Danglar's little black eyes narrowed, and he thrust his head forward and out from his shoulders savagely. In the flickering candle light, with contorted face and snarling lips, he looked again the beast to which she had once likened him. “Never mind how I'm going to get her!” he flung out, with an oath. “I told you I'd been busy. That's enough! You'll see--” Rhoda Gray, in the semi-darkness, shrugged her shoulders. Was the man, prompted by rage and fury, simply making wild threats, or had he at last some definite and perhaps infallible plan that he purposed putting into operation? She did not know; and, much as it meant to her, she did not dare take the risk of arousing suspicion by pressing the question. Failing, then, to obtain any intimation of what he meant to do, the next thing most to be desired was to get rid of him. “You've got the money. That's what you came for, wasn't it?” she suggested coldly. He stared at her for a moment, and then his face gradually lost its scowl. “You're a rare one, Bertha!” he exclaimed admiringly. “Yes; I've got the money--and I'm going. In fact, I'm in a hurry, so don't worry! You got the dope, like everybody else, for to-night, didn't you? It was sent out two hours ago.” The dope! It puzzled her for the fraction of a second--and then she remembered the paper she had thrust into the bodice of her dress. She had not read it. She lunged a little in the dark. “Yes,” she said curtly. “All right!” he said-and moved toward the door. “That explains why I'm in a hurry--and why I can't stop to oil that grouch out of you. But I'll keep my promise to you, too, old girl. I'll make up the last few days to you. Have a heart, eh, Bertha! 'Night!” She did not answer him. It seemed as though an unutterable dread had suddenly been lifted from her, as he passed out of the door and began to descend the steps to the hall below. Her “grouch,” he had called it. Well, it had served its purpose! It was just as well that he should think so! She followed to the door, and deliberately slammed it with a bang. And from below, his laugh, more an amused chuckle, echoed back and answered her. And then, for a long time she stood there by the door, a little weak with the revulsion of relief upon her, her hands pressed hard against her temples, staring unseeingly about the garret. He was gone. He filled her with terror. Every instinct she possessed, every fiber of her being revolted against him. He was gone. Yes, he was gone--for the time being. But--but what was the end of all this to be?