of the gang, meant ruin to her own hopes and plans. And to refuse to go on with them now, as one of them, would certainly excite their suspicions—and suspicion of Gypsy Nan was the end of everything for her.
Her hands, under her shawl, clenched until the nails bit into her palms. Couldn't she do anything? And there was the money, too, for those two old people. Wasn't there any She caught her breath. Yes, yes! Perhaps there was a way to save the money; yes, and at the same time to place herself on a firmer footing of intimacy with these two men here—if she went on with this. But She shook her head. She could not afford "buts" now; they must take care of themselves afterwards. She would play Gypsy Nan now without reservation. These two men here, like Shluker, were obviously ignorant that Gypsy Nan was Danglar's wife; so she was
Pinkie Bonn's hand was on her arm. She had stumbled.
"Look out for yourself!" he cautioned under his breath. "Don't make a sound!"
They had drawn into a very dark and narrow areaway between two buildings, and now Pinkie kept his touch upon her as he led the way along. What was this "Charlie's"? She did not know, except that, from what had been said, it was a drug dive of some kind, patronized extensively by the denizens of the underworld. She did not know where she was now, save that she had suddenly left one of the out-of-the-way East Side streets.
Pinkie halted suddenly, and, bending down, lifted up what was evidently a half section of the folding trap-door to a cellar entrance.
"There's only a few of us regulars wise to this," whispered Pinkie. "Watch yourself! There's five
