"Dey say," said Gypsy Nan slowly, "dat youse knows more on de inside here dan anybody else - t'ings youse got from de spacers' molls, an' from de dips demselves when youse was lendin' dem a hand; dey say dere ain't many youse couldn't send up de river just by liftin' yer finger, but dat youse're straight, an' dat youse've kept yer map closed, an' dat youse' re safe."
Rhoda Gray's dark eyes softened, as she leaned forward and laid a hand gently over the one of Gypsy Nan that held the revolver.
"It couldn't be any other way, could it, Nan?" she said simply.
"Wot yer after?" demanded Gypsy Nan, with sudden mockery. "De gun?
Well, take it!" She let go her hold of the weapon. "But don't kid yerself dat youse're kiddin' me into givin' it to youse because youse have got a pretty smile an' a sweet voice! Savvy? I" - she choked suddenly, and caught at her throat - "I guess youse're de only chance I got-dat's all."
"That's better," said Rhoda Gray encouragingly. "And now you'll let me go and get a doctor, won't you, Nan?"
"Wait!" said Gypsy Nan hoarsely. "Youse're de only chance I got.
Will youse swear youse won't t'row me down if I tells youse somet'ing? I ain't got no other way. Will youse swear youse'll see me through?"
"Of course, Nan," said Rhoda Gray soothingly. "Of course, I will, Nan. I promise.
Gypsy Nan came up on her elbow.
"Dat ain't good enough!" she cried out. "A promise ain't good enough! For Gawd's sake, come across all de way! Swear youse'll keep mum an' see me through!"
"Yes, Nan" - Rhoda Gray's eyes smiled reassurance -"I swear it.
But you will be all right again in the morning."
"Will I? You think so, do you? Well, I can only say that I wish I did!"
Rhoda Gray leaned sharply forward, staring in amazement at the figure on the bed. The woman's voice was the same, it was still hoarse, still heavy, and the words came with painful effort; but the English was suddenly perfect now.
"Nan, what is it? I don't understand!" she said tensely. "What do you mean?"
"You think you know what's the matter with me." There was a curious mockery in the weak voice. "You think I've drunk myself into this state. You think I'm on the verge of the D.T.'s now.
That empty bottle under the bed proves it, doesn't it? And anybody around here will tell you that Gypsy Nan has thrown enough empties out of the window there to stock a bottle factory for years, some of them on the flat roof just outside the window, some of them on the roof of the shed below, and some of them down into the yard, just depending on how drunk she was and how far she could throw.
And that proves it, too, doesn't it? Well, maybe it does, that's what I did it for; but I never touched the stuff, not a drop of it, from the day I came here. I didn't dare touch it. I had to keep my wits. Last night you thought I was drunk when you found me in the doorway downstairs. I wasn't. I was too sick and weak to get up here. I almost told you then, only I was afraid, and - and I thought that perhaps I'd be all right to-day."
"Oh, I didn't know!" Rhoda Gray was on her knees beside the bed.
There was no room to question the truth of the woman's words, it was in Gypsy Nan's eyes, in the struggling, labored voice.
"Yes." Gypsy Nan clutched at the shawl around her neck, and shivered. "I thought I might be all right to-day, and that I'd get better. But I didn't. And now I've got about a chance in a hundred. I know. It's my heart."
"You mean you've been alone here, sick, since last night?" There was anxiety, perplexity, in Rhoda Gray's face. "Why didn't you call some one? Why did you even hold me back a few minutes ago, when you admit yourself that you need immediate medical assistance so badly?"
"Because," said Gypsy Nan, "if I've got a chance at all, I'd finish it for keeps if a doctor came here. I - I'd rather go out this way than in that horrible thing they call the 'chair.' Oh, my God, don't you understand that! I've seen pictures of it! It's a horrible thing - a horrible thing - horrible!"
"Nan" - Rhoda Gray steadied her voice - you re delirious. You do not know what you are saying. There isn't any horrible thing to frighten you. Now you just lie quietly here. I'll only be a few minutes, and -" She stopped abruptly as her wrists were suddenly imprisoned in a frantic grip.
"You swore it!" Gypsy Nan was whispering feverishly. "You swore it! They say the White Moll never snitched. That's the one chance I've got, and I'm going to take it. I'm not delirious - not yet.
I wish to God it was nothing more than that! Look!"
With a low, startled cry, Rhoda Gray was on her feet. Gypsy Nan was gone. A sweep of the woman's hand, and the spectacles were off, the gray-streaked hair a tangled wig upon the pillow - and Rhoda Gray found herself staring in a numbed sort of way at a dark-haired woman who could not have been more than thirty, but whose face, with its streaks of grime and dirt, looked grotesquely and incongruously old.
