Part 3

Gypsy Nan opened her eyes, stared for a moment dully, then, in a curiously quick, desperate way, jerked herself up on her elbow.

“Youse get t'hell outer here!” she croaked. “Get out!”

“I am going to,” said Rhoda Gray evenly. “And I'm going at once.” She turned abruptly and walked toward the door. “I'm going to get a doctor. You've gone too far this time, Nan, and--”

“No, youse don't!” Gypsy Nan's voice rose in a sudden scream. She sat bolt upright in bed, and pulled a revolver out from under the coverings. “Youse don't bring no doctor here! See! Youse put a finger on dat door, an' it won't be de door yousel'l go out by!”

Rhoda Gray did not move.

“Nan, put that revolver down!” she ordered quietly. “You don't know what you are doing.”

“Don't!” leered Gypsy Nan. The revolver held, swaying a little unsteadily, on Rhoda Gray. There was silence for a moment; then Gypsy Nan spoke again, evidently through dry lips, for she wet them again and again with her tongue: “Say, youse are de White Moll, ain't youse?”

“Yes,” said Rhoda Gray.

Gypsy Nan appeared to ponder this for an instant.

“Well den, come back here an' sit down on de foot of de bed,” she commanded finally.

Rhoda Gray obeyed without hesitation. There was nothing to do but humor the woman in her present state, a state that seemed one bordering on delirium and complete collapse.

“Nan,” she said, “you--”

“De White Moll!” mumbled Gypsy Nan. “I wonder if de dope dey hands out about youse is all on de level? My Gawd, I wonder if wot dey says is true?”

“What do they say?” asked Rhoda Gray gently.

Gypsy Nan lay back on her pillow as though her strength, over-taxed, had failed her; her hand, though it still clutched the revolver, seemed to have been dragged down by the weapon's weight, and now rested upon the blanket.

“Dey say,” said Gypsy Nan slowly, “dat youse knows more on de inside here dan anybody else--t'ings youse got from de spacers' molls, an' from de dips demselves when youse was lendin' dem a hand; dey say dere ain't many youse couldn't send up de river just by liftin' yer finger, but dat youse're straight, an' dat youse've kept yer map closed, an' dat youse' re safe.”

Rhoda Gray's dark eyes softened, as she leaned forward and laid a hand gently over the one of Gypsy Nan that held the revolver.

“It couldn't be any other way, could it, Nan?” she said simply.

“Wot yer after?” demanded Gypsy Nan, with sudden mockery. “De gun? Well, take it!” She let go her hold of the weapon. “But don't kid yerself dat youse're kiddin' me into givin' it to youse because youse have got a pretty smile an' a sweet voice! Savvy? I”--she choked suddenly, and caught at her throat--“I guess youse're de only chance I got-dat's all.”

“That's better,” said Rhoda Gray encouragingly. “And now you'll let me go and get a doctor, won't you, Nan?”

“Wait!” said Gypsy Nan hoarsely. “Youse're de only chance I got. Will youse swear youse won't t'row me down if I tells youse somet'ing? I ain't got no other way. Will youse swear youse'll see me through?”

“Of course, Nan,” said Rhoda Gray soothingly. “Of course, I will, Nan. I promise.”

Gypsy Nan came up on her elbow.

“Dat ain't good enough!” she cried out. “A promise ain't good enough! For Gawd's sake, come across all de way! Swear youse'll keep mum an' see me through!”

“Yes, Nan”--Rhoda Gray's eyes smiled reassurance--“I swear it. But you will be all right again in the morning.”

“Will I? You think so, do you? Well, I can only say that I wish I did!”

Rhoda Gray leaned sharply forward, staring in amazement at the figure on the bed. The woman's voice was the same, it was still hoarse, still heavy, and the words came with painful effort; but the English was suddenly perfect now.

“Nan, what is it? I don't understand!” she said tensely. “What do you mean?”