The White Moll | Page 7

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?"
"You think you know what's the matter with me." There was a curious
mockery in the weak voice. "You think I've drunk myself into this state.
You think I'm on the verge of the D.T.'s now. That empty bottle under
the bed proves it, doesn't it? And anybody around here will tell you that
Gypsy Nan has thrown enough empties out of the window there to
stock a bottle factory for years, some of them on the flat roof just
outside the window, some of them on the roof of the shed below, and
some of them down into the yard, just depending on how drunk she was
and how far she could throw. And that proves it, too, doesn't it? Well,
maybe it does, that's what I did it for; but I never touched the stuff, not
a drop of it, from the day I came here. I didn't dare touch it. I had to
keep my wits. Last night you thought I was drunk when you found me

in the doorway downstairs. I wasn't. I was too sick and weak to get up
here. I almost told you then, only I was afraid, and - and I thought that
perhaps I'd be all right to-day."
"Oh, I didn't know!" Rhoda Gray was on her knees beside the bed.
There was no room to question the truth of the woman's words, it was
in Gypsy Nan's eyes, in the struggling, labored voice.
"Yes." Gypsy Nan clutched at the shawl around her neck, and shivered.
"I thought I might be all right to-day, and that I'd get better. But I didn't.
And now I've got about a chance in a hundred. I know. It's my heart."
"You mean you've been alone here, sick, since last night?" There was
anxiety, perplexity, in