“What do you mean?” she demanded quickly.
“Just this,” he answered. “That where before I hoped you would go there, I have spent nearly all the time since then in haunting the vicinity of Gypsy Nan's house to warn you away in case you should try to reach her.”
“I—I don't understand,” she said a little uncertainly.
“It is simple enough,” he said. “Gypsy Nan is now one of those you have most to fear. Gypsy Nan is merely a disguise. She is no more Gypsy Nan than you are.”
Rhoda Gray caught her breath.
“Not Gypsy Nan!” she repeated—and fought to keep her voice in control. “Who is she, then?”
The Adventurer laughed shortly.
“She is quite closely connected with that gentleman we left airing himself on the fire escape,” he said grimly. “Gypsy Nan is Danglar's wife.”
It was very strange, very curious—the alleyway seemed suddenly to be revolving around and around, and it seemed to bring her a giddiness and a faintness. The Adventurer was standing there before her, but she did not see him any more; she could only see, as from a brink upon which she tottered, a gulf, abysmal in its horror, that yawned before her.
“Thank you—thank you for the warning.” Was that her voice speaking so calmly and dispassionately? “I will remember it. But I must go now. Good-night again!”