It was slow work, desperately slow, both because they dared not
make the slightest noise, and because, too, as far as strength was
concerned, Gypsy Nan was close to the end of her endurance. Down
one flight, and then the other, they went, resting at every few
steps, leaning back against the wall, black shadows that merged
with the blackness around them, the flashlight used only when
necessity compelled it, lest its gleam might attract the attention
of some other occupant of the house. And at times Gypsy Nan's head
lay cheek to Rhoda Gray's, and the other's body grew limp and
became a great weight, so heavy that it seemed she could no longer
support it.

They gained the street door, hung there tensely for a moment to
make sure they were not observed by any chance passer-by, then
stepped out on the sidewalk. Gypsy Nan spoke then:

"I - I can't go much farther," she faltered. "But - but it doesn't
matter now we're out of the house - it doesn't matter where you
find me - only let's try a few steps more."

Rhoda Gray had slipped the flashlight inside her blouse.

"Yes," she said. Her breath was coming heavily. "It's all right,
Nan. I understand."

They walked on a little way up the block, and then Gypsy Nan's grasp
suddenly tightened on Rhoda Gray's arm.

"Play the game!" Gypsy Nan's voice was scarcely audible. "You'll
play the game, won't you? You'll - you'll see me through. That's