"Don't make me use up what little strength I've got left in talking,"
she cried out piteously, and suddenly wrung her hands together.
"I'm wanted by the police. If I'm caught, it's - it's that 'chair.'
I couldn't have a doctor brought here, could I? How long would
it be before he saw that Gypsy Nan was a fake? I can't let you go
and have an ambulance, say, come and get me, can I, even with the
disguise hidden away? They'd say this is where Gypsy Nan lives.
There's something queer here. Where is Gypsy Nan? I've got to get
away from here - away from Gypsy Nan - don't you understand? It's
death one way; maybe it is the other, maybe it'll finish me to get
out of here, but it's the only thing left to do. I thought some
one, some one that I could trust, never mind who, would have come
to-day, but-but no one came, and - and maybe now it s too late, but
there's just the one chance, and I've got to take it." Gypsy Nan
tore at the shawl around her throat as though it choked her, and
flung it from her shoulders. Her eyes were gleaming with an
unhealthy, feverish light. "Don't you see? We get out on the