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THE WHITE MOLL

if you have to. The only thing is that you are not to make the slightest noise, and——"

"What are you going to do?" demanded the Adventurer hoarsely.

"I'm going to take the only chance there is for all of us," she answered.

She started toward the front door of the shed; but he reached out and held her back.

"You are going to take the only chance there is for me!" he cried brokenly. "You're going out there—where they are. Oh, my God! I know! You love me! I—I was only half conscious, but I am sure you kissed me a little while ago. And but for this you would never have known that I knew it, because, please God, whatever else I am, I am not coward enough to take that advantage of you. But I love you, too! Rhoda! I have the right to speak, the right our love gives me. You are not to go—that way. Run—run through the side door there—they will not see you."

She was trembling. Repudiate her love? Tell him there could be nothing between them because he was a thief? She might never live to see him again. Her soul was in riot, the blood flaming hot in her cheeks. He was clinging to her arm. She tore herself forcibly away. The seconds were counting now. She tried to bid him good-by, but the words choked in her throat. She found herself running for the front door.

"Sparrow—quick! Do as I told you!" she half sobbed over her shoulder—and opening the door, stepped out and closed it behind her.