perhaps, even an intimate, friend of hers."

"Aw, go on!" said Rhoda Gray, alias Gypsy Nan, deprecatingly. "Dat
don't prove nothin'! I'd have done as much for a stray cat if de
bulls was chasm' her. See? I told youse once youse had de wrong
number. She didn't leave no address. Dat's flat, an' dat's de end
of it."

"I'm sorry," said the Adventurer gravely. "Perhaps I haven't made
out a good enough case. Or perhaps, even believing me, you consider
that the White Moll, and not yourself, should be the judge as to
whether my services are acceptable or not?"

"Youse can dope it out any way youse likes," said Rhoda Gray
indifferently. "Me t'roat's gettin' hoarse tellin' youse dere's
nothin' doin'!"

"I'm sorry," said the Adventurer again. He smiled suddenly, and
tucking his gloves into his pocket, leaned forward and tore off a
small piece from the margin of the newspaper on the floor - but his
head the while was now cocked in a curious listening attitude in the
direction of the door. "You will pardon me, my dear lady, if I
confess that, in spite of what you say, I still harbor the belief
that you know where to reach the White Moll; and so -" He stopped
abruptly, and she found his glance, sharp and critical, upon her.
"You are expecting a visitor, perhaps?" he inquired softly.

Rhoda Gray stared in genuine perplexity.

"Wot's de answer?" she demanded.