She looked back again, as she turned the key in the lock. With a crash, pitching over the chair, both men went to the floor - and the Adventurer was underneath. She cried out in alarm, and wrenched the door open - and stood for an instant there on the threshold in a startled way.
They couldn't be coming already! The Sparrow hadn't had time even to get out of the yard. But there were footsteps in the hall below, many of them. She stepped out on the landing; it was too dark to see, but...
A sudden yell as she showed even in the faint light of the open garret door, the quicker rush of feet, reached her from below.
"The White Moll! That's her! The White Moll!" She flung herself flat down, wrenching both the automatic and the revolver from her pocket. She understood now! That was Pinkie Bonn's voice. It was the gang arriving to divide up the spoils, not the Sparrow and the police. Her mind was racing now with lightning speed. If they got her, they would get the Adventurer in there, too, before the police could intervene. She must hold this little landing where she lay now, hold those short, ladder-like steps that the oncoming footsteps from below there had almost reached.
She fired once - twice - again; but high, over their heads, to check the rush.
Yells answered her. A vicious tongue-flame from a revolver, another and another, leaped out at her from the black below; the spat, spat of bullets sounded from behind her as they struck the walls.
Again she fired. They were at least more cautious now in their rush - no one seemed anxious to be first upon the stairs. She cast a wild glance through the open door into the garret at her side. The two forms in there, on their feet again, were spinning around and around with the strange, lurching gyrations of automatons - and then she saw the Adventurer whip a terrific blow to Danglar's face - and Danglar fall and lie still - and the Adventurer come leaping toward her.
But faces were showing now above the level of the floor, and there was suddenly an increased uproar from further back in the rear until it seemed that pandemonium itself were loosed.
"It's the police! The police behind us!" she heard Shluker's voice shriek out.
She jumped to her feet. Two of the gang had reached the landing and were smashing at the Adventurer. There seemed to be a swirling mob in riot there below. The Adventurer was fighting like a madman.
It was hand to hand now.
"Quick! Quick!" she cried to the Adventurer. "Jump back through the door."
"Oh, no, you don't!" It was Skeeny - she could see the man's brutal face now. "Oh, no, you don't, you she-devil!" he shouted, and, over-reaching the Adventurer's guard, struck at her furiously with his clubbed revolver.
It struck her a glancing blow on the head, and she reeled and staggered, but recovered herself. And now it seemed as though it were another battle that she fought - and one more desperate; a battle to fight back a horrible giddiness from overpowering her, and with which her brain was swimming, to fight it back for just a second, the fraction of a second that was needed until - until - "Jump!" she cried again, and staggered over the threshold, and, as the Adventurer leaped backward beside her, she slammed the door, and locked it - and slid limply to the floor.
When she regained consciousness she was lying on the cot. It seemed very still, very quiet in the garret. She opened her eyes.
It - it must be all right, for that was the Sparrow standing there watching her, and shifting nervously from foot to foot, wasn't it?
He couldn't be there, otherwise. She held out her hand.
"Marty," she said, and smiled with trembling lips, "we - we owe you a great deal."
The Sparrow gulped.
"Gee, you're all right again! They said it wasn't nothin', but you had me scared worse'n down at the iron plant when I had to do the rough act with that gent friend of yours to stop him from crawlin' after you and fightin' it out, and queerin' the whole works. You don't owe me nothin', Miss Gray; and, besides, I'm gettin' a lot more than is comm' to me, 'cause that same gent friend of yours there says I'm goin' to horn in on the rewards, and I guess that's goin' some, for they got the whole outfit from Danglar down, and the stuff up in the ceiling there, too."
She turned her head. The Adventurer was coming toward the cot.
"Better?" he called cheerily.
"Yes," she said. "Quite! Only I - I'd like to get away from here, from this - this horrible place at once, and back to - to my flat if they'll let me. Are - are they all gone?"
The Adventurer's gray eyes lighted with a whimsical smile.
"Nearly all!" he said softly. "And - er - Sparrow, suppose you go and find a taxi!"
"Me? Sure! Of course! Sure!" said the Sparrow hurriedly, and retreated through the door.
She felt the blood flood her face, and she tried to avert it.
He bent his head close to hers.
"Rhoda," his voice was low, passionate, "I -"
"Wait!" she said. "Your friend - the assistant district attorney - did he come?"
"Yes," said the Adventurer. "But I shooed them all out, as soon as we found you were not seriously hurt. I thought you had had enough excitement for one night. He wants to see you in the morning."
"To see me" - she rose up anxiously on her elbow - "in the morning?"
He was smiling at her. His hands reached out and took her face between them, and made her look at him.
"Rhoda," he said gently, "I knew to-night in the iron plant that you cared. I told him so. What he wants to see you for is to tell you that he thinks I am the luckiest man in all the world. You are clear, dear. Even Rough Rorke is singing your praises; he says you are the only woman who ever put one over on him."
She did not answer for a moment; and then with a little sob of glad surrender she buried her face on his shoulder.
"It - it is very wonderful," she said brokenly, "for - for even we, you and I, each thought the other a - a thief."
"And so we were, thank God!" he whispered - and lifted her head until now his lips met hers. "We were both thieves, Rhoda, weren't we? And, please God, we will be all our lives - for we have stolen each other's heart."
