“Partially,” he said. “But, quite apart from that, the reason I want to find her is because she is in very great danger. Clever as she is, it is a very different matter to-day now that the police have found her out. She has been forced into hiding, and, if alone and without any friend to help her, her situation, to put it mildly, must be desperate in the extreme. You befriended her last night, and I honor you for the unselfishness with which you laid yourself open to the future attentions of that animal Rorke, but that very fact has deprived her of what might otherwise have been a refuge and a quite secure retreat here with you. I do not wish to intrude, or force myself upon her, but I believe I could be of very material help, and so I have come to you, as I have said, because you are the only source through which I can hope to find her, and because, through your act of last night, I know you to be a trustworthy, and, 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. “There is some one on the stairs,” replied the Adventurer. Rhoda Gray listened--and her perplexity deepened. She could hear nothing. “Youse must have good ears!” she scoffed. “I have,” returned the Adventurer coolly. “My hearing is one of the resources that I wanted to pool with the White Moll.” “Well, den, mabbe it's Rough Rorke.” Her tone still held its scoffing note; but her words voiced the genuine enough, that had come flashing upon her. “An' if it is, after last night, an' he finds youse an' me together, dere'll be--” “My dear lady,” interposed the Adventurer calmly, “if there were the remotest possibility that it could be Rough Rorke, I would not be here.”