“Sparrow--quick! Do as I told you!” she half sobbed over her shoulder--and opening the door, stepped out and dosed it behind her. XX. A LONE HAND And now Rhoda Gray was in the radius of the arc lamp, and distinctly visible to any one coming down the yard. How near were they? Yes, she saw them now--three forms-perhaps a little more than a hundred yards away. She moved a few steps deliberately toward them, as though quite unconscious of their presence; and then, as a shout from one of them announced that she was seen, she halted, hesitated as though surprised, terrified and uncertain, and, as they sprang forward, she turned and ran--making for the side of the shed away from the side door. A voice rang out--Danglar's: “By God, it's the White Moll!” It was the only way! She had the pack in cry now. They would pay no attention to the Adventurer while the White Moll was seemingly almost within their grasp. If she could only hold them now for a little while--just a little while--the Adventurer wasn't hurt--only cramped and numbed--he would be all right again and able to take care of himself in a little while--and meanwhile the Sparrow would help him to get away. She was running with all her speed. She heard them behind her--the pound, pound, pound of feet. She had gained the side of the shed. The light from the arc lamp was shut off from her now, and they would only be able to see her, she knew, as a dim, fleeting shadow. Where was that iron casting? Pray God, it was heavy enough; and pray God, it was not too heavy! Yes, here it was! She pretended to stumble--and caught the thing up in her arms. An exultant cry went up from behind her as she appeared to fall--oaths, a chorus of them, as she went on again. They had not gained on her before; but with the weight in her arms, especially as she was obliged to carry it awkwardly in order to shield it from their view with her body, she could not run so fast now, and they were beginning to close up on her. But she was on the wharf now, and there was not much farther to go, and--and surely she could hold all the lead she needed until she reached the edge. The light from the arc lamp held her in view again out here on the wharf where she was clear of the shed; but she knew they would not fire at her except as a last resort. They could not afford to sound an alarm that would attract notice to the spot--when they had, or believed they had, both the Adventurer and the White Moll within their grasp now.