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+Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
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+Title: Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+
+Author: William Le Queux
+
+Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4694]
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+                     MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+
+                                  BY
+
+                           WILLIAM LE QUEUX
+
+                                 1921
+
+
+
+
+                     MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+
+
+
+                            FIRST CHAPTER
+
+                         THE SUICIDE'S CHAIR
+
+"Yes! I'm not mistaken at all! /It's the same woman!/" whispered the
+tall, good-looking young Englishman in a well-cut navy suit as he
+stood with his friend, a man some ten years older than himself, at one
+of the roulette tables at Monte Carlo, the first on the right on
+entering the room--that one known to habitual gamblers as "The
+Suicide's Table."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked his friend.
+
+"Positive. I should know her again anywhere."
+
+"She's very handsome. And look, too, by Jove!--how she is winning!"
+
+"Yes. But let's get away. She might recognize me," exclaimed the
+younger man anxiously. "Ah! If I could only induce her to disclose
+what she knows about my poor father's mysterious end then we might
+clear up the mystery."
+
+"I'm afraid, if all we hear is true about her, Mademoiselle of Monte
+Carlo will never do that," was the other's reply as they moved away
+together down the long saloon towards the trente-et-quarante room.
+
+"/Messieurs! Faites vos jeux/," the croupiers were crying in their
+strident, monotonous voices, inviting players to stake their counters
+of cent-sous, their louis, or their hundred or five hundred franc
+notes upon the spin of the red and black wheel. It was the month of
+March, the height of the Riviera season, the fetes of Mi-Careme were
+in full swing. That afternoon the rooms were overcrowded, and the
+tense atmosphere of gambling was laden with the combined odours of
+perspiration and perfume.
+
+Around each table were crowds four or five deep behind those fortunate
+enough to obtain seats, all eager and anxious to try their fortune
+upon the rouge or noir, or upon one of the thirty-six numbers, the
+columns, or the transversales. There was but little chatter. The
+hundreds of well-dressed idlers escaping the winter were too intent
+upon the game. But above the click of the plaques, blue and red of
+different sizes, as they were raked into the bank by the croupiers,
+and the clatter of counters as the lucky players were paid with deft
+hands, there rose ever and anon:
+
+"/Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!/"
+
+Here English duchesses rubbed shoulders with the most notorious women
+in Europe, and men who at home in England were good churchmen and
+exemplary fathers of families, laughed merrily with the most
+gorgeously attired cocottes from Paris, or the stars of the film world
+or the variety stage. Upon that wide polished floor of the splendidly
+decorated Rooms, with their beautiful mural paintings and heavy gilt
+ornamentation, the world and the half-world were upon equal footing.
+
+Into that stifling atmosphere--for the Administration of the Bains de
+Mer of Monaco seem as afraid of fresh air as of purity propaganda--the
+glorious afternoon sunlight struggled through the curtained windows,
+while over each table, in addition to the electric light, oil-lamps
+shaded green with a billiard-table effect cast a dull, ghastly
+illumination upon the eager countenances of the players. Most of those
+who go to Monte Carlo wonder at the antiquated mode of illumination.
+It is, however, in consequence of an attempted raid upon the tables
+one night, when some adventurers cut the electric-light main, and in
+the darkness grabbed all they could get from the bank.
+
+The two English visitors, both men of refinement and culture, who had
+watched the tall, very handsome woman in black, to whom the older man
+had referred as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, wandered through the
+trente-et-quarante rooms where all was silence, and counters,
+representing gold, were being staked with a twelve-thousand franc
+maximum.
+
+Those rooms beyond are the haunt of the professional gambler, the man
+or woman who has been seized by the demon of speculation, just as
+others have been seized by that of drugs or drink. Curiously enough
+women are more prone to gamble than men, and the Administration of the
+Etablissement will tell you that when a woman of any nationality
+starts to gamble she will become reckless until her last throw with
+the devil.
+
+Those who know Monte Carlo, those who have been habitues for twenty
+years--as the present writer has been--know too well, and have seen
+too often, the deadly influence of the tables upon the lighter side of
+woman's nature. The smart woman from Paris, Vienna, or Rome never
+loses her head. She gambles always discreetly. The fashionable
+cocottes seldom lose much. They gamble at the tables discreetly and
+make eyes at men if they win, or if they lose. If the latter they
+generally obtain a "loan" from somebody. What matter? When one is at
+"Monty" one is not in a Wesleyan chapel. English men and women when
+they go to the Riviera leave their morals at home with their silk hats
+and Sunday gowns. And it is strange to see the perfectly respectable
+Englishwoman admiring the same daring costumes of the French pseudo-
+"countesses" at which they have held up their hands in horror when
+they have seen them pictured in the papers wearing those latest
+"creations" of the Place Vendome.
+
+Yes. It is a hypocritical world, and nowhere is canting hypocrisy more
+apparent than inside the Casino at Monte Carlo.
+
+While the two Englishmen were strolling over the polished parquet of
+the elegant world-famous /salles-de-jeu/ "Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo"
+was experiencing quite an extraordinary run of luck.
+
+But "Mademoiselle," as the croupiers always called her, was usually
+lucky. She was an experienced, and therefore a careful player. When
+she staked a maximum it was not without very careful calculation upon
+the chances. Mademoiselle was well known to the Administration. Often
+her winnings were sensational, hence she served as an advertisement to
+the Casino, for her success always induced the uninitiated and unwary
+to stake heavily, and usually with disastrous results.
+
+The green-covered gaming table, at which she was sitting next to the
+end croupier on the left-hand side, was crowded. She sat in what is
+known at Monte as "the Suicide's Chair," for during the past eight
+years ten men and women had sat in that fatal chair and had afterwards
+ended their lives abruptly, and been buried in secret in the Suicide's
+Cemetery.
+
+The croupiers at that table are ever watchful of the visitor who, all
+unawares, occupies that fatal chair. But Mademoiselle, who knew of it,
+always laughed the superstition to scorn. She habitually sat in that
+chair--and won.
+
+Indeed, that afternoon she was winning--and very considerably too. She
+had won four maximums /en plein/ within the last half-hour, and the
+crowd around the table noting her good fortune were now following her.
+
+It was easy for any novice in the Rooms to see that the handsome,
+dark-eyed woman was a practised player. Time after time she let the
+coups pass. The croupiers' invitation to play did not interest her.
+She simply toyed with her big gold-chain purse, or fingered her dozen
+piles or so of plaques in a manner quite disinterested.
+
+She heard the croupier announce the winning number and saw the rakes
+at work dragging in the stakes to swell the bank. But she only smiled,
+and now and then shrugged her shoulders.
+
+Whether she won or lost, or whether she did not risk a stake, she
+simply smiled and elevated her shoulders, muttering something to
+herself.
+
+Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo was, truth to tell, a sphinx to the staff
+of the Casino. She looked about thirty, but probably she was older.
+For five years she had been there each season and gambled heavily with
+unvarying success. Always well but quietly dressed, her nationality
+was as obscure as her past. To the staff she was always polite, and
+she pressed hundred-franc notes into many a palm in the Rooms. But who
+she was or what were her antecedents nobody in the Principality of
+Monaco could ever tell.
+
+The whole Cote d'Azur from Hyeres to Ventimiglia knew of her. She was
+one of the famous characters of Monte Carlo, just as famous, indeed,
+as old Mr. Drewett, the Englishman who lost his big fortune at the
+tables, and who was pensioned off by the Administration on condition
+that he never gamble at the Casino again. For fifteen years he lived
+in Nice upon the meagre pittance until suddenly another fortune was
+left him, whereupon he promptly paid up the whole of his pension and
+started at the tables again. In a month, however, he had lost his
+second fortune. Such is gambling in the little country ruled over by
+Prince Rouge-et-Noir.
+
+As the two Englishmen slipped past the end table unseen on their way
+out into the big atrium with its many columns--the hall in which
+players go out to cool themselves, or collect their determination for
+a final flutter--Mademoiselle had just won the maximum upon the number
+four, as well as the column, and the croupier was in the act of
+pushing towards her a big pile of counters each representing a
+thousand francs.
+
+The eager excited throng around the table looked across at her with
+envy. But her handsome countenance was quite expressionless. She
+simply thrust the counters into the big gold-chain purse at her side,
+glanced at the white-gloved fingers which were soiled by handling the
+counters, and then counting out twenty-five, each representing a
+louis, gave them to the croupier, exclaiming:
+
+"/Zero-trois!/"
+
+Next moment a dozen persons followed her play, staking their cent-sous
+and louis upon the spot where she had asked the croupier at the end of
+the table to place her stake.
+
+"/Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!/" came the strident cry again.
+
+Then a few seconds later the croupier cried:
+
+"/Rien ne vas plus!/"
+
+The red and black wheel was already spinning, and the little ivory
+ball sent by the croupier's hand in the opposite direction was
+clicking quickly over the numbered spaces.
+
+Six hundred or more eyes of men and women, fevered by the gambling
+mania, watched the result. Slowly it lost its impetus, and after
+spinning about unevenly it made a final jump and fell with a loud
+click.
+
+"/Zer-r-o!/" cried the croupier.
+
+And a moment later Mademoiselle had pushed before her at the end of
+the croupier's rake another pile of counters, while all those who had
+followed the remarkable woman's play were also paid.
+
+"Mademoiselle is in good form to-day," remarked one ugly old
+Frenchwoman who had been a well-known figure at the tables for the
+past ten years, and who played carefully and lived by gambling. She
+was one of those queer, mysterious old creatures who enter the Rooms
+each morning as soon as they are open, secure the best seats, occupy
+them all the luncheon hour pretending to play, and then sell them to
+wealthy gamblers for a consideration--two or three louis--perhaps--and
+then at once go to their ease in their own obscure abode.
+
+The public who go to Monte know little of its strange mysteries, or of
+the odd people who pick up livings there in all sorts of queer ways.
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed a man who overheard her. "Mademoiselle has wonderful
+luck! She won seventy-five thousand francs at the /Cercle Prive/ last
+night. She won /en plein/ five times running. /Dieu!/ Such luck! And
+it never causes her the slightest excitement."
+
+"The lady must be very rich!" remarked an American woman sitting next
+to the old Frenchwoman, and who knew French well.
+
+"Rich! Of course! She must have won several million francs from the
+Administration. They don't like to see her here. But I suppose her
+success attracts others to play. The gambling fever is as infectious
+as the influenza," declared the old Frenchwoman. "Everyone tries to
+discover who she is, and where she came from five years ago. But
+nobody has yet found out. Even Monsieur Bernard, the chief of the
+Surveillance, does not know," she went on in a whisper. "He is a
+friend of mine, and I asked him one day. She came from Paris, he told
+me. She may be American, she may be Belgian, or she may be English.
+She speaks English and French so well that nobody can tell her true
+nationality."
+
+"And she makes money at the tables," said the American woman in the
+well-cut coat and skirt and small hat. She came from Chelsea, Mass.,
+and it was her first visit to what her pious father had always
+referred to as the plague spot of Europe.
+
+"Money!" exclaimed the old woman. "Money! /Dieu!/ She has losses, it
+is true, but oh!--what she wins! I only wish I had ten per cent of it.
+I should then be rich. Mine is a poor game, madame--waiting for
+someone to buy my seat instead of standing the whole afternoon. You
+see, there is only one row of chairs all around. So if a smart woman
+wants to play, some man always buys her a chair--and that is how I
+live. Ah! madame, life is a great game here in the Principality."
+
+Meanwhile young Hugh Henfrey, who had travelled from London to the
+Riviera and identified the mysterious mademoiselle, had passed with
+his friend, Walter Brock, through the atrium and out into the
+afternoon sunshine.
+
+As they turned upon the broad gravelled terrace in front of the great
+white facade of the Casino amid the palms, the giant geraniums and
+mimosa, the sapphire Mediterranean stretched before them. Below,
+beyond the railway line which is the one blemish to the picturesque
+scene, out upon the point in the sea the constant pop-pop showed that
+the tir-aux-pigeons was in progress; while up and down the terrace,
+enjoying the quiet silence of the warm winter sunshine with the blue
+hills of the Italian coast to the left, strolled a gay, irresponsible
+crowd--the cosmopolitans of the world: politicians, financiers,
+merchants, princes, authors, and artists--the crowd which puts off its
+morals as easily as it discards its fur coats and its silk hats, and
+which lives only for gaiety and without thought of the morrow.
+
+"Let's sit down," suggested Hugh wearily. "I'm sure that she's the
+same woman--absolutely certain!"
+
+"You are quite confident you have made no mistake--eh?"
+
+"Quite, my dear Walter. I'd know that woman among ten thousand. I only
+know that her surname is Ferad. Her Christian name I do not know."
+
+"And you suspect that she knows the secret of your father's death?"
+
+"I'm confident that she does," replied the good-looking young
+Englishman. "But it is a secret she will, I fear, never reveal, unless
+--unless I compel her."
+
+"And how can you compel her?" asked the elder of the two men, whose
+dark hair was slightly tinged with grey. "It is difficult to compel a
+woman to do anything," he added.
+
+"I mean to know the truth!" cried Hugh Henfrey fiercely, a look of
+determination in his eyes. "That woman knows the true story of my
+father's death, and I'll make her reveal it. By gad--I will! I mean
+it!"
+
+"Don't be rash, Hugh," urged the other.
+
+"Rash!" he cried. "It's true that when my father died so suddenly I
+had an amazing surprise. My father was a very curious man. I always
+thought him to be on the verge of bankruptcy and that the Manor and
+the land might be sold up any day. When old Charman, the solicitor,
+read the will, I found that my father had a quarter of a million lying
+at the bank, and that he had left it all to me--provided I married
+Louise!"
+
+"Well, why not marry her?" queried Brock lazily. "You're always so
+mysterious, my dear Hugh."
+
+"Why!--because I love Dorise Ranscomb. But Louise interests me, and
+I'm worried on her account because of that infernal fellow Charles
+Benton. Louise poses as his adopted daughter. Benton is a bachelor of
+forty-five, and, according to his story, he adopted Louise when she
+was a child and put her to school. Her parentage is a mystery. After
+leaving school she at first went to live with a Mrs. Sheldon, a young
+widow, in an expensive suite in Queen Anne's Mansions, Westminster.
+After that she has travelled about with friends and has, I believe,
+been abroad quite a lot. I've nothing against Louise, except--well,
+except for the strange uncanny influence which that man Benton has
+over her. I hate the fellow!"
+
+"I see! And as you cannot yet reach Woodthorpe and your father's
+fortune, except by marrying Louise--which you don't intend to do--what
+are you going to do now?"
+
+"First, I intend that this woman they call 'Mademoiselle of Monte
+Carlo,' the lucky woman who is a decoy of the Administration of the
+Bains de Mer, shall tell me the true circumstance of my father's
+death. If I know them--then my hand will be strengthened."
+
+"Meanwhile you love Lady Ranscomb's daughter, you say?"
+
+"Yes. I love Dorise with all my heart. She, of course, knows nothing
+of the conditions of the will."
+
+There was a silence of some moments, interrupted only by the pop-pop
+of the pigeon-shots below.
+
+Away across the white balustrade of the broad magnificent terrace the
+calm sapphire sea was deepening as the winter afternoon drew in. An
+engine whistled--that of the flower train which daily travels express
+from Cannes to Boulogne faster than the passenger train-deluxe, and
+bearing mimosa, carnations, and violets from the Cote d'Azur to Covent
+Garden, and to the florists' shops in England.
+
+"You've never told me the exact circumstances of your father's death,
+Hugh," remarked Brock at last.
+
+"Exact circumstances? Ah! That's what I want to know. Only that woman
+knows the secret," answered the young man. "All I know is that the
+poor old guv'-nor was called up to London by an urgent letter. We had
+a shooting party at Woodthorpe and he left me in charge, saying that
+he had some business in London and might return on the following night
+--or he might be away a week. Days passed and he did not return.
+Several letters came for him which I kept in the library. I was
+surprised that he neither wrote nor returned, when, suddenly, ten days
+later, we had a telegram from the London police informing me that my
+father was lying in St. George's Hospital. I dashed up to town, but
+when I arrived I found him dead. At the inquest, evidence was given to
+show that at half-past two in the morning a constable going along
+Albemarle Street found him in evening dress lying huddled up in a
+doorway. Thinking him intoxicated, he tried to rouse him, but could
+not. A doctor who was called pronounced that he was suffering from
+some sort of poisoning. He was taken to St. George's Hospital in an
+ambulance, but he never recovered. The post-mortem investigation
+showed a small scratch on the palm of the hand. That scratch had been
+produced by a pin or a needle which had been infected by one of the
+newly discovered poisons which, administered secretly, give a post-
+mortem appearance of death from heart disease."
+
+"Then your father was murdered--eh?" exclaimed the elder man.
+
+"Most certainly he was. And that woman is aware of the whole
+circumstances and of the identity of the assassin."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"By a letter I afterwards opened--one that had been addressed to him
+at Woodthorpe in his absence. It was anonymous, written in bad
+English, in an illiterate hand, warning him to 'beware of that woman
+you know--Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.' It bore the French stamp and
+the postmark of Tours."
+
+"I never knew all this," Brock said. "You are quite right, Hugh! The
+whole affair is a tangled mystery. But the first point we must
+establish before we commence to investigate is--who is Mademoiselle of
+Monte Carlo?"
+
+
+
+                            SECOND CHAPTER
+
+                       CONCERNS A GUILTY SECRET
+
+Just after seven o'clock that same evening young Henfrey and his
+friend Brock met in the small lounge of the Hotel des Palmiers, a
+rather obscure little establishment in the Avenue de la Costa, behind
+the Gardens, much frequented by the habitues of the Rooms who know
+Monte Carlo and prefer the little place to life at the Paris, the
+Hermitage, and the Riviera Palace, or the Gallia, up at Beausoleil.
+
+The Palmiers was a place where one met a merry cosmopolitan crowd, but
+where the cocotte in her bright plumage was absent--an advantage which
+only the male habitue of Monte Carlo can fully realize. The eternal
+feminine is always so very much in evidence around the Casino, and the
+most smartly dressed woman whom one might easily take for the wife of
+an eminent politician or financier will deplore her bad luck and beg
+for "a little loan."
+
+"Well," said Hugh as his friend came down from his room to the lounge,
+"I suppose we ought to be going--eh? Dorise said half-past seven, and
+we'll just get across to the Metropole in time. Lady Ranscomb is
+always awfully punctual at home, and I expect she carries out her
+time-table here."
+
+The two men put on light overcoats over their dinner-jackets and
+strolled in the warm dusk across the Gardens and up the Galerie, with
+its expensive little shops, past the original Ciro's to the Metropole.
+
+In the big hall they were greeted by a well-preserved, grey-haired
+Englishwoman, Lady Ranscomb, the widow of old Sir Richard Ranscomb,
+who had been one of the greatest engineers and contractors of modern
+times. He had begun life as a small jerry-builder at Golder's Green,
+and had ended it a millionaire and a knight. Lady Ranscomb was seated
+at a little wicker table with her daughter Dorise, a dainty, fair-
+haired girl with intense blue eyes, who was wearing a rather daring
+jazzing gown of pale-blue, the scantiness of which a year or two
+before would have been voted quite beyond the pale for a lady, and yet
+in our broad-minded to-day, the day of undressing on the stage and in
+the home, it was nothing more than "smart."
+
+Mother and daughter greeted the two men enthusiastically, and at Lady
+Ranscomb's orders the waiter brought them small glasses of an
+aperitif.
+
+"We've been all day motoring up to the Col di Tenda. Sospel is
+lovely!" declared Dorise's mother. "Have you ever been there?" she
+asked of Brock, who was an habitue of the Riviera.
+
+"Once and only once. I motored from Nice across to Turin," was his
+reply. "Yes. It is truly a lovely run there. The Alps are gorgeous. I
+like San Dalmazzo and the chestnut groves there," he added. "But the
+frontiers are annoying. All those restrictions. Nevertheless, the run
+to Turin is one of the finest I know."
+
+Presently they rose, and all four walked into the crowded /salle-a-
+manger/, where the chatter was in every European language, and the gay
+crowd were gossiping mostly of their luck or their bad fortune at the
+/tapis vert/. At Monte Carlo the talk is always of the run of
+sequences, the many times the zero-trois has turned up, and of how
+little one ever wins /en plein/ on thirty-six.
+
+To those who visit "Charley's Mount" for the first time all this is as
+Yiddish, but soon he or she, when initiated into the games of roulette
+and trente-et-quarante, quickly gets bitten by the fever and enters
+into the spirit of the discussions. They produce their "records"--
+printed cards in red and black numbers with which they have carefully
+pricked off the winning numbers with a pin as they have turned up.
+
+The quartette enjoyed a costly but exquisite dinner, chatting and
+laughing the while.
+
+Both men were friends of Lady Ranscomb and frequent visitors to her
+fine house in Mount Street. Hugh's father, a country landowner, had
+known Sir Richard for many years, while Walter Brock had made the
+acquaintance of Lady Ranscomb a couple of years ago in connexion with
+some charity in which she had been interested.
+
+Both were also good friends of Dorise. Both were excellent dancers,
+and Lady Ranscomb often allowed them to take her daughter to the
+Grafton, Ciro's, or the Embassy. Lady Ranscomb was Hugh's old friend,
+and he and Dorise having been thrown together a good deal ever since
+the girl returned from Versailles after finishing her education, it
+was hardly surprising that the pair should have fallen in love with
+each other.
+
+As they sat opposite each other that night, the young fellow gazed
+into her wonderful blue eyes, yet, alas! with a sinking heart. How
+could they ever marry?
+
+He had about six hundred a year--only just sufficient to live upon in
+these days. His father had never put him to anything since he left
+Brasenose, and now on his death he had found that, in order to recover
+the estate, it was necessary for him to marry Louise Lambert, a girl
+for whom he had never had a spark of affection. Louise was good-
+looking, it was true, but could he sacrifice his happiness; could he
+ever cut himself adrift from Dorise for mercenary motives--in order to
+get back what was surely by right his inheritance?
+
+Yet, after all, as he again met Dorise's calm, wide-open eyes, the
+grim truth arose in his mind, as it ever did, that Lady Ranscomb, even
+though she had been so kind to him, would never allow her only
+daughter to marry a man who was not rich. Had not Dorise told him of
+the sly hints her mother had recently given her regarding a certain
+very wealthy man named George Sherrard, an eligible bachelor who lived
+in one of the most expensive flats in Park Lane, and who was being
+generally sought after by mothers with marriageable daughters. In many
+cases mothers--and especially young, good-looking widows with
+daughters "on their hands"--are too prone to try and get rid of them
+"because my daughter makes me look so old," as they whisper to their
+intimates of their own age.
+
+After dinner all four strolled across to the Casino, presenting their
+yellow cards of admission--the monthly cards granted to those who are
+approved by the smug-looking, black-coated committee of inspection,
+who judge by one's appearance whether one had money to lose.
+
+Dorise soon detached herself from her mother and strolled up the Rooms
+with Hugh, Lady Ranscomb and Brock following.
+
+None of them intended to play, but they were strolling prior to going
+to the opera which was beneath the same roof, and for which Lady
+Ranscomb had tickets.
+
+Suddenly Dorise exclaimed:
+
+"Look over there--at that table in the corner. There's that remarkable
+woman they call 'Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo'!"
+
+Hugh started, and glancing in the direction she indicated saw the
+handsome woman seated at the table staking her counters quite
+unconcernedly and entirely absorbed in the game. She was wearing a
+dead black dress cut slightly low in the neck, but half-bare
+shoulders, with a string of magnificent Chinese jade beads of that
+pale apple green so prized by connoisseurs.
+
+Her eyes were fixed upon the revolving wheel, for upon the number
+sixteen she had just thrown a couple of thousand franc counters. The
+ball dropped with a sudden click, the croupier announced that number
+five had won, and at once raked in the two thousand francs among
+others.
+
+Mademoiselle shrugged her shoulders and smiled faintly. Yvonne Ferad
+was a born gambler. To her losses came as easily as gains. The
+Administration knew that--and they also knew how at the little pigeon-
+hole where counters were exchanged for cheques she came often and
+handed over big sums in exchange for drafts upon certain banks, both
+in Paris and in London.
+
+Yet they never worried. Her lucky play attracted others who usually
+lost. Once, a year before, a Frenchman who occupied a seat next to her
+daily for a month lost over a quarter of a million sterling, and one
+night threw himself under the Paris /rapide/ at the long bridge over
+the Var. But on hearing of it the next day from a croupier
+Mademoiselle merely shrugged her shoulders, and said:
+
+"I warned him to return to Paris. The fool! It is only what I
+expected."
+
+Hugh looked only once across at the mysterious woman whom Dorise had
+indicated, and then drew her away. As a matter of fact he had no
+intention that mademoiselle should notice him.
+
+"What do you know of her?" he asked in a casual way when they were on
+the other side of the great saloon.
+
+"Well, a Frenchman I met in the hotel the day before yesterday told me
+all sorts of queer stories about her," replied the girl. "She's
+apparently a most weird person, and she has uncanny good luck at the
+tables. He said that she had won a large fortune during the last
+couple of years or so."
+
+Hugh made no remark as to the reason of his visit to the Riviera, for,
+indeed, he had arrived only the day previously, and she had welcomed
+him joyously. Little did she dream that her lover had come out from
+London to see that woman who was declared to be so notorious.
+
+"I noticed her playing this afternoon," Hugh said a moment later in a
+quiet reflective tone. "What do the gossips really say about her,
+Dorise? All this is interesting. But there are so many interesting
+people here."
+
+"Well, the man who told me about her was sitting with me outside the
+Cafe de Paris when she passed across the Place to the Casino. That
+caused him to make the remarks. He said that her past was obscure.
+Some people say that she was a Danish opera singer, others declare
+that she was the daughter of a humble tobacconist in Marseilles, and
+others assert that she is English. But all agree that she is a clever
+and very dangerous woman."
+
+"Why dangerous?" inquired Hugh in surprise.
+
+"Ah! That I don't know. The man who told me merely hinted at her past
+career, and added that she was quite a respectable person nowadays in
+her affluence. But--well----" added the girl with a laugh, "I suppose
+people gossip about everyone in this place."
+
+"Who was your informant?" asked her lover, much interested.
+
+"His name is Courtin. I believe he is an official of one of the
+departments of the Ministry of Justice in Paris. At least somebody
+said so yesterday."
+
+"Ah! Then he probably knew more about her than he told you, I expect."
+
+"No doubt, for he warned my mother and myself against making her
+acquaintance," said the girl. "He said she was a most undesirable
+person."
+
+At that moment Lady Ranscomb and Walter Brock joined them, whereupon
+the former exclaimed to her daughter:
+
+"Did you see that woman over there?--still playing--the woman in black
+and the jade beads, against whom Monsieur Courtin warned us?"
+
+"Yes, mother, I noticed her. I've just been telling Hugh about her."
+
+"A mysterious person--eh?" laughed Hugh with well-affected
+indifference. "But one never knows who's who in Monte Carlo."
+
+"Well, Mademoiselle is apparently something of a mystery," remarked
+Brock. "I've seen her here before several times. Once, about two years
+ago, I heard that she was mixed up in a very celebrated criminal case,
+but exactly what it was the man who told me could not recollect. She
+is, however, one of the handsomest women in the Rooms."
+
+"And one of the wealthiest--if report be true," said Lady Ranscomb.
+
+"She fascinates me," Dorise declared. "If Monsieur Courtin had not
+warned us I should most probably have spoken to her."
+
+"Oh, my dear, you must do no such thing!" cried her mother, horrified.
+"It was extremely kind of monsieur to give us the hint. He has
+probably seen how unconventional you are, Dorise."
+
+And then, as they strolled on into the farther room, the conversation
+dropped.
+
+"So they've heard about Mademoiselle, it seems!" remarked Brock to his
+friend as they walked back to the Palmiers together in the moonlight
+after having seen Lady Ranscomb and her daughter to their hotel.
+
+"Yes," growled the other. "I wish we could get hold of that Monsieur
+Courtin. He might tell us a bit about her."
+
+"I doubt if he would. These French officials are always close as
+oysters."
+
+"At any rate, I will try and make his acquaintance at the Metropole
+to-morrow," Hugh said. "There's no harm in trying."
+
+Next morning he called again at the Metropole before the ladies were
+about, but to his chagrin, he learnt from the blue-and-gold concierge
+that Monsieur Courtin, of the Ministry of Justice, had left at ten-
+fifteen o'clock on the previous night by the /rapide/ for Paris. He
+had been recalled urgently, and a special /coupe-lit/ had been
+reserved for him from Ventimiglia.
+
+That day Hugh Henfrey wandered about the well-kept palm-lined gardens
+with their great beds of geraniums, carnations and roses. Brock had
+accepted the invitation of a bald-headed London stock-broker he knew
+to motor over to lunch and tennis at the Beau Site, at Cannes, while
+Dorise and her mother had gone with some people to lunch at the
+Reserve at Beaulieu, one of the best and yet least pretentious
+restaurants in all Europe, only equalled perhaps by Capsa's, in
+Bucharest.
+
+"Ah! If she would only tell!" Hugh muttered fiercely to himself as he
+walked alone and self-absorbed. His footsteps led him out of Monte
+Carlo and up the winding road which runs to La Turbie, above the
+beautiful bay. Ever and anon powerful cars climbing the hill smothered
+him in white dust, yet he heeded them not. He was too full of thought.
+
+"Ah!" he kept on repeating to himself. "If she would only tell the
+truth--if she would only tell!"
+
+Hugh Henfrey had not travelled to Monte Carlo without much careful
+reflection and many hours of wakefulness. He intended to clear up the
+mystery of his father's death--and more, the reason of that strange
+incomprehensible will which was intended to wed him to Louise.
+
+At four o'clock that afternoon he entered the Rooms to gain another
+surreptitious look at Mademoiselle. Yes! She was there, still playing
+on as imperturbably as ever, with that half-suppressed sinister smile
+always upon her full red lips.
+
+Sight of her aroused his fury. Was that smile really intended for
+himself? People said she was a sphinx, but he drew his breath, and
+when outside the Casino again in the warm sunshine he halted upon the
+broad red-carpeted steps and beneath his breath said in a hard,
+determined tone:
+
+"Gad! She shall tell me! She shall! I'll compel her to speak--to tell
+me the truth--or--or----!"
+
+That evening he wrote a note to Dorise explaining to her that he was
+not feeling very well and excusing himself from going round to the
+hotel. This he sent by hand to the Metropole.
+
+Brock did not turn up at dinner. Indeed, he did not expect his friend
+back till late. So he ate his meal alone, and then went out to the
+Cafe de Paris, where for an hour he sat upon the /terrasse/ smoking
+and listening to the weird music of the red-coated orchestra of
+Roumanian gipsies.
+
+All the evening, indeed, he idled, chatting with men and women he
+knew. /Carmen/ was being given at the Opera opposite, but though he
+loved music he had no heart to go. The one thought obsessing him was
+of the handsome and fascinating woman who was such a mystery to all.
+
+At eleven o'clock he returned to the cafe and took a seat on the
+/terrasse/ in a dark corner, in such a position that he could see
+anyone who entered or left the Casino. For half an hour he watched the
+people passing to and fro. At last, in a long jade-green coat,
+Mademoiselle emerged alone, and, crossing the gardens, made her way
+leisurely home on foot, as was her habit. Monte Carlo is not a large
+place, therefore there is little use for taxis.
+
+When she was out of sight, he called the waiter to bring him a liqueur
+of old cognac, which he sipped, and then lit another cigarette. When
+he had finished it he drained the little glass, and rising, strolled
+in the direction the woman of mystery had taken.
+
+A walk of ten minutes brought him to the iron gates of a great white
+villa, over the high walls of which climbing roses and geraniums and
+jasmine ran riot. The night air was heavy with their perfume. He
+opened the side gate and walked up the gravelled drive to the terrace
+whereon stood the house, commanding a wonderful view of the moon-lit
+Mediterranean and the far-off mountains of Italy.
+
+His ring at the door was answered by a staid elderly Italian
+manservant.
+
+"I believe Mademoiselle is at home," Hugh said in French. "I desire to
+see her, and also to apologize for the lateness of the hour. My visit
+is one of urgency."
+
+"Mademoiselle sees nobody except by appointment," was the man's polite
+but firm reply.
+
+"I think she will see me if you give her this card," answered Hugh in
+a strained, unusual voice.
+
+The man took it hesitatingly, glanced at it, placed it upon a silver
+salver, and, leaving the visitor standing on the mat, passed through
+the glass swing-doors into the house.
+
+For some moments the servant did not reappear.
+
+Hugh, standing there, entertained just a faint suspicion that he heard
+a woman's shrill exclamation of surprise. And that sound emboldened
+him.
+
+At last, after an age it seemed, the man returned, saying:
+
+"Mademoiselle will see you, Monsieur. Please come this way."
+
+He left his hat and stick and followed the man along a corridor richly
+carpeted in red to a door on the opposite side of the house, which the
+servant threw open and announced the visitor.
+
+Mademoiselle had risen to receive him. Her countenance was, Hugh saw,
+blanched almost to the lips. Her black dress caused her pallor to be
+more apparent.
+
+"Well, sir? Pray what do you mean by resorting to this ruse in order
+to see me? Who are you?" she demanded.
+
+Hugh was silent for a moment. Then in a hard voice he said:
+
+"I am the son of the dead man whose card is in your hands,
+Mademoiselle! And I am here to ask you a few questions!"
+
+The handsome woman smiled sarcastically and shrugged her half-bare
+shoulders, her fingers trembling with her jade beads.
+
+"Oh! Your father is dead--is he?" she asked with an air of
+indifference.
+
+"Yes. /He is dead/," Hugh said meaningly, as he glanced around the
+luxurious little room with its soft rose-shaded lights and pale-blue
+and gold decorations. On her right as she stood were long French
+windows which opened on to a balcony. One of the windows stood ajar,
+and it was apparent that when he had called she had been seated in the
+long wicker chair outside enjoying the balmy moonlight after the
+stifling atmosphere of the Rooms.
+
+"And, Mademoiselle," he went on, "I happen to be aware that you knew
+my father, and--that you are cognizant of certain facts concerning his
+mysterious end."
+
+"I!" she cried, raising her voice in sudden indignation. "What on
+earth do you mean?" She spoke in perfect English, though he had
+hitherto spoken in French.
+
+"I mean, Mademoiselle, that I intend to know the truth," said Hugh,
+fixing his eyes determinedly upon hers. "I am here to learn it from
+your lips."
+
+"You must be mad!" cried the woman. "I know nothing of the affair. You
+are mistaken!"
+
+"Do you, then, deny that you have ever met a man named Charles
+Benton?" demanded the young fellow, raising his voice. "Perhaps,
+however, that is a bitter memory, Mademoiselle--eh?"
+
+The strikingly handsome woman pursed her lips. There was a strange
+look in her eyes. For several moments she did not speak. It was clear
+that the sudden appearance of the dead man's son had utterly unnerved
+her. What could he know concerning Charles Benton? How much of the
+affair did he suspect?
+
+"I have met many people, Mr.--er--Mr. Henfrey," she replied quietly at
+last. "I may have met somebody named Benton."
+
+"Ah! I see," the young man said. "It is a memory that you do not wish
+to recall any more than that of my dead father."
+
+"Your father was a good man. Benton was not."
+
+"Ah! Then you admit knowing both of them, Mademoiselle," cried Hugh
+quickly.
+
+"Yes. I--well--I may as well admit it! Why, indeed, should I seek to
+hide the truth--/from you/," she said in a changed voice. "Pardon me.
+I was very upset at receiving the card. Pardon me--will you not?"
+
+"I will not, unless you tell me the truth concerning my father's death
+and his iniquitous will left concerning myself. I am here to ascertain
+that, Mademoiselle," he said in a hard voice.
+
+"And if I tell you--what then?" she asked with knit brows.
+
+"If you tell me, then I am prepared to promise you on oath secrecy
+concerning yourself--provided you allow me to punish those who are
+responsible. Remember, my father died by foul means. /And you know
+it!/"
+
+The woman faced him boldly, but she was very pale.
+
+"So that is a promise?" she asked. "You will protect me--you will be
+silent regarding me--you swear to be so--if--if I tell you something.
+I repeat that your father was a good man. I held him in the highest
+esteem, and--and--after all--it is but right that you, his son, should
+know the truth."
+
+"Thank you Mademoiselle. I will protect you if you will only reveal to
+me the devilish plot which resulted in his untimely end," Hugh assured
+her.
+
+Again she knit her brows and reflected for a few moments. Then in a
+low, intense, unnatural voice she said:
+
+"Listen, Mr. Henfrey. I feel that, after all, my conscience would be
+relieved if I revealed to you the truth. First--well, it is no use
+denying the fact that your father was not exactly the man you and his
+friends believed him to be. He led a strange dual existence, and I
+will disclose to you one or two facts concerning his untimely end
+which will show you how cleverly devised and how cunning was the
+plot--how----"
+
+At that instant Hugh was startled by a bright flash outside the half-
+open window, a loud report, followed by a woman's shrill shriek of
+pain.
+
+Then, next moment, ere he could rush forward to save her,
+Mademoiselle, with the truth upon her lips unuttered, staggered and
+fell back heavily upon the carpet!
+
+
+
+                            THIRD CHAPTER
+
+                             IN THE NIGHT
+
+Hugh Henfrey, startled by the sudden shot, shouted for assistance, and
+then threw himself upon his knees beside the prostrate woman.
+
+From a bullet wound over the right ear blood was slowly oozing and
+trickling over her white cheek.
+
+"Help! Help!" he shouted loudly. "Mademoiselle has been shot from
+outside! /Help!/"
+
+In a few seconds the elderly manservant burst into the room in a state
+of intense excitement.
+
+"Quick!" cried Hugh. "Telephone for a doctor at once. I fear your
+mistress is dying!"
+
+Henfrey had placed his hand upon Mademoiselle's heart, but could
+detect no movement. While the servant dashed to the telephone, he
+listened for her breathing, but could hear nothing. From the wall he
+tore down a small circular mirror and held it against her mouth. There
+was no clouding.
+
+There was every apparent sign that the small blue wound had proved
+fatal.
+
+"Inform the police also!" Hugh shouted to the elderly Italian who was
+at the telephone in the adjoining room. "The murderer must be found!"
+
+By this time four female servants had entered the room where their
+mistress was lying huddled and motionless. All of them were in
+/deshabille/. Then all became excitement and confusion. Hugh left them
+to unloosen her clothing and hastened out upon the veranda whereon the
+assassin must have stood when firing the shot.
+
+Outside in the brilliant Riviera moonlight the scent of a wealth of
+flowers greeted his nostrils. It was almost bright as day. From the
+veranda spread a wide, fairy-like view of the many lights of Monte
+Carlo and La Condamine, with the sea beyond shimmering in the
+moonlight.
+
+The veranda, he saw, led by several steps down into the beautiful
+garden, while beyond, a distance of a hundred yards, was the main gate
+leading to the roadway. The assassin, after taking careful aim and
+firing, had, no doubt, slipped along, and out of the gate.
+
+But why had Mademoiselle been shot just at the moment when she was
+about to reveal the secret of his lamented father's death?
+
+He descended to the garden, where he examined the bushes which cast
+their dark shadows. But all was silence. The assassin had escaped!
+
+Then he hurried out into the road, but again all was silence. The only
+hope of discovering the identity of the criminal was by means of the
+police vigilance. Truth to tell, however, the police of Monte Carlo
+are never over anxious to arrest a criminal, because Monte Carlo
+attracts the higher criminal class of both sexes from all over Europe.
+If the police of the Principality were constantly making arrests it
+would be bad advertisement for the Rooms. Hence, though the Monte
+Carlo police are extremely vigilant and an expert body of officers,
+they prefer to watch and to give information to the bureaux of police
+of other countries, so that arrests invariably take place beyond the
+frontiers of the Principality of Monaco.
+
+It was not long before Doctor Leneveu, a short, stout, bald-headed
+little man, well known to habitues of the Rooms, among whom he had a
+large practice, entered the house of Mademoiselle and was greeted by
+Hugh. The latter briefly explained the tragic circumstances, whereupon
+the little doctor at once became fussy and excited.
+
+Having ordered everyone out of the room except Henfrey, he bent and
+made an examination of the prostrate woman.
+
+"Ah! m'sieur," he said, "the unfortunate lady has certainly been shot
+at close quarters. The wound is, I tell you at once, extremely
+dangerous," he added, after a searching investigation. "But she is
+still alive," he declared. "Yes--she is still breathing."
+
+"Still alive!" gasped Henfrey. "That's excellent! I--I feared that she
+was dead!"
+
+"No. She still breathes," the doctor replied. "But, tell me exactly
+what has occurred. First, however, we will get them to remove her
+upstairs. I will telephone to my colleague Duponteil, and we will
+endeavour to extract the bullet."
+
+"But will she recover, doctor?" asked Hugh eagerly in French. "What do
+you think?"
+
+The little man became serious and shook his head gravely.
+
+"Ah! m'sieur, that I cannot say," was his reply. "She is in a very
+grave state--very! And the brain may be affected."
+
+Hugh held his breath. /Surely Yvonne Ferad was not to die with the
+secret upon her lips!/
+
+At the doctor's orders the servants were about to remove their
+mistress to her room when two well-dressed men of official aspect
+entered. They were officers of the Bureau of Police.
+
+"Stop!" cried the elder, who was the one in authority, a tall,
+lantern-jawed man with a dark brown beard and yellow teeth. "Do not
+touch that lady! What has happened here?"
+
+Hugh came forward, and in his best French explained the circumstances
+of the tragedy--how Mademoiselle had been shot in his presence by an
+unknown hand.
+
+"The assassin, whoever he was, stood out yonder--upon the veranda--but
+I never saw him," he added. "It was all over in a second--and he has
+escaped!"
+
+"And pray who are you?" demanded the police officer bluntly. "Please
+explain."
+
+Hugh was rather nonplussed. The question required explanation, no
+doubt. It would, he saw, appear very curious that he should visit
+Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo at that late hour.
+
+"I--well, I called upon Mademoiselle because I wished to obtain some
+important information from her."
+
+"What information? Rather late for a call, surely?"
+
+The young Englishman hesitated. Then, with true British grit, he
+assumed an attitude of boldness, and asked:
+
+"Am I compelled to answer that question?"
+
+"I am Charles Ogier, chief inspector of the Surete of Monaco, and I
+press for a reply," answered the other firmly.
+
+"And I, Hugh Henfrey, a British subject, at present decline to satisfy
+you," was the young man's bold response.
+
+"Is the lady still alive?" inquired the inspector of Doctor Leneveu.
+
+"Yes. I have ordered her to be taken up to her room--of course, when
+m'sieur the inspector gives permission."
+
+Ogier looked at the deathly countenance with the closed eyes, and
+noted that the wound in the skull had been bound up with a cotton
+handkerchief belonging to one of the maids. Mademoiselle's dark well-
+dressed hair had become unbound and was straying across her face,
+while her handsome gown had been torn in the attempt to unloosen her
+corsets.
+
+"Yes," said the police officer; "they had better take her upstairs. We
+will remain here and make inquiries. This is a very queer affair--to
+say the least," he added, glancing suspiciously at Henfrey.
+
+While the servants carried their unconscious mistress tenderly
+upstairs, the fussy little doctor went to the telephone to call Doctor
+Duponteil, the principal surgeon of Monaco. He had hesitated whether
+to take the victim to the hospital, but had decided that the operation
+could be done just as effectively upstairs. So, after speaking to
+Duponteil, he also spoke to the sister at the hospital, asking her to
+send up two nurses immediately to the Villa Amette.
+
+In the meantime Inspector Ogier was closely questioning the young
+Englishman.
+
+Like everyone in Monte Carlo he knew the mysterious Mademoiselle by
+sight. More than once the suspicions of the police had been aroused
+against her. Indeed, in the archives of the Prefecture there reposed a
+bulky dossier containing reports of her doings and those of her
+friends. Yet there had never been anything which would warrant the
+authorities to forbid her from remaining in the Principality.
+
+This tragedy, therefore, greatly interested Ogier and his colleague.
+Both of them had spent many years in the service of the Paris Surete
+under the great Goron before being appointed to the responsible
+positions in the detective service of Monaco.
+
+"Then you knew the lady?" Ogier asked of the young man who was
+naturally much upset over the startling affair, and the more so
+because the secret of his father's mysterious death had been filched
+from him by the hand of some unknown assassin.
+
+"No, I did not know her personally," Henfrey replied somewhat lamely.
+"I came to call upon her, and she received me."
+
+"Why did you call at this hour? Could you not have called in the
+daytime?"
+
+"Mademoiselle was in the Rooms until late," he said.
+
+"Ah! Then you followed her home--eh?"
+
+"Yes," he admitted.
+
+The police officer pursed his lips and raised his eyes significantly
+at his colleague.
+
+"And what was actually happening when the shot was fired? Describe it
+to me, please," he demanded.
+
+"I was standing just here"--and he crossed the room and stood upon the
+spot where he had been--"Mademoiselle was over there beside the
+window. I had my back to the window. She was about to tell me
+something--to answer a question I had put to her--when someone from
+outside shot her through the open glass door."
+
+"And you did not see her assailant?"
+
+"I saw nothing. The shot startled me, and, seeing her staggering, I
+rushed to her. In the meantime the assailant--whoever he was--
+disappeared!"
+
+The brown-bearded man smiled dubiously. As he stood beneath the
+electric light Hugh saw doubt written largely upon his countenance. He
+instantly realized that Ogier disbelieved his story.
+
+After all it was a very lame one. He would not fully admit the reason
+of his visit.
+
+"But tell me, m'sieur," exclaimed the police officer. "It seems
+extraordinary that any person should creep along this veranda." And he
+walked out and looked about in the moonlight. "If the culprit wished
+to shoot Mademoiselle in secret, then he would surely not have done so
+in your presence. He might easily have shot her as she was on her way
+home. The road is lonely up here."
+
+"I agree, monsieur," replied the Englishman. "The whole affair is, to
+me, a complete mystery. I saw nobody. But it was plain to me that when
+I called Mademoiselle was seated out upon the veranda. Look at her
+chair--and the cushions! It was very hot and close in the Rooms
+to-night, and probably she was enjoying the moonlight before retiring
+to bed."
+
+"Quite possibly," he agreed. "But that does not alter the fact that
+the assassin ran considerable risk in coming along the veranda in the
+full moonlight and firing through the open door. Are you quite certain
+that Mademoiselle's assailant was outside--and not inside?" he asked,
+with a queer expression upon his aquiline face.
+
+Hugh saw that he was hinting at his suspicion that he himself had shot
+her!
+
+"Quite certain," he assured him. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"I have my own reasons," replied the police officer with a hard laugh.
+"Now, tell me what do you know about Mademoiselle Ferad?"
+
+"Practically nothing."
+
+"Then why did you call upon her?"
+
+"I have told you. I desired some information, and she was about to
+give it to me when the weapon was fired by an unknown hand."
+
+"Unknown--eh?"
+
+"Yes. Unknown to me. It might be known to Mademoiselle."
+
+"And what was this information you so urgently desired?"
+
+"Some important information. I travelled from London to Monte Carlo in
+order to obtain it."
+
+"Ah! Then you had a motive in coming here--some strong motive, I take
+it?"
+
+"Yes. A very strong motive. I wanted her to clear up certain
+mysterious happenings in England."
+
+Ogier was instantly alert.
+
+"What happenings?" he asked, for he recollected the big dossier and
+the suspicions extending over four or five years concerning the real
+identity and mode of life of the handsome, sphinx-like woman Yvonne
+Ferad.
+
+Hugh Henfrey was silent for a few moments. Then he said:
+
+"Happenings in London that--well, that I do not wish to recall."
+
+Ogier again looked him straight in the face.
+
+"I suggest, M'sieur Henfrey"--for Hugh had given him his name--"I
+suggest that you have been attracted by Mademoiselle as so many other
+men have been. She seems to exercise a fatal influence upon some
+people."
+
+"I know," Hugh said. "I have heard lots of things about her. Her
+success at the tables is constant and uncanny. Even the Administration
+are interested in her winnings, and are often filled with wonder."
+
+"True, m'sieur. She keeps herself apart. She is a mysterious person--
+the most remarkable in all the Principality. We, at the Bureau, have
+heard all sorts of curious stories concerning her--once it was
+rumoured that she was the daughter of a reigning European sovereign.
+Then we take all the reports with the proverbial grain of salt. That
+Mademoiselle is a woman of outstanding intellect and courage, as well
+as of great beauty, cannot be denied. Therefore I tell you that I am
+intensely interested in this attempt upon her life."
+
+"And so am I," Hugh said. "I have a strong reason to be."
+
+"Cannot you tell me that reason?" inquired the officer of the Surete,
+still looking at him very shrewdly. "Why fence with me?"
+
+Henfrey hesitated. Then he replied:
+
+"It is a purely personal matter."
+
+"And yet, you have said that you were not acquainted with
+Mademoiselle!" remarked Ogier suspiciously.
+
+"That is quite true. The first time I have spoken to her was this
+evening, a few minutes before the attempt was made upon her life."
+
+"Then your theory is that while you stood in conversation with her
+somebody crept along the veranda and shot her--eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Ogier smiled sarcastically, and turning to his colleague, ordered him
+to search the room. The inspector evidently suspected the young
+Englishman of having shot Mademoiselle, and the search was in order to
+try and discover the weapon.
+
+Meanwhile the brown-bearded officer called the Italian manservant, who
+gave his name as Giulio Cataldi, and who stated that he had been in
+Mademoiselle Ferad's service a little over five years.
+
+"Have you ever seen this Englishman before?" Ogier asked, indicating
+Hugh.
+
+"Never, until to-night, m'sieur," was the reply. "He called about
+twenty minutes after Mademoiselle's return from the Rooms."
+
+"Has Mademoiselle quarrelled with anybody of late?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge, m'sieur. She is of a very quiet and even
+disposition."
+
+"Is there anyone you know who might possess a motive to shoot her?"
+asked Ogier. "The crime has not been committed with a motive of
+robbery, but either out of jealousy or revenge."
+
+"I know of nobody," declared the highly respectable Italian, whose
+moustache was tinged with grey. He shrugged his shoulders and showed
+his palms as he spoke.
+
+"Mademoiselle arrived here two months ago, I believe?" queried the
+police official.
+
+"Yes, m'sieur. She spent the autumn in Paris, and during the summer
+she was at Deauville. She also went to London for a brief time, I
+believe."
+
+"Did she ever live in London?" asked Hugh eagerly, interrupting
+Ogier's interrogation.
+
+"Yes--once. She had a furnished house on the Cromwell Road for about
+six months."
+
+"How long ago?" asked Henfrey.
+
+"Please allow me to make my inquiries, monsieur!" exclaimed the
+detective angrily.
+
+"But the question I ask is of greatest importance to me in my own
+inquiries," Hugh persisted.
+
+"I am here to discover the identity of Mademoiselle's assailant,"
+Ogier asserted. "And I will not brook your interference."
+
+"Mademoiselle has been shot, and it is for you to discover who fired
+at her," snapped the young Englishman. "I consider that I have just as
+much right to put a question to this man as you have, that is"--he
+added with sarcasm--"that is, of course, if you don't suspect him of
+shooting his mistress."
+
+"Well, I certainly do not suspect that," the Frenchman said. "But, to
+tell you candidly, your story of the affair strikes me as a very
+improbable one."
+
+"Ah!" laughed Hugh, "I thought so! You suspect me--eh? Very well.
+Where is the weapon?"
+
+"Perhaps you have hidden it," suggested the other meaningly. "We
+shall, no doubt, find it somewhere."
+
+"I hope you will, and that will lead to the arrest of the guilty
+person," Hugh laughed. Then he was about to put further questions to
+the man Cataldi when Doctor Leneveu entered the room.
+
+"How is she?" demanded Hugh breathlessly.
+
+The countenance of the fussy little doctor fell.
+
+"Monsieur," he said in a low earnest voice, "I much fear that
+Mademoiselle will not recover. My colleague Duponteil concurs with
+that view. We have done our best, but neither of us entertain any hope
+that she will live!" Then turning to Ogier, the doctor exclaimed:
+"This is an amazing affair--especially in face of what is whispered
+concerning the unfortunate lady. What do you make of it?"
+
+The officer of the Surete knit his brows, and with frankness replied:
+
+"At present I am entirely mystified--entirely mystified!"
+
+
+
+                            FOURTH CHAPTER
+
+                      WHAT THE DOSSIER CONTAINED
+
+Walter Brock was awakened at four o'clock that morning by Hugh
+touching him upon the shoulder.
+
+He started up in bed and staring at his friend's pale, haggard face
+exclaimed:
+
+"Good Heavens!--why, what's the matter?"
+
+"Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo has been shot!" the other replied in a
+hard voice.
+
+"Shot!" gasped Brock, startled. "What do you mean?"
+
+Briefly Hugh who had only just entered the hotel, explained the
+curious circumstances--how, just at the moment she had been about to
+reveal the secret of his father's death she was shot.
+
+"Most extraordinary!" declared his friend. "Surely, we have not been
+followed here by someone who is determined to prevent you from knowing
+the truth!"
+
+"It seems much like it, Walter," replied the younger man very
+seriously. "There must be some strong motive or no person would dare
+to shoot her right before my eyes."
+
+"Agreed. Somebody who is concerned in your father's death has adopted
+this desperate measure in order to prevent Mademoiselle from telling
+you the truth."
+
+"That's exactly my opinion, my dear Walter. If it was a crime for
+gain, or through motives of either jealousy or revenge, Mademoiselle
+would certainly have been attacked on her way home. The road is quite
+deserted towards the crest of the hill."
+
+"What do the police say?"
+
+"They do not appear to trouble to track Mademoiselle's assailant. They
+say they will wait until daylight before searching for footprints on
+the gravel outside."
+
+"Ah! They are not very fond of making arrests within the Principality.
+It's such a bad advertisement for the Rooms. The Administration like
+to show a clean sheet as regards serious crime. Our friends here leave
+it to the French or Italian police to deal with the criminals so that
+the Principality shall prove itself the most honest State in Europe,"
+Brock said.
+
+"The police, I believe, suspect me of shooting her," said Hugh
+bluntly.
+
+"That's very awkward. Why?"
+
+"Well--they don't know the true reason I went to see her, or they
+would never believe me to be guilty of a crime so much against my own
+interests."
+
+Brock, who was still sitting up in bed in his pale blue silk pyjamas,
+reflected a few moments.
+
+"Well, Hugh," he said at last, "after all it is only natural that they
+should believe that you had a hand in the matter. Even though she told
+you the truth, it is quite within reason that you should have suddenly
+become incensed against her for the part she must have played in your
+father's mysterious death, and in a frenzy of anger you shot her."
+
+Hugh drew a long breath, and his eyebrows narrowed.
+
+"By Jove! I had never regarded it in that light before!" he gasped.
+"But what about the weapon?"
+
+"You might easily have hidden it before the arrival of the police. You
+admit that you went out on the veranda. Therefore if they do chance to
+find the weapon in the garden then their suspicions will, no doubt, be
+considerably increased. It's a pity, old man, that you didn't make a
+clean breast of the motive of your visit."
+
+"I now see my horrible mistake," Henfrey admitted. "I thought myself
+wise to preserve silence, to know nothing, and now I see quite plainly
+that I have only brought suspicion unduly upon myself. The police,
+however, know Yvonne Ferad to be a somewhat mysterious person."
+
+"Which renders the situation only worse," Brock said. Then, after a
+pause, he added: "Now that you have declined to tell the police why
+you visited the Villa Amette and have, in a way, defied them, it will
+be best to maintain that attitude. Tell them nothing, no matter what
+happens."
+
+"I intend to pursue that course. But the worst of it is, Walter, that
+the doctors hold out no hope of Mademoiselle's recovery. I saw
+Duponteil half an hour ago, and he told me that he could give me no
+encouraging information. The bullet has been extracted, but she is
+hovering between life and death. I suppose it will be in the papers
+to-morrow, and Dorise and her mother will know of my nocturnal visit
+to the house of a notorious woman."
+
+"Don't let that worry you, my dear chap. Here, they keep the news of
+all tragedies out of the papers, because shooting affairs may be
+thought by the public to be due to losses at the Rooms. Recollect that
+of all the suicides here--the dozens upon dozens of poor ruined
+gamesters who are yearly laid to rest in the Suicides' Cemetery--not a
+single report has appeared in any newspaper. So I think you may remain
+assured that Lady Ranscomb and her daughter will not learn anything."
+
+"I sincerely hope they won't, otherwise it will go very hard with me,"
+Hugh said in a low, intense voice. "Ah! What a night it has been for
+me!"
+
+"And if Mademoiselle dies the assailant, whoever he was, will be
+guilty of wilful murder; while you, on your part, will never know the
+truth concerning your father's death," remarked the elder man, running
+his fingers through his hair.
+
+"Yes. That is the position of this moment. But further, I am suspected
+of the crime!"
+
+Brock dressed while his friend sat upon the edge of the bed, pale-
+faced and agitated. Suppose that the assailant had flung his pistol
+into the bushes, and the police eventually discovered it? Then, no
+doubt, he would be put across the frontier to be arrested by the
+police of the Department of the Alpes Maritimes.
+
+Truly, the situation was most serious.
+
+Together the two men strolled out into the early morning air and sat
+upon a seat on the terrace of the Casino watching the sun as it rose
+over the tideless sea.
+
+For nearly an hour they sat discussing the affair; then they ascended
+the white, dusty road to the beautiful Villa Amette, the home of the
+mysterious Mademoiselle.
+
+Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.
+
+"Alas! m'sieur, Mademoiselle is just the same," he replied in response
+to Hugh's eager inquiry. "The police have gone, but Doctor Leneveu is
+still upstairs."
+
+"Have the police searched the garden?" inquired Hugh eagerly.
+
+"Yes, m'sieur. They made a thorough examination, but have discovered
+no marks of footprints except those of yourself, myself, and a
+tradesman's lad who brought up a parcel late last night."
+
+"Then they found no weapon?" asked the young Englishman.
+
+"No, m'sieur. There is no clue whatever to the assailant."
+
+"Curious that there should be no footmarks," remarked Brock. "Yet they
+found yours, Hugh."
+
+"Yes. The man must surely have left some trace outside!"
+
+"One would certainly have thought so," Brock said. "I wonder if we may
+go into the room where the tragedy happened?" he asked of the servant.
+
+"Certainly, m'sieur," was the courteous reply, and he conducted them
+both into the apartment wherein Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo had been
+shot down.
+
+"Did you accompany Mademoiselle when she went to London, Giulio?"
+asked young Henfrey of the old Italian, after he had described to
+Brock exactly what had occurred.
+
+"Yes, m'sieur," he replied. "I was at Cromwell Road for a short time.
+But I do not care for London, so Mademoiselle sent me back here to
+look after the Villa because old Jean, the concierge, had been taken
+to the hospital."
+
+"When in London you knew some of Mademoiselle's friends, I suppose?"
+
+"A few--only a few," was the Italian's reply.
+
+"Did you ever know a certain Mr. Benton?"
+
+The old fellow shook his head blankly.
+
+"Not to my knowledge, m'sieur," he replied. "Mademoiselle had really
+very few friends in London. There was a Mrs. Matthews and her husband,
+Americans whom she met here in Monte Carlo, and Sir George Cave-
+Knight, who died a few weeks ago."
+
+"Do you remember an elderly gentleman named Henfrey calling?" asked
+Hugh.
+
+Old Cataldi reflected for a moment, and then answered:
+
+"The name sounds familiar to me, m'sieur, but in what connexion I
+cannot recollect. That is your name, is it not?" he asked, remembering
+the card he had taken to his mistress.
+
+"Yes," Hugh replied. "I have reason to believe that my late father was
+acquainted with your mistress, and that he called upon her in London."
+
+"I believe that a gentleman named Henfrey did call, because when I
+glanced at the card you gave me last night the name struck me as
+familiar," the servant said. "But whether he actually called, or
+whether someone at table mentioned his name I really cannot
+recollect."
+
+"Ah! That's a pity," exclaimed Hugh with a sigh. "As a matter of fact
+it was in order to make certain inquiries regarding my late father
+that I called upon Mademoiselle last night."
+
+Giulio Cataldi turned in pretence of rearranging a chair, but in
+reality to avert his face from the young man's gaze--a fact which Hugh
+did not fail to notice.
+
+Had he really told the truth when he declared that he could not
+recollect his father calling?
+
+"How long were you in London with Mademoiselle?" asked Henfrey.
+
+"About six weeks--not longer."
+
+Was it because of some untoward occurrence that the old Italian did
+not like London, Hugh wondered.
+
+"And you are quite sure that you do not recollect my father calling
+upon your mistress?"
+
+"As I have said, m'sieur, I do not remember. Yet I recall the name, as
+it is a rather unusual one."
+
+"And you have never heard of Mr. Benton?"
+
+Cataldi shook his head.
+
+"Well," Hugh went on, "tell me whether you entertain any suspicions of
+anyone who might be tempted to kill your mistress. Mademoiselle has
+enemies, has she not?"
+
+"Who knows?" exclaimed the man with the grey moustache and small,
+black furtive eyes.
+
+"Everyone has enemies of one sort or another," Walter remarked. "And
+no doubt Mademoiselle has. It is for us to discover the enemy who shot
+her."
+
+"Ah! yes, it is, m'sieur," exclaimed the servant. "The poor Signorina!
+I do hope that the police will discover who tried to kill her."
+
+"For aught we know the attempt upon the lady's life may prove
+successful after all," said Hugh despairingly. "The doctors hold out
+no hope of her recovery."
+
+"None. A third doctor has been in consultation--Doctor Bazin, from
+Beaulieu. He only left a quarter of an hour ago. He told me that the
+poor Signorina cannot possibly live! Ah! messieurs, how terrible all
+this is--/povera Signorina/! She was always so kind and considerate to
+us all." And the old man's voice trembled with emotion.
+
+Walter Brock gazed around the luxurious room and at the long open
+window through which streamed the bright morning sun, with the perfume
+of the flowers outside. What was the mystery concerning Mademoiselle
+Yvonne? What foundation had the gossips for those constant whisperings
+which had rendered the handsome woman so notorious?
+
+True, the story of the death of Hugh's father was an unusually strange
+one, curious in every particular--and stranger still that the secret
+was held by this beautiful, but mysterious, woman who lived in such
+luxury, and who gambled so recklessly and with invariable good
+fortune.
+
+As they walked back to the town Hugh's heart sank within him.
+
+"She will die," he muttered bitterly to himself. "She'll die, and I
+shall never learn the truth of the poor guv'nor's sad end, or the
+reason why I am being forced to marry Louise Lambert."
+
+"It's an iniquitous will, Hugh!" declared his friend. "And it's
+infernally hard on you that just at the very moment when you could
+have learnt the truth that shot was fired."
+
+"Do you think the woman had any hand in my father's death?" Hugh
+asked. "Do you think that she had repented, and was about to try and
+atone for what she had done by confessing the whole affair?"
+
+"Yes. That is just the view I take," answered Brock. "Of course, we
+have no idea what part she played in the business. But my idea is that
+she alone knows the reason why this marriage with Louise is being
+forced upon you."
+
+"In that case, then, it seems more than likely that I've been followed
+here to Monte Carlo, and my movements watched. But why has she been
+shot? Why did not her enemies shoot me? They could have done so twenty
+times during the past few days. Perhaps the shot which hit her was
+really intended for me?"
+
+"I don't think so. There is a monetary motive behind your marriage
+with Louise. If you died, your enemy would gain nothing. That seems
+clear."
+
+"But who can be my secret enemy?" asked the young man in dismay.
+
+"Mademoiselle alone knows that, and it was undoubtedly her intention
+to warn you."
+
+"Yes. But if she dies I shall remain in ignorance," he declared in a
+hard voice. "The whole affair is so tangled that I can see nothing
+clearly--only that my refusal to marry Louise will mean ruin to me--
+and I shall lose Dorise in the bargain!"
+
+Walter Brock, older and more experienced, was equally mystified. The
+pessimistic attitude of the three doctors who had attended the injured
+woman was, indeed, far from reassuring. The injury to the head caused
+by the assailant's bullet was, they declared, most dangerous. Indeed,
+the three medical men marvelled that she still lived.
+
+The two men walked through the palm-lined garden, bright with flowers,
+back to their hotel, wondering whether news of the tragedy had yet got
+abroad. But they heard nothing of it, and it seemed true, as Walter
+Brock had declared, that the police make haste to suppress any tragic
+happenings in the Principality.
+
+Though they were unconscious of it, a middle-aged, well-dressed
+Frenchman had, during their absence from the hotel, been making
+diligent inquiries regarding them of the night concierge and some of
+the staff.
+
+The concierge had recognized the visitor as Armand Buisson, of the
+police bureau at Nice. It seemed as though the French police were
+unduly inquisitive concerning the well-conducted young Englishman and
+his companion.
+
+Now, as a matter of fact, half an hour after Hugh had left the Villa
+Amette, Ogier had telegraphed to Buisson in Nice, and the latter had
+come along the Corniche road in a fast car to make his own inquiries
+and observations upon the pair of Englishmen. Ogier strongly suspected
+Henfrey of firing the shot, but was, nevertheless, determined to
+remain inactive and leave the matter to the Prefecture of the
+Department of Alpes Maritimes. Hence the reason that the well-dressed
+Frenchman lounged in the hall of the hotel pretending to read the
+"Phare du Littoral."
+
+Just before noon Hugh went to the telephone in the hotel and inquired
+of Cataldi the progress of his mistress.
+
+"She is just the same, m'sieur," came the voice in broken English.
+"/Santa Madonna!/ How terrible it all is! Doctor Leneveu has left, and
+Doctor Duponteil is now here."
+
+"Have the police been again?"
+
+"No, m'sieur. Nobody has been," was the reply.
+
+So Hugh rang off and crossed the hall, little dreaming that the well-
+dressed Frenchman had been highly interested in his questions.
+
+Half an hour later he went along to the Metropole, where he had an
+engagement to lunch with Dorise and her mother.
+
+When they met, however, Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+
+"Why, Hugh, you look very pale. What's the matter?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," he laughed forcedly. "I'm not very bright to-day. I
+think it was the sirocco of yesterday that has upset me a little,
+that's all."
+
+Then, while they were seated at table, Dorise suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"Oh! do you know, mother, that young French lady over yonder, Madame
+Jacomet, has just told me something. There's a whisper that the
+mysterious woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, was shot during the
+night by a discarded lover!"
+
+"Shot!" exclaimed Lady Ranscomb. "Dear me! How very dreadful. What
+really happened?"
+
+"I don't know. Madame Jacomet was told by her husband, who heard it in
+Ciro's this morning."
+
+"How terrible!" remarked Hugh, striving to remain calm.
+
+"Yes. But women of her class invariably come to a bad end," remarked
+the widow. "How pleased I am, Dorise, that you never spoke to her.
+She's a most dreadful person, they say."
+
+"Well, she evidently knows how to win money at the tables, mother,"
+said the girl, lifting her clear blue eyes to those of her lover.
+
+"Yes. But I wonder what the scandal is all about?" said the widow of
+the great engineer.
+
+"Oh! don't trouble to inquire Lady Ranscomb," Hugh hastened to remark.
+"One hears scandal on every hand in Monte Carlo."
+
+"Yes. I suppose so," replied the elder woman, and then the subject was
+dropped.
+
+So the ugly affair was being rumoured. It caused Hugh a good deal of
+apprehension, for he feared that his name would be associated with
+that of the mysterious Mademoiselle. Evidently one or other of the
+servants at the Villa Amette had been indiscreet.
+
+At that moment, in his private room at the bureau of police down in
+Monaco, Superintendent Ogier was carefully perusing a dossier of
+official papers which had been brought to him by the archivist.
+
+Between his thin lips was a long, thin, Swiss cigar--his favorite
+smoke--and with his gold-rimmed pince-nez poised upon his aquiline
+nose he was reading a document which would certainly have been of
+considerable interest to Hugh Henfrey and his friend Walter Brock
+could they have seen it.
+
+Upon the pale yellow paper were many lines of typewriting in French--a
+carbon copy evidently.
+
+It was headed: "Republique Francaise. Department of Herault.
+Prefecture of Police. Bureau of the Director of Police. Reference
+Number 20197.B.," and was dated nearly a year before.
+
+It commenced:
+
+
+ "Copy of an 'information' in the archives of the Prefecture of the
+  Department of Herault concerning the woman Marie Mignot, or
+  Leullier, now passing under the name of Yvonne Ferad and living at
+  the Villa Amette at Monte Carlo.
+
+ "The woman in question was born in 1884 at Number 45 Rue des
+  Etuves, in Montpellier, and was the daughter of one Doctor Rigaud,
+  a noted toxicologist of the Faculty of Medicine, and curator of
+  the University Library. At the age of seventeen, after her
+  father's death, she became a school teacher at a small school in
+  the Rue Morceau, and at nineteen married Charles Leullier, a good-
+  looking young scoundrel who posed as being well off, but who was
+  afterwards proved to be an expert international thief, a member of
+  a gang of dangerous thieves who committed robberies in the
+  European express trains.
+
+ "This fact was unknown to the girl, therefore at first all went
+  smoothly, until the wife discovered the truth and left him. She
+  then joined the chorus of a revue at the Jardin de Paris, where
+  she met a well-to-do Englishman named Bryant. The pair went to
+  England, where she married him, and they resided in the county of
+  Northampton. Six months later Bryant died, leaving her a large sum
+  of money. In the meantime Leullier had been arrested by the
+  Italian police for a daring robbery with violence in a train
+  traveling between Milan and Turin and been sentenced to ten years
+  on the penal island of Gorgona. His wife, hearing of this from an
+  Englishman named Houghton, who, though she was unaware of it, was
+  following the same profession as her husband, returned to France.
+  She rented an apartment in Paris, and afterwards played at Monte
+  Carlo, where she won a considerable sum, with the proceeds of
+  which she purchased the Villa Amette, which she now occupies each
+  season."
+
+
+ "Extracts of reports concerning Marie Leullier, alias Yvonne Ferad,
+  are herewith appended:
+
+ "Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London--to
+  the Prefecture of Police, Paris.
+
+ "Mademoiselle Yvonne Ferad rented a furnished house at Hove, near
+  Brighton, in June, 1918. Afterwards moved to Worthing and to
+  Exeter, and later took a house in the Cromwell Road, London, in
+  1919. She was accompanied by an Italian manservant named Cataldi.
+  Her conduct was suspicious, though she was undoubtedly possessed
+  of considerable means. She was often seen at the best restaurants
+  with various male acquaintances, more especially with a man named
+  Kenworthy. Her association with this person, and with another man
+  named Percy Stendall, was curious, as both men were habitual
+  criminals and had served several terms of penal servitude each.
+  Certain suspicions were aroused, and observation was kept, but
+  nothing tangible was discovered. It is agreed, however, that some
+  mystery surrounds this woman in question. She left London quite
+  suddenly, but left no debts behind."
+
+
+ "Information from the Borough Police Office, Worthing, to the
+  Prefecture of Police, Department of Herault.
+
+ "Mademoiselle Yvonne Ferad has been identified by the photograph
+  sent as having lived in Worthing in December, 1918. She rented a
+  small furnished house facing the sea, and was accompanied by an
+  Italian manservant and a French maid. Her movements were
+  distinctly mysterious. A serious fracas occurred at the house on
+  the evening of December 18th, 1918. A middle-aged gentleman, whose
+  name is unknown, called there about seven o'clock and a violent
+  quarrel ensued between the lady and her visitor, the latter being
+  very seriously assaulted by the Italian. The constable on duty was
+  called in, but the visitor refused to prosecute, and after having
+  his injuries attended to by a doctor left for London. Three days
+  later Mademoiselle disappeared from Worthing. It is believed by
+  the Chief Constable that the woman is of the criminal class."
+
+
+Then Charles Ogier, inspector of the detective police of Monaco,
+smiled, laid down his cigar, and took up another and even more
+interesting document.
+
+
+
+                            FIFTH CHAPTER
+
+                          ON THE HOG'S BACK
+
+Three days later. On a cold afternoon just as the wintry light was
+fading a tall, dark, middle-aged, rather handsome man with black hair
+and moustache, and wearing a well-cut, dark-grey overcoat and green
+velour hat, alighted from the train at the wayside station of
+Wanborough, in Surrey, and inquired of the porter the way to Shapley
+Manor.
+
+"Shapley, sir? Why, take the road there yonder up the hill till you
+get to the main road which runs along the Hog's Back from Guildford to
+Farnborough. When you get on the main road, turn sharp to the left
+past the old toll-gate, and you'll find the Manor on the left in among
+a big clump of trees."
+
+"How far?"
+
+"About a mile, sir."
+
+The stranger, the only passenger who had alighted, slipped sixpence
+into the man's hand, buttoned his coat, and started out to walk in the
+direction indicated, breasting the keen east wind.
+
+He was well-set-up, and of athletic bearing. He took long strides as
+with swinging gait he went up the hill. As he did so, he muttered to
+himself:
+
+"I was an infernal fool not to have come down in a car! I hate these
+beastly muddy country roads. But Molly has the telephone--so I can
+ring up for a car to fetch me--which is a consolation, after all."
+
+And with his keen eyes set before him, he pressed forward up the steep
+incline to where, for ten miles, ran the straight broad highway over
+the high ridge known as the Hog's Back. The road is very popular with
+motorists, for so high is it that on either side there stretches a
+wide panorama of country, the view on the north being towards the
+Thames Valley and London, while on the south Hindhead with the South
+Downs in the blue distance show beyond.
+
+Having reached the high road the stranger paused to take breath, and
+incidentally to admire the magnificent view. Indeed, an expression of
+admiration fell involuntarily from his lips. Then he went along for
+another half-mile in the teeth of the cutting wind with the twilight
+rapidly coming on, until he came to the clump of dark firs and
+presently walked up a gravelled drive to a large, but somewhat
+inartistic, Georgian house of red brick with long square windows. In
+parts the ivy was trying to hide its terribly ugly architecture for
+around the deep porch it grew thickly and spread around one corner of
+the building.
+
+A ring at the door brought a young manservant whom the caller
+addressed as Arthur, and, wishing him good afternoon, asked if Mrs.
+Bond were at home.
+
+"Yes, sir," was the reply.
+
+"Oh! good," said the caller. "Just tell her I'm here." And he
+proceeded to remove his coat and to hang it up in the great flagged
+hall with the air of one used to the house.
+
+The Manor was a spacious, well-furnished place, full of good pictures
+and much old oak furniture.
+
+The servant passed along the corridor, and entering the drawing-room,
+announced:
+
+"Mr. Benton is here, ma'am."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Benton! Show him in," cried his mistress enthusiastically.
+"Show him in at once!"
+
+Next moment the caller entered the fine, old-fashioned room, where a
+well-preserved, fair-haired woman of about forty was taking her tea
+alone and petting her Pekinese.
+
+"Well, Charles? So you've discovered me here, eh?" she exclaimed,
+jumping up and taking his hand.
+
+"Yes, Molly. And you seem to have very comfortable quarters," laughed
+Benton as he threw himself unceremoniously into a chintz-covered
+armchair.
+
+"They are, I assure you."
+
+"And I suppose you're quite a great lady in these parts--eh?--now that
+you live at Shapley Manor. Where's Louise?"
+
+"She went up to town this morning. She won't be back till after
+dinner. She's with her old school-fellow--that girl Bertha Trench."
+
+"Good. Then we can have a chat. I've several things to consult you
+about and ask your opinion."
+
+"Have some tea first," urged his good-looking hostess, pouring him
+some into a Crown Derby cup.
+
+"Well," he commenced. "I think you've done quite well to take this
+place, as you've done, for three years. You are now safely out of the
+way. The Paris Surete are making very diligent inquiries, but the
+Surrey Constabulary will never identify you with the lady of the Rue
+Racine. So you are quite safe here."
+
+"Are you sure of that, Charles?" she asked, fixing her big grey eyes
+upon him.
+
+"Certain. It was the wisest course to get back here to England,
+although you had to take a very round-about journey."
+
+"Yes. I got to Switzerland, then to Italy, and from Genoa took an
+Anchor Line steamer across to New York. After that I came over to
+Liverpool, and in the meantime I had become Mrs. Bond. Louise, of
+course, thought we were travelling for pleasure. I had to explain my
+change of name by telling her that I did not wish my divorced husband
+to know that I was back in England."
+
+"And the girl believed it, of course," he laughed.
+
+"Of course. She believes anything I tell her," said the clever,
+unscrupulous woman for whom the Paris police were in active search,
+whose real name was Molly Maxwell, and whose amazing career was well
+known to the French police.
+
+Only recently a sum of a quarter of a million francs had fallen into
+her hands, and with it she now rented Shapley Manor and had set up as
+a country lady. Benton gazed around the fine old room with its Adams
+ceiling and its Georgian furniture, and reflected how different were
+Molly's present surroundings from that stuffy little flat /au
+troisieme/ in the Rue Racine.
+
+"Yes," he said. "You had a very narrow escape, Molly. I dared not come
+near you, but I knew that you'd look after the girl."
+
+"Of course. I always look after her as though she were my own child."
+
+Benton's lip curled as he sipped his China tea, and said:
+
+"Because so much depends upon her--eh? I'm glad you view the situation
+from a fair and proper stand-point. We're now out for a big thing,
+therefore we must not allow any little hitch to prevent us from
+bringing it off successfully."
+
+"I quite agree, Charles. Our great asset is Louise. But she must be
+innocent of it all. She must know absolutely nothing."
+
+"True. If she had an inkling that we were forcing her to marry Hugh
+she would fiercely resent it. She's a girl of spirit, after all."
+
+"My dear Charles, I know that," laughed the woman. "Ever since she
+came home from school I've noticed how independent she is. She
+certainly has a will of her own. But she likes Hugh, and we must
+encourage it. Recollect that a fortune is at stake."
+
+"I have not overlooked that," the man said. "But of late I've come to
+fear that we are treading upon thin ice. I don't like the look of
+affairs at the present moment. Young Henfrey is head over ears in love
+with that girl Dorise Ranscomb, and--"
+
+"Bah! It's only a flirtation, my dear Charles," laughed the woman.
+"When just a little pressure is put upon the boy, and a sly hint to
+Lady Ranscomb, then the affair will soon be off, and he'll fall into
+Louise's arms. She's really very fond of him."
+
+"She may be, but he takes no notice of her. She told me so the other
+day. He's gone to the Riviera--followed Dorise, I suppose," Benton
+said.
+
+"Yvonne wrote me a few days ago to say that he was there with a friend
+of his named Walter Brock. Who's he?"
+
+"Oh! a naval lieutenant-commander who served in the war and was
+invalided out after the Battle of Jutland. He got the D.S.O. over the
+Falklands affair, and has now some post at the Admiralty. He was in
+command of a torpedo boat which sank a German cruiser, and was
+afterwards blown up."
+
+"They are both out at Monte Carlo, Yvonne says. And Henfrey is with
+Dorise daily," remarked the woman.
+
+"Yvonne is always apprehensive lest young Henfrey should learn the
+secret of the old fellow's end," said Benton. "But I don't see how the
+truth of the--well, rather ugly affair can ever come out, except by an
+indiscretion by one or other of us."
+
+"And that is scarcely likely, Charles, is it?" his hostess laughed as
+she pushed across to him a big silver box of cigarettes and then
+reclined lazily among her cushions.
+
+"No. It would certainly be a very sensational affair if the newspapers
+got hold of the facts, my dear Molly. But don't let us anticipate such
+a thing. Fortunately Louise, in her girlish innocence, knows nothing.
+Old Henfrey left his money to his son upon certain conditions, one of
+which is that Hugh shall marry Louise. And that marriage must, at all
+hazards, take place. After that, we care for nothing."
+
+The handsome woman who was rolling a cigarette between her well-
+manicured fingers hesitated. Her countenance assumed a strange look as
+she reflected. She was far too clever to express any off-hand opinion.
+She had outwitted the police of Paris, Brussels, and Rome in turn. Her
+whole career had been a criminal one, punctuated by periods of
+pretended high respectability--while the funds to support it had
+lasted. And upon her hands had been placed Louise Lambert, the child
+Charles Benton had adopted ten years before.
+
+"We shall have to exercise a good deal of discretion and caution in
+regard to Louise," she declared. "The affair is not at all so plain
+sailing as I at first believed."
+
+"No. It is a serious contretemps that you had to leave Paris, Molly,"
+agreed her well-dressed visitor. "The young American was a fool, of
+course, but I think--"
+
+"Paris was flooded by rich young men from the United States who came
+over to fight the Boche and to spend their money like water when on
+leave in Paris. Frank was only one of them."
+
+Benton was silent. The affair was a distinctly unsavoury one. Frank
+van Geen, the son of the Dutch-American millionaire cocoa manufacturer
+of Chicago, had, by reason of his association with Molly, found
+himself the poorer by nearly a quarter of a million francs, and his
+body had been found in the Seine between the Pont d'Auteuil and the
+Ile St. Germain. At the inquiry some ugly disclosures were made, but
+already the lady of the Rue Racine and her supposed niece had left
+Paris; and though the affair was one of suicide, the police raised a
+hue and cry, and the frontiers had been watched, but the pair had
+disappeared.
+
+That was several months ago. And now Molly Maxwell the adventuress in
+Paris had been transformed into the wealthy and highly respectable
+widow Mrs. Bond, who having presented such excellent references had
+become tenant of that well-furnished mansion, Shapley Manor, and the
+beautiful grounds adjoining. For nearly two centuries it had been the
+home of the Puttenhams, but Sir George Puttenham, Baronet, the present
+owner, had found himself ruined by war-taxation, and as one of the new
+poor he had been glad to let the place and live upon the rent obtained
+for it. His case, indeed, was only one of thousands of others in
+England, where adventurers and war-profiteers were ousting the landed
+gentry.
+
+"Yvonne is evidently keeping a good watch upon young Hugh," remarked
+Benton presently, as he blew a ring of cigarette smoke towards the
+ceiling.
+
+"Yes," replied the woman, her eyes fixed out of the big window which
+commanded a glorious view of Gibbet Hill, at Hindhead, and the blue
+South Downs towards the English Channel. But all was dark and lowering
+in the winter twilight, now fast darkening into night.
+
+In old-world Guildford, the county town of Surrey, with its steep High
+Street containing many seventeenth-century houses, its old inns, and
+its balconied Guildhall--the scene of so many unseemly wrangles among
+the robed and cocked-hatted borough councillors who are, /par
+excellence/, outstanding illustrations of the provincial petty
+jealousies of bumbledom--Mrs. Bond was welcomed by the trades-people
+who vied with each other to "serve her." Almost daily she went up and
+down the High Street in her fine Rolls-Royce driven by Mead, an ex-
+soldier and a worthy fellow whom she had engaged through an
+advertisement in the /Surrey Advertiser/. He had been in the Queen's
+West Surrey, and his home being in Guildford, Molly knew that he would
+serve as a testimonial to her high respectability. Molly Maxwell was
+an outstandingly clever woman. She never let a chance slip by that
+might be taken advantageously.
+
+Mead, who went on his "push-bike" every evening along the Hog's Back
+to Guildford, was never tired of singing the praises of his generous
+mistress.
+
+"She's a real good sort," he would tell his friends in the bar of the
+Lion or the Angel. "She knows how to treat a man. She's a widow, and
+good-looking. I suppose she'll marry again. Nearly all the best people
+about here have called on her within the last week or two. Magistrates
+and their wives, retired generals, and lots of the gentry. Yes, my job
+isn't to be sneezed at, I can tell you. It's better than driving a
+lorry outside Ypres!"
+
+Mrs. Bond treated Mead extremely well, and paid him well. She knew
+that by so doing she would secure a good advertisement. She had done
+so before, when four or five years ago she had lived at Keswick.
+
+"Do you know, Charles," she said presently, "I'm really very
+apprehensive regarding the present situation. Yvonne is, no doubt,
+keeping a watchful eye upon the young fellow. But what can she do if
+he has followed the Ranscomb girl and is with her each day? Each day,
+indeed, must bring the pair closer together, and--"
+
+"That's what we must prevent, my dear Molly!" exclaimed the lady's
+visitor. "Think of all it means to us. You are quite safe here--as
+safe as I am to-day. But we can't last out without money--either of
+us. We must have cash-money--and cash-money always."
+
+"Yes. That's so. But Yvonne is wonderful--amazing."
+
+"She hasn't the same stake in the affair as we have."
+
+"Why not?" asked the woman for whom the European police were in
+search.
+
+"Well, because she is rich--she's won pots of money at the tables--and
+we--well, both of us have only limited means. Yours, Molly, are larger
+than mine--thanks to Frank. But I must have money soon. My expenses in
+town are mounting up daily."
+
+"But your rooms don't cost you very much! Old Mrs. Evans looks after
+things as she has always done."
+
+"Yes. But everything is going up in price, and remember, I dare not
+cross the Channel just now. At Calais, Boulogne, Cherbourg, and other
+places, they have my photograph, and they are waiting for me to fall
+into the trap. But the rat, once encaged, is shy! And I am very shy
+just now," he added with a light laugh.
+
+"You'll stay and have dinner, won't you?" urged his hostess.
+
+Benton hesitated.
+
+"If I do Louise may return, and just now I don't want to meet her. It
+is better not."
+
+"But she won't be back till the last train to Guildford. Mead is
+meeting her. Yes--stay."
+
+"I must get a car to take me back to town. I have to go to Glasgow by
+the early train in the morning."
+
+"Well, we're order one from one of the garages in Guildford. You
+really must stay, Charles. There's lots we have to talk over--a lot of
+things that are of vital consequence to us both."
+
+At that moment there came a rap at the door and the young manservant
+entered, saying:
+
+"You're wanted on the telephone, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Bond rose from the settee and went to the telephone in the
+library, where she heard the voice of a female telephone operator.
+
+"Is that Shapley Manor?" she asked. "I have a telegram for Mrs. Bond.
+Handed in at Nice at two twenty-five, received here at four twenty-
+eight. 'To Bond, Shapley Manor, near Guildford. Yvonne shot by some
+unknown person while with Hugh. In grave danger.--S.' That is the
+message. Have you got it please?"
+
+Mrs. Bond held her breath.
+
+"Yes," she gasped. "Anything else?"
+
+"No, madam," replied the telephone operator at the Guildford Post
+Office. "Nothing else. I will forward the duplicate by post."
+
+And she switched off.
+
+
+
+                            SIXTH CHAPTER
+
+                          FACING THE UNKNOWN
+
+That the police were convinced that Hugh Henfrey had shot Mademoiselle
+was plain.
+
+Wherever he went an agent of detective police followed him. At the
+Cafe de Paris as he took his aperitif on the /terrasse/ the man sat at
+a table near, idly smoking a cigarette and glancing at an illustrated
+paper on a wooden holder. In the gardens, in the Rooms, in the
+Galerie, everywhere the same insignificant little man haunted him.
+
+Soon after luncheon he met Dorise and her mother in the Rooms. With
+them were the Comte d'Autun, an elegant young Frenchman, well known at
+the tables, and Madame Tavera, a very chic person who was one of the
+most admired visitors of that season. They were only idling and
+watching the players at the end table, where a stout, bearded Russian
+was making some sensational coups /en plein/.
+
+Presently Hugh succeeded in getting Dorise alone.
+
+"It's awfully stuffy here," he said. "Let's go outside--eh?"
+
+Together they descended the red-carpeted steps and out into the palm-
+lined Place, at that hour thronged by the smartest crowd in Europe.
+Indeed, the war seemed to have led to increased extravagance and
+daring in the dress of those gay Parisiennes, those butterflies of
+fashion who were everywhere along the Cote d'Azur.
+
+They turned the corner by the Palais des Beaux Arts into the Boulevard
+Peirara.
+
+"Let's walk out of the town," he suggested to the girl. "I'm tired of
+the place."
+
+"So am I, Hugh," Dorise admitted. "For the first fortnight the
+unceasing round of gaiety and the novelty of the Rooms are most
+fascinating, but, after that, one seems cooped up in an atmosphere of
+vicious unreality. One longs for the open air and open country after
+this enervating, exotic life."
+
+So when they arrived at the little church of Ste. Devote, the patron
+saint of Monaco, that little building which everyone knows standing at
+the entrance to that deep gorge the Vallon des Gaumates, they
+descended the steep, narrow path which runs beside the mountain
+torrent and were soon alone in the beautiful little valley where the
+grey-green olives overhang the rippling stream. The little valley was
+delightfully quiet and rural after the garish scenes in Monte Carlo,
+the cosmopolitan chatter, and the vulgar display of the war-rich. The
+old habitue of pre-war days lifts his hands as he watches the post-war
+life around the Casino and listens to the loud uneducated chatter of
+the profiteer's womenfolk.
+
+As the pair went along in the welcome shadows, for the sun fell strong
+upon the tumbling stream, Hugh was remarking upon it.
+
+He had been at Monte Carlo with his father before the war, and
+realized the change.
+
+"I only wish mother would move on," Dorise exclaimed as they strolled
+slowly together.
+
+She presented a dainty figure in cream gabardine and a broad-brimmed
+straw hat which suited her admirably. Her clothes were made by a
+certain famous /couturiere/ in Hanover Square, for Lady Ranscomb had
+the art of dressing her daughter as well as she did herself. Gowns
+make the lady nowadays, or the fashionable dressmakers dare not make
+their exorbitant charges.
+
+"Then you also are tired of the place?" asked Hugh, as he strolled
+slowly at her side in a dark-blue suit and straw hat. They made a
+handsome pair, and were indeed well suited to each other. Lady
+Ranscomb liked Hugh, but she had no idea that the young people had
+fallen so violently in love with each other.
+
+"Yes," said the girl. "Mother promised to spend Easter in Florence.
+I've never been there and am looking forward to it so much. The
+Marchesa Ruggeri, whom we met at Harrogate last summer, has a villa
+there, and has invited us for Easter. But mother said this morning
+that she preferred to remain here."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh! Somebody in the hotel has put her off. An old Englishwoman who
+lives in Florence told her that there's nothing to see beyond the
+Galleries, and that the place is very catty."
+
+Hugh laughed and replied:
+
+"All British colonies in Continental cities are catty, my dear Dorise.
+They say that for scandal Florence takes the palm. I went there for
+two seasons in succession before the war, and found the place
+delightful."
+
+"The Marchesa is a charming woman. Her husband was an attache at the
+Italian Embassy in Paris. But he has been transferred to Washington,
+so she has gone back to Florence. I like her immensely, and I do so
+want to visit her."
+
+"Oh, you must persuade your mother to take you," he said. "She'll be
+easily persuaded."
+
+"I don't know. She doesn't like travelling in Italy. She once had her
+dressing-case stolen from the train between Milan and Genoa, so she's
+always horribly bitter against all Italians."
+
+"There are thieves also on English railways, Dorise," Hugh remarked.
+"People are far too prone to exaggerate the shortcomings of
+foreigners, and close their eyes to the faults of the British."
+
+"But everybody is not so cosmopolitan as you are, Hugh," the girl
+laughed, raising her eyes to those of her lover.
+
+"No," he replied with a sigh.
+
+"Why do you sigh?" asked the girl, having noticed a change in her
+companion ever since they had met in the Rooms. He seemed strangely
+thoughtful and preoccupied.
+
+"Did I?" he asked, suddenly pulling himself together. "I didn't know,"
+he added with a forced laugh.
+
+"You don't look yourself to-day, Hugh," she said.
+
+"I've been told that once before," he replied. "The weather--I think!
+Are you going over to the /bal blanc/ at Nice to-night?"
+
+"Of course. And you are coming also. Hasn't mother asked you?" she
+inquired in surprise.
+
+"No."
+
+"How silly! She must have forgotten. She told me she intended to ask
+you to have a seat in the car. The Comte d'Autun is coming with us."
+
+"Ah! He admires you, Dorise, hence I don't like him," Hugh blurted
+forth.
+
+"But, surely, you're not jealous, you dear old thing!" laughed the
+girl, tantalizing him. Perhaps she would not have uttered those words
+which cut deeply into his heart had she known the truth concerning the
+tragedy at the Villa Amette.
+
+"I don't like him because he seems to live by gambling," Hugh
+declared. "I know your mother likes him very much--of course!"
+
+"And she likes you, too, dear."
+
+"She may like me, but I fear she begins to suspect that we love each
+other, dearest," he said in a hard tone. "If she does, she will take
+care in future to keep us apart, and I--I shall lose you, Dorise!"
+
+"No--no, you won't."
+
+"Ah! But I shall! Your mother will never allow you to marry a man who
+has only just sufficient to rub along with, and who is already in debt
+to his tailor. What hope is there that we can ever marry?"
+
+"My dear Hugh, you are awfully pessimistic to-day," the girl cried.
+"What is up with you? Have you lost heavily at the tables--or what?"
+
+"No. I have been thinking of the future," he said in a hard voice so
+very unusual to him. "I am thinking of your mother's choice of a
+husband for you--George Sherrard."
+
+"I hate him--the egotistical puppy!" exclaimed the girl, her fine eyes
+flashing with anger. "I'll never marry him--/never/!"
+
+But Hugh Henfrey made no reply, and they went on together in silence.
+
+"Cannot you trust me, Hugh?" asked the girl at last in a low earnest
+tone.
+
+"Yes, dearest. I trust you, of course. But I feel certain that your
+mother, when she knows our secret, will forbid your seeing me, and
+press on your marriage with Sherrard. Remember, he's a rich man, and
+your mother adores the Golden Calf."
+
+"I know she does. If people have money she wants to know them. Her
+first inquiry is whether they have money."
+
+It was on the tip of Hugh's tongue to remark with sarcasm that such
+ideals might well be expected of the wife of a jerry-builder in
+Golder's green. But he hesitated. Lady Ranscomb was always well
+disposed towards him, and he had had many good times at her house and
+on the grouse moor she rented in Scotland each year for the benefit of
+her intimate friends. Though she had been the wife of a small builder
+and had commenced her married life in an eight-roomed house on the
+fringe of Hampstead Heath, yet she had picked up society manners
+marvellously well, being a woman of quick intelligence and
+considerable wit. Nevertheless, she had no soul above money, and
+gaiety was as life to her. She could not live without it. Dorise had
+been given an excellent education, and after three years at Versailles
+was now voted one of the prettiest and most charming girls in London
+society. Hence mother and daughter were sought after everywhere, and
+their doings were constantly being chronicled in the newspapers.
+
+"Yes," he said. "Your mother has not asked me over to Nice to-night
+because she believes you and I have been too much together of late."
+
+"No," declared Dorise. "I'm sure it's not that, Hugh--I'm quite sure!
+It's simply an oversight. I'll see about it when we get back. We leave
+the hotel at half-past nine. It is the great White Ball of the Nice
+season."
+
+"Please don't mention it to her on any account, Dorise," Hugh urged.
+"If you did it would at once show her that you preferred my company to
+that of the Count. Go with him. I shan't be jealous! Besides, in view
+of my financial circumstances, what right have I to be jealous? You
+can't marry a fellow like myself, Dorise. It wouldn't be fair to you."
+
+The girl halted. In her eyes shone the light of unshed tears.
+
+"Hugh! What do you mean? What are you saying?" she asked in a low,
+faltering voice. "Have I not told you that whatever happens I shall
+never love another man but yourself?"
+
+He drew a long breath, and without replying placed his strong arms
+around her and, drawing her to him, kissed her passionately upon the
+lips.
+
+"Thank you, my darling," he murmured. "Thank you for those words. They
+put into me a fresh hope, a fresh determination, and a fearlessness--
+oh! you--you don't know!" he added in a low, earnest voice.
+
+"All I know, Hugh, is that you love me," was the simple response as
+she reciprocated his fierce caress.
+
+"Love you, darling!" he cried. "Yes. You are mine--mine!"
+
+"True, Hugh. I love no other man. I hate that tailor's dummy, George
+Sherrard, and as for the Count--well, he's an idiotic Frenchman--the
+'hardy annual of Monte Carlo' I heard him called the other day. No,
+Hugh, I assure you that you have no cause for jealousy."
+
+And she smiled sweetly into his eyes.
+
+They were standing together beneath a twisted old olive tree through
+the dark foliage of which the sun shone in patches, while by their
+feet the mountain torrent from the high, snow-clad Alps rippled and
+splashed over the great grey boulders towards the sea.
+
+"I know it, darling! I know it," Hugh said in a stifled voice. He was
+thinking of the tragedy of that night, but dare not disclose to her
+his connexion with it, because he knew the police suspected him of
+making that murderous attack upon the famous "Mademoiselle."
+
+"Forgive me, Hugh," exclaimed the girl, still clasped in her lover's
+arms. "But somehow you don't seem your old self to-day. What is the
+matter? Can't you tell me?"
+
+He drew a long breath.
+
+"No, darling. Excuse me. I--I'm a bit upset that's all."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'm upset because for the last day or two I have begun to realize
+that our secret must very soon come out, and then--well, your mother
+will forbid me the house because I have no money. You know that she
+worships Mammon always--just as your father did--forgive me for my
+words."
+
+"I do forgive you because you speak the truth," Dorise replied. "I
+know that mother wants me to marry a rich man, and--"
+
+"And she will compel you to do so, darling. I am convinced of that."
+
+"She won't!" cried the girl. "I will never marry a man I do not love!"
+
+"Your mother, if she doesn't suspect our compact, will soon do so," he
+said. "She's a clever woman. She is on the alert, because she intends
+you to marry soon, and to marry a rich man."
+
+"Mother is far too fond of society, I admit. She lives only for her
+gay friends now that father is dead. She spends lavishly upon
+luncheons and dinners at the Ritz, the Carlton, and Claridge's; and by
+doing so we get to know all the best people. But what does it matter
+to me? I hate it all because----"
+
+And she looked straight into his eyes as she broke off.
+
+"Because," she whispered, "because--because I love you, Hugh!"
+
+"Ah! darling! You have never been so frank with me before," he said
+softly. "You do not know how much those words of yours mean to me! You
+do not know how all my life, all my hopes, all my future, is centred
+in your own dear self!" and clasping her again tightly in his arms he
+pressed his lips fondly to hers in a long passionate embrace.
+
+Yet within the stout heart of Hugh Henfrey, who was so straight,
+honest and upright a young fellow as ever trod the Broad at Oxford,
+lay that ghastly secret--indeed, a double secret--that of his revered
+father's mysterious end and the inexplicable attack upon Yvonne Ferad
+at the very moment when he had been about to learn the truth.
+
+They lingered there beside the mountain stream for a long time, until
+the sun sank and the light began to fail. Again and again he told her
+of his great love for her, but he said nothing of the strange clause
+in his father's will. She knew Louise Lambert, having met her once
+walking in the park with her lover. Hugh had introduced them, and had
+afterwards explained that the girl was the adopted daughter of a great
+friend of his father.
+
+Dorise little dreamed that if her lover married her he would inherit
+the remainder of old Mr. Henfrey's fortune.
+
+"Do come over to the ball at Nice to-night," the girl urged presently
+as they stood with hands clasped gazing into each other's eyes. "It
+will be nothing without you."
+
+"Ah! darling, that's very nice of you to say so, but I think we ought
+to be discreet. Your mother has invited the Count to go with you."
+
+"I hate him!" Dorise declared. "He's all elegance, bows and flattery.
+He bores me to death."
+
+"I can quite understand that. But your mother is fond of his society.
+She declares that he is so amusing, and in Paris he knows everyone
+worth knowing."
+
+"Oh, yes. He gave us an awfully good time in Paris last season--took
+us to Longchamps, and we afterwards went to Deauville with him. He
+wins and loses big sums on the turf."
+
+"A born gambler. Everyone knows that. I heard a lot about him in the
+Travellers' Club, in Paris."
+
+"But if mother telephones to you, you'll come with us--won't you?"
+entreated the girl again.
+
+The young man hesitated. His mind was full of the tragic affair of the
+previous night. He was wondering whether the end had come--whether
+Mademoiselle's lips were already sealed by Death.
+
+He gave an evasive reply, whereupon Dorise, taking his hand in hers,
+said:
+
+"What is your objection to going out with us to-night, Hugh? Do tell
+me. If you don't wish me to go, I'll make an excuse to mother and she
+can take the Count."
+
+"I have not the slightest objection," he declared at once. "Go,
+dearest--only leave me out of it. The /bal blanc/ is always good fun."
+
+"I shall not go if you refuse to go," she said with a pout.
+
+Therefore in order to please her he consented--providing Lady Ranscomb
+invited him.
+
+They had wandered a long way up the narrow, secluded valley, but had
+met not a soul. All was delightful and picturesque, the profusion of
+wild flowers, the huge grey moss-grown boulders, the overhanging
+ilexes and olives, and the music of the tumbling current through a
+crooked course worn deep by the waters of primeval ages.
+
+It was seldom that in the whirl of society the pair could get a couple
+of hours together without interruption. And under the blue Riviera sky
+they were indeed fraught with bliss to both.
+
+When they returned to the town the dusk was already falling, and the
+great arc lamps along the terrace in front of the Casino were already
+lit. Hugh took her as far as the entrance to the Metropole and then,
+after wishing her au revoir and promising to go with her to Nice if
+invited, he hastily retraced his steps to the Palmiers. Five minutes
+later he was speaking to the old Italian at the Villa Amette.
+
+"Mademoiselle is still unconscious, m'sieur," was the servant's reply
+to his eager inquiry. "The doctors have been several times this
+afternoon, but they hold out no hope."
+
+"I wonder if I can be of any assistance?" Hugh asked in French.
+
+"I think not, m'sieur. What assistance can any of us give poor
+Mademoiselle?"
+
+Ah, what indeed, Hugh thought as he put down the receiver.
+
+Yet while she lived, there was still a faint hope that he would be
+able to learn the secret which he anticipated would place him in such
+a position that he might defy those who had raised their hands against
+his father and himself.
+
+His marriage with Dorise, indeed his whole future, depended upon the
+disclosure of the clever plot whereby Louise Lambert was to become his
+wife.
+
+His friend Brock was not in the hotel, so he went to his room to dress
+for dinner. Ten minutes later a page brought a message from Lady
+Ranscomb inviting him to go over to Nice to the ball.
+
+He drew a long breath. He was in no mood for dancing that night, for
+he was far too perturbed regarding the critical condition of the
+notorious woman who had turned his friend.
+
+On every hand there were whispers and wild reports concerning the
+tragedy at the Villa Amette. He had heard about it from a dozen
+people, though not a word was in the papers. Yet nobody dreamed that
+he, of all men, had been present when the mysterious shot was fired,
+or that he was, indeed, the cause of the secret attack.
+
+He dressed slowly, and having done so, descended to the /salle a
+manger/. The big white room was filled with a gay, reckless
+cosmopolitan crowd--the crowd of well-dressed moths of both sexes
+which eternally flutters at night at Monte Carlo, attracted by the
+candle held by the great god Hazard.
+
+Brock was not there, and he seated himself alone at their table near
+the long-curtained window. He was surprised at his friend's absence.
+Perhaps, however, he had met friends and gone over to Beaulieu, Nice,
+or Mentone with them.
+
+He had but little appetite. He ate a small portion of langouste with
+an exquisite salad, and drank a single glass of chablis. Then he rose
+and quitted the chattering, laughing crowd of diners, whose gossip was
+mainly upon a sensational run on the red at five o'clock that evening.
+One woman, stout and of Hebrew type, sitting with three men, was
+wildly merry, for she had won the equivalent to sixty thousand pounds.
+
+All that recklessness jarred upon the young man's nerves. He tried to
+close his ears to it all, and ascended again to his room, where he sat
+in silent despondency till it was time for him to go round to the
+Metropole to join Lady Ranscomb and Dorise.
+
+He had brushed his hair and rearranged his tie, and was about to put
+on the pierrot's costume of white satin with big buttons of black
+velvet which he had worn at the /bal blanc/ at Mentone about a week
+before, when the page handed him another note.
+
+Written in a distinctly foreign hand, it read:
+
+
+ "Instantly you receive this get into a travelling-suit and put what
+  money and valuables you have into your pockets. Then go to a dark-
+  green car which will await you by the reservoir in the Boulevard
+  du Midi. Trust the driver. You must get over the frontier into
+  Italy at the earliest moment. Every second's delay is dangerous to
+  you. Do not trouble to find out who sends you this warning! /Bon
+  voyage!/"
+
+
+Hugh Henfrey read it and re-read it. The truth was plain. The police
+of Monaco suspected him, and intended that he should be arrested on
+suspicion of having committed the crime.
+
+But who was his unknown friend?
+
+He stood at the window reflecting. If he did not keep his appointment
+with Dorise she would reproach him for breaking his word to her. On
+the other hand, if he motored to Nice he would no doubt be arrested on
+the French frontier a few miles along the Corniche road.
+
+Inspector Ogier suspected him, hence discretion was the better part of
+valour. So, after brief consideration, he threw off his dress clothes
+and assumed a suit of dark tweed. He put his money and a few articles
+of jewellry in his pockets, and getting into his overcoat he slipped
+out of the hotel by the back entrance used by the staff.
+
+Outside, he walked in the darkness along the Boulevard du Nord, past
+the Turbie station, until he came to the long blank wall behind which
+lay the reservoir.
+
+At the kerb he saw the dim red rear-light of a car, and almost at the
+same moment a rough-looking Italian chauffeur approached him.
+
+"Quick, signore!" he whispered excitedly. "Every moment is full of
+danger. There is a warrant out for your arrest! The police know that
+you intended to go to Nice and they are watching for you on the
+Corniche road. But we will try to get into Italy. You are an invalid,
+remember! You'll find in the car a few things with which you can make
+up to look the part. You are an American subject and a cripple, who
+cannot leave the car when the customs officers search it. Now,
+signore, let's be off and trust to our good fortune in getting away. I
+will tell the officers of the /dogana/ at Ventimiglia a good story--
+trust me! I haven't been smuggling backwards and forwards for ten
+years without knowing the ropes!"
+
+"But where are we going?" asked Hugh bewildered.
+
+"You, signore, are going to prison if we fail on this venture, I
+fear," was the rough-looking driver's reply.
+
+So urged by him Hugh got into the car, and then they drove swiftly
+along the sea-road of the littoral towards the rugged Italian
+frontier.
+
+Hugh Henfrey was going forth to face the unknown.
+
+
+
+                           SEVENTH CHAPTER
+
+                          FROM DARK TO DAWN
+
+In the darkness the car went swiftly through Mentone and along the
+steep winding road which leads around the rugged coast close to the
+sea--the road over the yellow rocks which Napoleon made into Italy.
+
+Presently they began to ascend a hill, a lonely, wind-swept highway
+with the sea plashing deep below, when, after a sudden bend, some
+lights came into view. It was the wayside Italian Customs House.
+
+They had arrived at the frontier.
+
+Hugh, by the aid of a flash-lamp, had put on a grey moustache and
+changed his clothes, putting his own into the suit case wherein he had
+found the suit already prepared for him. He had wrapped himself up in
+a heavy travelling-rug, and by his side reposed a pair of crutches, so
+that when they drew up before the little roadside office of the
+Italian /dogana/ he was reclining upon a cushion presenting quite a
+pathetic figure.
+
+But who had made all these preparations for his flight?
+
+He held his breath as the chauffeur sounded his horn to announce his
+arrival. Then the door opened, shedding a long ray of light across the
+white dusty road.
+
+"/Buona sera, signore/!" cried the chauffeur merrily, as a Customs
+officer in uniform came forward. "Here's my driving licence and papers
+for the car. And our two passports."
+
+The man took them, examined them by the light of his electric torch,
+and told the chauffeur to go into the office for the visas.
+
+"Have you anything to declare?" he added in Italian.
+
+"Half a dozen very bad cigarettes," replied the other, laughing.
+"They're French! And also I've got a very bad cold! No duty on that, I
+suppose?"
+
+The officer laughed, and then turned his attention to the petrol tank,
+into which he put his measuring iron to see how much it contained,
+while the facetious chauffeur stood by.
+
+During this operation two other men came out of the building, one an
+Italian carabineer in epaulettes and cocked hat, while the other, tall
+and shrewd-faced, was in mufti. The latter was the agent of French
+police who inspects all travellers leaving France by road.
+
+The chauffeur realized that the moment was a critical one.
+
+He was rolling a cigarette unconcernedly, but bending to the Customs
+officer, he said in a low voice:
+
+"My /padrone/ is an /Americano/. An invalid, and a bit eccentric. Lots
+of money. A long time ago he injured his spine and can hardly move. He
+fell down a few days ago, and now I've got to take him to Professor
+Landrini, in Turin. He's pretty bad. We've come from Hyeres. His
+doctor ordered me to take him to Turin at once. We don't want any
+delay. He told me to give you this," and he slipped a note for a
+hundred lire into the man's hand.
+
+The officer expressed surprise, but the merry chauffeur of the rich
+American exclaimed:
+
+"Don't worry. The /Americano/ is very rich; I only wish there were
+more of his sort about. He's the great Headon, the meat-canner of
+Chicago. You see his name on the tins."
+
+The man recognized the name, and at once desisted in his examination.
+
+Then to the two police officers who came to his side, he explained:
+
+"The American gentleman inside is an invalid, going to Turin to
+Professor Landrini. He wants to get off at once, for he has a long
+journey over the Alps."
+
+The French agent of police grunted suspiciously. Both the French and
+Italian police are very astute, but money always talks. It is the same
+at a far-remote frontier station as in any circle of society.
+
+Here was a well-known American--the Customs officer had mentioned the
+name of Headon, which both police officers recognized--an invalid sent
+with all haste to the famous surgeon in Turin. It was not likely that
+he would be carrying contraband, or be an escaping criminal.
+
+Besides, the chauffeur, in full view of the two police agents, slipped
+a second note into the hand of the Customs officer, and said:
+
+"So all is well, isn't it, signori? Just visa my papers, and we'll get
+along. It looks as though we're to have a bad thunderstorm, and, if
+so, we shall catch it up on the Col di Tenda!"
+
+Thus impelled, the quartette went back to the well-lit little
+building, where the beetle-browed driver again chaffed the police-
+agents, while the Customs officer placed his rubber stamp upon the
+paper, scribbled his initials and charged three-lire-twenty as fee.
+
+All this was being watched with breathless anxiety by the supposed
+invalid reclining against the cushion with his crutches at his side.
+
+Again the mysterious chauffeur reappeared, and with him the French
+police officer in plain clothes.
+
+"We are keeping watch for a young Englishman from Monte Carlo who has
+shot a woman," remarked the latter.
+
+"Oh! But they arrested him to-night in Mentone," replied the driver.
+"I heard it half an hour ago as I came through."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Well, they told me so at the Garage Grimaldi. He shot a woman known
+as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo--didn't he?"
+
+"Yes, that's the man! But they have not informed us yet. I'll
+telephone to Mentone." Then he added: "As a formality I'll just have a
+peep at your master."
+
+The chauffeur held his breath.
+
+"He's pretty bad, I think. I hope we shall be in Turin early in the
+morning."
+
+Advancing to the car, the police officer opened the door and flashed
+his torch upon the occupant.
+
+He saw a pale, elderly man, with a grey moustache, wearing a golf cape
+and reclining uneasily upon the pillow, with his leg propped up and
+wrapped with a heavy travelling-rug. Upon the white countenance was an
+expression of pain as he turned wearily, his eyes dazzled by the
+sudden light.
+
+"Where are we?" he asked faintly in English.
+
+"At the Italian /douane/, m'sieur," was the police officer's reply, as
+for a few seconds he gazed upon the invalid's face, seconds that
+seemed hours to Hugh. He was, of course, unaware of the cock-and-bull
+story which his strange chauffeur had told, and feared that at any
+moment he might find himself under arrest.
+
+While the door remained open there was danger. At last, however, the
+man reclosed it.
+
+Hugh's heart gave a great bound. The chauffeur had restarted the
+engine, and mounting to the wheel shouted a merry:
+
+"/Buona notte, signori/!"
+
+Then the car moved away along the winding road and Hugh knew that he
+was on Italian soil--that he had happily escaped from France.
+
+But why had he escaped, he reflected? He was innocent. Would not his
+flight lend colour to the theory that Yvonne Ferad had been shot by
+his hand?
+
+Again, who was his unknown friend who had warned him of his peril and
+made those elaborate arrangements for his escape? Besides, where was
+Walter?
+
+His brain was awhirl. As they tore along in the darkness ever beside
+the sea over that steep and dangerous road along the rock coast, Hugh
+Henfrey fell to wondering what the motive of it all could be. Why had
+Yvonne been shot just at that critical moment? It was evident that she
+had been closely watched by someone to whom her silence meant a very
+great deal.
+
+She had told him that his father had been a good man, and she was on
+the point of disclosing to him the great secret when she had been
+struck down.
+
+What was the mystery of it all? Ay, what indeed?
+
+He recalled every incident of that fateful night, her indignation at
+his presence in her house, and her curious softening of manner towards
+him, as though repentant and ready to make amends.
+
+Then he wondered what Dorise would think when he failed to put in an
+appearance to go with her to the ball at Nice. He pictured the car
+waiting outside the hotel, Lady Ranscomb fidgeting and annoyed, the
+count elegant and all smiles and graces, and Dorise, anxious and
+eager, going to the telephone and speaking to the concierge at the
+Palmiers. Then inquiry for Monsieur Henfrey, and the discovery that he
+had left the hotel unseen.
+
+So far Dorise knew nothing of Hugh's part in the drama of the Villa
+Amette, but suddenly he was horrified by the thought that the police,
+finding he had escaped, would question her. They had been seen
+together many times in Monte Carlo, and the eyes of the police of
+Monaco are always very wide open. They know much, but are usually
+inactive. When one recollects that all the /escrocs/ of Europe gather
+at the /tapis vert/ in winter and spring, it is not surprising that
+they close their eyes to such minor crimes as theft, blackmail and
+false pretences.
+
+In his excited and unnerved state, he pictured Ogier calling upon Lady
+Ranscomb and questioning her closely concerning her young English
+friend who was so frequently seen with her daughter. That would,
+surely, end their friendship! Lady Ranscomb would never allow her
+daughter to associate further with a man accused of attempting to
+murder a notorious woman after midnight!
+
+The car presently descended the steep rocky road which wound up over
+the promontory and back again down to the sea, until they passed
+through the little frontier town of Ventimiglia.
+
+It was late, and few people were about in the narrow, ill-lit streets.
+
+Suddenly, a couple of Italian carabineers stopped the car.
+
+Hugh's heart beat quickly. Had they at the /dogana/ discovered the
+trick and telephoned from the frontier?
+
+Instantly the fugitive reassumed his role of invalid, and no sooner
+had he settled himself than the second man in a cocked hat and heavy
+black cloak opened the door and peered within.
+
+Another lamp was flashed upon his face.
+
+The carabineer asked in Italian:
+
+"What is your name, signore?"
+
+But Hugh, pretending that he did not understand the language, asked:
+
+"Eh? What?"
+
+"Here are our papers, signore," interrupted the ever-ready chauffeur,
+and he produced the papers for the officer's inspection.
+
+He looked at them, bending to read them by the light of the torch
+which his companion held.
+
+Then, after an officious gesture, he handed them back, saying:
+
+"/Benissimo/! You may pass!"
+
+Again Hugh was free! Yet he wondered if that examination had been
+consequent upon the hue and cry set up now that he had escaped from
+Monaco.
+
+They passed out of the straggling town of Ventimiglia, but instead of
+turning up the valley by that long road which winds up over the Alps
+until it reaches the snow and then passes through the tunnel on the
+Col di Tenda and on to Cuneo and Turin, the mysterious driver kept on
+by the sea-road towards Bordighera.
+
+Hugh realised that his guide's intention was to go in the direction of
+Genoa.
+
+About two miles out of Ospedaletti, on the road to San Remo, Henfrey
+rapped at the window, and the chauffeur, who was travelling at high
+speed, pulled up.
+
+Hugh got out and said in French:
+
+"Well, so far we've been successful. I admire your ingenuity and your
+pluck."
+
+The man laughed and thanked him.
+
+"I have done what I was told to do," he replied simply. "Monsieur is,
+I understand, in a bit of a scrape, and it is for all of us to assist
+each other--is it not?"
+
+"Of course. But who told you to do all this?" Hugh inquired, standing
+in the dark road beside the car. The pair could not see each other's
+faces, though the big head-lamps glared far ahead over the white road.
+
+"Well--a friend of yours, m'sieur."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"Pardon, I am not allowed to say."
+
+"But all this is so very strange--so utterly mysterious!" cried Hugh.
+"I have not committed any crime, and yet I am hunted by the police!
+They are anxious to arrest me for an offence of which I am entirely
+innocent."
+
+"I know that, m'sieur," was the fellow's reply. "At the /dogana/,
+however, we had a narrow escape. The man who looked at you was Morain,
+the chief inspector of the Surete of the Alpes-Maritimes, and he was
+at the outpost especially to stop you!"
+
+"Again I admire your perfect nonchalance and ingenuity," Hugh said. "I
+owe my liberty entirely to you."
+
+"Not liberty, m'sieur. We are not yet what you say in English 'out of
+the wood.'"
+
+"Where are we going now?"
+
+"To Genoa. We ought to be there by early morning," was the reply.
+"Morain has, no doubt, telephoned to Mentone and discovered that my
+story is false. So if later, on, they suspect the American invalid
+they will be looking out for him on the Col di Tenda, in Cuneo, and in
+Turin."
+
+"And what shall we do in Genoa?"
+
+"Let us get there first--and see."
+
+"But I wish you would tell me who you are--and why you take such a
+keen interest in my welfare," Hugh said.
+
+The man gave vent to an irritating laugh.
+
+"I am not permitted to disclose the identity of your friend," he
+answered. "All I know is that you are innocent."
+
+"Then perhaps you know the guilty person?" Hugh suggested.
+
+"Ah! Let us talk of something else, signore," was the mysterious
+chauffeur's reply.
+
+"But I confess to you that I am bent upon solving the mystery of
+Mademoiselle's assailant. It means a very great deal to me."
+
+"How?" asked the man.
+
+Hugh hesitated.
+
+"Well," he replied. "If the culprit is found, then there would no
+longer be any suspicion against myself."
+
+"Probably he never will be found," the man said.
+
+"But tell me, how did you know about the affair, and why are you
+risking arrest by driving me to-night?"
+
+"I have reasons," was all he would say. "I obey the demands of those
+who are your friends."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"They desire to conceal their identity. There is a strong reason why
+this should be done."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Are they not protecting one who is suspected of a serious crime? If
+discovered they would be punished," was the quiet response.
+
+"Ah! There is some hidden motive behind all this!" declared the young
+Englishman. "I rather regret that I did not remain and face the
+music."
+
+"It would have been far too dangerous, signore. Your enemies would
+have contrived to convict you of the crime."
+
+"My enemies--but who are they?"
+
+"Of that, signore, I am ignorant. Only I have been told that you have
+enemies, and very bitter ones."
+
+"But I have committed no crime, and yet I am a fugitive from justice!"
+Hugh cried.
+
+"You escaped in the very nick of time," the man replied. "But had we
+not better be moving again? We must be in Genoa by daybreak."
+
+"But do, I beg of you, tell me more," the young man implored. "To whom
+do I owe my liberty?"
+
+"As I have already told you, signore, you owe it to those who intend
+to protect you from a false charge."
+
+"Yes. But there is a lady in the case," Hugh said. "I fear that if she
+hears that I am a fugitive she will misjudge me and believe me to be
+guilty."
+
+"Probably so. That is, I admit, unfortunate--but, alas! it cannot be
+avoided. It was, however, better for you to get out of France."
+
+"But the French police, when they know that I have escaped, will
+probably ask the Italian police to arrest me, and then apply for my
+extradition."
+
+"If they did, I doubt whether you would be surrendered. The police of
+my country are not too fond of assisting those of other countries.
+Thus if an Italian commits murder in a foreign country and gets back
+to Italy, our Government will refuse to give him up. There have been
+many such cases, and the murderer goes scot free."
+
+"Then you think I am safe in Italy?"
+
+"Oh, no, not by any means. You are not an Italian subject. No, you
+must not be very long in Italy."
+
+"But what am I to do when we get to Genoa?" Hugh asked.
+
+"The signore had better wait until we arrive there," was the driver's
+enigmatical reply.
+
+Then the supposed invalid re-entered the car and they continued on
+their way along the bleak, storm-swept road beside the sea towards
+that favourite resort of the English, San Remo.
+
+The night had grown pitch dark, and rain had commenced to fall. Before
+the car the great head-lamps threw long beams of white light against
+which Hugh saw the silhouette of the muffled-up mysterious driver,
+with his keen eyes fixed straight before him, and driving at such a
+pace that it was apparent that he knew every inch of the dangerous
+road.
+
+What could it all mean? What, indeed?
+
+
+
+                            EIGHTH CHAPTER
+
+                          THE WHITE CAVALIER
+
+While Hugh Henfrey was travelling along that winding road over high
+headlands and down steep gradients to the sea which stretched the
+whole length of the Italian Riviera, Dorise Ranscomb in a white silk
+domino and black velvet mask was pretending to enjoy herself amid the
+mad gaiety at the Casino in Nice.
+
+The great /bal blanc/ is always one of the most important events of
+the Nice season, and everyone of note wintering on the Riviera was
+there, yet all carefully masked, both men and women.
+
+"I wonder what prevented Hugh from coming with us, mother?" the girl
+remarked as she sat with Lady Ranscomb watching the merriment and the
+throwing of serpentines and confetti.
+
+"I don't know. He certainly ought to have let me know, and not have
+kept me waiting nearly half an hour, as he did," her mother snapped.
+
+The girl did not reply. The truth was that while her mother and the
+Count had been waiting for Hugh's appearance, she had gone to the
+telephone and inquired for Mr. Henfrey. Walter Brock had spoken to
+her.
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Ranscomb," he had replied. "But I don't know
+where Hugh can be. I've just been up to his room, but his fancy dress
+is there, flung down as though he had suddenly discarded it and gone
+out. Nobody noticed him leave. The page at the door is certain that he
+did not go out. So he must have left by the staff entrance."
+
+"That's very curious, isn't it?" Dorise remarked.
+
+"Very. I can't understand it."
+
+"But he promised to go with us to the ball at Nice to-night!"
+
+"Well, Miss Ranscomb, all I can think is that something--something
+very important must have detained him somewhere."
+
+Walter knew that his friend was suspected by the police, but dared not
+tell her the truth. Hugh's disappearance had caused him considerable
+anxiety because, for aught he knew, he might already be arrested.
+
+So Dorise, much perplexed, but resolving not to say to her mother that
+she had telephoned to the Palmiers, rejoined the Count in the hotel
+lounge, where they waited a further ten minutes. Then they entered the
+car and drove along to Nice.
+
+There are few merrier gatherings in all Europe than the /bal blanc/.
+The Municipal Casino, at all times the center of revelry, of mild
+gambling, smart dresses and gay suppers, is on that night an amazing
+spectacle of black and white. The carnival colours--the two shades of
+colour chosen yearly by the International Fetes Committee--are
+abandoned, and only white is worn.
+
+When the trio entered the fun was already in full swing. The gay crowd
+disguised by their masks and fancy costumes were revelling as happily
+as school children. A party of girls dressed as clowns were playing
+leap-frog. Another party were dancing in a great and ever-widening
+ring. Girls armed with jesters' bladders were being carried high on
+the shoulders of their male acquaintances, and striking all and sundry
+as they passed, staid, elderly folk were performing grotesque antics
+for persons of their age. The very air of the Riviera seems to be
+exhilarating to both old and young, and the constant church-goers at
+home quickly become infected by the spirit of gaiety, and conduct
+themselves on the Continental Sabbath in a manner which would horribly
+disgust their particular vicar.
+
+"Hugh must have been detained by something very unexpected, mother,"
+Dorise said. "He never disappoints us."
+
+"Oh, yes, he does. One night we were going to the Embassy Club--don't
+you recollect it--and he never turned up."
+
+"Oh, well, mother. It was really excusable. His cousin arrived from
+New York quite unexpectedly upon some family business. He phoned to
+you and explained," said the girl.
+
+"Well, what about that night when I asked him to dinner at the Ritz to
+meet the Courtenays and he rang up to say he was not well? Yet I saw
+him hale and hearty next day at a matinee at the Comedy."
+
+"He may have been indisposed, mother," Dorise said. "Really I think
+you judge him just a little too harshly."
+
+"I don't. I take people as I find them. Your father always said that,
+and he was no fool, my dear. He made a fortune by his cleverness, and
+we now enjoy it. Never associate with unsuccessful persons. It's
+fatal!"
+
+"That's just what old Sir Dudley Ash, the steel millionaire, told me
+the other day when we were over at Cannes, mother. Never associate
+with the unlucky. Bad luck, he says, is a contagious malady."
+
+"And I believe it--I firmly believe it," declared Lady Ranscomb. "Your
+poor father pointed it out to me long ago, and I find that what he
+said is too true."
+
+"But we can't all be lucky, mother," said the girl, watching the
+revelry before her blankly as she reflected upon the mystery of Hugh's
+absence.
+
+"No. But we can, nevertheless, be rich, if we look always to the main
+chance and make the best of our opportunities," her mother said
+meaningly.
+
+At that moment the Count d'Autun approached them. He was dressed as a
+pierrot, but being masked was only recognizable by the fine ruby ring
+upon his finger.
+
+"Will mademoiselle do me the honour?" he said in French, bowing
+elegantly. "They are dancing in the theatre. Will you come,
+Mademoiselle Dorise?"
+
+"Delighted," she said, with an inward sigh, for the dressed-up
+Parisian always bored her. She rose quickly, and promising her mother
+to be back soon, she linked her arm to that of the notorious gambler
+and passed through the great palm-court into the theatre.
+
+Then, a few moments later, she found herself carried around amid the
+mad crowd of revellers, who laughed merrily as the coloured
+serpentines thrown from the boxes fell upon them.
+
+To lift one's /loup/ was a breach of etiquette. Everyone was closely
+masked. British members of Parliament, French senators, Italian
+members of the Camera, Spanish grandees and Russian princes, all with
+their womenfolk, hob-nobbed with cocottes, /escrocs/, and the most
+notorious adventurers and adventuresses in all Europe. Truly, it was a
+never-to-be-forgotten scene of cosmopolitan fun.
+
+The Count, who was a bad dancer, collided with a slim, well-dressed
+French girl, but did not apologize.
+
+"Oh! la la!" cried the girl to her partner, a stout figure in
+Mephistophelian garb. "An exquisitely polite gentleman that, mon cher
+Alphonse! I believe he must really be the Pork King from Chicago--eh?"
+
+The Count heard it, and was furious. Dorise, however, said nothing.
+She was thinking of Hugh's strange disappearance, and how he had
+broken his word to her.
+
+Meanwhile, Lady Ranscomb, secretly very glad that Hugh had been
+prevented from accompanying them, and centring all her hopes upon her
+daughter's marriage with George Sherrard, sat chattering with a Mrs.
+Down, the fat wife of a war-profiteer, whose acquaintance she had made
+in Paris six months before.
+
+Dorise made pretense of enjoying the dance though eager to get back
+again to Monte Carlo in order to learn the reason of her lover's
+absence. She was devoted to Hugh. He was all in all to her.
+
+She danced with several partners, having first made a rendezvous with
+her mother at midnight at a certain spot under one of the great palms
+in the promenade. At masked balls the chaperon is useless, and
+everyone, being masked, looks so much alike that mistakes are easy.
+
+About half-past one o'clock a big motor-car drew up in the Place
+before the Casino, and a tall man in a white fancy dress of a
+cavalier, with wide-brimmed hat and staggering plume, stepped from it
+and, presenting his ticket, passed at once into the crowded ball-room.
+For a full ten minutes he stood watching the crowd of revellers
+intently, eyeing each of them keenly, though the expression on his
+countenance was hidden by the strip of black velvet.
+
+His eyes, shining through the slits in the mask, were, however, dark
+and brilliant. In them could be seen alertness and eagerness, for it
+was apparent that he had come there hot-foot in search of someone. In
+any case he had a difficult task, for in the whirling, laughing,
+chattering crowd each person resembled the other save for their feet
+and their stature.
+
+It was the feet of the dancers that the tall masked man was watching.
+He stood in the crowd near the doorway with his hand upon his sword-
+hilt, a striking figure remarked by many. His large eyes were fixed
+upon the shoes of the dancers, until, of a sudden, he seemed to
+discover that for which he was in search, and made his way quickly
+after a pair who, having finished a dance, were walking in the
+direction of the great hall.
+
+The stranger never took his eyes off the pair. The man was slightly
+taller than the woman, and the latter wore upon her white kid shoes a
+pair of old paste buckles. It was for those buckles that he had been
+searching.
+
+"Yes," he muttered in English beneath his breath. "That's she--without
+a doubt!"
+
+He drew back to near where the pair had halted and were laughing
+together. The girl with the glittering buckles upon her shoes was
+Dorise Ranscomb. The man with her was the Count d'Autun.
+
+The white cavalier pretended to take no interest in them, but was,
+nevertheless, watching intently. At last he saw the girl's partner
+bow, and leaving her, he crossed to greet a stout Frenchwoman in a
+plain domino. In a moment the cavalier was at the girl's side.
+
+"Please do not betray surprise, Miss Ranscomb," he said in a low,
+refined voice. "We may be watched. But I have a message for you."
+
+"For me?" she asked, peering through her mask at the man in the plumed
+hat.
+
+"Yes. But I cannot speak to you here. It is too public. Besides, your
+mother yonder may notice us."
+
+"Who are you?" asked the girl, naturally curious.
+
+"Do not let us talk here. See, right over yonder in the corner behind
+where they are dancing in a ring--under the balcony. Let us meet there
+at once. /Au revoir/."
+
+And he left her.
+
+Three minutes later they met again out of sight of Lady Ranscomb, who
+was still sitting at one of the little wicker tables talking to three
+other women.
+
+"Tell me, who are you?" Dorise inquired.
+
+The white cavalier laughed.
+
+"I'm Mr. X," was his reply.
+
+"Mr. X? Who's that?"
+
+"Myself. But my name matters nothing, Miss Ranscomb," he said. "I have
+come here to give you a confidential message."
+
+"Why confidential--and from whom?" she asked, standing against the
+wall and surveying the mysterious masker.
+
+"From a gentleman friend of yours--Mr. Henfrey."
+
+"From Hugh?" she gasped. "Do you know him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I expected him to come with us to-night, but he has vanished from his
+hotel."
+
+"I know. That is why I am here," was the reply.
+
+There was a note in the stranger's voice which struck her as somehow
+familiar, but she failed to recognize the individual. She was as quick
+at remembering voices as she was at recollecting faces. Who could he
+be, she wondered?
+
+"You said you had a message for me," she remarked.
+
+"Yes," he replied. "I am here to tell you that a serious contretemps
+has occurred, and that Mr. Henfrey has escaped from France."
+
+"Escaped!" she echoed. "Why?"
+
+"Because the police suspect him of a crime."
+
+"Crime! What crime? Surely he is innocent?" she cried.
+
+"He certainly is. His friends know that. Therefore, Miss Ranscomb, I
+beg of you to betray no undue anxiety even if you do not hear from him
+for many weeks."
+
+"But will he write to me?" she asked in despair. "Surely he will not
+keep me in suspense?"
+
+"He will not if he can avoid it. But as soon as the French police
+realize that he has got away a watch will be kept upon his
+correspondence." Then, lowering his voice, he urged her to move away,
+as he thought that an idling masker was trying to overhear their
+conversation.
+
+"You see," he went on a few moments later, "it might be dangerous if
+he were to write to you."
+
+Dorise was thinking of what her mother would say when the truth
+reached her ears. Hugh was a /fugitive/!
+
+"Of what crime is he suspected?" asked the girl.
+
+"I--well, I don't exactly know," was the stranger's faltering
+response. "I was told by a friend of his that it was a serious one,
+and that he might find it extremely difficult to prove himself
+innocent. The circumstantial evidence against him is very strong."
+
+"Do you know where he is now?"
+
+"Not in the least. All I know is that he is safely across the frontier
+into Italy," was the reply of the tall white cavalier.
+
+"I wish I could see your face," declared Dorise frankly.
+
+"And I might express a similar desire, Miss Ranscomb. But for the
+present it is best as it is. I have sought you here to tell you the
+truth in secret, and to urge you to remain calm and patient."
+
+"Is that a message from Hugh?"
+
+"No--not exactly. It is a message from one who is his friend."
+
+"You are very mysterious," she declared. "If you do not know where he
+is at the moment, perhaps you know where we can find him later."
+
+"Yes. He is making his way to Brussels. A letter addressed to Mr.
+Godfrey Brown, Poste Restante, Brussels, will eventually find him.
+Recollect the name," he added. "Disguise your handwriting on the
+envelope, and when you post it see that you are not observed.
+Recollect that his safety lies in your hands."
+
+"Trust me," she said. "But do let me know your name," she implored.
+
+"Any old name is good enough for me," he replied. "Call me Mr. X."
+
+"Don't mystify me further, please."
+
+"Well, call me Smith, Jones, Robinson--whatever you like."
+
+"Then you refuse to satisfy my curiosity--eh?"
+
+"I regret that I am compelled to do so--for certain reasons."
+
+"Are you a detective?" Dorise suddenly inquired.
+
+The stranger laughed.
+
+"If I were a police officer I should scarcely act as an intermediary
+between Mr. Henfrey and yourself, Miss Ranscomb."
+
+"But you say he is innocent. Are you certain of that? May I set my
+mind at rest that he never committed this crime of which the police
+suspect him?" she asked eagerly.
+
+"Yes. I repeat that he is entirely innocent," was the earnest
+response. "But I would advise you to affect ignorance. The police may
+question you. If they do, you know nothing, remember--absolutely
+nothing. If you write to Mr. Henfrey, take every precaution that
+nobody sees you post the letter. Give him a secret address in London,
+or anywhere in England, so that he can write to you there."
+
+"But how long will it be before I can see him again?"
+
+"Ah! That I cannot tell. There is a mystery underlying it all that
+even I cannot fathom, Miss Ranscomb."
+
+"What kind of mystery?"
+
+The white cavalier shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You must ask Mr. Henfrey. Or perhaps his friend Brock knows. Yet if
+he does, I do not suppose he would disclose anything his friend may
+have told him in confidence."
+
+"I am bewildered!" the girl declared. "It is all so very mysterious--
+Hugh a fugitive from justice! I--I really cannot believe it! What can
+the mystery be?"
+
+"Of that I have no means of ascertaining, Miss Ranscomb. I am here
+merely to tell you what has happened and to give you in secret the
+name and address to which to send a letter to him," the masked man
+said very politely. "And now I think we must part. Perhaps if ever we
+meet again--which is scarcely probable--you will recognize my voice.
+And always recollect that should you or Mr. Henfrey ever receive a
+message from 'Silverado' it will be from myself." And he spelt the
+name.
+
+"Silverado. Yes, I shall not forget you, my mysterious friend."
+
+"/Au revoir/!" he said as, bowing gracefully, he turned and left her.
+
+The sun was rising from the sea when Dorise entered her bedroom at the
+hotel. Her maid had retired, so she undressed herself, and putting on
+a dressing-gown, she pulled up the blinds and sat down to write a
+letter to Hugh.
+
+She could not sleep before she had sent him a reassuring message.
+
+In the frenzy of her despair she wrote one letter and addressed it,
+but having done so she changed her mind. It was not sufficiently
+reassuring, she decided. It contained an element of doubt. Therefore
+she tore it up and wrote a second one which she locked safely in her
+jewel case, and then pulled the blinds and retired.
+
+It was nearly noon next day before she left her room, yet almost as
+soon as she had descended in the lift the head /femme de chambre/, a
+stout Frenchwoman in a frilled cap, entered the room, and walking
+straight to the waste-paper basket gathered up the contents into her
+apron and went back along the corridor with an expression of
+satisfaction upon her full round face.
+
+
+
+                            NINTH CHAPTER
+
+                         CONCERNS THE SPARROW
+
+With the rosy dawn rising behind them the big dusty car tore along
+over the white road which led through Pegli and Cornigliano, with
+their wealth of olives and palms, into the industrial suburbs of old-
+world Genoa. Then, passing around by the port, the driver turned the
+car up past Palazzo Doria and along that street of fifteenth-century
+palaces, the Via Garibaldi, into the little piazza in front of the
+Annunziata Church.
+
+There he pulled up after a run of two hours from the last of the many
+railway crossings, most of which they had found closed.
+
+When Hugh got out, the mysterious man, whose face was more forbidding
+in the light of day, exclaimed:
+
+"Here I must leave you very shortly, signore. But first I have certain
+instructions to give you, namely, that you remain for the present in a
+house in the Via della Maddalena to which I shall take you. The man
+and the woman there you can trust. It will be as well not to walk
+about in the daytime. Remain here for a fortnight, and then by the
+best means, without, of course, re-entering France, you must get to
+Brussels. There you will receive letters at the Poste Restante in the
+name of Godfrey Brown. That, indeed, is the name you will use here."
+
+"Well, all this is very strange!" remarked Hugh, utterly bewildered as
+he glanced at the forbidding-looking chauffeur and the dust-covered
+car.
+
+"I agree, signore," the man laughed. "But get in again and I will
+drive to the Via della Maddalena."
+
+Five minutes later the car pulled up at the end of a narrow stuffy
+ancient street of high houses with closed wooden shutters. From house
+to house across the road household linen was flying in the wind, for
+the neighbourhood was certainly a poverty-stricken one.
+
+The place did not appeal to Hugh in the least. He, however,
+recollected that he was about to hide from the police. Italians are
+early risers, and though it was only just after dawn, Genoa was
+already agog with life and movement.
+
+Leaving the car, the mysterious chauffeur conduced the young
+Englishman along the street, where women were calling to each other
+from the windows of their apartments and exchanging salutations, until
+they came to an entrance over which there was an old blue majolica
+Madonna. The house had no outer door, but at the end of the passage
+was a flight of stone steps leading up to the five storeys above.
+
+At the third flight Hugh's conductor paused, and finding a piece of
+cord protruding from a hole in a door, pulled it. A slight tinkle was
+heard within, and a few moments later the sound of wooden shoes was
+heard upon the tiles inside.
+
+The door opened, revealing an ugly old woman whose face was sallow and
+wrinkled, and who wore a red kerchief tied over her white hair.
+
+As soon as she saw the chauffeur she welcomed him, addressing him as
+Paolo, and invited them in.
+
+"This is the English signore," explained the man. "He has come to stay
+with you."
+
+"The signore is welcome," replied the old woman as she clattered into
+the narrow, cheaply furnished little sitting-room, which was in half
+darkness owing to the /persiennes/ being closed.
+
+Truly, it was an uninviting place, which smelt of garlic and of the
+paraffin oil with which the tiled floors had been rubbed.
+
+"You will require another certificate of identity, signore," said the
+man, who admitted that he had been engaged in smuggling contraband
+across the Alps. And delving into his pocket he produced an American
+passport. It was blank, though the embossed stamp of the United States
+Government was upon it. The places were ready for the photograph and
+signature. With it the man handed him a large metal disc, saying:
+
+"When you have your picture taken and affixed to it, all you have to
+do is to damp the paper slightly and impress this stamp. It will then
+defy detection."
+
+"Where on earth did you get this from?" asked Hugh, noticing that it
+was a replica of the United States consular seal.
+
+The man smiled, replying:
+
+"They make passports of all countries in Spain. You pay for them, and
+you can get them by the dozen. The embossing stamps are extra. There
+is a big trade in them now owing to the passport restrictions.
+Besides, in every country there are passport officers who are amenable
+to a little baksheesh!" And he grinned.
+
+What he said was true. At no period has it ever been more easy for a
+criminal to escape than it is to-day, providing, of course, that he is
+a cosmopolitan and has money.
+
+Hugh took the passport and the disc, adding:
+
+"How am I to repay you for all this?"
+
+"I want no payment, signore. All I ask you is to conform to the
+suggestions of the worthy Signore Ravecca and his good wife here. You
+are not the first guest they have had for whom the police searched in
+vain."
+
+"No," laughed the old woman. "Do you recollect the syndic of
+Porticello, how we had him here for nearly three years, and then he
+got safely away to Argentina and took the money, three million lire,
+with him?"
+
+"Yes," was the man's reply. "I recollect it, signora. But the Signore
+Inglese must be very careful--very careful. He must never go out in
+the daytime. You can buy him English papers and books of Luccoli, in
+the Via Bosco. They will serve to while away the time."
+
+"I shall, no doubt, pass the time very pleasantly," laughed Hugh,
+speaking in French.
+
+Then the old crone left them and returned with two cups of excellent
+/cafe nero/, that coffee which, roasted at home one can get only in
+Italy.
+
+It was indeed refreshing after that long night drive.
+
+Hugh stood there without luggage, and with only about thirty pounds in
+his pocket.
+
+Suddenly the man who had driven him looked him curiously in the face,
+and said:
+
+"Ah! I know you are wondering what your lady friend in Monte Carlo
+will think. Well, I can tell you this. She already knows that you have
+escaped, and she had been told to write to you in secret at the Poste
+Restante at Brussels."
+
+Hugh started.
+
+"Who has told her? Surely she knows nothing of the affair at the Villa
+Amette?"
+
+"She will not be told that. But she has been told that you are going
+to Brussels, and that in future your name is Monsieur Godfrey Brown."
+
+"But why have all these elaborate arrangements been made for my
+security?" Hugh demanded, more than ever nonplussed.
+
+"It is useless to take one precaution unless the whole are taken,"
+laughed the sphinx-like fellow whose cheerful banter had so
+successfully passed them through the customs barrier.
+
+Then, swallowing his coffee, he wished Hugh, "buon viaggio" and was
+about to depart, when Hugh said:
+
+"Look here. Is it quite impossible for you to give me any inkling
+concerning this astounding affair? I know that some unknown friend, or
+friends, are looking after my welfare. But why? To whom am I indebted
+for all this? Who has warned Miss Ranscomb and told her of my alias
+and my journey to Brussels?"
+
+"A friend of hers and of yourself," was the chauffeur's reply. "No,
+please do not question me, signore," he added. "I have done my best
+for you. And now my journey is at an end, while yours is only
+beginning. Pardon me--but you have money with you, I suppose? If you
+have not, these good people here will trust you."
+
+"But what is this house?"
+
+The man laughed. Then he said:
+
+"Well, really it is a bolt-hole used by those who wish to evade our
+very astute police. If one conforms to the rules of Signora Ravecca
+and her husband, then one is quite safe and most comfortable."
+
+Hugh realized that he was in a hiding-place used by thieves. A little
+later he knew that the ugly old woman's husband paid toll to a certain
+/delegato/ of police, hence their house was never searched. While the
+criminal was in those shabby rooms he was immune from arrest. The
+place was, indeed, one of many hundreds scattered over Europe, asylums
+known to the international thief as places ever open so long as they
+can pay for their board and lodging and their contribution towards the
+police bribes.
+
+A few moments later the ugly, uncouth man who had brought him from
+Monte Carlo lit a cigarette, and wishing the old woman a merry "addio"
+left and descended the stairs.
+
+The signora then showed Hugh to his room, a small, dispiriting and not
+overclean little chamber which looked out upon the backs of the
+adjoining houses, all of which were high and inartistic. Above,
+however, was a narrow strip of brilliantly blue sunlit sky.
+
+A quarter of an hour later he made the acquaintance of the woman's
+husband, a brown-faced, sinister-looking individual whose black bushy
+eyebrows met, and who greeted the young Englishman familiarly in
+atrocious French, offering him a glass of red wine from a big rush-
+covered flask.
+
+"We only had word of your coming late last night," the man said. "You
+had already started from Monte Carlo, and we wondered if you would get
+past the frontier all right."
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh, sipping the wine out of courtesy. "We got out of
+France quite safely. But tell me, who made all these arrangements for
+me?"
+
+"Why, Il Passero, of course," replied the man, whose wife addressed
+him affectionately as Beppo.
+
+"Who is Il Passero, pray?"
+
+"Well, you know him surely. Il Passero, or The Sparrow. We call him so
+because he is always flitting about Europe, and always elusive."
+
+"The police want him, I suppose."
+
+"I should rather think they do. They have been searching for him for
+these past five years, but he always dodges them, first in France,
+then here, then in Spain, and then in England."
+
+"But what is this mysterious and unknown friend of mine?"
+
+"Il Passero is the chief of the most daring of all the gangs of
+international thieves. We all work at his direction."
+
+"But how did he know of my danger?" asked Hugh, mystified and
+dismayed.
+
+"Il Passero knows many strange things," he replied with a grin. "It is
+his business to know them. And besides, he has some friends in the
+police--persons who never suspect him."
+
+"What nationality is he?"
+
+The man Beppo shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He is not Italian," he replied. "Yet he speaks the /lingua Toscano/
+perfectly and French and English and /Tedesco/. He might be Belgian or
+German, or even English. Nobody knows his true nationality."
+
+"And the man who brought me here?"
+
+"Ah! that was Paolo, Il Passero's chauffeur--a merry fellow--eh?"
+
+"Remarkable," laughed Hugh. "But I cannot see why The Sparrow has
+taken such a paternal interest in me," he added.
+
+"He no doubt has, for he has, apparently, arranged for your safe
+return to England."
+
+"You know him, of course. What manner of man is he?"
+
+"A signore--a great signore," replied Beppo. "He is rich, and is often
+on the Riviera in winter. He's probably there now. Nobody suspects
+him. He is often in England, too. I believe he has a house in London.
+During the war he worked for the French Secret Service under the name
+of Monsieur Franqueville, and the French Government never suspected
+that they actually had in their employ the famous Passero for whom the
+Surete were looking everywhere."
+
+"You have no idea where he lives in London?"
+
+"I was once told that he had a big house somewhere in what you call
+the West End--somewhere near Piccadilly. I have, however, only seen
+him once. About eighteen months ago he was hard pressed by the police
+and took refuge here for two nights, till Paolo called for him in his
+fine car and he passed out of Italy as a Swiss hotel-proprietor."
+
+"Then he is head of a gang--is he?"
+
+"Yes," was the man's reply. "He is marvellous, and has indeed well
+earned his sobriquet 'Il Passero.'"
+
+A sudden thought flitted through Hugh's mind.
+
+"I suppose he is a friend of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
+
+"Ah, signore, I do not know. Il Passero had many friends. He is rich,
+prosperous, well-dressed, and has influential friends in France, in
+Italy and in England who never suspect him to be the notorious king of
+the thieves."
+
+"Now, tell me," urged young Henfrey. "What do you know concerning
+Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
+
+The Italian looked at him strangely.
+
+"Nothing," he replied, still speaking bad French.
+
+"You are not speaking the truth."
+
+"Why should I tell it to you? I do not know you!" was the quick
+retort.
+
+"But you are harbouring me."
+
+"At the orders of Il Passero."
+
+"You surely can tell me what you know of Mademoiselle," Hugh persisted
+after a brief pause. "We are mutually her friends. The attempt to kill
+her is outrageous, and I, for one, intend to do all I can to trace and
+punish the culprit."
+
+"They say that you shot her."
+
+"Well--you know that I did not," Henfrey said. "Have you yourself ever
+met Mademoiselle?"
+
+"I have seen her. She was living for a time at Santa Margherita last
+year. I had a friend of hers living here with me and I went to her
+with a message. She is a very charming lady."
+
+"And a friend of Il Passero?"
+
+The Italian shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of ignorance.
+
+Hugh Henfrey had certainly learned much that was curious. He had never
+before heard of the interesting cosmopolitan thief known as The
+Sparrow, but it seemed evident that the person in question had
+suddenly become interested in him for some obscure and quite
+unaccountable reason.
+
+As day followed day in that humble place of concealment, Beppo told
+him many things concerning the famous criminal Il Passero, describing
+his exploits in terms of admiration. Hugh learnt that it was The
+Sparrow who had planned the great jewel robbery at Binet's, in the Rue
+de la Paix, when some famous diamonds belonging to the Shah of Persia,
+which had been sent to Paris to be reset, were stolen. It was The
+Sparrow, too, who had planned the burglary at the art gallery of Evans
+and Davies in Bond Street and stolen Raphael's famous Madonna.
+
+During the daytime Hugh, anxious to get away to Brussels, but
+compelled to obey the order of the mysterious Passero, spent the time
+in smoking and reading books and newspapers with which Beppo's wife
+provided him, while at night he would take long walks through the
+silent city, with its gloomy old palaces, the courtyards of which
+echoed to his footsteps. At such times he was alone with his thoughts
+and would walk around the port and out upon the hills which surrounded
+the bay, and then sit down and gaze out to the twinkling lights across
+the sea and watch the long beams of the great lighthouse searching in
+the darkness.
+
+His host and hostess were undoubtedly criminals. Indeed, they did not
+hide the fact. Both were paid by The Sparrow to conceal and provide
+for anyone whom he sent there.
+
+He had been there four weary, anxious days when one evening a pretty,
+well-dressed young French girl called, and after a short chat with
+Beppo's wife became installed there as his fellow-guest. He did not
+know her name and she did not tell him.
+
+She was known to them as Lisette, and Hugh found her a most vivacious
+and interesting companion. Truly, he had been thrown into very queer
+company, and he often wondered what his friends would say if they knew
+that he was guest in a hiding-place of thieves.
+
+
+
+                            TENTH CHAPTER
+
+                          A LESSON IN ARGOT
+
+Late one evening the dainty girl thief, Lisette, went out for a stroll
+with Hugh, but in the Via Roma they met an agent of police.
+
+"Look!" whispered the girl in French, "there's a /pince sans rire/! Be
+careful!"
+
+She constantly used the argot of French thieves, which was often
+difficult for the young Englishman to understand. And the dark-haired
+girl would laugh, apologize, and explain the meaning of her strange
+expressions.
+
+Outside the city they were soon upon the high road which wound up the
+deep green valley of the Bisagno away into the mountains, ever
+ascending to the little hill-town of Molassana. The scene was
+delightful in the moonlight as they climbed the steep hill and then
+descended again into the valley, Lisette all the time gossiping on in
+a manner which interested and amused him.
+
+Her arrival had put an end to his boredom, and, though he was longing
+to get away from his surroundings, she certainly cheered him up.
+
+They had walked for nearly an hour, when, declaring she felt tired,
+they sat upon a rock to rest and eat the sandwiches with which they
+had provided themselves.
+
+Two carabineers in cloaks and cocked hats who met them on the road put
+them down as lovers keeping a clandestine tryst. They never dreamed
+that for both of them the police were in search.
+
+"Now tell me something concerning yourself, mademoiselle," Hugh urged
+presently.
+
+"Myself! Oh! la la!" she laughed. "What is there to tell? I am just of
+/la haute pegre--a truqueuse/. Ah! you will not know the expression.
+Well--I am a thief in high society. I give indications where we can
+make a coup, and afterwards /bruler le pegriot/--efface the trace of
+the affair."
+
+"And why are you here?"
+
+"/Malheureusement/! I was in Orleans and a /friquet/ nearly captured
+me. So Il Passero sent me here for a while."
+
+"You help Il Passero--eh?"
+
+"Yes. Very often. Ah! m'sieur, he is a most wonderful man--English, I
+think. /Girofle/ (genteel and amiable), like yourself."
+
+"No, no, mademoiselle," Hugh protested, laughing.
+
+"But I mean it. Il Passero is a real gentleman--but--/maquiller son
+truc/, and he is marvellous. When he exercises his wonderful talent
+and forms a plan it is always flawless."
+
+"Everyone seems to hold him in high esteem. I have never met him,"
+Hugh remarked.
+
+"He was in Genoa on the day that I arrived. Curious that he did not
+call and see Beppo. I lunched with him at the Concordia, and he paid
+me five thousand francs, which he owed me. He has gone to London now
+with his /ecrache-tarte/."
+
+"What is that, pray?"
+
+"His false passport. He has always a good supply of them for anyone in
+need of one. They are printed secretly in Spain. But m'sieur," she
+added, "you are not of our world. You are in just a little temporary
+trouble. Over what?"
+
+In reply he was perfectly frank with her. He told her of the suspicion
+against him because of the affair of the Villa Amette.
+
+"Ah!" she replied, her manner changing, "I have heard that
+Mademoiselle was shot, but I had no idea that you had any connexion
+with that ugly business."
+
+"Yes. Unfortunately I have. Do you happen to know Yvonne Ferad?"
+
+"Of course. Everyone knows her. She is very charming. Nobody knows the
+truth."
+
+"What truth?" inquired Hugh quickly.
+
+"Well--that she is a /marque de ce/."
+
+"A /marque de ce/--what is that?" asked Hugh eagerly.
+
+"Ah! /non/, m'sieur. I must not tell you anything against her. You are
+her friend."
+
+"But I am endeavouring to find out something about her. To me she is a
+mystery."
+
+"No doubt. She is to everybody."
+
+"What did you mean by that expression?" he demanded. "Do tell me. I am
+very anxious to know your opinion of her, and something about her. I
+have a very earnest motive in trying to discover who and what she
+really is."
+
+"If I told you I should offend Il Passero," replied the girl simply.
+"It is evident that he wishes you should remain in ignorance."
+
+"But surely, you can tell me in confidence? I will divulge nothing."
+
+"No," answered the girl, whose face he could not see in the shadow. "I
+am sorry, M'sieur Brown"--she had not been told his Christian name--
+"but I am not permitted to tell you anything concerning Mademoiselle
+Yvonne."
+
+"She is a very remarkable person--eh?" said Henfrey, again defeated.
+
+"Remarkable! Oh, yes. She is of the /grande monde/."
+
+"Is that still your argot?" he asked.
+
+"Oh no. Mademoiselle Yvonne is a lady. Some say she is the daughter of
+a rich Englishman. Others say she is just a common adventuress."
+
+"The latter is true, I suppose?"
+
+"I think not. She has /le clou/ for the /eponge d'or/."
+
+"I do not follow that."
+
+"Well," she laughed, "she has the attraction for those who hold the
+golden sponge--the Ministers of State. Our argot is difficult for you,
+m'sieur--eh?"
+
+"I see! Your expressions are a kind of cipher, unintelligible to the
+ordinary person--eh?"
+
+"That is so. If I exclaim, /par exemple, tarte/, it means false; if I
+say /gilet de flanelle/, it is lemonade; if I say /frise/, it means a
+Jew; or /casserole/, which is in our own tongue a police officer. So
+you see it is a little difficult--is it not? To us /tire-jus/ is a
+handkerchief, and we call the ville de Paris /Pantruche/."
+
+Hugh sat in wonder. It was certainly a strange experience to be on a
+moonlight ramble with a girl thief who had, according to her own
+confession, been born in Paris the daughter of a man who was still one
+of Il Passero's clever and desperate band.
+
+"Yes, m'sieur," she said a few moments later. "They are all dangerous.
+They do not fear to use the knife or automatic pistol when cornered.
+For myself, I simply move about Europe and make discoveries as to
+where little affairs can be negotiated. I tell Il Passero, and he then
+works out the plans. /Dieu/! But I had a narrow escape the other day
+in Orleans!"
+
+"Do tell me about Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. I beg of you to tell me
+something, Mademoiselle Lisette," Hugh urged, turning to the girl of
+many adventures who was seated at his side upon the big rock
+overlooking the ravine down which the bright moon was shining.
+
+"I would if I were permitted," she replied. "Mademoiselle Yvonne is
+charming. You know her, so I need say nothing, but----"
+
+"Well--what?"
+
+"She is clever--very clever," said the girl. "As Il Passero is clever,
+so is she."
+
+"Then she is actively associated with him--eh?"
+
+"Yes. She is cognizant of all his movements, and of all his plans.
+While she moves in one sphere--often in a lower sphere, like myself--
+yet in society she moves in the higher sphere, and she 'indicates,'
+just as I do."
+
+"So she is one of The Sparrow's associates?" Hugh said.
+
+"Yes," was the reply. "From what you have told me I gather that Il
+Passero knew by one of his many secret sources of information that you
+were in danger of arrest, and sent Paolo to rescue you--which he did."
+
+"No doubt that is so. But why should he take all this interest in me?
+I don't know and have never even met him."
+
+"Il Passero is always courteous. He assists the weak against the
+strong. He is like your English bandit Claude Duval of the old days.
+He always robs with exquisite courtesy, and impresses the same trait
+upon all who are in his service. And I may add that all are well paid
+and all devoted to their great master."
+
+"I have heard that he has a house in London," Hugh said. "Do you know
+where it is situated?"
+
+"Somewhere near Piccadilly. But I do not know exactly where it is. He
+is always vague regarding his address. His letters he receives in
+several names at a newspaper shop in Hammersmith and at the Poste
+Restante at Charing Cross."
+
+"What names?" asked Hugh, highly interested.
+
+"Oh! a number. They are always being changed," the French girl
+replied.
+
+"Where do you write when you want to communicate with him?"
+
+"Generally to the Poste Restante in the Avenue de l'Opera, in Paris.
+Letters received there are collected for him and forwarded every day."
+
+"And so clever is he that nobody suspects him--eh?"
+
+"Exactly, m'sieur. His policy is always '/Rengraciez/!' and he cares
+not a single /rotin/ for /La Reniffe/," she replied, dropping again
+into the slang of French thieves.
+
+"Of course he is on friendly terms with Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
+Hugh remarked. "He may have been at Monte Carlo on the night of the
+tragic affair."
+
+"He may have been. He was, no doubt, somewhere on the Riviera, and he
+sent Paolo in one of the cars to rescue you from the police."
+
+"In that case, he at least knows that I am innocent."
+
+"Yes. And he probably knows the guilty person. That would account for
+the interest he takes in you, though you do not know him," said
+Lisette. "I have known Il Passero perform many kindly acts to persons
+in distress who have never dreamed that they have received money from
+a notorious international thief."
+
+"Well, in my case he has, no doubt, done me signal service," young
+Henfrey replied. "But," he added, "why cannot you tell me something
+more concerning Mademoiselle? What did you mean by saying that she was
+a /marque de ce/? I know it is your slang, but won't you explain what
+it means? You have explained most of your other expressions."
+
+But the girl thief was obdurate. She was certainly a /chic/ and
+engaging little person, apparently well educated and refined, but she
+was as sly as her notorious employer, whom she served so faithfully.
+She was, she had already told Hugh, the daughter of a man who had made
+jewel thefts his speciality and after many convictions was now serving
+ten years at the convict prison at Toulon. She had been bred in the
+Montmartre, and trained and educated to a criminal life. Il Passero
+had found her, and, after several times successfully "indicating"
+where coups could be made, she had been taken into his employment as a
+decoy, frequently travelling on the international /wagon-lits/ and
+restaurants, where she succeeded in attracting the attention of men
+and holding them in conversation with a mild flirtation while other
+members of the gang investigated the contents of their valises. From
+one well-known diamond dealer travelling between Paris and Amsterdam,
+she and the man working with her had stolen a packet containing
+diamonds of the value of two hundred thousand francs, while from an
+English business man travelling from Boulogne to Paris, two days
+later, she had herself taken a wallet containing nearly four thousand
+pounds in English bank-notes. It was her share of the recent robbery
+that Il Passero had paid her three days before at the Concordia
+Restaurant in the Via Garibaldi, in Genoa.
+
+Hugh pressed her many times to tell him something concerning the
+mysterious Mademoiselle, but he failed to elicit any further
+information of interest.
+
+"Her fortune at the Rooms is wonderful, they say," Lisette said. "She
+must be very rich."
+
+"But she is one of Il Passero's assistants--eh?"
+
+The girl laughed lightly.
+
+"Perhaps," was her enigmatical reply. "Who knows? It is, however,
+evident that Il Passero is seriously concerned at the tragic affair at
+the Villa Amette."
+
+"Have you ever been there?"
+
+She hesitated a few moments, then said: "Yes, once."
+
+"And you know the old Italian servant Cataldi?"
+
+She replied in the affirmative. Then she added:
+
+"I know him, but I do not like him. She trusts him, but----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"I would not. I should be afraid, for to my knowledge he is a
+/saigneur a musique/."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"An assassin."
+
+"What?" cried Henfrey. "Is he guilty of murder--and Mademoiselle knows
+it?"
+
+"Mademoiselle may not know about it. She is probably in ignorance, or
+she would not employ him."
+
+Her remark was of considerable interest, inasmuch as old Cataldi had
+seemed to be most devoted to his mistress, and entirely trusted by
+her.
+
+"Do you know the circumstances?" asked Hugh.
+
+"Yes. But it is not our habit to speak of another's--well,
+shortcomings," was her reply.
+
+"Surely, Mademoiselle should have been told the truth! Does not Il
+Passero know?" he asked.
+
+There flitted across his mind at that moment the recollection of
+Dorise. What could she think of his disappearance? He longed to write
+to her, but The Sparrow's chauffeur had impressed upon him the serious
+danger he would be running if he wrote to her while she was at Monte
+Carlo.
+
+"I question whether he does know. But if he does he would say
+nothing."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Hugh. "Yours is indeed a queer world, mademoiselle. And
+not without interest."
+
+"It is full of adventure and excitement, of ups and downs, of constant
+travel and change, and of eternal apprehension of arrest," replied the
+girl, with a laugh.
+
+"I wish you would tell me something about Yvonne Ferad," he repeated.
+
+"Alas! m'sieur, I am not permitted," was her obdurate reply. "I am
+truly sorry to hear of the dastardly attack upon her. She once did me
+a very kind and friendly action at a moment when I was in sore need of
+a friend."
+
+"Who could have fired the shot, do you think?" Henfrey asked. "You
+know her friends. Perhaps you know her enemies?"
+
+Mademoiselle Lisette was silent for some moments.
+
+"Yes," she replied reflectively. "She has enemies, I know. But who has
+not?"
+
+"Is there any person who, to your knowledge, would have any motive to
+kill her?"
+
+Again she was silent.
+
+"There are several people who hate her. One of them might have done it
+out of revenge. You say you saw nobody?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"Why did you go and see her at that hour?" asked the girl.
+
+"Because I wanted her to tell me something--something of greatest
+importance to me."
+
+"And she refused, of course? She keeps her own secrets."
+
+"No. On the other hand, she was about to disclose to me the
+information I sought when someone fired through the open window."
+
+"The shot might have been intended for you--eh?"
+
+Hugh paused.
+
+"It certainly might," he admitted. "But with what motive?"
+
+"To prevent you from learning the truth."
+
+"She was on the point of telling me what I wanted to know."
+
+"Exactly. And what more likely than someone outside, realizing that
+Mademoiselle was about to make a disclosure, fired at you."
+
+"But you said that Mademoiselle had enemies."
+
+"So she has. But I think my theory is the correct one," replied the
+girl. "What was it that you asked her to reveal to you?"
+
+"Well," he replied, after a brief hesitation, "my father died
+mysteriously in London some time ago, and I have reason to believe
+that she knows the truth concerning the sad affair."
+
+"Where did it happen?"
+
+"My father was found in the early morning lying in a doorway in
+Albemarle Street, close to Piccadilly. The only wound found was a
+slight scratch in the palm of the hand. The police constable at first
+thought he was intoxicated, but the doctor, on being called, declared
+that my father was suffering from poison. He was at once taken to St.
+George's Hospital, but an hour later he died without recovering
+consciousness."
+
+"And what was your father's name?" asked Lisette in a strangely
+altered voice.
+
+"Henfrey."
+
+"Henfrey!" gasped the girl, starting up at mention of the name.
+"/Henfrey/! And--and are--you--/his son/?"
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh. "Why? You know about the affair, mademoiselle!
+Tell me all you know," he cried. "I--the son of the dead man--have a
+right to demand the truth."
+
+"Henfrey!" repeated the girl hoarsely in a state of intense agitation.
+"Monsieur Henfrey! And--and to think that I am here--with you--/his
+son/! Ah! forgive me!" she gasped. "I--I---- Let us return."
+
+"But you shall tell me the truth!" cried Hugh excitedly. "You know it!
+You cannot deny that you know it!"
+
+All, however, he could get from her were the words:
+
+"You--Monsieur Henfrey's son! /Surely Il Passero does not know this/!"
+
+
+
+                           ELEVENTH CHAPTER
+
+                        MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
+
+A month of weary anxiety and nervous tension had gone by.
+
+Yvonne Ferad had slowly struggled back to health, but the injury to
+the brain had, alas! seriously upset the balance of her mind. Three of
+the greatest French specialists upon mental diseases had seen her and
+expressed little hope of her ever regaining her reason.
+
+It was a sad affair which the police of Monaco had, by dint of much
+bribery and the telling of many untruths, successfully kept out of the
+newspapers.
+
+The evening after Hugh's disappearance, Monsieur Ogier had called upon
+Dorise Ranscomb--her mother happily being away at the Rooms at the
+time. In one of the sitting-rooms of the hotel the official of police
+closely questioned the girl, but she, of course made pretense of
+complete ignorance. Naturally Ogier was annoyed at being unable to
+obtain the slightest information, and after being very rude, he told
+the girl the charge against her lover and then left the hotel in
+undisguised anger.
+
+Lady Ranscomb was very much mystified at Hugh's disappearance, though
+secretly she was very glad. She questioned Brock, but he, on his part,
+expressed himself very much puzzled. A week later, however, Walter
+returned to London, and on the following night Lady Ranscomb and her
+daughter took the train-de-luxe for Boulogne, and duly arrived home.
+
+As day followed day, Dorise grew more mystified and still more anxious
+concerning Hugh. What was the truth? She had written to Brussels three
+times, but her letters had elicited no response. He might be already
+under arrest, for aught she knew. Besides, she could not rid herself
+of the recollection of the white cavalier, that mysterious masker who
+had told her of her lover's escape.
+
+In this state of keen anxiety and overstrung nerves she was compelled
+to meet almost daily, and be civil to, her mother's friend, the odious
+George Sherrard.
+
+Lady Ranscomb was for ever singing the man's praises, and never weary
+of expressing her surprise at Hugh's unforgivable behaviour.
+
+"He simply disappeared, and nobody has heard a word of him since!" she
+remarked one day as they sat at breakfast. "I'm quite certain he's
+done something wrong. I've never liked him, Dorise."
+
+"You don't like him, mother, because he hasn't money," remarked the
+girl bitterly. "If he were rich and entertained you, you would call
+him a delightful man!"
+
+"Dorise! What are you saying? What's the good of life without money?"
+queried the widow of the great contractor.
+
+"Everyone can't be rich," the girl averred simply. "I think it's
+positively hateful to judge people by their pockets."
+
+"Well, has Hugh written to you?" snapped her mother.
+
+Dorise replied in the negative, stifling a sigh.
+
+"And he isn't likely to. He's probably hiding somewhere. I wonder what
+he's done?"
+
+"Nothing. I'm sure of that!"
+
+"Well, I'm not so sure," was her mother's response. "I was chatting
+about it to Mr. Sherrard last night, and he's promised to make
+inquiry."
+
+"Let Mr. Sherrard inquire as much as he likes," cried the girl
+angrily. "He'll find nothing against Hugh, except that he's poor."
+
+"H'm! And he's been far too much in your company of late, Dorise.
+People were beginning to talk at Monte Carlo."
+
+"Oh! Let them talk, mother! I don't care a scrap. I'm my own
+mistress!"
+
+"Yes, but I tell you frankly that I'm very glad that we've seen the
+last of the fellow."
+
+"Mother! You are really horrid!" cried the girl, rising abruptly and
+leaving the table. When out of the room she burst into tears.
+
+Poor girl, her heart was indeed full.
+
+Now it happened that early on that same morning Hugh Henfrey stepped
+from a train which had brought him from Aix-la-Chapelle to the Gare du
+Nord, in Brussels. He had spent three weeks with the Raveccas, in
+Genoa, whence he had travelled to Milan and Bale, and on into Belgium
+by way of Germany.
+
+From Lisette he had failed to elicit any further facts concerning his
+father's death, though it was apparent that she knew something about
+it--something she dared not tell.
+
+On the day following their midnight stroll, he had done all in his
+power to induce her to reveal something at least of the affair, but,
+alas! to no avail. Then, two days later, she had suddenly left--at
+orders of The Sparrow, she said.
+
+Before Hugh left Ravecca had given him eighty pounds in English notes,
+saying that he acted at Il Passero's orders, for Hugh would no doubt
+need the money, and it would be most dangerous for him to write to his
+bankers.
+
+At first Henfrey protested, but, as his funds were nearly exhausted,
+he had accepted the money.
+
+As he left the station in Brussels on that bright spring morning and
+crossed the busy Place, he was wondering to what hotel he should go.
+He had left his scanty luggage in the /consigne/, intending to go out
+on foot and search for some cheap and obscure hotel, there being many
+such in the vicinity of the station. After half an hour he chose a
+small and apparently clean little place in a narrow street off the
+Place de Brouckere, and there, later on, he carried his handbag. Then,
+after a wash, he set out for the Central Post Office in the Place de
+la Monnaie.
+
+He had not gone far along the busy boulevard when he was startled to
+hear his name uttered from behind, and, turning, encountered a short,
+thick-set little man wearing a brown overcoat.
+
+The man, noticing the effect his words had upon him, smiled
+reassuringly, and said in broken English: "It is all right! I am not a
+police officer, Monsieur Henfrey. Cross the road and walk down that
+street yonder. I will follow in a few moments."
+
+And then the man walked on, leaving Hugh alone.
+
+Much surprised, Hugh did as he was bid, and a few minutes later the
+Belgian met him again.
+
+"It is very dangerous for us to be seen together," he said quickly,
+scarcely pausing as he walked. "Do not go near the Post Office, but go
+straight to 14 Rue Beyaert, first floor. I shall be there awaiting
+you. I have a message for you from a friend. You will find the street
+close to the Porte de Hal."
+
+And the man continued on his way, leaving Hugh in wonder. He had been
+on the point of turning from the boulevard into the Place de la
+Monnaie to obtain Dorise's long looked for letter. Indeed, he had been
+hastening his footsteps full of keen apprehension when the stranger
+had accosted him.
+
+But in accordance with the man's suggestion, he turned back towards
+the station, where he entered a taxi and drove across the city to the
+corner of Rue Beyaert, a highly respectable thoroughfare. He
+experienced no difficulty in finding the house indicated, and on
+ascending the stairs, found the stranger awaiting him.
+
+"Ah!" he cried. "Come in! I am glad that I discovered you! I have been
+awaiting your arrival from Italy for the past fortnight. It is indeed
+fortunate that I found you in time to warn you not to go to the Poste
+Restante." He spoke in French, and had shown his visitor into a small
+but well furnished room.
+
+"Why?" asked Hugh. "Is there danger in that quarter?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur Henfrey. The French police have, by some unknown means,
+discovered that you were coming here, and a strict watch is being kept
+for anyone calling for letters addressed to Godfrey Brown."
+
+"But how could they know?" asked Hugh.
+
+"Ah! That is the mystery! Perhaps your lady friend has been
+indiscreet. She was told in strict confidence, and was warned that
+your safety was in her hands."
+
+"Surely, Dorise would be most careful not to betray me!" cried the
+young Englishman.
+
+"Well, somebody undoubtedly has."
+
+"I presume you are one of Il Passero's friends?" Hugh said with a
+smile.
+
+"Yes. Hence I am your friend," was the reply.
+
+"Have you heard of late how Mademoiselle Yvonne is progressing?"
+
+The man, who told his visitor his name was Jules Vervoort, shook his
+head.
+
+"She is no better. I heard last week that the doctors have said that
+she will never recover her mental balance."
+
+"What! Is she demented?"
+
+"Yes. The report I had was that she recognized nobody, except at
+intervals she knows her Italian manservant and calls him by name. I
+was ordered to tell you this."
+
+"Ordered by Il Passero--eh?"
+
+The man Vervoort nodded in the affirmative. Then he went on to warn
+his visitor that the Brussels police were on the eager watch for his
+arrival. "It is fortunate that you were not recognized when you came
+this morning," he said. "I had secret warning and was at the station,
+but I dared not approach you. You passed under the very nose of two
+detectives, but luckily for you, their attention had been diverted to
+a woman who is a well-known pickpocket. I followed you to your hotel
+and then waited for you to go to the Poste Restante."
+
+"But I want my letters," said Hugh.
+
+"Naturally, but it is far too dangerous to go near there. You, of
+course, want news of your lady friend. That you will have by special
+messenger very soon. Therefore remain patient."
+
+"Why are all these precautions being taken to prevent my arrest?" Hugh
+asked. "I confess I don't understand it."
+
+"Neither do I. But when Il Passero commands we all obey."
+
+"You are, I presume, his agent in Brussels?"
+
+"His friend--not his agent," Vervoort replied with a smile.
+
+"Do you know Mademoiselle Lisette?" Hugh asked. "She was with me in
+Genoa."
+
+"Yes. We have met. A very clever little person. Il Passero thinks very
+highly of her. She has been educated in the higher schools, and is
+perhaps one of our cleverest decoys."
+
+Hugh Henfrey paused.
+
+"Now look here, Monsieur Vervoort," he exclaimed at last, "I'm very
+much in the dark about all this curious business. Lisette knows a lot
+concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne."
+
+"Admitted. She acted once as her maid, I believe, in some big affair.
+But I don't know much about it."
+
+"Well, you know what happened at the Villa Amette that night? Have you
+any idea of the identity of the person who shot poor Mademoiselle--the
+lady they call Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
+
+"Not in the least," was the reply. "All I know is that Il Passero has
+some very keen and personal interest in the affair. He has sent
+further orders to you. It is imperative, he says, that you should get
+away from Brussels. The police are too keen here."
+
+"Where shall I go?"
+
+"I suggest that you go at once to Malines. Go to Madame Maupoil, 208
+Rue de Stassart, opposite the Military Hospital. It is far too
+dangerous for you to remain here in Brussels. I have already written
+that you are coming. Her house is one of the sanctuaries of the
+friends of Il Passero. Remember the name and address."
+
+"The Sparrow seems to be ubiquitous," Hugh remarked.
+
+"He is. No really great robbery can be accomplished unless he plans
+and finances it."
+
+"I cannot think why he takes so keen an interest in me."
+
+"He often does in persons who are quite ignorant of his existence."
+
+"That is my own case. I never heard of him until I was in Genoa, a
+fugitive," said Hugh. "But you told me I shall receive a message from
+Miss Ranscomb by special messenger. When?"
+
+"When you are in Malines."
+
+"But all this is very strange. Will the mysterious messenger call upon
+Miss Ranscomb in London?"
+
+"Of course. Il Passero has several messengers who travel to and fro in
+secret. Mademoiselle Lisette was once one of them. She has travelled
+many times the length and breadth of Europe. But nowadays she is an
+indicator--and a very clever one indeed," he added with a laugh.
+
+"I suppose I had better get away to Malines without delay?" Hugh
+remarked.
+
+"Yes. Go to your hotel, pay them for your room and get your valise. I
+shall be waiting for you at noon in a car in the Rue Gretry, close to
+the Palais d'Ete. Then we can slip away to Malines. Have you
+sufficient money? If not, I can give you some. Il Passero has ordered
+me to do so."
+
+"Thanks," replied Hugh. "I have enough for the present. My only desire
+is to be back again in London."
+
+"Ah! I am afraid that is not possible for some time to come."
+
+"But I shall hear from Miss Ranscomb?"
+
+"Oh, yes. The messenger will come to you in Malines."
+
+"Who is the messenger?"
+
+"Of that I have no knowledge," was Vervoort's reply. He seemed a very
+refined man, and was no doubt an extremely clever crook. He said
+little of himself, but sufficient to cause Hugh to realize that his
+was one of the master minds of underground Europe.
+
+The young Englishman was naturally eager to further penetrate the veil
+of mystery surrounding Mademoiselle Yvonne, but he learned little or
+nothing. Vervoort either knew nothing, or else refused to disclose
+what he knew. Which, Hugh could not exactly decide.
+
+Therefore, in accordance with the Belgian's instructions, he left the
+house and at noon carried his valise to the Rue Gretry, where he found
+his friend awaiting him in a closed car, which quickly moved off out
+of the city by the Laeken road. Travelling by way of Vilvorde they
+were within an hour in old-world Malines, famous for its magnificent
+cathedral and its musical carillon. Crossing the Louvain Canal and
+entering by the Porte de Bruxelles, they were soon in an inartistic
+cobbled street under the shadow of St. Rombold, and a few minutes
+later Hugh was introduced to a short, stout Belgian woman, Madame
+Maupoil. The place was meagrely furnished, but scrupulously clean. The
+floor of the room to which Hugh was shown shone with beeswax, and the
+walls were whitewashed.
+
+"I hope monsieur will make himself quite comfortable," madame said, a
+broad smile of welcome upon her round face.
+
+"You will be comfortable enough under madame's care," Vervoort assured
+him. "She has had some well-known guests before now."
+
+"True, monsieur. More than one of them have been world-famous and--
+well--believed to be perfectly honest and upright."
+
+"Yes," laughed Vervoort. "Do you remember the English ex-member of
+Parliament?"
+
+"Ah! He was with me nearly four months when supposed to be in South
+America. There was a warrant out for him on account of some great
+financial frauds--all of which was, of course, hushed up. But he
+stayed here in strict concealment and his friends managed to get the
+warrant withdrawn. He was known to Il Passero, and the latter aided
+him--in return for certain facilities regarding the English police."
+
+"What do you think of the English police, madame?" Hugh asked. The fat
+woman grinned expressively and shrugged her broad shoulders.
+
+"Since the war they have been effete as regards serious crime. At
+least, that is what Il Passero told me when he was here a month ago."
+
+"Someone is coming here to meet Monsieur Henfrey," Vervoort said. "Who
+is it?"
+
+"I don't know. I only received word of it the day before yesterday. A
+messenger from London, I believe."
+
+"Well, each day I become more and more mystified," Hugh declared. "Why
+Il Passero, whom I do not know, should take all this interest in me, I
+cannot imagine."
+
+"Il Passero very often assists those against whom a false charge is
+laid," the woman remarked. "There is no better friend when one is in
+trouble, for so clever and ubiquitous is he, and so many friends in
+high quarters does he possess, that he can usually work his will. His
+is the master-mind, and we obey without question."
+
+
+
+                           TWELFTH CHAPTER
+
+                     THE STRANGER IN BOND STREET
+
+As Dorise walked up Bond Street, smartly dressed, next afternoon, on
+her way to her dressmaker's, she was followed by a well-dressed young
+girl in black, dark-eyed, with well-cut, refined features, and
+apparently a lady.
+
+From Piccadilly the stranger had followed Dorise unseen, until at the
+corner of Maddox Street she overtook her, and smiling, uttered her
+name.
+
+"Yes," responded Doris in surprise. "But I regret--you have the
+advantage of me?"
+
+"Probably," replied the stranger. "Do you recollect the /bal blanc/ at
+Nice and a certain white cavalier? I have a message from him to give
+you in secret."
+
+"Why in secret?" Dorise asked rather defiantly.
+
+"Well--for certain reasons which I think you can guess," answered the
+girl in black, as she strolled at Dorise's side.
+
+"Why did not you call on me at home?"
+
+"Because of your mother. She would probably have been a little
+inquisitive. Let us go into some place--a tea-room--where we can
+talk," she suggested. "I have come to see you concerning Mr. Henfrey."
+
+"Where is he?" asked Dorise, in an instant anxious.
+
+"Quite safe. He arrived in Malines yesterday--and is with friends."
+
+"Has he had my letters?"
+
+"Unfortunately, no. But do not let us talk here. Let's go in yonder,"
+and she indicated the Laurel Tea Rooms, which, the hour being early,
+they found, to their satisfaction, practically deserted.
+
+At a table in the far corner they resumed their conversation.
+
+"Why has he not received my letters?" asked Dorise. "It is nearly a
+month ago since I first wrote."
+
+"By some mysterious means the police got to know of your friend's
+intended visit to Brussels to obtain his letters. Therefore, it was
+too dangerous for him to go to the Poste Restante, or even to send
+anyone there. The Brussels police were watching constantly. How they
+have gained their knowledge is a complete mystery."
+
+"Who sent you to me?"
+
+"A friend of Mr. Henfrey. My instructions are to see you, and to
+convey any message you may wish to send to Mr. Henfrey to him direct
+in Malines."
+
+"I'm sure it's awfully good of you," Dorise replied. "Does he know you
+are here?"
+
+"Yes. But I have not met him. I am simply a messenger. In fact, I
+travel far and wide for those who employ me."
+
+"And who are they?"
+
+"I regret, but they must remain nameless," said the girl, with a
+smile.
+
+Dorise was puzzled as to how the French police could have gained any
+knowledge of Hugh's intentions. Then suddenly, she became horrified as
+a forgotten fact flashed across her mind. She recollected how, early
+in the grey morning, after her return from the ball at Nice, she had
+written and addressed a letter to Hugh. On reflection, she had
+realized that it was not sufficiently reassuring, so she had torn it
+up and thrown it into the waste-paper basket instead of burning it.
+
+She had, she remembered, addressed the envelope to Mr. Godfrey Brown,
+at the Poste Restante in Brussels.
+
+Was it possible that the torn fragments had fallen into the hands of
+the police? She knew that they had been watching her closely. Her
+surmise was, as a matter of fact, the correct one. Ogier had employed
+the head chambermaid to give him the contents of Dorise's waste-paper
+basket from time to time, hence the knowledge he had gained.
+
+"Are you actually going to Malines?" asked Dorise of the girl.
+
+"Yes. As your messenger," the other replied with a smile. "I am
+leaving to-night. If you care to write him a letter, I will deliver
+it."
+
+"Will you come with me over to the Empress Club, and I will write the
+letter there?" Dorise suggested, still entirely mystified.
+
+To this the stranger agreed, and they left the tea-shop and walked
+together to the well-known ladies' club, where, while the mysterious
+messenger sipped tea, Dorise sat down and wrote a long and
+affectionate letter to her lover, urging him to exercise the greatest
+caution and to get back to London as soon as he could.
+
+When she had finished it, she placed it in an envelope.
+
+"I would not address it," remarked the other girl. "It will be safer
+blank, for I shall give it into his hand."
+
+And ten minute later the mysterious girl departed, leaving Dorise to
+reflect over the curious encounter.
+
+So Hugh was in Malines. She went to the telephone, rang up Walter
+Brock, and told him the reassuring news.
+
+"In Malines?" he cried over the wire. "I wonder if I dare go there to
+see him? What a dead-alive hole!"
+
+Not until then did Dorise recollect that the girl had not given her
+Hugh's address. She had, perhaps, purposely withheld it.
+
+This fact she told Hugh's friend, who replied over the wire:
+
+"Well, it is highly satisfactory news, in any case. We can only wait,
+Miss Ranscomb. But this must relieve your mind, I feel sure."
+
+"Yes, it does," admitted Dorise, and a few moments later she rang off.
+
+That evening Il Passero's /chic/ messenger crossed from Dover to
+Ostend, and next morning she called at Madame Maupoil's, in Malines,
+where she delivered Dorise's note into Hugh's own hand. She was an
+expert and hardened traveller.
+
+Hugh eagerly devoured its contents, for it was the first communication
+he had had from her since that fateful night at Monte Carlo. Then,
+having thanked the girl again, and again, the latter said:
+
+"If you wish to write back to Miss Ranscomb do so. I will address the
+envelope, and as I am going to Cologne to-night I will post it on my
+arrival."
+
+Hugh thanked her cordially, and while she sat chatting with Madame
+Maupoil, sipping her /cafe au lait/, he sat down and wrote a long
+letter to the girl he loved so deeply--a letter which reached its
+destination four days later.
+
+One morning about ten days afterwards, when the sun shone brightly
+upon the fresh green of the Surrey hills, Mrs. Bond was sitting before
+a fire in the pretty morning room at Shapley Manor, a room filled with
+antique furniture and old blue china, reading an illustrated paper. At
+the long, leaded window stood a tall, fair-faced girl in a smart navy-
+suit. She was decidedly pretty, with large, soft grey eyes, dimpled
+cheeks, and a small, well-formed mouth. She gazed abstractedly out of
+the window over the beautiful panorama to where Hindhead rose abruptly
+in the blue distance. The view from the moss-grown terrace at Shapley,
+high upon the Hog's back, was surely one of the finest within a couple
+of hundred miles of London.
+
+Since Mrs. Bond's arrival there she had had many callers among the
+/nouveau riche/, those persons who, having made money at the expense
+of our gallant British soldiers, have now ousted half the county
+families from their solid and responsible homes. Mrs. Bond, being
+wealthy, had displayed her riches ostentatiously. She had subscribed
+lavishly to charities both in Guildford and in Farnham, and hence,
+among her callers there had been at least three magistrates and their
+flat-footed wives, as well as a plethoric alderman, and half a dozen
+insignificant persons possessing minor titles.
+
+The display of wealth had always been one of Molly Maxwell's games. It
+always paid. She knew that to succeed one must spend, and now, with
+her recently acquired "fortune," she spent to a very considerable
+tune.
+
+"I do wish you'd go in the car to Guildford and exchange those library
+books, Louise," exclaimed the handsome woman, suddenly looking up from
+her paper. "We've got those horrid Brailsfords coming to lunch. I was
+bound to ask them back."
+
+"Can't you come, too?" asked the girl.
+
+"No. I expect Mr. Benton this morning."
+
+"I didn't know he was back from Paris. I'm so glad he's coming,"
+replied the girl. "He'll stay all the afternoon, of course?"
+
+"I hope so. Go at once and get back as soon as you can, dear. Choose
+me some nice new books, won't you?"
+
+Louise Lambert, Benton's adopted daughter, turned from the leaded
+window. In the strong morning light she looked extremely charming, but
+upon her countenance there was a deep, thoughtful expression, as
+though she were entirely preoccupied.
+
+"I've been thinking of Hugh Henfrey," the woman remarked suddenly. "I
+wonder why he never writes to you?" she added, watching the girl's
+face.
+
+Louise's cheeks reddened slightly, as she replied with affected
+carelessness:
+
+"If he doesn't care to write, I shall trouble no longer."
+
+"He's still abroad, is he not? The last I heard of him was that he was
+at Monte Carlo with that Ranscomb girl."
+
+Mention of Dorise Ranscomb caused the girl's cheeks to colour more
+deeply.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I heard that also."
+
+"You don't seem to care very much, Louise," remarked the woman. "And
+yet, he's such an awfully nice young fellow."
+
+"You've said that dozens of times before," was Louise's abrupt reply.
+
+"And I mean it. You could do a lot worse than to marry him, remember,
+though he is a bit hard-up nowadays. But things with him will right
+themselves before long."
+
+"Why do you suggest that?" asked the girl resentfully.
+
+"Well--because, my dear, I know that you are very fond of him," the
+woman laughed. "Now, you can't deny it--can you?"
+
+The girl, who had travelled so widely ever since she had left school,
+drew a deep breath and, turning her head, gazed blankly out of the
+window again.
+
+What Mrs. Bond had said was her secret. She was very fond of Hugh.
+They had not met very often, but he had attracted her--a fact of which
+both Benton and his female accomplice were well aware.
+
+"You don't reply," laughed the woman for whom the Paris Surete was
+searching everywhere; "but your face betrays the truth, my dear. Don't
+worry," she added in a tone of sympathy. "No doubt he'll write as soon
+as he is back in England. Personally, I don't believe he really cares
+a rap for the Ranscomb girl. It's only a matter of money--and Dorise
+has plenty."
+
+"I don't wish to hear anything about Mr. Henfrey's love affairs!"
+cried the girl petulantly. "I tell you that they do not interest me."
+
+"Because you are piqued that he does not write, child. Ah, dear, I
+know!" she laughed, as the girl left the room.
+
+A quarter of an hour later Louise was seated in the car, while Mead
+drove her along the broad highway over the Hog's Back into Guildford.
+The morning was delightful, the trees wore their spring green, and all
+along in the fields, as they went over the high ridge, the larks were
+singing gaily the music of a glad morning of the English spring, and
+the view spread wide on either side.
+
+Life in Surrey was, she found, much preferable to that on the
+Continent. True, in the Rue Racine they had entertained a great deal,
+and she had, during the war, met many very pleasant young English and
+American officers; but the sudden journey to Switzerland, then on into
+Italy, and across to New York, had been a whirl of excitement. Mrs.
+Maxwell had changed her name several times, because she said that she
+did not want her divorced husband, a ne'er-do-well, to know of her
+whereabouts. He was for ever molesting her, she had told Louise, and
+for that reason she had passed in different names.
+
+The girl was in complete ignorance of the truth. She never dreamed
+that the source of the woman's wealth was highly suspicious, or that
+the constant travelling was in order to evade the police.
+
+As she was driven along, she sat back reflecting. Truth to tell, she
+was much in love with Hugh. Benton had first introduced him one night
+at the Spa in Scarborough, and after that they had met several times
+on the Esplanade, then again in London, and once in Paris. Yet while
+she, on her part, became filled with admiration, he was, apparently,
+quite unconscious of it.
+
+At last she had heard of Hugh's infatuation for Dorise Ranscomb, the
+daughter of the great engineer who had recently died, and indeed she
+had met her once and been introduced to her.
+
+Of the conditions of old Mr. Henfrey's will she was, of course, in
+ignorance. The girl had no idea of the great plot which had been
+formed by her foster father and his clever female friend.
+
+The world is a strange one beneath the surface of things. Those who
+passed the imposing gates of the beautiful old English manor-house
+never dreamed that it sheltered one of the most notorious female
+criminals in Europe. And the worshipful magistrates and their wives
+who visited her would have received a rude shock had they but known.
+But many modern adventuresses have been able to bamboozle the mighty.
+Madame Humbert of Paris, in whose imagination were "The Humbert
+Millions," used to entertain Ministers of State, aristocrats,
+financiers, and others of lower degree, and show them the sealed-up
+safe in which she declared reposed millions' worth of negotiable
+securities which might not see the light of day until a certain date.
+The avaricious, even shrewd, bankers advanced loans upon things they
+had never seen, and the Humberts were the most sought-after family in
+Paris until the bubble burst and they fled and were afterwards
+arrested in Spain.
+
+Molly Maxwell was a marvel of ingenuity, of criminal foresight, and of
+amazing elusiveness. Louise, young and unsuspicious, looked upon her
+as a mother. Benton she called "Uncle," and was always grateful to him
+for all he did for her. She understood that they were cousins, and
+that Benton advised Mrs. Maxwell in her disastrous matrimonial
+affairs.
+
+Yet the life she had led ever since leaving school had been a truly
+adventurous one. She had been in half the watering places of Europe,
+and in most of its capitals, leading, with the woman who now called
+herself Mrs. Bond, a most extravagant life at hotels of the first
+order.
+
+The car at last ran into the station yard at Guildford, and at the
+bookstall Louise exchanged her books with the courteous manager.
+
+She was passing through the booking-office back to the car, when a
+voice behind her called:
+
+"Hallo, Louise!"
+
+Turning, she found her "uncle," Charles Benton, who, wearing a light
+overcoat and grey velour hat, grasped her hand.
+
+"Well, dear," he exclaimed. "This is fortunate. Mead is here, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Yes, uncle," replied the girl, much gratified at meeting him.
+
+"I was about to engage a taxi to take me up to the Manor, but now you
+can take me there," said the rather handsome man. "How is Mrs. Bond?"
+he asked, calling her by her new name.
+
+"Quite well. She's expecting you to lunch. But she has some impossible
+people there to-day--the Brailsfords, father, mother, and son. He made
+his money in motor-cars during the war. They live over at Dorking in a
+house with forty-nine bedrooms, and only fifteen years ago Mrs.
+Brailsford used to do the housework herself. Now they're rolling in
+money, but can't keep servants."
+
+"Ah, my dear, it's the same everywhere," said Benton as he entered the
+car after her. "I've just got back from Madrid. It is the same there.
+The world is changing. Crooks prosper while white men starve. Honesty
+spells ruin in these days."
+
+They drove over the railway bridge and up the steep hill out of
+Guildford seated side by side. Benton had been her "uncle" ever since
+her childhood days, and a most kind and considerate one he had always
+proved.
+
+Sometimes when at school she did not see him for periods of a year or
+more and she had no home to go to for holidays. Her foster-father was
+abroad. Yet her school fees were paid regularly, her allowance had
+been ample, and her clothes were always slightly better than those of
+the other girls. Therefore, though she called him "uncle," she looked
+upon Benton as her father and obeyed all his commands.
+
+Just about noon the car swung into the gates of Shapley, and soon they
+were indoors. Benton threw off his coat, and in an abrupt manner said
+to the servant:
+
+"I want to see Mrs. Bond at once."
+
+Then, turning to Louise, he exclaimed:
+
+"I want to see Molly privately. I have some urgent business to discuss
+with her before your profiteer friends arrive."
+
+"All right," replied the girl cheerily. "I'll leave you alone," and
+she ascended the broad oak staircase, the steps of which were worn
+thin by the tramp of many generations.
+
+A few moments later Charles Benton stood in the morning-room, where
+Mrs. Bond still sat before the welcome log fire.
+
+"Back again, Charles!" she exclaimed, rising to greet him. "Well, how
+goes it?"
+
+"Not too well," was his reply as he closed the door. "I only got back
+last night. Five days ago I saw The Sparrow at the Palace Hotel in
+Madrid. He's doing all he can in young Henfrey's interests, but he is
+not too hopeful."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I can't make out," said the man, apparently much perturbed. "He wired
+me to go to Madrid, and I went. But it seems that I've been on a
+fool's errand."
+
+"That's very unsatisfactory," said the woman.
+
+"It is, my dear Molly! From his attitude it seemed to me that he is
+protecting Henfrey from some secret motive of his own--one that is not
+at all in accordance with our plans."
+
+"But he is surely acting in our interests!"
+
+"Ah! I'm not so sure about that."
+
+"You surprise me. He knows our intentions and approved of them!"
+
+"His approval has, I think, been upset by the murderous attack upon
+Yvonne."
+
+"But he surely will not act against us! If he does----"
+
+"If he does--then we may as well throw up the sponge, Molly."
+
+"We could give it all away to the police," remarked the woman.
+
+"And by so doing give ourselves away!" answered Benton. "The Sparrow
+has many friends in the police, recollect. Abroad, he distributes a
+quantity of annual /douceurs/, and hence he is practically immune from
+arrest."
+
+"I wish we were," laughed the handsome adventuress.
+
+"Yes. We have only to dance to his tune," said he. "And the tune just
+now is not one which is pleasing to us--eh?"
+
+"You seem strangely apprehensive."
+
+"I am. I believe that The Sparrow, while making pretence of supporting
+our little affair, is in favour of Hugh's marriage with Dorise
+Ranscomb."
+
+The woman looked him straight in the face.
+
+"He could never go back on his word!" she declared.
+
+"The Sparrow is a curious combination of the crook--chivalrous and
+philanthropic--as you already know."
+
+"But surely, he wouldn't let us down?"
+
+Benton paused. He was thinking deeply. A certain fact had suddenly
+occurred to him.
+
+"If he does, then we must, I suppose, do our best to expose him. I
+happen to know that he has quarrelled with Henri Michaux, the under-
+secretary of the Surete in Paris, who has declared that his payment is
+not sufficient. Michaux is anxious to get even with him. A word from
+us would result in The Sparrow's arrest."
+
+"Excellent!" exclaimed Molly. "If we fail we can, after all, have our
+revenge. But," she added, "would not he suspect us both, and, in turn,
+give us away?"
+
+"No. He will never suspect, my dear Molly. Leave it to me. Are we not
+his dearest and most trusted friends?" and the man, who was as keenly
+sought by the police of Europe, grinned sardonically and took a
+cigarette from the big silver box on the little table at his elbow.
+
+
+
+                          THIRTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                            POISONED LIPS
+
+Week after week passed.
+
+Spring was slowly developing into summer and the woods around
+Blairglas, the fine estate in Perthshire which old Sir Richard
+Ranscomb had left to his wife, were delightful.
+
+Blairglas Castle, a grand old turreted pile, was perched on the edge
+of a wooded glen through which flowed a picturesque burn well known to
+tourists in Scotland. Once Blairglas Burn had been a mighty river
+which had, in the bygone ages, worn its way deep through the grey
+granite down to the broad Tay and onward to the sea. On the estate was
+some excellent salmon-fishing, as well as grouse on Blairglas Moor,
+and trout in Blairglas Loch. Here Lady Ranscomb entertained her
+wealthy Society friends, and certainly she did so lavishly and well.
+Twice each year she went up for the fishing and for the shooting. Old
+Sir Richard, notwithstanding his gout, had been fond of sport, and for
+that reason he had given a fabulous price for the place, which had
+belonged to a certain Duke who, like others, had become impoverished
+by excessive taxation and the death duties.
+
+Built in the fifteenth century as a fortress, it was, for a time, the
+home of James V. after his marriage with Mary of Guise. It was to
+Blairglas that, after his defeat on Solway Moss, he retired,
+subsequently dying of a broken heart. Twenty years later Darnley, the
+elegant husband of Mary Stuart, had lived there, and on the level
+bowling green he used to indulge in his favourite sport.
+
+The grim old place, with its towers, its dimly-lit long stone
+corridors, cyclopean ivy-clad walls, narrow windows, and great
+panelled chambers, breathed an atmosphere of the long ago. So
+extensive was it that only one wing--that which looked far down the
+glen to the blue distant mountains--had been modernised; yet that, in
+itself, was sufficiently spacious for the entertainment of large
+house-parties.
+
+One morning, early in June, Dorise, in a rough tweed suit and a pearl-
+grey suede tam-o'shanter, carrying a mackintosh across her shoulder,
+and accompanied by a tall, dark-haired, clean-shaven man of thirty-
+two, with rather thick lips and bushy eyebrows, walked down through
+the woods to the river. The man, who was in fishing clothes, sauntered
+at her side, smoking a cigarette; while behind them came old Sandy
+Murray, the grizzled, fair-bearded head keeper, carrying the salmon
+rods, the gaff, creel, and luncheon basket.
+
+"The spate is excellent for us," exclaimed George Sherrard. "We ought
+to kill a salmon to-day, Dorise."
+
+"I sincerely hope so," replied the girl; "but somehow I never have any
+luck in these days."
+
+"No, you really don't! But Marjorie killed a twelve-pounder last week,
+your mother tells me."
+
+"Yes. She went out with Murray every day for a whole fortnight, and
+then on the day before she went back to town she landed a splendid
+fish."
+
+On arrival at the bank of the broad shallow Tay, Murray stepped
+forward, and in his pleasant Perthshire accent suggested that a trial
+might be made near the Ardcraig, a short walk to the left.
+
+After fixing the rods and baiting them, the head keeper discreetly
+withdrew, leaving the pair alone. In the servants' hall at Blairglas
+it was quite understood that Miss Dorise and Mr. Sherrard were to
+marry, and that the announcement would be made in due course.
+
+"What a lovely day--and what a silent, delightful spot," Sherrard
+remarked, as he filled his pipe preparatory to walking up-stream,
+while the girl remained beside the dark pool where sport seemed
+likely.
+
+"Yes," she replied, inwardly wishing to get rid of her companion so as
+to be left alone with her own thoughts. "I'll remain here for a little
+and then go down-stream to the end of our water."
+
+"Right oh!" he replied cheerily as he moved away.
+
+Dorise breathed more freely when he had gone.
+
+George Sherrard had arrived from London quite unexpectedly at nine
+o'clock on the previous morning. She had been alone with her mother
+after the last guest of a gay house-party had departed, when, unknown
+to Dorise, Lady Ranscomb had telegraphed to her friend George to "run
+up for a few days' fishing."
+
+Lady Ranscomb's scheme was to throw the pair into each other's society
+as much as possible. She petted George, flattered him, and in every
+way tried to entertain him with one sole object, namely, to induce him
+to propose to Dorise, and so get the girl "off her hands."
+
+On the contrary, the girl's thoughts were for ever centred upon Hugh,
+even though he remained under that dark cloud of suspicion. To her the
+chief element in the affair was the mystery why her lover had gone on
+that fateful night to the Villa Amette, the house of that notorious
+Mademoiselle. What had really occurred?
+
+Twice she had received letters from him brought to her by the
+mysterious girl-messenger from Belgium. From them she knew how grey
+and dull was his life, hiding there from those who were so intent upon
+his arrest.
+
+Indeed, within her blouse she carried his last letter which she had
+received three weeks before when in London--a letter in which he
+implored her not to misjudge him, and in which he promised that, as
+soon as he dared to leave his hiding-place and meet her, he would
+explain everything. In return, she had again written to him, but
+though three weary weeks had passed, she had received no word in
+reply. She could neither write by post, nor could she telegraph. It
+was far too dangerous. In addition, his address had been purposely
+withheld from her.
+
+Walter Brock had tried to ascertain it. He had even seen the
+mysterious messenger on her last visit to England, but she had refused
+point-blank, declaring that she had been ordered to disclose nothing.
+She was merely a messenger.
+
+That her correspondence was still being watched by the police, Dorise
+was quite well aware. Her maid, Duncan, had told her in confidence
+quite recently that while crossing Berkeley Square one evening she had
+been accosted by a good-looking young man who, having pressed his
+attentions upon her, had prevailed upon her to meet him on the
+following evening.
+
+He then took her to dinner to a restaurant in Soho, and to the
+pictures afterwards. They had met half a dozen times, when he began to
+cleverly question her concerning her mistress, asking whether she had
+letters from her gentleman friends. At this Duncan had grown
+suspicious, and she had not met the young fellow since.
+
+That, in itself, showed her that the police were bent on discovering
+and arresting Hugh.
+
+The great mystery of it all was why Hugh should have gone deliberately
+and clandestinely to the Villa Amette on the night of the tragic
+affair.
+
+Dorise was really an expert in casting a fly; also she excelled in
+several branches of sport. She was a splendid tennis-player, she rode
+well to hounds, and was very fair at golf. But that morning she had no
+heart for fishing, and especially in such company. She despised George
+Sherrard as a prig, fond of boasting of his means, and, indeed, so
+terribly self-conscious was he that in many circles he was declared
+impossible. Men disliked him for his swagger and conceit, and women
+despised him for his superior attitude towards them.
+
+For a full hour Dorise continued making casts, but in vain. She
+changed her flies once or twice, until at last, by a careless throw,
+she got her tackle hooked high in a willow, with the result that, in
+endeavouring to extricate it, she broke off the hook. Then with an
+exclamation of impatience, she wound up her line and threw her rod
+upon the grass.
+
+"Hallo, Dorise!" cried a voice. "No luck, eh?"
+
+Sherrard had returned and had witnessed her outbreak of impatience.
+
+"None!" she snapped, for the loss of her fly annoyed her. She knew
+that she had been careless, because under old Murray's careful tuition
+she had become quite expert with the rod, both with trout and salmon.
+
+"Never mind," he said, "I've had similar luck. I've just got hooked up
+in a root and lost a fly. Let's have lunch--shall we?"
+
+Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother's visitor, but,
+nevertheless, was compelled to be polite.
+
+After washing their hands in the stream, they sat down together upon a
+great, grey boulder that had been worn smooth by the action of the
+water, and, taking out their sandwiches, began to eat them.
+
+"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been
+gossiping for some time. "Have you heard from your friend Henfrey
+lately?"
+
+"Not lately," replied the girl, a trifle resentful that he should
+obtrude upon her private affairs.
+
+"I only ask because--well, because there are some jolly queer stories
+going about town of him."
+
+"Queer stories!" she echoed quickly. "What are they? What do people
+say?"
+
+"Oh! They say lots of extraordinary things. I think your mother has
+done very well to drop him."
+
+"Has mother dropped him?" asked the girl in pretence of ignorance.
+
+"She told me so last night, and I was extremely glad to hear it--
+though he is your friend. It seems that he's hardly the kind of fellow
+you should know, Dorise."
+
+"Why do you say that?" his companion asked, her eyes flashing
+instantly.
+
+"What! Haven't you heard?"
+
+"Heard what?"
+
+"The story that's going round the clubs. He's missing, and has been so
+for quite a long time. You haven't seen him--have you?"
+
+The girl was compelled to reply in the negative.
+
+"But what do they say against him?" she demanded breathlessly.
+
+"There's a lot of funny stories," was Sherrard's reply. "They say he's
+hiding from the police because he attempted to murder a notorious
+woman called Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. Do you know about it?"
+
+"It's a wicked lie!" blurted forth the girl. "Hugh never attempted to
+kill the woman!"
+
+Sherrard looked straight into her blue eyes, and asked:
+
+"Then why was he in her room at midnight? They say the reason Henfrey
+is hard-up is because he spent all he possessed upon the woman, and on
+going there that night she laughed him to scorn and told him she had
+grown fond of a rich Austrian banker. After mutual recriminations,
+Henfrey, knowing the woman had ruined him, drew out a revolver and
+shot her."
+
+"I tell you it's an abominable lie! Hugh is not an assassin!" cried
+the girl fiercely.
+
+"I merely repeat what I have heard on very good authority," replied
+the smug-faced man with the thick red lips.
+
+"And you have of course told my mother that--eh?"
+
+"I didn't think it was any secret," he said. "Indeed, I think it most
+fortunate we all know the truth. The police must get him one day--
+before long."
+
+For a few moments Dorise remained silent, her eyes fixed across the
+broad river to the opposite bank.
+
+"And if they do, he will most certainly clear himself, Mr. Sherrard,"
+she said coldly.
+
+"Ah! You still have great faith in him," he laughed airily. "Well--we
+shall see," and he grinned.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Sherrard. I still have faith in Mr. Henfrey. I know him well
+enough to be certain that he is no assassin."
+
+"Then I ask you, Dorise, why is he hiding?" said her companion. "If he
+is innocent, what can he fear?"
+
+"I know he is innocent."
+
+"Of course. You must remain in that belief until he is found guilty."
+
+"You already condemn him!" the girl cried in anger. "By what right do
+you do this, I ask?"
+
+"Well, common sense shows that he is in fear lest the truth should
+come to light," was Sherrard's lame reply. "He escaped very cleverly
+from Monte Carlo the moment he heard that the police suspected him,
+but where is he now? Nobody knows. Haynes, of Scotland Yard, who made
+the inquiries when my flat in Park Lane was broken into, tells me they
+have had a description of him from the Paris police, and that a
+general hue-and-cry has been circulated."
+
+"But the woman is still alive, is she not?"
+
+"Yes. She's a hopeless idiot, Haynes tells me. She had developed
+homicidal mania as a result of the bullet wound in the head, and they
+have had to send her to a private asylum at Cannes. She's there in
+close confinement."
+
+Dorise paused. Her anger had risen, and her cheeks were flushed. The
+sandwich she was eating choked her, so she cast it into the river.
+
+Then she rose abruptly, and looking very straight into the man's eyes,
+said:
+
+"I consider, Mr. Sherrard, that you are absolutely horrid. Mr. Henfrey
+is a friend of mine, and whatever gossip there is concerning him I
+will not believe until I hear his story from his own lips."
+
+"I merely tell you of the report from France to Scotland Yard," said
+Sherrard.
+
+"You tell me this in order to prejudice me against Hugh--to--to----"
+
+"Hugh! Whom you love--eh?" sneered Sherrard.
+
+"Yes. I /do/ love him," the girl blurted forth. "I make no secret of
+it. And if you like you can tell my mother that! You are very fond of
+acting as her factotum!"
+
+"It is to be regretted, Dorise, that you have fallen in love with a
+fellow who is wanted by the police," he remarked with a sigh.
+
+"At any rate, I love a genuine man," she retorted with bitter sarcasm.
+"I know my mother's intention is that I shall marry you. But I tell
+you here frankly--as I stand here--I would rather kill myself first!"
+
+George Sherrard with his dark bushy brows and thick lips only laughed
+at her indignation. This incensed her the more.
+
+"Yes," she went on. "You may be amused at my distress. You have
+laughed at the distress of other women, Mr. Sherrard. Do not think
+that I am blind. I have watched you, and I know more concerning your
+love affairs of the past than you ever dream. So please leave
+Blairglas as soon as you can with decency excuse yourself, and keep
+away from me in future."
+
+"But really, Dorise----!" he cried, advancing towards her.
+
+"I mean exactly what I say. Let me get back. When I go fishing I
+prefer to go alone," the girl said.
+
+"But what am I to say to Lady Ranscomb?"
+
+"Tell her that I love Hugh," laughed the girl defiantly. "Tell her
+that I intend to defeat all her clever intrigues and sly devices!"
+
+His countenance now showed that he was angry. He and Lady Ranscomb
+thoroughly understood each other. He admired the girl, and her mother
+had assured him her affection for Hugh Henfrey was but a passing
+fancy. This stubborn outburst was to him a complete revelation.
+
+"I have no knowledge of any intrigue, Dorise," he said in that bland,
+superior manner which always irritated her. She knew that a dozen
+mothers with eligible feminine encumbrances were trying to angle him,
+and that Lady Ranscomb was greatly envied by them. But to be the wife
+of the self-conscious ass--well, as she has already bluntly told him,
+she would die rather than become Mrs. George Sherrard.
+
+"Intrigue!" the girl retorted. "Why, from first to last the whole
+thing is a plot between my mother and yourself. Please give me credit
+for just a little intelligence. First, I despise you as a coward.
+During the war you crept into a little clerkship in the Home Office in
+order to save your precious skin, while Hugh went to the front and
+risked his life flying a 'bomber' over the enemy's lines. You were a
+miserable stay-at-home, hiding in your little bolt-hole in Whitehall
+when the Zepps came over, while Hugh Henfrey fought for his King and
+for Britain. Now I am quite frank, Mr. Sherrard. That's why I despise
+you!" and the girl's pale face showed two pink spots in the centre of
+her cheeks.
+
+"Really," he said in that same superior tone which he so constantly
+assumed. "I must say that you are the reverse of polite, Miss Dorise,"
+and his colour heightened.
+
+"I am! And I intend to be so!" she cried in a frenzy, for all her
+affection for Hugh had in those moments been redoubled. Her lover was
+accused and had no chance of self-defence. "Go back to my mother," she
+went on. "Tell her every word I have said and embroider it as much as
+you like. Then you can both put your wits together a little further.
+But, remember, I shall exert my own woman's wits against yours. And as
+soon as you feel it practicable, I hope you will leave Blairglas. And
+further, if you have not left by noon to-morrow, I will tell my maid,
+Duncan, the whole story of this sinister plot to part me from Hugh.
+She will spread it, I assure you. Maids gossip--and to a purpose when
+their mistresses will it so."
+
+"But Dorise--"
+
+"Enough! Mr. Sherrard. I prefer to walk up to the Castle by myself.
+Murray will bring up the rods. Please tell my mother what I say when
+you get back," she added. "The night train from Perth to London leaves
+at nine-forty to-night," she said with biting sarcasm.
+
+Then turning, she began to ascend the steep path which led from the
+river bank into a cornfield and through the wood, while the man stood
+and bit his lip.
+
+"H'm!" he growled beneath his breath. "We shall see!--yes, we shall
+see!"
+
+
+
+                          FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                               RED DAWN
+
+That night when Dorise, in a pretty, pale-blue evening gown, entered
+the great, old panelled dining-room rather late for dinner, her mother
+exclaimed petulantly:
+
+"How late you are, dear! Mr. Sherrard has had a telegram recalling him
+to London. He has to catch the nine-something train from Perth."
+
+"Have you?" she asked the man who was odious to her. "I'm so sorry I'm
+late, but that Mackenzie girl called. They are getting up a bazaar for
+the old people down in the village, and we have to help it, I suppose.
+Oh! these bazaars, sales of work, and other little excuses for
+extracting shillings from the pockets of everybody! They are most
+wearying."
+
+"She called on me last week," said Lady Ranscomb. "Newte told her I
+was not at home."
+
+The old-fashioned butler, John Newte, a white-haired, rosy-faced man,
+who had seen forty years' service with the ducal owner of Blairglas,
+served the dinner in his own stately style. Sir Richard had been a
+good master, but things had never been the same since the castle had
+passed into its new owner's hands.
+
+Dorise endeavoured to be quite affable to the smooth-haired man seated
+before her, expressing regret that he was called away so suddenly,
+while he, on his part, declared that it was "awful hard luck," as he
+had been looking forward to a week's good sport on the river.
+
+"Do come back, George," Lady Ranscomb urged. "Get your business over
+and get back here for the weekend."
+
+"I'll try," was Sherrard's half-hearted response, whereat Newte
+entered to announce that the car was ready.
+
+Then he bade mother and daughter adieu, and went out.
+
+Dorise could see that her mother was considerably annoyed at her plans
+being so abruptly frustrated.
+
+"We must ask somebody else," she said, as they lingered over the
+dessert. "Whom shall we ask?"
+
+"I really don't care in the least, mother. I'm quite happy here alone.
+It is a rest. We shall have to be back in town in a fortnight, I
+suppose."
+
+"George could quite well have waited for a day or two," Lady Ranscomb
+declared. "I went out to see the Muirs, at Forteviot, and when I got
+back he told me he had just had a telegram telling him that it was
+imperative he should be in town to-morrow morning. I tried to persuade
+him to stay, but he declared it to be impossible."
+
+"An appointment with a lady, perhaps," laughed Dorise mischievously.
+
+"What next, my dear! You know he is over head and ears in love with
+you!"
+
+"Oh! That's quite enough, mother. You've told me that lots of times
+before. But I tell you quite frankly his love leaves me quite cold."
+
+"Ah! dear. That reply is, after all, but natural. You, of course,
+won't confess the truth," her mother laughed.
+
+"I do, mother. I'm heartily glad the fellow has gone. I hate his
+supercilious manner, his superior tone, and his unctuous bearing. He's
+simply odious! That's my opinion."
+
+Her mother looked at her severely across the table.
+
+"Please remember, Dorise, that George is my friend."
+
+"I never forget that," said the girl meaningly, as she rose and left
+the table.
+
+Half an hour later, when she entered her bedroom, she found Duncan,
+her maid, awaiting her.
+
+"Oh! I've been waiting to see you this half hour, miss," she said. "I
+couldn't get you alone. Just before eight o'clock, as I was about to
+enter the park by the side gate near Bervie Farm, a gentleman
+approached me and asked if my name was Duncan. I told him it was, and
+then he gave me this to give to you in secret. He also gave me a pound
+note, miss, to say nothing about it." And the prim lady's maid handed
+her young mistress a small white envelope upon which her name was
+written.
+
+Opening it, she found a plain visiting card which bore the words in a
+man's handwriting:
+
+
+ "Would it be possible for you to meet me to-night at ten at the
+  spot where I have given this to your maid? Urgent.--SILVERADO."
+
+
+Dorise held her breath. It was a message from the mysterious white
+cavalier who had sought her out at the /bal blanc/ at Nice, and told
+her of Hugh's peril!
+
+Duncan was naturally curious owing to the effect the card had had upon
+her mistress, but she was too well trained to make any comment.
+Instead, she busied herself at the wardrobe, and a few moments
+afterwards left the room.
+
+Dorise stood before the long cheval glass, the card still in her hand.
+
+What did it mean? Why was the mysterious white cavalier in Scotland?
+At least she would now be able to see his face. It was past nine, and
+the moon was already shining. She had still more than half an hour
+before she went forth to meet the man of mystery.
+
+She descended to the drawing-room, where her mother was reading, and
+after playing over a couple of songs as a camouflage, she pretended to
+be tired and announced her intention of retiring.
+
+"We have to go into Edinburgh to-morrow morning," her mother remarked.
+"So we should start pretty early. I've ordered the car for nine
+o'clock."
+
+"All right, mother. Good-night," said the girl as she closed the door.
+
+Then hastening to her room she threw off her dinner gown, and putting
+on a coat and skirt and the boots which she had worn when fishing that
+morning, she went out by a door which led from the great old library,
+with its thousands of brown-backed volumes, on to the broad terrace
+which overlooked the glen, now a veritable fairyland beneath the light
+of the moon.
+
+Outside the silence was only broken by the ripple of the burn over its
+pebbles deep below, and the cry of the night-bird upon the steep rock
+whereon the historic old castle was built. By a path known to her she
+descended swiftly, and away into the park by yet another path, used
+almost exclusively by the servants and the postman, down to a gate
+which led out into the high road to Perth by one of the farms on the
+estate, the one known as the Bervie.
+
+As she was about to pass through the small swing gate, she heard a
+voice which she recognized exclaim:
+
+"Miss Ranscomb! I have to apologize!" And from the dark shadow a
+rather tall man emerged and barred her path.
+
+"I daresay you will think this all very mysterious," he went on,
+laughing lightly. "But I do hope I have not inconvenienced you. If so,
+pray accept my deepest apologies. Will you?"
+
+"Not at all," the girl replied, though somewhat taken aback by the
+suddenness of the encounter. The man spoke slowly and with evident
+refinement. His voice was the same she had heard at Nice on that
+memorable night of gaiety. She recognized it instantly.
+
+As he stood before her, his countenance became revealed in the
+moonlight, and she saw a well-moulded, strongly-marked face, with a
+pair of dark, penetrating eyes, set a little too close perhaps, but
+denoting strong will and keen intelligence.
+
+"Yes," he laughed. "Look at me well, Miss Ranscomb. I am the white
+cavalier whom you last saw disguised by a black velvet mask. Look at
+me again, because perhaps you may wish to recognize me later on."
+
+"And you are still Mr. X--eh?" asked the girl, who had halted, and was
+gazing upon his rather striking face.
+
+"Still the same," he said, smiling. "Or you may call me Brown, Jones,
+or Robinson--or any of the other saints' names if you prefer."
+
+"You have been very kind to me. Surely I may know your real name?"
+
+"No, Miss Ranscomb. For certain very important reasons I do not wish
+to disclose it. Pardon me--will you not? I ask that favour of you."
+
+"But will you not satisfy my curiosity?"
+
+"At my personal risk? No. I do not think you would wish me to do that
+--eh?" he asked in a tone of mild reproof.
+
+Then he went on:
+
+"I'm awfully sorry I could not approach you openly. In London I found
+out that you were up here, so I thought it best to see you in secret.
+You know why I have come to you, Miss Ranscomb--eh?"
+
+"On behalf of Mr. Henfrey."
+
+"Yes. He is still in hiding. It has been impossible--through force of
+circumstances--for him to send you further messages."
+
+"Where is he? I want to see him."
+
+"Have patience, Miss Ranscomb, and I will arrange a meeting between
+you."
+
+"But why do the police still search for him?"
+
+"Because of an unfortunate fact. The lady, Mademoiselle Ferad, is now
+confined to a private asylum at Cannes, but all the time she raves
+furiously about Monsieur Henfrey. Hence the French police are
+convinced that he shot her--and they are determined upon his arrest."
+
+"But do you think he is guilty?"
+
+"I know he is not. Yet by force of adverse circumstances, he is
+compelled to conceal himself until such time that we can prove his
+innocence."
+
+"Ah! But shall we ever be in a position to prove that?"
+
+"I hope so. We must have patience--and still more patience," urged the
+mysterious man as he stood in the full light of the brilliant moon. "I
+have here a letter for you which Mr. Henfrey wrote a week ago. It only
+came into my hands yesterday." And he gave her an envelope.
+
+"Tell me something about this woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. Who
+is she?" asked Dorise excitedly.
+
+"Well--she is a person who was notorious at the Rooms, as you yourself
+know. You have seen her."
+
+"And tell me, why do you take such an interest in Hugh?" inquired the
+girl, not without a note of suspicion in her voice.
+
+"For reasons best known to myself, Miss Ranscomb. Reasons which are
+personal."
+
+"That's hardly a satisfactory reply."
+
+"I fear I can give few satisfactory replies until we succeed in
+ascertaining the truth of what occurred at the Villa Amette," he said.
+"I must urge you, Miss Ranscomb, to remain patient, and--and not to
+lose faith in the man who is wrongfully accused."
+
+"But when can I see him?" asked Dorise eagerly.
+
+"Soon. But you must be discreet--and you must ask no questions. Just
+place yourself in my hands--that is, if you can trust me."
+
+"I do, even though I am ignorant of your name."
+
+"It is best that you remain in ignorance," was his reply. "Otherwise
+perhaps you would hesitate to trust me."
+
+"Why?"
+
+But the tall, good-looking man only laughed, and then he said:
+
+"My name really doesn't matter at present. Later, Miss Ranscomb, you
+will no doubt know it. I am only acting in the interests of Henfrey."
+
+Again she looked at him. His face was smiling, and yet was sphinx-like
+in the moonlight. His voice was certainly that of the white cavalier
+which she recollected so well, but his personality, so strongly
+marked, was a little overbearing.
+
+"I know you mistrust me," he went on. "If I were in your place I
+certainly should do so. A thousand pities it is that I cannot tell you
+who I am. But--well--I tell you in confidence that I dare not!"
+
+"Dare not! Of what are you afraid?" inquired Dorise. The man she had
+met under such romantic circumstances interested her keenly. He was
+Hugh's go-between. Poor Hugh! She knew he was suffering severely in
+his loneliness, and his incapability to clear himself of the terrible
+stigma upon him.
+
+"I'm afraid of several things," replied the white cavalier. "The
+greatest fear I have is that you may not believe in me."
+
+"I do believe in you," declared the girl.
+
+"Excellent!" he replied enthusiastically. "Then let us get to business
+--pardon me for putting it so. But I am, after all, a business man. I
+am interested in a lot of different businesses, you see."
+
+"Of what character?"
+
+"No, Miss Ranscomb. That is another point upon which I regret that I
+cannot satisfy your pardonable curiosity. Please allow your mind to
+rest upon the one main point--that I am acting in the interests of the
+man with--the man who is, I believe, your greatest and most intimate
+friend."
+
+"I understood that when we met in Nice."
+
+"Good! Now I understand that your mother, Lady Ranscomb, is much
+against your marriage with Hugh Henfrey. She has other views."
+
+"Really! Who told you that?"
+
+"I have ascertained it in the course of my inquiry."
+
+Dorise paused, and then looking the man of mystery straight in the
+face, asked:
+
+"What do you really know about me?"
+
+"Well," he laughed lightly. "A good deal. Now tell me when could you
+be free to get away from your mother for a whole day?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I want to know. Just tell me the date. When are you returning to
+London?"
+
+"On Saturday week. I could get away--say--on Tuesday week."
+
+"Very good. You would have to leave London by an early train in the
+morning--if I fail to send a car for you, which I hope to do. And be
+back again late at night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why," he echoed. "Because I have a reason."
+
+"I believe you will take me to meet Hugh--eh? Ah! How good you are!"
+cried the girl in deep emotion. "I shall never be able to thank you
+sufficiently for all you are doing. I--I have been longing all these
+weeks to see him again--to hear his explanation why he went to the
+woman's house at that hour--why----"
+
+"He will tell you everything, no doubt," said her mysterious visitor.
+"He will tell you everything except one fact."
+
+"And what is that?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"One fact he will not tell you. But you will know it later. Hugh
+Henfrey is a fine manly fellow, Miss Ranscomb. That is why I have done
+my level best in his interest."
+
+"But why should you?" she asked. "You are, after all, a stranger."
+
+"True. But you will know the truth some day. Meanwhile, leave matters
+as they are. Do not prejudge him, even if the police are convinced of
+his guilt. Could you be at King's Cross station at ten o'clock on the
+morning of Tuesday week? If so, I will meet you there."
+
+"Yes," she replied. "But where are we going?"
+
+"At present I have no idea. When one is escaping from the police one's
+movements have to be ruled by circumstances from hour to hour. I will
+do my best on that day to arrange a meeting between you," he added.
+
+She thanked him very sincerely. He was still a mystery, but his face
+and his whole bearing attracted her. He was her friend. She
+recollected his words amid that gay revelry at Nice--words of
+encouragement and sympathy. And he had travelled there, far north into
+Perthshire, in order to carry the letter which she had thrust into her
+pocket, yet still holding it in her clenched hand.
+
+"I do wish you would tell me the motive of your extreme kindness
+towards us both," Dorise urged. "I can't make it out at all. I am
+bewildered."
+
+"Well--so am I, Miss Ranscomb," replied the tall, elegant man who
+spoke with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. "There are
+certain facts--facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at the
+Villa Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery."
+
+"Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand," she
+declared.
+
+"Don't wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and distinct
+motive to call that night."
+
+"But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress."
+
+"And the adventuress, Miss Ranscomb, often has, deep in her soul, the
+heart of a pure woman," he said. "One must never judge by appearance
+or gossip. What people may think is the curse of many of our lives. I
+hope you do not misjudge Mr. Henfrey."
+
+"I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation."
+
+"You shall--and before long, too," he replied. "But I want you, if you
+will, to answer a question. I do not put it from mere idle curiosity,
+but it very closely concerns you both. Have you ever heard him speak
+of a girl named Louise Lambert?"
+
+"Louise Lambert? Why, yes! He introduced her to me once. She is, I
+understand, the adopted daughter of a man named Benton, an intimate
+friend of old Mr. Henfrey."
+
+"Has he ever told you anything concerning her?"
+
+"Nothing much. Why?"
+
+"He has never told you the conditions of his father's will?"
+
+"Never--except that he has been left very poorly off, though his
+father died in affluent circumstances. What are the conditions?"
+
+The mysterious stranger paused for a moment.
+
+"Have you, of late, formed an acquaintance of a certain Mrs. Bond, a
+widow?"
+
+"I met her recently in South Kensington, at the house of a friend of
+my mother, Mrs. Binyon. Why?"
+
+"How many times have you met her?"
+
+"Two--or I think three. She came to tea with us the day before we came
+up here."
+
+"H'm! Your mother seems rather prone to make easy acquaintanceships--
+eh? The Hardcastles were distinctly undesirable, were they not?--and
+the Jameses also?"
+
+"Why, what do you know about them?" asked the girl, much surprised, as
+they were two families who had been discovered to be not what they
+represented.
+
+"Well," he laughed. "I happen to be aware of your mother's charm--
+that's all."
+
+"You seem to know quite a bit about us," she remarked. "How is it?"
+
+"Because I have made it my business to know, Miss Ranscomb," he
+replied. "Further, I would urge upon you to have nothing to do with
+Mrs. Bond."
+
+"Why not? We found her most pleasant. She is the widow of a wealthy
+man who died abroad about two years ago, and she lives somewhere down
+in Surrey."
+
+"I know all about that," he answered in a curious tone. "But I repeat
+my warning that Mrs. Bond is by no means a desirable acquaintance. I
+tell you so for your own benefit."
+
+Inwardly he was angry that the woman should have so cleverly made the
+acquaintance of the girl. It showed him plainly that Benton and she
+were working on a set and desperate plan, while the girl before him
+was entirely ignorant of the plot.
+
+"Now, Miss Ranscomb," he added, "I want you to please make me a
+promise--namely, that you will say nothing to a single soul of what I
+have said this evening--not even to your friend, Mr. Henfrey. I have
+very strong reasons for this. Remember, I am acting in the interests
+of you both, and secrecy is the essence of success."
+
+"I understand. But you really mystify me. I know you are my friend,"
+she said, "but why are you doing all this for our benefit?"
+
+"In order that Hugh Henfrey may return to your side, and that hand in
+hand you may be able to defeat your enemies."
+
+"My enemies! Who are they?" asked the girl.
+
+"One day, very soon, they must reveal themselves. When they do, and
+you find yourself in difficulties, you have only to call upon me, and
+I will further assist you. Advertise in the /Times/ newspaper at any
+time for an appointment with 'Silverado.' Give me seven days, and I
+will keep it."
+
+"But do tell me your name!" she urged, as they moved together from the
+pathway along the road in the direction of Perth. "I beg of you to do
+so."
+
+"I have already begged a favour of you, Miss Ranscomb," he answered in
+a soft, refined voice. "I ask you not to press your question. Suffice
+it that I am your sincere friend."
+
+"But when shall I see Hugh?" she cried, again halting. "I cannot bear
+this terrible suspense any longer--indeed I can't! Can I go to him
+soon?"
+
+"No!" cried a voice from the shadow of a bush close beside them as a
+dark alert figure sprang forth into the light. "It is needless. I am
+here, dearest!--/at last/!"
+
+And next second she found herself clasped in her lover's strong
+embrace, while the stranger, utterly taken aback, stood looking on,
+absolutely mystified.
+
+
+
+                          FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                           THE NAMELESS MAN
+
+"Who is this gentleman, Dorise?" asked Hugh, when a moment later the
+girl and her companion had recovered from their surprise.
+
+"I cannot introduce you," was her reply. "He refuses to give his
+name."
+
+The tall man laughed, and said:
+
+"I have already told you that my name is X."
+
+Hugh regarded the stranger with distinct suspicion. It was curious
+that he should discover them together, yet he made but little comment.
+
+"We were just speaking about you, Mr. Henfrey," the tall man went on.
+"I believed that you were still in Belgium."
+
+"How did you know I was there?"
+
+"Oh!--well, information concerning your hiding-place reached me," was
+his enigmatical reply. "I am, however, glad you have been able to
+return to England in safety. I was about to arrange a meeting between
+you. But I advise you to be most careful."
+
+"You seem to know a good deal concerning me," Hugh remarked
+resentfully, looking at the stern, rather handsome face in the
+moonlight.
+
+"This is the gentleman who sought me out in Nice, and first told me of
+your peril, Hugh. I recognize his voice, and have to thank him for a
+good deal," the girl declared.
+
+"Really, Miss Ranscomb, I require no thanks," the polite stranger
+assured her. "If I have been able to render Mr. Henfrey a little
+service it has been a pleasure to me. And now that you are together
+again I will leave you."
+
+"But who are you?" demanded Hugh, filled with curiosity.
+
+"That matters not, now that you are back in England. Only I beseech of
+you to be very careful," said the tall man. Then he added: "There are
+pitfalls into which you may very easily fall--traps set by your
+enemies."
+
+"Well, sir, I thank you sincerely for what you have done for Miss
+Ranscomb during my absence," said the young man, much mystified at
+finding Dorise strolling at that hour with a man of whose name even
+she was ignorant. "I know I have enemies, and I shall certainly heed
+your warning."
+
+"Your enemies must not know you are in England. If they do, they will
+most certainly inform the police."
+
+"I shall take care of that," was Hugh's reply. "I shall be compelled
+to go into hiding again--but where, I do not know."
+
+"Yes, you must certainly continue to lie low for a time," the man
+urged. "I know how very dull it must have been for you through all
+those weeks. But even that is better than the scandal of arrest and
+trial."
+
+"Ah! I know of what you are accused, Hugh!" cried the girl. "And I
+also know you are innocent!"
+
+"Mr. Henfrey is innocent," said the tall stranger. "But there must be
+no publicity, hence his only chance of safety lies in strict
+concealment."
+
+"It is difficult to conceal oneself in England," replied Hugh.
+
+The stranger laughed, as he slowly answered:
+
+"There are certain places where no questions are asked--if you know
+where to look for them. But first, I am very interested to know how
+you got over here."
+
+"I went to Ostend, and for twenty pounds induced a Belgian fisherman
+to put me ashore at night near Caister, in Norfolk. I went to London
+at once, only to discover that Miss Ranscomb was at Blairglas--and
+here I am. But I assure you it was an adventurous crossing, for the
+weather was terrible--a gale blew nearly the whole time."
+
+"You are here, it is true, Mr. Henfrey. But you mustn't remain here,"
+the stranger declared. "Though I refuse to give you my name, I will
+nevertheless try to render you further assistance. Go back to London
+by the next train you can get, and then call upon Mrs. Mason, who
+lives at a house called 'Heathcote,' in Abingdon Road, Kensington. She
+is a friend of mine, and I will advise her by telegram that she will
+have a visitor. Take apartments at her house, and remain there in
+strict seclusion. Will you remember the address--shall I write it
+down?"
+
+"Thanks very much indeed," Hugh replied. "I shall remember it. Mrs.
+Mason, 'Heathcote,' Abingdon Road, Kensington."
+
+"That's it. Get there as soon as ever you can," urged the stranger.
+"Recollect that your enemies are still in active search of you."
+
+Hugh looked his mysterious friend full in the face.
+
+"Look here!" he said, in a firm, hard voice. "Are you known as Il
+Passero?"
+
+"Pardon me," answered the stranger. "I refuse to satisfy your
+curiosity as to who I may be. I am your friend--that is all that
+concerns you."
+
+"But the famous Passero--The Sparrow--is my unknown friend," he said,
+"and I have a suspicion that you and he are identical!"
+
+"I have a motive in not disclosing my identity," was the man's reply
+in a curious tone. "Get to Mrs. Mason's as quickly as you can. Perhaps
+one day soon we may meet again. Till then, I wish both of you the best
+of luck. /Au revoir/!"
+
+And, raising his hat, he turned abruptly, and, leaving them, set off
+up the high road which led to Perth.
+
+"But, listen, sir--one moment!" cried Hugh, as he turned away.
+
+Nevertheless the stranger heeded not, and a few seconds later his
+figure was lost in the shadow of the high hedgerow.
+
+"Well," said Hugh, a few moments later, "all this is most amazing. I
+feel certain that he is either the mysterious Sparrow himself, or one
+of his chief accomplices."
+
+"The Sparrow? Who is he--dear?" asked Dorise, her hand upon her
+lover's shoulder.
+
+"Let's sit down somewhere, and I will tell you," he said. Then, re-
+entering the park by the small iron gate, Dorise led him to a fallen
+tree where, as they sat together, he related all he had been told
+concerning the notorious head of a criminal gang known to his
+confederates, and the underworld of Europe generally, as Il Passero,
+or The Sparrow.
+
+"How very remarkable!" exclaimed Dorise, when he had finished, and
+she, in turn, had told him of the encounter at the White Ball at Nice,
+and the coming and going of the messenger from Malines. "I wonder if
+he really is the notorious Sparrow?"
+
+"I feel convinced he is," declared Hugh. "He sent me a message in
+secret to Malines a fortnight ago forbidding me to attempt to leave
+Belgium, because he considered the danger too great. He was, no doubt,
+much surprised to-night when he found me here."
+
+"He certainly was quite as surprised as myself," the girl replied,
+happy beyond expression that her lover was once again at her side.
+
+In his strong arms he held her in a long, tight embrace, kissing her
+upon the lips in a frenzy of satisfaction--long, sweet kisses which
+she reciprocated with a whole-heartedness that told him of her
+devotion. There, in the shadow, he whispered to her his love,
+repeating what he had told her in London, and again in Monte Carlo.
+
+Suddenly he put a question to her:
+
+"Do you really believe I am innocent of the charge against me,
+darling?"
+
+"I do, Hugh," she answered frankly.
+
+"Ah! Thank you for those words," he said, in a broken voice. "I feared
+that you might think because of my flight that I was guilty."
+
+"I know you are not. Mother, of course, says all sorts of nasty things
+--that you must have done something very wrong--and all that."
+
+"My escape certainly gives colour to the belief that I am in fear of
+arrest. And so I am. Yet I swear that I never attempted to harm the
+lady at the Villa Amette."
+
+"But why did you go there at all, dear?" the girl asked. "You surely
+knew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!"
+
+"I know it quite well," he said. "I expected to meet an adventuress--
+but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!"
+
+"I don't understand you, Hugh," she said.
+
+"No, darling. You, of course, cannot understand!" he exclaimed. "I
+admit that I followed her home, and I demanded an interview."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her
+own."
+
+"What secret?"
+
+"One that concerns my whole future."
+
+"Cannot you tell me what it is?" she asked, looking into his face,
+which in the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was unusually
+pale and haggard.
+
+"I--well--at the present moment I am myself mystified, darling. Hence
+I cannot explain the truth," he replied. "Will you trust me if I
+promise to tell you the whole facts as soon as I have learnt them? One
+day I hope I shall know all, yet----"
+
+"Yes--yet--what?"
+
+He drew a deep breath.
+
+"The poor unfortunate lady has lost her reason as the result of the
+attempt upon her life. Therefore, after all, I may never be in a
+position to know the truth which died upon her lips."
+
+For nearly two hours the pair remained together. Often she was locked
+in her lover's arms, heedless of everything save her unbounded joy at
+his return, and of the fierce, passionate caresses he bestowed upon
+her. Truly, that was a night of supreme delight as they held each
+other's hands, and their lips met time after time in ecstasy.
+
+He inquired about George Sherrard, but she said little. She hesitated
+to tell him of the incident while fishing that morning, but merely
+said:
+
+"Oh! He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to
+London on business. And I was very glad."
+
+"Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him."
+
+"Yes," laughed the girl. "But she will continue to press. She's
+constantly singing his praises until I'm utterly sick of hearing of
+all his good qualities."
+
+Hugh sighed, and replied:
+
+"All men who are rich are possessed of good qualities in the
+estimation of the world. The poor and hard-up are the despised. But,
+after all, Dorise," he added, in a changed voice, "you have not
+forgotten what you told me at Monte Carlo--that you love me?"
+
+"I repeat it, Hugh!" declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her hand
+stealing into his. "I love only you!--/you/!"
+
+Then again he took her in his arms, and imprinted a fierce, passionate
+kiss upon her ready lips.
+
+"I suppose we must part again," he sighed. "I am compelled to keep
+away from you because no doubt a watch has been set upon you, and upon
+your correspondence. Up to the present, I have been able, by the good
+grace of unknown friends, to slip through the meshes of the net spread
+for me. But how long this will continue, I know not."
+
+"Oh! do be careful, Hugh, won't you?" urged the girl, as they sat side
+by side. The only sound was the rippling of the burn deep down in the
+glen, and the distant barking of a shepherd's dog.
+
+"Yes. I'll get away into the wilds of Kensington--to Abingdon Road.
+One is safer in a London suburb than in a desert, no doubt. West
+London is a good hiding-place."
+
+"Recollect the name. Mason, wasn't it? And she lives at 'Heathcote.'"
+
+"That was it. But do not communicate with me, otherwise my place of
+concealment will most certainly be discovered."
+
+"But can't I see you, Hugh?" implored the girl. "Must we again be
+parted?"
+
+"Yes. It seems so, according to our mysterious friend, whom I believe
+most firmly to be the notorious thief known by the Italian sobriquet
+of Il Passero--The Sparrow."
+
+"Do you think he is a thief?" asked the girl.
+
+"Yes. I am convinced that your friend is none other than the
+picturesque and romantic criminal whose octopus hand is upon almost
+every great theft in Europe, and whom the police always fail to catch,
+so elusive and clever is he."
+
+She gave him further details of their first meeting at Nice.
+
+"Exactly. That is one of his methods--secrecy and generosity are his
+two traits. He and his accomplices rob the wealthy, and assist those
+wrongly accused. It must be he--or one of his assistants. Otherwise he
+would not know of the secret hiding-place for those after whom a hue-
+and-cry has been raised."
+
+He recollected at that moment the girl who had been his fellow-guest
+in Genoa--the dainty mademoiselle who evidently had some secret
+knowledge of his father's death, and yet refused to divulge a single
+word.
+
+Ever since that memorable night at the Villa Amette, he had existed in
+a mist of suspicion and uncertainty. Yet, after all, he cared little
+for anything so long as Dorise still believed in his innocence, and
+she still loved him. His one great object was to clear up the mystery
+of his father's tragic end, and thus defeat the clever plot of those
+whose intention it, apparently, was to marry him to Louise Lambert.
+
+On every hand there was mystification. The one woman--notorious as she
+was--who knew the truth had been rendered mentally incompetent by an
+assassin's bullet, while he, himself, was accused of the crime.
+
+Hugh Henfrey would have long ago confessed to Dorise the whole facts
+concerning his father's death, but his delicacy prevented him. He
+honoured his dead father, and was averse to telling the girl he loved
+that he had been found in a curious state in a West End street late at
+night. He was loyal to his poor father's memory, and, until he knew
+the actual truth, he did not intend that Dorise should be in a
+position to misconstrue the facts, or to misjudge.
+
+On the face of it, his father's death was exceedingly suspicious. He
+had left his home in the country and gone to town upon pretence. Why?
+That a woman was connected with his journey was now apparent. Hugh had
+ascertained certain facts which he had resolved to withhold from
+everybody.
+
+But why should the notorious Sparrow, the King of the Underworld,
+interest himself so actively on his behalf as to travel up there to
+Perthshire, after making those secret, but elaborate, arrangements for
+safety? The whole affair was a mystery, complete and insoluble.
+
+It was early morning, after they had rambled for several hours in the
+moonlight, when Hugh bade his well-beloved farewell.
+
+They had returned through the park and were at a gate quite close to
+the castle when they halted. It had crossed Hugh's mind that they
+might be seen by one of the keepers, and he had mentioned this to
+Dorise.
+
+"What matter?" she replied. "They do not know you, and probably will
+not recognize me."
+
+So after promising Hugh to remain discreet, she told him they were
+returning to London in a few days.
+
+"Look here!" he said suddenly. "We must meet again very soon, darling.
+I daresay I may venture out at night, therefore why not let us make an
+appointment--say, for Tuesday week. Where shall we meet? At midnight
+at the first seat on the right on entering the part at the Marble
+Arch? You remember, we met there once before--about a year ago."
+
+"Yes. I know the spot," the girl replied. "I remember what a cold, wet
+night it was, too!" and she laughed at the recollection. "Very well. I
+will contrive to be there. That night we are due at a dance at the
+Gordons' in Grosvenor Gardens. But I'll manage to be there somehow--if
+only for five minutes."
+
+"Good," he exclaimed, again kissing her fondly. "Now I must make all
+speed to Kensington and there go once more into hiding. When--oh, when
+will this wearying life be over!"
+
+"You have a friend, as I have, in the mysterious white cavalier," she
+said. "I wonder who he really is?"
+
+"The Sparrow--without a doubt--the famous 'Il Passero' for whom the
+police of Europe are ever searching, the man who at one moment lives
+in affluence and the highest respectability in a house somewhere near
+Piccadilly, and at another is tearing over the French, Spanish, or
+Italian roads in his powerful car directing all sorts of crooked
+business. It's a strange world in which I find myself, Dorise, I
+assure you! Good-bye, darling--good-bye!" and he took her in a final
+embrace. "Good-bye--till Tuesday week."
+
+Then stepping on to the grass, where his feet fell noiselessly, he
+disappeared in the dark shadow of the great avenue of beeches.
+
+
+
+                          SIXTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                        THE ESCROCS OF LONDON
+
+For ten weary days Hugh Henfrey had lived in the close, frowsy-
+smelling house in Abingdon Road, Kensington, a small, old-fashioned
+place, once a residence of well-to-do persons, but now sadly out of
+repair.
+
+Its occupier was a worthy, and somewhat wizened, widow named Mason,
+who was supposed to be the relict of an army surgeon who had been
+killed at the Battle of the Marne. She was about sixty, and suffered
+badly from asthma. Her house was too large for one maid, a stout,
+matronly person called Emily, hence the place was not kept as clean as
+it ought to have been, and the cuisine left much to be desired.
+
+Still, it appeared to be a safe harbour of refuge for certain strange
+persons who came there, men who looked more or less decent members of
+society, but whose talk and whose slang was certainly that of crooks.
+That house in the back street of old-world Kensington, a place built
+before Victoria ascended the throne, was undoubtedly on a par with the
+flat of the Reveccas in Genoa, and the thieves' sanctuary in the
+shadow of the cathedral at Malines.
+
+Adversity brings with it queer company, and Hugh had found himself
+among a mixed society of men who had been gentlemen and had taken up
+the criminal life as an up-to-date profession. They all spoke of The
+Sparrow with awe; and they all wondered what his next great coup would
+be.
+
+Hugh became more than ever satisfied that Il Passero was one of the
+greatest and most astute criminals who have graced the annals of our
+time.
+
+Everyone sang his praise. The queer visitors who lodged there for a
+day, a couple of days, or more; the guests who came suddenly, and who
+disappeared just as quickly, were one and all loud in their admiration
+of Il Passero, though Hugh could discover nobody who had actually seen
+the arch-thief in the flesh.
+
+On the Tuesday night Hugh had had a frugal and badly-cooked meal with
+three mysterious men who had arrived as Mrs. Mason's guests during the
+day. After supper the widow rose and left the room, whereupon the
+trio, all well-dressed men-about-town, began to chatter openly about a
+little "deal" in diamonds in which they had been interested. The
+"deal" in question had been reported in the newspapers on the previous
+morning, namely, how a Dutch diamond dealer's office in Hatton Garden
+had been broken into, the safe cut open by the most scientific means,
+and a very valuable parcel of stones extracted.
+
+"Harry Austen has gone down to Surrey to stay with Molly."
+
+"Molly? Why, I thought she was in Paris!"
+
+"She was--but she went to America for a trip and she finds it more
+pleasant to live down in Surrey just now," replied the other with a
+grin. "She has Charlie's girl living with her."
+
+"H'm!" grunted the third man. "Not quite the sort of companion Charlie
+might choose for his daughter--eh?"
+
+Hugh took but little notice of the conversation. It was drawing near
+the time when he would go forth to meet Dorise at their trysting
+place. In anxiety he went into the adjoining room, and there smoked
+alone until just past eleven o'clock, when he put on his hat and went
+forth into the dark, deserted street.
+
+Opposite High Street Kensington Station he jumped upon a bus, and at
+five minutes to midnight alighted at the Marble Arch. On entering the
+park he quickly found the seat he had indicated as their meeting
+place, and sat down to wait.
+
+The home-going theatre traffic behind him in the Bayswater Road had
+nearly ceased as the church clocks chimed the midnight hour. In the
+semi-darkness of the park dark figures were moving, lovers with
+midnight trysts like his own. In the long, well-lit road behind him
+motors full of gaily-dressed women flashed homeward from suppers or
+theatres, while from the open windows of a ballroom in a great
+mansion, the house of an iron magnate, came the distant strains of
+waltz music.
+
+Time dragged along. He strained his eyes down the dark pathway, but
+could see no approaching figure. Had she at the last moment been
+prevented from coming? He knew how difficult it was for her to slip
+away at night, for Lady Ranscomb was always so full of engagements,
+and Dorise was compelled to go everywhere with her.
+
+At last he saw a female figure in the distance, as she turned into the
+park from the Marble Arch, and springing to his feet, he went forward
+to meet her. At first he was not certain that it was Dorise, but as he
+approached nearer he recognized her gait.
+
+A few seconds later he confronted her and grasped her warmly by the
+hand. The black cloak she was wearing revealed a handsome jade-
+coloured evening gown, while her shoes were not those one would wear
+for promenading in the park.
+
+"Welcome at last, darling!" he cried. "I was wondering if you could
+get away, after all!"
+
+"I had a little difficulty," she laughed. "I'm at a dance at the
+Gordons' in Grosvenor Gardens, but I managed to slip out, find a taxi,
+and run along here. I fear I can't stay long, or they will miss me."
+
+"Even five minutes with you is bliss to me, darling," he said,
+grasping her ungloved hand and raising it to his lips.
+
+"Ah! Hugh. If you could only return to us, instead of living under
+this awful cloud of suspicion!" the girl cried. "Every day, and every
+night, I think of you, dear, and wonder how you are dragging out your
+days in obscurity down in Kensington. Twice this week I drove along
+the Earl's Court Road, quite close to you."
+
+"Oh! life is a bit dull, certainly," he replied cheerfully. "But I
+have papers and books--and I can look out of the window on to the
+houses opposite."
+
+"But you go out for a ramble at night?"
+
+"Oh! yes," he replied. "Last night I set out at one o'clock and walked
+up to Hampstead Heath, as far as Jack Straw's Castle and back. The
+night was perfect. Really, Londoners who sleep heavily all night lose
+the best part of their lives. London is only beautiful in the night
+hours and at early dawn. I often watch the sun rise from the Thames
+Embankment. I have a favourite seat--just beyond Scotland Yard. I've
+become quite a night-bird these days. I sleep when the sun shines, and
+with a sandwich box and a flask I go long tramps at night, just as
+others do who, like myself, are concealing their identity."
+
+"But when will all this end?" queried the girl, as together they
+strolled in the direction of Bayswater, passing many whispering
+couples sitting on seats. London lovers enjoy the park at all hours of
+the twenty-four.
+
+"It will only end when I am able to discover the truth," he said
+vaguely. "Meanwhile I am not disheartened, darling, because--because I
+know that you believe in me--that you still trust me."
+
+"That man whom I saw in Nice dressed as a cavalier, and who again came
+to me in Scotland, is a mystery," she said. "Do you really believe he
+is the person you suspect?"
+
+"I do. I still believe he is the notorious and defiant criminal 'Il
+Passero'--the most daring and ingenious thief of the present century."
+
+"But he is evidently your friend."
+
+"Yes. That is the great mystery of it all. I cannot discern his
+motive."
+
+"Is it a sinister one, do you think?"
+
+"No. I do not believe so. I have heard of The Sparrow's fame from the
+lips of many criminals, but none has uttered a single word against
+him. He is, I hear, fierce, bitter, and relentless towards those who
+are his enemies. To his friends, however, he is staunchly loyal. That
+is what is said of him."
+
+"But, Hugh, I wish you would be more frank with me," the girl said.
+"There are several things you are hiding from me."
+
+"I admit it, darling," he blurted forth, holding her hand in the
+darkness as they walked. The ecstasy and the bliss of that moment held
+him almost without words. She was as life to him. He pursued that
+soul-deadening evasion, and lived that grey, sordid life among men and
+women escaping from justice solely for her sake. If he married Louise
+Lambert and then cast off the matrimonial shackles he would recover
+his patrimony and be well-off.
+
+To many men the temptation would have proved too great. The
+inheritance of his father's fortune was so very easy. Louise was a
+pretty girl, well educated, bright, vivacious, and thoroughly up to
+date. Yet somehow, he always mistrusted Benton, though his father,
+perhaps blinded in his years, had reckoned him his best and most
+sincere friend. There are many unscrupulous men who pose as dear,
+devoted friends of those who they know are doomed by disease to die--
+men who hope to be left executors with attaching emoluments, and men
+who have some deep game to play either by swindling the orphans, or by
+advancing one of their own kith and kin in the social scale.
+
+Old Mr. Henfrey, a genuine country landowner of the good old school, a
+man who lived in tweeds and leggings, and who rode regularly to hounds
+and enjoyed his days across the stubble, was one of the unsuspicious.
+Charles Benton he had first met long ago in the Hotel de Russie in
+Rome while he was wintering there. Benton was merry, and, apparently,
+a gentleman. He talked of his days at Harrow, and afterwards at
+Cambridge, of being sent down because of a big "rag" in the
+Gladstonian days, and of his life since as a fairly well-off bachelor
+with rooms in London.
+
+Thus a close intimacy had sprung up between them, and Hugh had
+naturally regarded his father's friend with entire confidence.
+
+"You admit that you are not telling me the whole truth, Hugh,"
+remarked the girl after a long pause. "It is hardly fair of you, is
+it?"
+
+"Ah! darling, you do not know my position," he hastened to explain as
+he gripped her little hand more tightly in his own. "I only wish I
+could learn the truth myself so as to make complete explanation. But
+at present all is doubt and uncertainty. Won't you trust me, Dorise?"
+
+"Trust you!" she echoed. "Why, of course I will! You surely know that,
+Hugh."
+
+The young man was again silent for some moments. Then he exclaimed:
+
+"Yet, after all, I can see no ray of hope."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Hope of our marriage, Dorise," he said hoarsely. "How can I, without
+money, ever hope to make you my wife?"
+
+"But you will have your father's estate in due course, won't you?" she
+asked quite innocently. "You always plead poverty. You are so like a
+man."
+
+"Ah! Dorise, I am really poor. You don't understand--/you can't/!"
+
+"But I do," she said. "You may have debts. Every man has them--
+tailor's bills, restaurant bills, betting debts, jewellery debts. Oh!
+I know. I've heard all about these things from another. Well, if you
+have them, you'll be able to settle them out of your father's estate
+all in due course."
+
+"And if he has left me nothing?"
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed the handsome girl at his side. "What do you
+mean?"
+
+"Well----" he said very slowly. "At present I have nothing--that's
+all. That is why at Monte Carlo I suggested that--that----"
+
+He did not conclude the sentence.
+
+"I remember. You said that I had better marry George Sherrard--that
+thick-lipped ass. You said that because you are hard-up?"
+
+"Yes. I am hard-up. Very hard-up. At present I am existing in an
+obscure lodging practically upon the charity of a man upon whom, so
+far as I can ascertain, I have no claim whatsoever."
+
+"The notorious thief?"
+
+Hugh nodded, and said:
+
+"That fact in itself mystifies me. I can see no motive. I am entirely
+innocent of the crime attributed to me, and if Mademoiselle were in
+her right mind she would instantly clear me of this terrible charge."
+
+"But why did you go to her home that night, Hugh?"
+
+"As I have already told you, I went to demand a reply to a single
+question I put to her," he said. "But please do no let us discuss the
+affair further. The whole circumstances are painful to me--more
+painful than you can possibly imagine. One day--and I hope it will be
+soon--you will fully realize what all this has cost me."
+
+The girl drew a long breath.
+
+"I know, Hugh," she said. "I know, dear--and I do trust you."
+
+They halted, and he bent and impressed upon her lips a fierce caress.
+
+So entirely absorbed in each other were the pair that they failed to
+notice the slim figure of a man who had followed the girl at some
+distance. Indeed, the individual in question had been lurking outside
+the house in Grosvenor Gardens, and had watched Dorise leave. At the
+end of the street a taxi was drawn up at the kerb awaiting him. Dorise
+had hailed the man, but his reply was a surly "Engaged."
+
+Then, walking about a couple of hundred yards, she had found another,
+and entering it, had driven to the Marble Arch. But the first taxi had
+followed the second one, and in it was the well-set-up man who was
+silently watching her in the park as she walked with her lover towards
+the Victoria Gate.
+
+"What can I say to you in reply to your words of hope, darling?"
+exclaimed Hugh as he walked beside her. "I know full well how much all
+this must puzzle you. Have you seen Brock?"
+
+"Oh! yes. I saw him two days ago. He called upon mother and had tea. I
+managed to get five minutes alone with him, and I asked if he had
+heard from you. He replied that he had not. He's much worried about
+you."
+
+"Is he, dear old chap? I only wish I dared write to him, and give him
+my address."
+
+"I told him that you were back in London. But I did not give him your
+address. You told me to disclose nothing."
+
+"Quite right, Dorise," he said. "If, as I hope one day to do, I can
+ever clear myself and combat my secret enemies, then there will be
+revealed to you a state of things of which you little dream. To-day I
+confess I am under a cloud. In the to-morrow I hope and pray that I
+may be able to expose the guilty and throw a new light upon those who
+have conspired to secure my downfall."
+
+They had halted in the dark path, and again their lips met in fond
+caress. Behind them was the silent watcher, the tall man who had
+followed Dorise when she had made her secret exit from the house
+wherein the gay dance was till in progress.
+
+An empty seat was near, and with one accord the lovers sank upon it,
+Hugh still holding the girl's soft hand.
+
+"I must really go," she said. "Mother will miss me, no doubt."
+
+"And George Sherrard, too?" asked her companion bitterly.
+
+"He may, of course."
+
+"Ah! Then he is with you to-night?"
+
+"Yes. Unfortunately, he is. Ah! Hugh! How I hate his exquisite and
+superior manners. But he is such a close friend of mother's that I can
+never escape him."
+
+"And he still pesters you with his attentions, of course," remarked
+Hugh in a hard voice.
+
+"Oh! yes, he is always pretending to be in love with me."
+
+"Love!" echoed Hugh. "Can such a man ever love a woman? Never, Dorise.
+He does not love you as I love you--with my whole heart and my whole
+soul."
+
+"Of course the fellow cannot," she replied. "But, for mother's sake, I
+have to suffer his presence."
+
+"At least you are frank, darling," he laughed.
+
+"I only tell you the truth, dear. Mother thinks she can induce me to
+marry him because he is so rich, but I repeat that I have no intention
+whatever of doing so. I love you, Hugh--and only you."
+
+Again he took her in his strong arms and pressed her to him, still
+being watched by the mysterious individual who had followed Dorise.
+
+"Ah! my darling, these are, indeed, moments of supreme happiness,"
+Hugh exclaimed as he held her tightly in his arms. "I wonder when we
+dare meet again?"
+
+"Soon, dear--very soon, I hope. Let us make another appointment," she
+said. "On Friday week mother is going to spend the night with Mrs.
+Deane down at Ascot. I shall make excuse to stay at home."
+
+"Right. Friday week at the same place and time," he said cheerily.
+
+"I'll have to go now," she said regretfully. "I only wish I could stay
+longer, but I must get back at once. If mother misses me she'll have a
+fit."
+
+So he walked with her out of the Victoria Gate into the Bayswater Road
+and put her into an empty taxi which was passing back to Oxford
+Street.
+
+Then, when he had pressed her hand and wished her adieu, he continued,
+towards Notting Hill Gate, and thence returned to Kensington.
+
+But, though he was ignorant of the fact, the rather lank figure which
+had been waiting outside the house in Grosvenor Gardens now followed
+him almost as noiselessly as a shadow. Never once did the watcher lose
+sight of him until he saw him enter the house in Abingdon Road with
+his latchkey.
+
+Then, when the door had closed, the mysterious watcher passed by and
+scrutinized the number, after which he hastened back to Kensington
+High Street, where he found a belated taxi in which he drove away.
+
+
+
+                         SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                         ON THE SURREY HILLS
+
+On the following morning, about twelve o'clock, Emily, Mrs. Mason's
+stout maid-of-all-work, showed a tall, well-dressed man into Hugh's
+frowsy little sitting-room where he sat reading.
+
+He sprang to his feet when he recognized his visitor to be Charles
+Benton.
+
+"Well my boy!" cried his visitor cheerily. "So I've found you at last!
+We all thought you were on the Continent, lying low somewhere."
+
+"So I have been," replied the young man faintly. "You've heard of that
+affair at Monte Carlo?"
+
+"Of course. And you are suspected--wanted by the police? That's why
+I'm here," Benton replied. "This place isn't safe for you. You must
+get away from it at once," he added, lowering his voice.
+
+"Why isn't it safe?"
+
+"Because at Scotland Yard they know you are somewhere in Kensington,
+and they're hunting high and low for you."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Because Harpur, one of the assistant Commissioners of Police,
+happened to be in the club yesterday, and we chatted. So I pumped him
+as to the suspected person from Monte Carlo, and he declared that you
+were known to be in this district, and your arrest was only a matter
+of time. So you must clear out at once."
+
+"Where to?" asked Hugh blankly.
+
+"Well, there's a lady you met once or twice with me, Mrs. Bond. She
+will be delighted to put you up for a few weeks. She has a charming
+house down in Surrey--a place called Shapley Manor."
+
+"She might learn the truth and give me away," remarked Hugh dubiously.
+
+"She won't. Recollect, Hugh, that I was your father's friend, and am
+yours. What advice I give you is for your own good. You can't stay
+here--it's impossible."
+
+The name of The Sparrow was upon Hugh's lips, and he was about to tell
+Benton of that mysterious person's efforts on his behalf, but, on
+reflection, he saw that he had no right to expose The Sparrow's
+existence to others. The very house in which they were was one of the
+bolt-holes of the wonderfully organized gang of crooks which Il
+Passero controlled.
+
+"How did you know that I was here?" asked Hugh suddenly in curiosity.
+
+"That I'm not at liberty to say. It was not a friend of yours, but
+rather an enemy who told me--hence I tell you that you run the gravest
+risk in remaining here a moment longer. As soon as I heard you were
+here, I telephoned to Mrs. Bond, and she has very generously asked us
+both to stay with her," Benton went on. "If you agree, I'll get a car
+now, without delay, and we'll run down into Surrey together," he
+added.
+
+Hugh glanced at the tall, well-dressed man of whom his father had
+thought so highly. Charles Benton, in spite of his hair tuning grey,
+was a handsome man, and moved in a very good circle of society. Nobody
+knew his source of income, and nobody cared. In these days clothes
+make the gentleman, and a knighthood a lady.
+
+Like many others, old Mr. Henfrey had been sadly deceived by Charles
+Benton, and had taken him into his family as a friend. Other men had
+done the same. His geniality, his handsome, open face, and his
+plausible manner, proved the open sesame to many doors of the wealthy,
+and the latter were robbed in various ways, yet never dreaming that
+Benton was the instigator of it all. He never committed a theft
+himself. He gave the information--and others did the dirty work.
+
+"You recollect Mrs. Bond," said Benton. "But I believe Maxwell, her
+first husband, was alive then, wasn't he?"
+
+"I have a faint recollection of meeting a Mrs. Maxwell in Paris--at
+lunch at the Pre Catalan--was it not?"
+
+"Yes, of course. About six years ago. That's quite right!" laughed
+Benton. "Well, Maxwell died and she married again--a Colonel Bond. He
+was killed in Mesopotamia, and now she's living up on the Hog's Back,
+beyond Guildford, on the road to Farnham."
+
+Hugh again reflected. He had come to Abingdon Road at the suggestion
+of the mysterious White Cavalier. Ought he to leave the place without
+first consulting him? Yet he had no knowledge of the whereabouts of
+the man of mystery whom he firmly believed was none other than the
+elusive Sparrow. Besides, was not Benton, his father's closest friend,
+warning him of his peril?
+
+The latter thought decided him.
+
+"I'm sure it's awfully good of Mrs. Bond whom I know so slightly to
+invite me to stay with her."
+
+"Nothing, my dear boy. She's a very old friend of mine. I once did her
+a rather good turn when Maxwell was alive, and she's never forgotten
+it. She's one of the best women in the world, I assure you," Benton
+declared. "I'll run along to a garage I know in Knightsbridge and get
+a car to take us down to Shapley. It's right out in the country, and
+as long as you keep clear of the town of Guildford--where the police
+are unusually wary under one of the shrewdest chief constables in
+England--then you needn't have much fear. Pack up your traps, Hugh,
+and I'll call for you at the end of the road in half an hour."
+
+"Yes. But I'll want a dress suit and lots of other things if I'm going
+to stay at a country house," the young man demurred.
+
+"Rot! You can get all you want in Aldershot, Farnham or Portsmouth.
+Come just as you are. Mrs. Bond will make all allowances."
+
+"And probably have her suspicions aroused at the same time?"
+
+"No, she won't. This is a sudden trip into the country. I told her you
+had been taken unwell--a nervous breakdown--and that the doctor had
+ordered you complete rest at once."
+
+"I wish I had stayed in Monte Carlo and faced the charge against me,"
+declared Hugh fervently. "Being hunted from pillar to post like this
+is so absolutely nerve-racking."
+
+"Why did you go to that woman's house, Hugh?" Benton asked. "What
+business had you that led you to call at that hour upon such a
+notorious person?"
+
+Hugh remained silent. He saw that to tell Benton the truth would be to
+reopen the whole question of the will and of Louise.
+
+So he merely shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Won't you tell me what really happened at the Villa Amette, Hugh?"
+asked the elder man persuasively. "I've seen Brock, but he apparently
+knows nothing."
+
+"Of course he does not. I was alone," was Hugh's answer. "The least
+said about that night of horror the better, Benton."
+
+So his father's friend left the house, while Hugh sought Mrs. Mason,
+settled his bill with her, packed his meagre wardrobe into a suit-
+case, and half an hour later entered the heavy old limousine which he
+found at the end of the road.
+
+They took the main Portsmouth road, by way of Kingston, Cobham and
+Ripley, until in the cold grey afternoon they descended the steep hill
+through Guildford High Street, and crossing the bridge, instead of
+continuing along the road to Portsmouth, bore to the right, past the
+station, and up the steep wide road over that long hill, the Hog's
+Back, whence a great misty panorama was spread out on either side of
+the long, high-up ridge which in the sunshine gives such a wonderful
+view to motorists on their way out of London southward.
+
+Presently the car turned into the gravelled drive, and Hugh found
+himself at Shapley.
+
+In the chintz-hung, old-world morning-room, lit by the last rays of
+the declining sun, for the sky had suddenly cleared, Mrs. Bond
+entered, loud-voiced and merry.
+
+"Why, Mr. Henfrey! I'm so awfully pleased to see you. Charles
+telephoned to me that you were a bit out of sorts. So you must stay
+with me for a little while--both of you. It's very healthy up here on
+the Surrey hills, and you'll soon be quite right again."
+
+"I'm sure, Mrs. Bond, it is most hospitable of you," Hugh said.
+"London in these after the war days is quite impossible. I always long
+for the country. Certainly your house is delightful," he added,
+looking round.
+
+"It's one of the nicest houses in the whole county of Surrey, my boy,"
+Benton declared enthusiastically. "Mrs. Bond was awfully lucky in
+securing it. The family are unfortunately ruined, as so many others
+are by excessive taxation and high prices, and she just stepped in at
+the psychological moment."
+
+"Well, I really don't know how to thank you sufficiently, Mrs. Bond,"
+Hugh declared. "It is really extremely good of you."
+
+"Remember, Mr. Henfrey, we are not strangers," exclaimed the handsome
+woman. "Do you recollect when we met in Paris, and afterwards in
+Biarritz, and then that night at the Carlton?"
+
+"I recollect perfectly well. We met before the war, when one could
+really enjoy oneself contentedly."
+
+"Since then I have been travelling a great deal," said the woman.
+"I've been in Italy, the South of Spain, the Azores, and over to the
+States. I got back only a few months ago."
+
+And so after a chat Hugh was shown to his room, a pretty apartment,
+from the diamond-paned windows of which spread out a lovely view
+across to Godalming and Hindhead, with the South Downs in the blue far
+away.
+
+"Now you must make yourselves at home, both of you," the handsome
+woman urged as they came down into the drawing-room after a wash.
+
+Tea was served, and over it much chatter about people and places. Mrs.
+Bond was, like her friend Benton, a thorough-going cosmopolitan. Hugh
+had no idea of her real reputation, or of her remarkable adventures.
+Neither had he any idea that Molly Maxwell was wanted by the Paris
+Surete, just as he himself was wanted.
+
+"Isn't this a charming place?" remarked Benton as, an hour later, they
+strolled on the long terrace smoking cigarettes before dinner. "Mrs.
+Bond was indeed fortunate in finding it."
+
+"Beautiful!" declared Hugh in genuine admiration. Since that memorable
+night in Monte Carlo he had been living in frowsy surroundings,
+concealed in thieves' hiding-places, eating coarse food, and hearing
+the slang of the underworld of Europe.
+
+It had been exciting, yet he had been drawn into it against his will--
+just because he had feared for Dorise's sake, to face the music after
+that mysterious shot had been fired at the Villa Amette.
+
+Mrs. Bond was most courteous to her guests, and as Hugh and Benton
+strolled up and down the terrace in the fast growing darkness, the
+elder man remarked:
+
+"You'll be quite safe here, you know, Hugh. Don't worry. I'm truly
+sorry that you have landed yourself into this hole, but--well, for the
+life of me I can't see what led you to seek out that woman, Yvonne
+Ferad. Why ever did you go there?"
+
+Hugh paused.
+
+"I--I had reasons--private reasons of my own," he replied.
+
+"That's vague enough. We all have private reasons for doing silly
+things, and it seems that you did an exceptionally silly thing. I hear
+that Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, after the doctors operated upon her
+brain, has now become a hopeless idiot."
+
+"So I've been told. It is all so very sad--so horrible. Though people
+have denounced her as an adventuress, yet I know that at heart she is
+a real good woman."
+
+"Is she? How do you know?" asked Benton quickly, for instantly he was
+on the alert.
+
+"I know. And that is all."
+
+"But tell me, Hugh--tell me in confidence, my boy--what led you to
+seek her that night. You must have followed her from the Casino and
+have seen her enter the Villa. Then you rang at the door and asked to
+see her?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I had my own reasons."
+
+"Can't you tell them to me, Hugh?" asked the tall man in a strange,
+low voice. "Remember, I am an old friend of your father. And I am
+still your best friend."
+
+Hugh pursued his walk in silence.
+
+"No," he said at last, "I prefer not to discuss the affair. That night
+is one full of painful memories."
+
+"Very well," answered Benton shortly. "If you don't want to tell me,
+Hugh, I quite understand. That's enough. Have another cigarette," and
+he handed the young fellow his heavy gold case.
+
+A week passed. Hugh Henfrey and Charles Benton greatly enjoyed their
+stay at Shapley Manor. With their hostess they motored almost daily to
+many points of interest in the neighbourhood, never, by the way,
+descending into the town of Guildford, where the police were so
+unusually alert and shrewd.
+
+More than once when alone with Benton, Hugh felt impelled to refer to
+the mysterious death of his father, but it was a very painful subject.
+The last time Hugh had referred to it, about a month before his visit
+to Monte Carlo, Benton had been greatly upset, and had begged the
+young man not to mention the tragic affair.
+
+Constantly, however, Benton, on his part, would put cunning questions
+to him concerning Yvonne Ferad, as to what he knew concerning her, and
+how he had managed to escape over the frontier into Italy.
+
+Late one night as they sat together in the billiard-room after their
+final game, Benton, removing the cigar from his lips, exclaimed:
+
+"Oh! I quite forgot to tell you, Mrs. Bond has been awfully good to
+Louise. She took her from Paris with her and they went quite a long
+tour, first to Spain and other places, and then to New York and back."
+
+"Has she?" exclaimed Hugh in surprise. Only once before had Benton
+mentioned Louise's name, then he had casually remarked that she was on
+a visit to some friends in Yorkshire.
+
+"Yes. She's making her home with Mrs. Bond for the present. She
+returns here to-morrow."
+
+As he said this, he watched the young man's face. It was sphinx-like.
+
+"Oh! That's jolly!" he replied, with well assumed satisfaction. "It
+seems such an age since we last met--nearly a year before my father's
+death, I believe."
+
+In his heart he had no great liking for the girl, although she was
+bright, vivacious and extremely good company.
+
+Next afternoon the pair met in the hall after the car had brought her
+from Guildford station.
+
+"Hallo, Hugh!" she cried as she grasped his hand. "Uncle wrote and
+told me you were here! How jolly, isn't it? Why--you seem to have
+grown older," she laughed.
+
+"And you younger," he replied, bending over her hand gallantly. "I
+hear you've been all over the world of late!"
+
+"Yes. Wasn't it awfully good of Mrs. Bond? I had a ripping time. I
+enjoyed New York ever so much. I find this place a bit dull after
+Paris though, so I'm often away with friends."
+
+And he followed her into the big morning-room where Mrs. Bond, alias
+Molly Maxwell, was awaiting her.
+
+That afternoon there had been several callers; a retired admiral and
+his wife, and two county magistrates with their womenfolk, for since
+her residence at Shapley Mrs. Bond had been received in a good many
+smart houses, especially by the /nouveau riche/ who abound in that
+neighbourhood. But the callers had left and they were now alone.
+
+As Louise sat opposite the woman who had taken her under her charge,
+Hugh gazed at her furtively and saw that there was no comparison
+between her and the girl he loved so deeply.
+
+How strange it was, he thought. If he asked her to be his wife and
+they married, he would at once become a wealthy man and inherit all
+his father's possessions. True, she was very sweet and possessed more
+than the ordinary /chic/ and good taste in dress. Yet he felt that he
+could never fulfil his dead father's curious desire.
+
+He could never marry her--/never/!
+
+
+
+                          EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                     THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVE
+
+On his way out of London, Hugh had made excuse and stopped the car at
+a post office in Putney, whence he sent an express note to Dorise,
+telling her his change of address. He though it wiser not to post it.
+
+Hence it was on the morning following Louise's arrival at Shapley, he
+received a letter from Dorise, enclosing one she had received under
+cover for him. He had told Dorise to address him as "Mr. Carlton
+Symes."
+
+It was on dark-blue paper, such as is usually associated with the law
+or officialdom. Written in a neat, educated hand, it read:
+
+
+ "DEAR MR. HENFREY,--I hear that you have left Abingdon Road, and am
+  greatly interested to know the reason. You will, no doubt,
+  recognize me as the friend who sent a car for you at Monte Carlo.
+  Please call at the above address at the earliest possible moment.
+  Be careful that you are not watched. Say nothing to anybody,
+  wherever you may be. Better call about ten-thirty P.M., and ask
+  for me. Have no fear. I am still your friend,
+
+                                                "GEORGE PETERS."
+
+
+The address given was 14, Ellerston Street, Mayfair.
+
+Hugh knew the street, which turned off Curzon Street, a short
+thoroughfare, but very exclusive. Some smart society folk lived there.
+
+But who was George Peters? Was it not The Sparrow who had sent him the
+car with the facetious chauffeur to that spot in Monte Carlo? Perhaps
+the writer was the White Cavalier!
+
+During the morning Hugh strolled down the hill and through the woods
+with Louise. The latter was dressed in a neat country kit, a tweed
+suit, a suede tam-o'-shanter, and carried a stout ash-plant as a
+walking-stick. They were out together until luncheon time.
+
+Meanwhile, Benton sat with his hostess, and had a long confidential
+chat.
+
+"You see, Molly," he said, as he smoked lazily, "I thought it an
+excellent plan to bring them together, and to let them have an
+opportunity of really knowing each other. It's no doubt true that he's
+over head and ears in love with the Ranscomb girl, but Lady Ranscomb
+has set her mind on having Sherrard as her son-in-law. She's a clever
+woman, Lady Ranscomb, and of course, in her eyes, Hugh is for ever
+beneath a cloud. That he went to the woman's house at night is quite
+sufficient."
+
+"Well, if I know anything of young men, Charles, I don't think you'll
+ever induce that boy to marry Louise," remarked the handsome
+adventuress whom nobody suspected.
+
+"Then if he doesn't, we'll just turn him over to Scotland Yard. We
+haven't any further use for him," said Benton savagely. "It's the
+money we want."
+
+"And I fear we shall go on wanting it, my dear Charles," declared the
+woman, who was so well versed in the ways of men. "Louise likes him.
+She has told me so. But he only tolerates her--that's all! He's
+obsessed by the mystery of old Henfrey's death."
+
+"I wonder if that was the reason he went that night to see Yvonne?"
+exclaimed Benton in a changed voice, as the idea suddenly occurred to
+him. "I wonder if--if he suspected something, and went boldly and
+asked her?"
+
+"Ah! I wonder!" echoed the woman. "But Yvonne would surely tell him
+nothing. It would implicate her far too deeply if she did. Yvonne is a
+very shrewd person. She isn't likely to have told the old man's son
+very much."
+
+"No, you're right, Molly," replied the man. "You're quite right! I
+don't think we have much to fear on that score. We've got Hugh with
+us, and if he again turns antagonistic the end is quite easy--just an
+anonymous line to the police."
+
+"We don't want to do that if there is any other way," the woman said.
+
+"I don't see any other way," replied the adventurer. "If he won't
+marry Louise, then the money passes out of our reach."
+
+"I don't like The Sparrow taking such a deep interest in his welfare,"
+growled the woman beneath her breath.
+
+"And I don't like the fact that Yvonne is still alive. If she were
+dead--then we should have nothing to fear--nothing!" Benton said
+grimly.
+
+"But who fired the shot if Hugh didn't?" asked Mrs. Bond.
+
+"Personally, I think he did. He discovered something--something we
+don't yet know--and he went to the Villa Amette and shot her in
+revenge for the old man's death. That's my firm belief."
+
+"Then why has The Sparrow taken all these elaborate precautions?"
+
+"Because he's afraid himself of the truth coming out," said Benton.
+"He certainly has looked after Hugh very well. I had some trouble to
+persuade the lad to come down here, for he evidently believes that The
+Sparrow is his best friend."
+
+"He may find him his enemy one day," laughed the woman. And then they
+rose and strolled out into the grounds, across the lawn down to the
+great pond.
+
+When at half-past seven they sat down to dinner, Hugh suddenly
+remarked that he found it imperative to go to London that evening, and
+asked Mrs. Bond if he might have the car.
+
+Benton looked up at him quickly, but said nothing before Louise.
+
+"Certainly; Mead shall take you," was the woman's reply, though she
+was greatly surprised at the sudden request. Both she and Benton
+instantly foresaw that his intention was to visit Dorise in secret.
+For what other reason could he wish to run the risk of returning to
+London?
+
+"When do you wish to start?" asked his hostess.
+
+"Oh! about nine--if I may," was the young man's reply.
+
+"Will you be back to-night?" asked the girl who, in a pretty pink
+dinner frock, sat opposite him.
+
+"Yes. But it won't be till late, I expect," he replied.
+
+"Remember, to-morrow we are going for a run to Bournemouth and back,"
+said the girl. "Mrs. Bond has kindly arranged it, and I daresay she
+will come, too."
+
+"I don't know yet, dear," replied Mrs. Bond. The truth was that she
+intended that the young couple should spend the day alone together.
+
+Benton was filled with curiosity.
+
+As soon as the meal was over, and the two ladies had left the room, he
+poured out a glass of port and turning to the young fellow, remarked:
+
+"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to go to town, Hugh?"
+
+"It may be, but I must take the risk," was the other's reply.
+
+"What are you going up for?" asked Benton bluntly.
+
+"To see somebody--important," was his vague answer. And though the
+elder man tried time after time to get something more definite from
+him, he remained silent. Had not his unknown friend urged him to say
+nothing to anybody wherever he might be?
+
+So at nine Mead drove up the car to the door, and Hugh, slipping on
+his light overcoat, bade his hostess good-night, thanked her for
+allowing him the use of the limousine, and promised to be back soon
+after midnight.
+
+"Good-night, Hugh!" cried Louise from the other end of the fine old
+hall. And a moment later the car drove away in the darkness.
+
+Along the Hog's Back they went, and down into Guildford. Then up the
+long steep High Street, past the ancient, overhanging clock at the
+Guildhall, and out again on the long straight road to Ripley and
+London.
+
+As soon as they were beyond Guildford, he knocked at the window, and
+afterwards mounted beside Mead. He hated to be in a car alone, for he
+himself was a good driver and used always to drive his father's old
+"'bus."
+
+"I'll go to the Berkeley Hotel," he said to the man. "Drop me there,
+and pick me up outside there at twelve, will you?"
+
+The man promised to do so, and then they chatted as they continued on
+their way to London. Mead, a Guildfordian, knew every inch of the
+road. Before entering Mrs. Bond's service he had, for a month, driven
+a lorry for a local firm of builders, and went constantly to and from
+London.
+
+They arrived at the corner of St. James's Street at half-past ten.
+Hugh gave Mead five shillings to get his evening meal, and said:
+
+"Be back here at midnight, Mead. I expect I'll be through my business
+long before that. But it's a clear night, and we shall have a splendid
+run home."
+
+"Very well, sir. Thank you," replied his hostess's chauffeur.
+
+Hugh Henfrey, instead of entering the smart Society hotel, turned up
+the street, and, walking quickly, found himself ten minutes later in
+Ellerston Street before a spacious house, upon the pale-green door of
+which was marked in Roman numerals the number fourteen.
+
+By the light of the street lamp he saw it was an old Georgian town
+house. In the ironwork were two-foot-scrapers, relics of a time long
+before macadam or wood paving.
+
+The house, high and inartistic, was a relic of the days of the
+dandies, when country squires had their town houses, and before labour
+found itself in London drawing-rooms. Consumed by curiosity, Hugh
+pressed the electric button marked "visitors," and a few moments later
+a smart young footman opened the door.
+
+"Mr. George Peters?" inquired Hugh. "I have an appointment."
+
+"What name, sir?" the young, narrow-eyed man asked.
+
+"Henfrey."
+
+"Oh, yes, sir! Mr. Peters is expecting you," he said. And at once he
+conducted him along the narrow hall to a room beyond.
+
+The house was beautifully appointed. Everywhere was taste and luxury.
+Even in the hall there were portraits by old Spanish masters and many
+rare English sporting prints.
+
+The room into which he was shown was a long apartment furnished in the
+style of the Georgian era. The genuine Adams ceiling, mantelpiece, and
+dead white walls, with the faintly faded carpet of old rose and light-
+blue, were all in keeping. The lights, too, were shaded, and over all
+was an old-world atmosphere of quiet and dignified repose.
+
+The room was empty, and Hugh crossed to examine a beautiful little
+marble statuette of a girl bather, with her arms raised and about to
+dive. It was, no doubt, a gem of the art of sculpture, mounted upon a
+pedestal of dark-green marble which revolved.
+
+The whole conception was delightful, and the girl's laughing face was
+most perfect in its portraiture.
+
+Of a sudden the door reopened, and he was met by a stout, rather
+wizened old gentleman with white bristly hair and closely cropped
+moustache, a man whose ruddy face showed good living, and who moved
+with the brisk alertness of a man twenty years his junior.
+
+"Ah! here you are, Mr. Henfrey!" he exclaimed warmly, as he offered
+his visitor his hand. Upon the latter was a well-worn black glove--
+evidently to hide either some disease or deformity. "I was wondering
+if you received my letter safely?"
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh, glancing at the shrewd little man whose gloved
+right hand attracted him.
+
+"Sit down," the other said, as he closed the door. "I'm very anxious
+to have a little chat with you."
+
+Hugh took the arm-chair which Mr. Peters indicated. Somehow he viewed
+the man with suspicion. His eyes were small and piercing, and his face
+with its broad brow and narrow chin was almost triangular. He was a
+man of considerable personality, without a doubt. His voice was high
+pitched and rather petulant.
+
+"Now," he said. "I was surprised to learn that you had left your safe
+asylum in Kensington. Not only was I surprised--but I confess, I was
+alarmed."
+
+"I take it that I have to thank you for making those arrangements for
+my escape from Monte Carlo?" remarked Hugh, looking him straight in
+the face.
+
+"No thanks are needed, my dear Mr. Henfrey," replied the elder man.
+"So long as you are free, what matters? But I do not wish you to
+deliberately run risks which are so easily avoided. Why did you leave
+Abingdon Road?"
+
+"I was advised to do so by a friend."
+
+"Not by Miss Ranscomb, I am sure."
+
+"No, by a Mr. Benton, whom I know."
+
+The old man's eyebrows narrowed for a second.
+
+"Benton?" he echoed. "Charles Benton--is he?"
+
+"Yes. As he was a friend of my late father I naturally trust him."
+
+Mr. Peters paused.
+
+"Oh, naturally," he said a second later. "But where are you living
+now?"
+
+Hugh told him that he was the guest of Mrs. Bond of Shapley Manor,
+whereupon Mr. Peters sniffed sharply, and rising, obtained a box of
+good cigars from a cupboard near the fireplace.
+
+"You went there at Benton's suggestion?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled
+himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.
+
+"Now, Mr. Henfrey," he said at last. "I am very sorry for you. I
+happen to know something of your present position, and the great
+difficulty in which you are to-day placed by the clever roguery of
+others. Will you please describe to me accurately exactly what
+occurred on that fateful night at the Villa Amette? If I am to assist
+you further it is necessary for you to tell me everything--remember,
+/everything/!"
+
+Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.
+
+"I thought you knew all about it," he said.
+
+"I know a little--not all. I want to know everything. Why did you
+venture there at all? You did not know the lady. It was surely a very
+unusual hour to pay a call?" said the little man, his shrewd eyes
+fixed upon his visitor.
+
+"Well, Mr. Peters, the fact is that my father died in very suspicious
+circumstances, and I was led to believe the Mademoiselle was cognizant
+of the truth."
+
+The other man frowned slightly.
+
+"And so you went there with the purpose of getting the truth from
+her?" he remarked, with a grunt.
+
+Hugh nodded in the affirmative.
+
+"What did she tell you?"
+
+"Nothing. She was about to tell me something when the shot was fired
+by someone on the veranda outside."
+
+"H'm! Then the natural surmise would be that you, suspecting that
+woman of causing your father's death, shot her because she refused to
+tell you anything?"
+
+"I repeat she was about to disclose the circumstances--to divulge her
+secret, when she was struck down."
+
+"You have no suspicion of anyone? You don't think that her manservant
+--I forget the fellow's name--fired the shot? Remember, he was not in
+the room at the time!"
+
+"I feel confident that he did not. He was far too distressed at the
+terrible affair," said Hugh. "The outrage must have been committed by
+someone to whom the preservation of the secret of my father's end was
+of most vital importance."
+
+"Agreed," replied the man with the black glove. "The problem we have
+to solve is who was responsible for your father's death."
+
+"Yes," said Hugh. "If that shot had not been fired I should have known
+the truth."
+
+"You think, then, that Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo would have told you
+the truth?" asked the bristly-haired man with a mysterious smile.
+
+"Yes. She would."
+
+"Well, Mr. Henfrey, I think I am not of your opinion."
+
+"You think possibly she would have implicated herself if she had told
+me the truth?"
+
+"I do. But the chief reason I asked you to call and see me to-night is
+to learn for what reason you have been induced to go on a visit to
+this Mrs. Bond."
+
+"Because Benton suggested it. He told me that Scotland Yard knew of my
+presence in Kensington, making further residence there dangerous."
+
+"H'm!" And the man with the black glove paused again.
+
+"You don't like Benton, do you?"
+
+"I have no real reason to dislike him. He has always been very
+friendly towards me--as he was to my late father. The only thing which
+causes me to hold aloof from him as much as I can is the strange
+clause in my father's will."
+
+"Strange clause?" echoed the old man. "What clause?"
+
+"My father, in his will, cut me off every benefit he could unless I
+married Benton's adopted daughter, Louise. If I marry her, then I
+obtain a quarter of a million. I at first thought of disputing the
+will, but Mr. Charman, our family solicitor, says that it is perfectly
+in order. The will was made in Paris two years before his death. He
+went over there on some financial business."
+
+"Was Benton with him?" asked Mr. Peters.
+
+"No. Benton went to New York about two months before."
+
+"H'm! And how soon after your father's return did he come home?"
+
+"I think it was about three months. He was in America five months
+altogether, I believe."
+
+The old man, still curled in his chair, smoked his cigar in silence.
+Apparently he was thinking deeply.
+
+"So Benton has induced you to go down to Shapley in order that you may
+be near his adopted daughter, in the hope that you will marry her! In
+the meantime you are deeply in love with Lady Ranscomb's daughter. I
+know her--a truly charming girl. I congratulate you," he added, as
+though speaking to himself. "But the situation is indeed a very
+complicated one."
+
+"For me it is terrible. I am living under a cloud, and in constant
+fear of arrest. What can be done?"
+
+"I fear nothing much can be done at present," said the old man,
+shaking his head gravely. "I quite realize that you are victim of
+certain enemies who intend to get hold of your father's fortune. It is
+for us to combat them--if we can."
+
+"Then you will continue to help me?" asked Hugh eagerly, looking into
+the mysterious face of the old fellow who wore the black glove.
+
+"I promise you my aid," he replied, putting out his gloved hand as
+pledge.
+
+Then, as Hugh took it, he looked straight into those keen eyes, and
+asked:
+
+"You have asked me many questions, sir, and I have replied to them
+all. May I ask one of you--my friend?"
+
+"Certainly," replied the older man.
+
+"Then am I correct in assuming that you are actually the person of
+whom I have heard so much up and down Europe--the man of whom certain
+men and women speak with admiration, and with bated breath--the man
+known in certain circles as--as /Il Passero/?"
+
+The countenance of the little man with the bristly white hair and the
+black glove relaxed into a smile, as, still holding Hugh's hand in
+friendship, he replied:
+
+"Yes. It is true. Some know me as 'The Sparrow!'"
+
+
+
+                          NINETEENTH CHAPTER
+
+                             THE SPARROW
+
+Hugh Henfrey was at last face to face with the most notorious criminal
+in Europe!
+
+The black-gloved hand of the wizened, bristly-haired old man was the
+hand that controlled a great organization spread all over Europe--an
+organization which only knew Il Passero by repute, but had never seen
+him in the flesh.
+
+Yet there he was, a discreet, rather petulant old gentleman, who lived
+at ease in an exclusive West End street, and was entirely unsuspected!
+
+When "Mr. Peters" admitted his identity, Hugh drew a long breath. He
+was staggered. He was profuse in his thanks, but "The Sparrow" merely
+smiled, saying:
+
+"It is true that I and certain of my friends make war upon Society--
+and more especially upon those who have profiteered upon those brave
+fellows who laid down their lives for us in the war. Whatever you have
+heard concerning me I hope you will forgive, Mr. Henfrey. At least I
+am the friend of those who are in distress, or who are wrongly judged
+--as you are to-day."
+
+"I have heard many strange things concerning you from those who have
+never met you," Hugh said frankly. "But nothing to your detriment.
+Everyone speaks of you, sir, as a gallant sportsman, possessed of an
+almost uncanny cleverness in outwitting the authorities."
+
+"Oh, well!" laughed the shrewd old man. "By the exercise of a little
+wit, and the possession of a little knowledge of the /personnel/ of
+the police, one can usually outwit them. Curious as you may think it,
+a very high official at Scotland Yard dined with me here only last
+night. As I am known as a student of criminology, and reputed to be
+the author of a book upon that subject, he discussed with me the
+latest crime problem with which he had been called upon to deal--the
+mysterious murder of a young girl upon the beach on the north-east
+coast. His frankness rather amused me. It was, indeed, a quaint
+situation," he laughed.
+
+"But does he not recognize you, or suspect?" asked Hugh.
+
+"Why should he? I have never been through the hands of the police in
+my life. Hence I have never been photographed, nor have my finger
+prints been taken. I merely organize--that is all."
+
+"Your organization is most wonderful, Mr.--er--Mr. Peters," declared
+the young man. "Since my flight I have had opportunity of learning
+something concerning it. And frankly, I am utterly astounded."
+
+The old man's face again relaxed into a sphinx-like smile.
+
+"When I order, I am obeyed," he said in a curious tone. "I ordered
+your rescue from that ugly situation in Monte Carlo. You and Miss
+Ranscomb no doubt believed the tall man who went to the ball at Nice
+as a cavalier to be myself. He did not tell you anything to the
+contrary, because I only reveal my identity to persons whom I can
+trust, and then only in cases of extreme necessity."
+
+"Then I take it, sir, that you trust me, and that my case is one of
+extreme necessity?"
+
+"It is," was The Sparrow's reply. "At present I can see no solution of
+the problem. It will be best, perhaps, for you to remain where you are
+for the present," he added. He did not tell the young man of his
+knowledge of Benton and his hostess.
+
+"But I am very desirous of seeing Miss Ranscomb," Hugh said. "Is there
+any way possible by which I can meet her without running too great a
+risk?"
+
+The Sparrow reflected in silence for some moments.
+
+"To-day is Wednesday," he remarked slowly at last. "Miss Ranscomb is
+in London. That I happen to know. Well, go to the Bush Hotel, in
+Farnham, on Friday afternoon and have tea. She will probably motor
+there and take tea with you."
+
+"Will she?" cried Hugh eagerly. "Will you arrange it? You are, indeed,
+a good Samaritan!"
+
+The little old man smiled.
+
+"I quite understand that this enforced parting under such
+circumstances is most unfortunate for you both," he said. "But I have
+done, and will continue to do, all I can in your interest."
+
+"I can't quite make you out, Mr. Peters," said the young man. "Why
+should you evince such a paternal interest in me?"
+
+The Sparrow did not at once reply. A strange expression played about
+his lips.
+
+"Have I not already answered that question twice?" he asked. "Rest
+assured, Mr. Henfrey, that I have your interests very much at heart."
+
+"You have some reason for that, I'm sure."
+
+"Well--yes, I have a reason--a reason which is my own affair." And he
+rose to wish his visitor "good-night."
+
+"I'll not forget to let Miss Ranscomb know that you will be at
+Farnham. She will, no doubt, manage to get her mother's car for the
+afternoon," he said. "Good-night!" and with his gloved fingers he took
+the young man's outstretched hand.
+
+The instant he heard the front door close he crossed to the telephone,
+and asking for a number, told the person who answered it to come round
+and see him without a moment's delay.
+
+Thus, while Hugh Henfrey was seated beside Mead as Mrs. Bond's car
+went swiftly towards Kensington, a thin, rather wiry-looking man of
+middle age entered The Sparrow's room.
+
+The latter sprang to his feet quickly at sight of his visitor.
+
+"Ah! Howell! I'm glad you've come. Benton and Molly Maxwell are
+deceiving us. They mean mischief!"
+
+The man he addressed as Howell looked aghast.
+
+"Mischief?" he echoed. "In what way?"
+
+"I've not yet arrived at a full conclusion. But we must be on the
+alert and ready to act whenever the time is ripe. You know what they
+did over that little affair in Marseilles not so very long ago?
+They'll repeat, if we're not very careful. That girl of Benton's they
+are using as a decoy--and she's a dangerous one."
+
+"For whom?"
+
+"For old Henfrey's son."
+
+The Sparrow's visitor gave vent to a low whistle.
+
+"They intend to get old Henfrey's money?"
+
+"Yes--and they will if we are not very wary," declared the little,
+bristly-haired old gentleman known as The Sparrow. "The boy has been
+entirely entrapped. They made one /faux pas/, and it is upon that we
+may--if we are careful--get the better of them. I don't like the
+situation at all. They have a distinctly evil design against the boy."
+
+"Benton and Molly are a combination pretty hard to beat," remarked Mr.
+Howell. "But I thought they were friends of ours."
+
+"True. They were. But after the little affair in Marseilles I don't
+trust them," replied The Sparrow. "When anyone makes a slip, either by
+design or sheer carelessness, or perhaps by reason of inordinate
+avarice, then I always have to safeguard myself. I suspect--and my
+suspicion usually proves correct."
+
+His midnight visitor drew a long breath.
+
+"What we all say of you is that The Sparrow is gifted with an extra
+sense," he said.
+
+The little old man with the gloved hand smiled contentedly.
+
+"I really don't know why," he said. "But I scent danger long before
+others have any suspicion of it. If I did not, you would, many of you
+who are my friends, have been in prison long ago."
+
+"But you have such a marvellous memory."
+
+"Memory!" he echoed. "Quite wrong. I keep everything filed. I work
+yonder at my desk all day. See this old wardrobe," and he crossed to a
+long, genuine Jacobean wardrobe which stood in a corner and, unlocking
+it, opened the carved doors. "There you see all my plans arranged and
+docketed. I can tell you what has been attempted to-night. Whether the
+coup is successful I do not yet know."
+
+Within were shelves containing many bundles of papers, each tied with
+pink tape in legal fashion. He took out a small, black-covered index
+book and, after consulting it, drew out a file of papers from the
+second shelf.
+
+These he brought to his table, and opened.
+
+"Ah, yes!" he said, knitting his brows as he read a document beneath
+the green-shaded electric lamp. "You know Franklyn, don't you?"
+
+"Harold Franklyn?"
+
+"Yes. Well, he's in the Tatra, in Hungary. He and Matthews are with
+three Austrian friends of ours, and to-night they are at the Castle of
+Szombat, belonging to Count Zsolcza, the millionaire banker of Vienna.
+The Countess has some very valuable jewels, which were indicated to me
+several months ago by her discharged lady's maid--through another
+channel, of course. I hope that before dawn the jewels will be no
+longer at Szombat, for the Count is an old scoundrel who cornered the
+people's food in Austria just before the Armistice and is directly
+responsible for an enormous amount of suffering. The Countess was a
+cafe singer in Budapest. Her name was Anna Torna."
+
+Mr. Howell sat open-mouthed. He was a crook and the bosom friend of
+the great Passero. Like all others who knew him, he held the master
+criminal in awe and admiration. The Sparrow, whatever he was, never
+did a mean action and never took advantage of youth or inexperience.
+To his finger-tips he was a sportsman, whose chief delight in life was
+to outwit and puzzle the police of Europe. In the underworld he was
+believed to be fabulously wealthy, as no doubt he was. To the outside
+world he was a very rich old gentleman, who contributed generously to
+charities, kept two fine cars, and, as well as his town house, had a
+pretty place down in Gloucestershire, and usually rented a grouse moor
+in Scotland, where he entertained Mr. Howell and several other of his
+intimate friends who were in the same profitable profession as
+himself, and in whose "business" he held a controlling interest.
+
+In Paris, Rome, Madrid, or Brussels, he was well known as an idler who
+stayed at the best hotels and patronized the most expensive
+restaurants, while his villa on the Riviera he had purchased from a
+Roumanian prince who had ruined himself by gambling. His gloved hand--
+gloved because of a natural deformity--was the hand which controlled
+most of the greater robberies, for his war upon society was constantly
+far-reaching.
+
+"Is Franklyn coming straight back?" asked Howell.
+
+"That is the plan. He should leave Vienna to-morrow night," said The
+Sparrow, again consulting the papers. "And he comes home with all
+speed. But first he travels to Brussels, and afterwards to The Hague,
+where he will hand over Anna Torna's jewels to old Van Ort, and
+they'll be cut out of all recognition by the following day. Franklyn
+will then cross from the Hook to Harwich. He will wire me his
+departure from Vienna. He's bought a car for the job, and will have to
+abandon it somewhere outside of Vienna, for, as in most of our games,
+time is the essence of the contract," and the old fellow laughed
+oddly.
+
+"I thought Franklyn worked with Molly," said Mr. Howell.
+
+"So he does. I want him back, for I've a delicate mission for him,"
+replied the sphinx-like man known as The Sparrow.
+
+Mr. Howell, at the invitation of the arch-criminal, helped himself to
+a drink. Then The Sparrow said:
+
+"You are due to leave London the day after to-morrow on that little
+business in Madrid. You must remain in town. I may want you."
+
+"Very well. But Tresham is already there. I had a letter from him from
+the Palace Hotel yesterday."
+
+"I will recall him by wire to-morrow. Our plans are complete. The
+Marquis's picture will still hang in his house until we are ready for
+it. It is the best specimen of Antonio del Rincon, and will fetch a
+big price in New York--when we have time to go and get it," he
+laughed.
+
+"Is Franklyn to help the Maxwell woman again?" asked Mr. Howell, who
+was known as an expert valuer of antiques and articles of worth, and
+who had an office in St. James's. He only dealt in collectors' pieces,
+and in the trade bore an unblemished reputation, on account of his
+expert knowledge and his sound financial condition. He bought old
+masters and pieces of antique silver now and then, but none suspected
+that the genuine purchases at big prices were only made in order to
+blind his friends as to the actual nature of his business.
+
+Indeed, to his office came many an art gem stolen from its owner on
+the Continent and smuggled over by devious ways known only to The
+Sparrow and his associates. And just as ingeniously the stolen
+property was sent across to America, so well camouflaged that the
+United States Customs officers were deceived. With pictures it was
+their usual method to coat the genuine picture with a certain varnish,
+over which one of the organization, an old artist living in Chelsea,
+would paint a modern and quite passable picture and add a new canvas
+back.
+
+Then, on its arrival in America, the new picture was easily cleaned
+off, the back removed, and lo! it was an old master once more ready
+for purchase at a high price by American collectors.
+
+Truly, the gloved hand of The Sparrow was a master hand. He had
+brought well-financed and well-organized theft to a fine art. His
+"indicators," both male and female, were everywhere, and cosmopolitan
+as he was himself, and a wealthy man, he was able to direct--and
+finance--all sorts of coups, from a barefaced jewel theft to the
+forgery of American banknotes.
+
+And yet, so strange and mysterious a personality was he that not
+twenty persons in the whole criminal world had ever met him in the
+flesh. The tall, good-looking man whom Dorise knew as the White
+Cavalier was one of four other men who posed in his stead when
+occasion arose.
+
+Scotland Yard, the Surete in Paris, the Pubblica Sicurezza in Rome,
+and the Detective Department of the New York police knew, quite
+naturally, of the existence of the elusive Sparrow, but none of them
+had been able to trace him.
+
+Why? Because he was only the brains of the great, widespread criminal
+organization. He remained in smug respectability, while others beneath
+his hand carried out his orders--they were the servants, well-paid
+too, and he was the master.
+
+No more widespread nor more wonderful criminal combine had ever been
+organized than that headed by The Sparrow, the little old man whom
+Londoners believed to be Cockney, yet Italians believed to be pure-
+bred Tuscan, while in Paris he was a true Parisian who could speak the
+argot of the Montmartre without a trace of English accent.
+
+As a politician, as a City man, as a professional man, The Sparrow,
+whose real name was as obscure as his personality, would have made his
+mark. If a lawyer, he would have secured the honour of a knighthood--
+or of a baronetcy, and more than probable he would have entered
+Parliament.
+
+The Sparrow was a philosopher, and a thorough-going Englishman to
+boot. Though none knew it, he was able by his unique knowledge of the
+underworld of Europe to give information--as he did anonymously to the
+War Office--of certain trusted persons who were, at the moment of the
+outbreak of war, betraying Britain's secrets.
+
+The Department of Military Operations was, by means of the anonymous
+information, able to quash a gigantic German plot against us; but they
+had been unable to discover either the true source of their
+information or the identity of their informant.
+
+"I'd better be off. It's late!" said Mr. Howell, after they had been
+in close conversation for nearly half an hour.
+
+"Yes; I suppose you must go," The Sparrow remarked, rising. "I must
+get Franklyn back. He must get to the bottom of this curious affair. I
+fell that I am being bamboozled by Benton and Molly Maxwell. The boy
+is innocent--he is their victim," he added; "but if I can save him, by
+gad! I will! Yet it will be difficult. There is much trouble ahead, I
+anticipate, and it is up to us, Howell, to combat it!"
+
+"Perhaps Franklyn can assist us?"
+
+"Perhaps. I shall not, however, know before he gets back here from his
+adventures in Hungary. But I tell you, Howell, I am greatly concerned
+about the lad. He has fallen into the hands of a bad crowd--a very bad
+crowd indeed."
+
+
+
+                          TWENTIETH CHAPTER
+
+                           THE MAN WHO KNEW
+
+Late on Thursday night Dorise and her mother were driving home from
+Lady Strathbayne's, in Grosvenor Square, where they had been dining.
+It was a bright starlight night, and the myriad lamps of the London
+traffic flashed past the windows as Dorise sat back in silence.
+
+She was tired. The dinner had been followed by a small dance, and she
+had greatly enjoyed it. For once, George Sherrard, her mother's
+friend, had not accompanied them. As a matter of fact, Lady
+Strathbayne disliked the man, hence he had not been invited.
+
+Suddenly Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+
+"I heard about Hugh Henfrey this evening."
+
+"From whom?" asked her daughter, instantly aroused.
+
+"From that man who took me in to dinner. I think his name was Bowden."
+
+"Oh! That stout, red-faced man. I don't know him."
+
+"Neither do I. He was, however, very pleasant, and seems to have
+travelled a lot," replied her mother. "He told me that your precious
+friend, Henfrey, is back, and is staying down in Surrey as guest of
+some woman named Bond."
+
+Dorise sat staggered. Then her lover's secret was out! If his
+whereabouts were known in Society, then the police would quickly get
+upon his track! She felt she must warn him instantly of his peril.
+
+"How did he know, I wonder?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Oh! I suppose he's heard. He seemed to know all about the fellow. It
+appears that at last he's become engaged."
+
+"Engaged? Hugh engaged?"
+
+"Yes, to a girl named Louise Lambert. She's the adopted daughter of a
+man named Benton, who was, by the way, a great friend of old Mr.
+Henfrey."
+
+Hugh engaged to Louise Lambert! Dorise sat bewildered.
+
+"I--I don't believe it!" she blurted forth at last.
+
+"Ah, my dear. You mean you don't want to believe it--because you are
+in love with him!" said her mother as the car rushed homeward. "Now
+put all this silly girlish nonsense aside. The fellow is under a
+cloud, and no good. I tell you frankly I will never have him as my
+son-in-law. How he has escaped the police is a marvel; but if the man
+Bowden knows where he is, Scotland Yard will, no doubt, soon hear."
+
+The girl remained silent. Could it be possible that, after all, Hugh
+had asked Louise Lambert to be his wife? She had known of her, and had
+met her with Hugh, but he had always assured her that they were merely
+friends. Yet it appeared that he was now living in concealment under
+the same roof as she!
+
+Lady Ranscomb, clever woman of the world as she was, watched her
+daughter's face in the fleeting lights as they sped homeward, and saw
+what a crushing blow the announcement had dealt her.
+
+"I don't believe it," the girl cried.
+
+She had received word in secret--presumably from the White Cavalier--
+to meet Hugh at the Bush Hotel at Farnham on the following afternoon,
+but this secret news held her in doubt and despair.
+
+Lady Ranscomb dropped the subject, and began to speak of other things
+--of a visit to the flying-ground at Hendon on the following day, and
+of an invitation they had received to spend the following week with a
+friend at Cowes.
+
+On arrival home Dorise went at once to her room, where her maid
+awaited her.
+
+After the distracted girl had thrown off her cloak, her maid unhooked
+her dress, whereupon Dorise dismissed her to bed.
+
+"I want to read, so go to bed," she said in a petulant voice which
+rather surprised the neat muslin-aproned maid.
+
+"Very well, miss. Good-night," the latter replied meekly.
+
+But as soon as the door was closed Dorise flung herself upon the
+chintz-covered couch and wept bitterly as though her heart would
+break.
+
+She had met Louise Lambert--it was Hugh who had introduced them.
+George Sherrard had several times told her of the friendship between
+the pair, and one night at the Haymarket Theatre she had seen them
+together in a box. On another occasion she had met them at Ciro's, and
+they had been together at the Embassy, at Ranelagh, and yet again she
+had seen them lunching together one Sunday at the Metropole at
+Brighton.
+
+All this had aroused suspicion and jealousy in her mind. It was all
+very well for Hugh to disclaim anything further than pure friendship,
+but now that Gossip was casting her hydra-headed venom upon their
+affairs, it was surely time to act.
+
+Hugh would be awaiting her at Farnham next afternoon.
+
+She crossed to the window and looked at the bright stars. In war time
+she used to see the long beams of searchlights playing to and fro. But
+now all was peace in London, and the world-war half forgotten.
+
+Within herself arose a great struggle. Hugh was accused of a crime--an
+accusation of which he could not clear himself. He had been hunted
+across Europe by the police and had, up to the present, been
+successful in slipping through their fingers.
+
+But why did he visit that notorious woman at that hour of the night?
+What could have been the secret bond between them?
+
+The woman had narrowly escaped death presumably on account of his
+murderous attack upon her, while he had cleverly evaded arrest, until,
+at the present moment, his whereabouts was known only to a dinner-
+table gossip, and he was staying in the same house as the girl, love
+for whom he had always so vehemently disclaimed.
+
+Poor Dorise spent a sleepless night. She lay awake thinking--and yet
+thinking!
+
+At breakfast her mother looked at her and, with satisfaction, saw that
+she had gained a point nearer her object.
+
+Dorise went into Bond Street shopping at eleven o'clock, still
+undecided whether to face Hugh or not. The shopping was a fiasco. She
+bought only a bunch of flowers.
+
+But in her walk she made a resolve not to make further excuse. She
+would not ask her mother for the car, and Hugh, by waiting alone,
+should be left guessing.
+
+On returning home, her mother told her of George's acceptance of an
+invitation to lunch.
+
+"There's a matinee at the Lyric, and he's taking us there," she added.
+"But, dear," she went on, "you look ever so pale! What is worrying
+you? I hope you are not fretting over that good-for-nothing waster,
+Henfrey! Personally, I'm glad to be rid of a fellow who is wanted by
+the police for a very serious crime. Do brighten up, dear. This is not
+like you!"
+
+"I--well, mother, I--I don't know what to do," the girl confessed.
+
+"Do! Take my advice, darling. Think no more of the fellow. He's no use
+to you--or to me."
+
+"But, mother dear--"
+
+"No, Dorise, no more need be said!" interrupted Lady Ranscomb
+severely. "You surely would not be so idiotic as to throw in your lot
+with a man who is certainly a criminal."
+
+"A criminal! Why do you denounce him, mother?"
+
+"Well, he stands self-condemned. He has been in hiding ever since that
+night at Monte Carlo. If he were innocent, he would surely, for your
+sake, come forward and clear himself. Are you mad, Dorise--or are you
+blind?"
+
+The girl remained silent. Her mother's argument was certainly a very
+sound one. Had Hugh deceived her?
+
+Her lover's attitude was certainly that of a guilty man. She could not
+disguise from herself the fact that he was fleeing from justice, and
+that he was unable to give an explanation why he went to the house of
+Mademoiselle at all.
+
+Yvonne Ferad, the only person who could tell the truth, was a hopeless
+idiot because of the murderous attack. Hence, the onus of clearing
+himself rested upon Hugh.
+
+She loved him, but could she really trust him in face of the fact that
+he was concealed comfortably beneath the same roof as Louise Lambert?
+
+She recalled that once, when they had met at Newquay in Cornwall over
+a tete-a-tete lunch, he had said, in reply to her banter, that Louise
+was a darling! That he was awfully fond of her, that she had the most
+wonderful eyes, and that she was always alert and full of a keen sense
+of humour.
+
+Such a compliment Hugh had never paid to her. The recollection of it
+stung her.
+
+She wondered what sort of woman was the person named Bond. Then she
+decided that she had acted wisely in not going to Farnham. Why should
+she? If Hugh was with the girl he admired, then he might return with
+her.
+
+Her only fear was lest he should be arrested. If his place of
+concealment were spoken of over a West End dinner-table, then it could
+not be long before detectives arrested him for the affair at the Villa
+Amette.
+
+On that afternoon Hugh had borrowed Mrs. Bond's car upon a rather lame
+pretext, and had pulled up in the square, inartistic yard before the
+Bush--the old coaching house, popular before the new road over the
+Hog's Back was made, and when the coaches had to ascend that steep
+hill out of Guildford, now known as The Mount. For miles the old road
+is now grass-grown and forms a most delightful walk, with magnificent
+views from the Thames Valley to the South Downs. The days of the
+coaches have, alas! passed, and the new road, with its tangle of
+telegraph wires, is beloved by every motorist and motor-cyclist who
+spins westward in Surrey.
+
+Hugh waited anxiously in the little lounge which overlooks the
+courtyard. He went into the garden, and afterwards stood in impatience
+beneath the archway from which the street is approached. Later, he
+strolled along the road over which he knew Dorise must come. But all
+to no avail.
+
+There was no sign of her.
+
+Until six o'clock he waited, when, in blank despair, he mounted beside
+Mead again and drove back to Shapley Manor. It was curious that Dorise
+had not come to meet him, but he attributed it to The Sparrow's
+inability to convey a message to her. She might have gone out of town
+with her mother, he thought. Or, perhaps, at the last moment, she had
+been unable to get away.
+
+On his return to Shapley he found Louise and Mrs. Bond sitting
+together in the charming, old-world drawing-room. A log fire was
+burning brightly.
+
+"Did you have a nice run, Hugh?" asked the girl, clasping her hands
+behind her head and looking up at him as he stood upon the pale-blue
+hearthrug.
+
+"Quite," he replied. "I went around Hindhead down to Frensham Ponds
+and back through Farnham--quite a pleasant run."
+
+"Mr. Benton has had to go to town," said his hostess. "Almost as soon
+as you had gone he was rung up, and he had to get a taxi out from
+Guildford. He'll be back to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, yes--and, by the way, Hugh," exclaimed Louise, "there was a call
+for you about a quarter of an hour afterwards. I thought nobody knew
+you were down here."
+
+"For me!" gasped Henfrey, instantly alarmed.
+
+"Yes, I answered the 'phone. It was a girl's voice!"
+
+"A girl! Who?"
+
+"I don't know who she was. She wouldn't give her name," Louise
+replied. "She asked if we were Shapley, and I replied. Then she asked
+for you. I told her that you were out in the car and asked her name.
+But she said it didn't matter at all, and rang off."
+
+"I wonder who she was?" remarked Hugh, much puzzled and, at the same
+time, greatly alarmed. He scented danger. The fact in itself showed
+that somebody knew the secret of his hiding-place, and, if they did,
+then the police were bound to discover him sooner or later.
+
+Half an hour afterwards he took Mrs. Bond aside, and pointed out the
+peril in which he was placed. His hostess, on her part, grew alarmed,
+for though Hugh was unaware of it, she had no desire to meet the
+police. That little affair in Paris was by no means forgotten.
+
+"It is certainly rather curious," the woman admitted. "Evidently it is
+known by somebody that you are staying with me. Don't you think it
+would be wiser to leave?"
+
+Hugh hesitated. He wished to take Benton's advice, and told his
+hostess so. With this she agreed, yet she was inwardly highly nervous
+at the situation. Any police inquiry at Shapley would certainly be
+most unwelcome to her, and she blamed herself for agreeing to Benton's
+proposal that Hugh should stay there.
+
+"Benton will be back to-morrow," Hugh said. "Do you think it safe for
+me to remain here till then?" he added anxiously.
+
+"I hardly know what to think," replied the woman. She herself had a
+haunting dread of recognition as Molly Maxwell. She had crossed and
+recrossed the Atlantic, carefully covering her tracks, and she did not
+intend to be cornered at last.
+
+After dinner, Hugh, still greatly perturbed at the mysterious
+telephone call, played billiards with Louise. About a quarter to
+eleven, however, Mrs. Bond was called to the telephone and, closing
+the door, listened to an urgent message.
+
+It was from Benton, who spoke from London--a few quick, cryptic, but
+reassuring words--and when the woman left the room three minutes later
+all her anxiety as to the police had apparently passed.
+
+She joined the young couple and watched their game. Louise handled her
+cue well, and very nearly beat her opponent. Afterwards, when Louise
+went out, Mrs. Bond closed the door swiftly, and said:
+
+"I've been thinking over that little matter, Mr. Henfrey. I really
+don't think there is much cause for alarm. Charles will be back
+to-morrow, and we can consult him."
+
+Hugh shrugged his shoulders. He was much puzzled.
+
+"The fact is, Mrs. Bond, I'm tired of being hunted like this!" he
+said. "This eternal fear of arrest has got upon my nerves to such an
+extent that I feel if they want to bring me for trial--well, they can.
+I'm innocent--therefore, how can they prove me guilty?"
+
+"Oh! you mustn't let it obsess you," the woman urged. "Mr. Benton has
+told me all about the unfortunate affair, and I greatly sympathize
+with you. Of course, to court the publicity of a trial would be fatal.
+What would your poor father think, I wonder, if he were still alive?"
+
+"He's dead," said the young man in a low, hoarse voice; "but
+Mademoiselle Ferad knows the secret of his death."
+
+"He died suddenly--did he not?"
+
+"Yes. He was murdered, Mrs. Bond. I'm certain of it. My father was
+murdered!"
+
+"Murdered?" she echoed. "What did the doctors say?"
+
+"They arrived at no definite conclusion," was Hugh's response. "He
+left home and went up to London on some secret and mysterious errand.
+Later, he was found lying upon the pavement in a dying condition. He
+never recovered consciousness, but sank a few hours afterwards. His
+death is one of the many unsolved mysteries of London."
+
+"The police believe that you went to the Villa Amette and murdered
+Mademoiselle out of revenge."
+
+"Let them prove it!" said the young fellow defiantly. "Let them prove
+it!"
+
+"Prove what?" asked Louise, as she suddenly reopened the door, greatly
+to the woman's consternation.
+
+"Oh! Only somebody--that Spicer woman over at Godalming--has been
+saying some wicked and nasty things about Mr. Henfrey," replied Mrs.
+Bond. "Personally, I should be annoyed. Really those gossiping people
+are simply intolerable."
+
+"What have they been saying, Hugh?" asked the girl.
+
+"Oh, it's really nothing," laughed Henfrey. "I apologize. I was put
+out a moment ago, but I now see the absurdity of it. Forgive me,
+Louise."
+
+The girl looked from Mrs. Bond to her guest in amazement.
+
+"What is there to forgive?" she asked.
+
+"The fact that I was in the very act of losing my temper. That's all."
+
+Presently, when Louise was ascending the stairs with Mrs. Bond, the
+girl asked:
+
+"Why was Hugh so put out? What has Mrs. Spicer been saying about him?"
+
+"Only that he was a shirker during the war. And, naturally, he is
+highly indignant."
+
+"He has a right to be. He did splendidly. His record shows that,"
+declared the girl.
+
+"I urged him to take no notice of the insults. The Spicer woman has a
+very venomous tongue, my dear! She is a vicar's widow!"
+
+And then they separated to their respective rooms.
+
+Half an hour later Hugh Henfrey retired, but he found sleep
+impossible; so he got up and sat at the open window, gazing across to
+the dim outlines of the Surrey hills, picturesque and undulating
+beneath the stars.
+
+Who could have called him on the telephone? It was a woman, but the
+voice might have been that of a female telephone operator. Or yet--it
+might have been that of Dorise! She knew that he was at Shapley and
+looked it up in the telephone directory. If that were the explanation,
+then she certainly would not give away the secret of his hiding-place.
+
+Still he was haunted by a great dread the whole of that night. The
+Sparrow had told him he had acted foolishly in leaving his place of
+concealment in Kensington. The Sparrow was his firm friend, and in
+future he intended to obey the little old man's orders implicitly--as
+so many others did.
+
+Next morning he came down to breakfast before the ladies, and beside
+his plate he found a letter--addressed to him openly. He had not
+received one addressed in his real name for many months. Sight of it
+caused his heart to bound in anxiety, but when he read it he stood
+rooted to the spot.
+
+Those lines which he read staggered him; the room seemed to revolve,
+and he re-read them, scarce believing his own eyes.
+
+He realized in that instant that a great blow had fallen upon him, and
+that all was now hopeless. The sunshine of his life, had in that
+single instant, been blotted out!
+
+
+
+                         TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER
+
+                       THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
+
+At the moment he had read the letter Mrs. Bond entered the room.
+
+"Hallo! You're down early," she remarked. "And already had your
+letters, I see! They don't generally come so early. The postman has to
+walk over from Puttenham."
+
+Then she took up her own and carelessly placed them aside. They
+consisted mostly of circulars and the accounts of Guildford tradesmen.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I was down early. Lately I've acquired the habit of
+early rising."
+
+"An excellent habit in a young man," she laughed. "All men who achieve
+success are early risers--so a Cabinet Minister said the other day.
+And really, I believe it."
+
+"An hour in the early morning is worth three after dinner. That is why
+Cabinet Ministers entertain people at breakfast nowadays instead of at
+dinner. In the morning the brain is fresh and active--a fact recently
+discovered in our post-war days," Hugh said.
+
+Then, as his hostess turned to the hot-plate upon the sideboard,
+lifting the covers to see what her cook had provided, he re-scanned
+the letter which had been openly addressed to him. It was from Dorise:
+
+
+ "I refuse to be deceived any longer, I have discovered that you are
+  now a fellow-guest with the girl Louise, to whom you introduced
+  me. And yet you arranged to meet me at Farnham, believing that I
+  was not aware of your close friendship with her! I have believed
+  in you up to the present, but the scales have now fallen from my
+  eyes. I thought you loved me too well to deceive me--as you are
+  doing. Hard things are being said about you--but you can rest
+  content that I shall reveal nothing that I happen to know. What I
+  do know, however, has changed my thoughts concerning you. I
+  believed you to be the victim of circumstance. Now I know you have
+  deceived me, and that I, myself, am the victim. I need only add
+  that someone else--whom I know not--knows of your hiding-place,
+  for, by a roundabout way, I heard of it, and hence, I address this
+  letter to you.--DORISE."
+
+
+Hugh Henfrey stood staggered. There was no mistaking the meaning of
+that letter now that he had read it a second time.
+
+Dorise doubted him! And what answer could he give her? Any explanation
+must, to her, be but a lame excuse.
+
+Hugh ate his breakfast sullenly. To Louise, who put in a late
+appearance, and helped herself off the hot-plate, he said cheerfully:
+
+"How lazy you are!"
+
+"It's not laziness, Hugh," replied the girl. "The maid was so late
+with my tea--and--well, to tell the truth, I upset a whole new box of
+powder on my dressing-table and had to clean up the mess."
+
+"More haste--less speed," laughed Hugh. "It is always the same in the
+morning--eh?"
+
+When the girl sat down at the table Hugh had brightened up. Still the
+load upon his shoulders was a heavy one. He was ever obsessed by the
+mystery of his father's death, combined with that extraordinary will
+by which it was decreed that if he married Louise he would acquire his
+father's fortune.
+
+Louise was certainly very good-looking, and quite charming. He
+admitted that as he gazed across at her fresh figure on the opposite
+side of the table. He, of course, was in ignorance of the fact that
+Benton, who had adopted her, was a clever and unscrupulous adventurer,
+whose accomplice was the handsome woman who was his hostess.
+
+Naturally, he never dreamed that that quiet and respectable house,
+high on the beautiful Surrey hills, was the abode of a woman for whom
+the police of Europe were everywhere searching.
+
+His thoughts all through breakfast were of The Sparrow--the great
+criminal, who was his friend. Hence, after they rose, he strolled into
+the morning-room with his hostess, and said:
+
+"I'll have to go to town again this morning. I have an urgent letter.
+Can Mead take me?"
+
+"Certainly," was the woman's reply. "I have to make a call at
+Worplesdon this afternoon, and Louise is going with me. But Mead can
+be back before then to take us."
+
+So half an hour later Hugh was driving up the steep High Street of
+Guildford on his way to London.
+
+He alighted in Piccadilly, at the end of Half Moon Street, soon after
+eleven, and, dismissing Mead, made his way to Ellerston Street to the
+house of Mr. George Peters.
+
+He rang the bell at the old-fashioned mansion, and a few moments later
+the door was opened by the manservant he had previously seen.
+
+In an instant the servant recognized the visitor.
+
+"Mr. Peters will not be in for a quarter of an hour," he said. "Would
+you care to wait, sir?"
+
+"Yes," Hugh replied. "I want to see him very urgently."
+
+"Will you come in? Mr. Peters has left instructions that you might
+probably call; Mr. Henfrey, is it not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh. The man seemed to possess a memory like that of a
+club hall-porter.
+
+Young Henfrey was ushered into a small but cosy little room, which, in
+the light of day, he saw was well-furnished and upholstered. The door
+closed, and he waited.
+
+A few moments after he distinctly heard a man's voice, which he at
+once recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+
+The servant had told him that Mr. Peters was absent, yet he recognized
+his voice--a rather high-pitched, musical one.
+
+"Mr. Henfrey is waiting," he heard the servant say.
+
+"Right! I hope you told him I was out," The Sparrow replied.
+
+Then there was silence.
+
+Hugh stood there very much puzzled. The room was cosy and well-
+furnished, but the light was somewhat dim, while the atmosphere was
+decidedly murky, as it is in any house in Mayfair. One cannot obtain
+brightness and light in a West End house, where one's vista is bounded
+by bricks and mortar. The dukes in their great town mansions are no
+better off for light and air than the hard-working and worthy wage-
+earners of Walworth, Deptford, or Peckham. The air in the working-
+class districts of London is not one whit worse than it is in Mayfair
+or in Belgravia.
+
+Hugh stood before an old coloured print representing the hobby-horse
+school--the days of the "bone-shakers"--and studied it. He awaited Il
+Passero and the advice which he had promised to give.
+
+His ears were strained. That house was curiously quiet and forbidding.
+The White Cavalier, whom he had believed to be the notorious Sparrow,
+had been proved to be one of his assistants. He had now met the real,
+elusive adventurer, who controlled half the criminal adventurers in
+Europe, and had found in him a most genial friend. He was there to
+seek his advice and to act upon it.
+
+As he reflected, he realized that without the aid of The Sparrow he
+would have long ago been in the hands of the police. So widespread was
+the organization which The Sparrow controlled that it mattered not in
+what capital he might be, the paternal hand of protection was placed
+upon him--in Genoa, in Brussels, in London--anywhere.
+
+It seemed that when The Sparrow protected any criminal the fugitive
+was safe. He had been sent to Mrs. Mason in Kensington, and he had
+left her room against The Sparrow's will.
+
+Hence his peril of arrest. It was that point which he wished to
+discuss with the great arch-criminal of Europe.
+
+That house was one of mystery. The servant had told him that he was
+expected. Why? What did The Sparrow suspect?
+
+The whole atmosphere of that old-fashioned place was mysterious and
+apprehensive. And yet its owner had succeeded in extricating him from
+that very perilous position at Monte Carlo!
+
+Suddenly, as he stood there, he heard voices again. They were raised
+in discussion.
+
+One voice he recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+
+"Well, I tell you my view is still the same," he exclaimed. "What you
+have told me does not alter it, however much you may ridicule me!"
+
+"Then you know the truth--eh?"
+
+"I really didn't say so, my dear Howell. But I have my suspicions--
+strong suspicions."
+
+"Which you will, in due course, impart to young Henfrey, I suppose?"
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort," was The Sparrow's reply. "The lad is
+in serious peril. I happen to know that."
+
+"Then why don't you warn him at once?"
+
+"That's my affair!" snapped the gentleman known in Mayfair as Mr.
+Peters.
+
+"IF Henfrey is here, then I'd like to meet him," Howell said.
+
+It seemed as though the pair were in a room on the opposite side of
+the passage, and yet, though Hugh stood at some distance away, he
+could hear the words quite distinctly. At this he was much surprised.
+He did not, however, know that in that house in Ellerston Street there
+had been constructed a curious system of ventilation of the rooms by
+which a conversation taking place in a distant apartment could be
+heard in certain other rooms.
+
+The fact was that The Sparrow received a good many queer visitors, and
+some of their whispered conversations while they awaited him were
+often full of interest.
+
+The house was, in more than one way, a curiosity. It had a secret exit
+through a mews at the rear--now converted into a garage--and several
+other mysterious contrivances which were unsuspected by visitors.
+
+"It would hardly do for him to know what we know, Mr. Peters--eh?"
+Hugh heard Howell say a moment later. It was the habit of The
+Sparrow's accomplices to address their great director--the brain of
+criminal Europe--by the name under which they inquired for him. The
+Sparrow had twenty names--one for every city in which he had a cosy
+/pied-a-terre/. In Paris, Lisbon, Madrid, Marseilles, Vienna, Hamburg,
+Budapest, Stockholm and on the Riviera, he was, in all the cities,
+known by a different name. Yet each was so distinct, and each
+individuality so well kept up, that he snapped his fingers at the
+police and pitied them their red tape, ignorance, and lack of
+initiative.
+
+Truly, Il Passero, the cosmopolitan of many names and half a dozen
+nationalities, had brought criminality to a fine art.
+
+Hugh, standing there breathless, listened to every word. Who was this
+man Howell?
+
+"Hush!" cried The Sparrow suddenly. "What a fool I am! I quite forgot
+to close the ventilator in the room to which the young fellow has been
+shown! I hope he hasn't overheard! I had Evans and Janson in there an
+hour ago, and they were discussing me, as I expected they would! It
+was a good job that I took the precaution of opening the ventilator,
+because I learned a good deal that I had never suspected. It has
+placed me on my guard. I'll go and get young Henfrey. But," he added,
+"be extremely careful. Disclose nothing you know concerning the
+affair."
+
+"I shall be discreet, never fear," replied his visitor.
+
+A moment later The Sparrow entered the room where Henfrey was, and
+greeted him warmly. Then he ushered him down the passage to the room
+wherein stood his mysterious visitor.
+
+The room was such a distance away that Hugh was surprised that he
+could have heard so distinctly. But, after all, it was an uncanny
+experience to be associated with that man of mystery, whose very name
+was uttered by his accomplices with bated breath.
+
+"My friend, Mr. George Howell," said The Sparrow, introducing the
+slim, wiry-looking, middle-aged man, who was alert and clean-shaven,
+and plainly but well dressed--a man whom the casual acquaintance would
+take to be a solicitor of a fair practice. He bore the stamp of
+suburbia all over him, and his accent was peculiarly that of London.
+
+His bearing was that of high respectability. The diamond scarf-pin was
+his only ornament--a fine one, which sparkled even in that dull London
+light. He was a square-shouldered man, with peculiarly shrewd, rather
+narrow eyes, and dark, bushy eyebrows.
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Henfrey," he replied, with a gay, rather
+nonchalant air. "My friend Mr. Peters has been speaking about you. Had
+a rather anxious time, I hear."
+
+Henfrey looked at the stranger inquisitively, and then glanced at The
+Sparrow.
+
+"Mr. Howell is quite safe," declared the man with the gloved hand. "He
+is one of Us. So you may speak without fear."
+
+"Well," replied the young man, "the fact is, I've had a very
+apprehensive time. I'm here to seek Mr. Peters' kind advice, for
+without him I'm sure I'd have been arrested and perhaps convicted long
+ago."
+
+"Oh! A bit of bad luck--eh? Nearly found out, have you been? Ah! All
+of us have our narrow escapes. I've had many in my time," and he
+grinned.
+
+"So have all of us," laughed the bristly-haired man. "But tell me,
+Henfrey, why have you come to see me so quickly?"
+
+"Because they know where I'm in hiding!"
+
+"They know? Who knows?"
+
+"Miss Ranscomb knows my whereabouts and has written to me in my real
+name and addressed the letter to Shapley."
+
+"Well, what of that?" he asked. "I told her."
+
+"She tells me that my present hiding-place is known!"
+
+"Not known to the police? /Impossible/!" gasped the black-gloved man.
+
+"I take it that such is a fact."
+
+"Why, Molly is there!" cried the man Howell. "If the police suspect
+that Henfrey is at Shapley, then they'll visit the place and have a
+decided haul."
+
+"Why?" asked Hugh in ignorance.
+
+"Nothing. I never discuss other people's private affairs, Mr.
+Henfrey," Howell answered very quietly.
+
+Hugh was surprised at the familiar mention of "Molly," and the
+declaration that if the Manor were searched the police would have "a
+decided haul."
+
+"This is very interesting," declared The Sparrow. "What did Miss
+Ranscomb say in her letter?"
+
+For a second Hugh hesitated; then, drawing it from his pocket, he gave
+it to the gloved man to read.
+
+Hugh knew that The Sparrow was withholding certain truths from him,
+yet had he not already proved himself his best and only friend? Brock
+was a good friend, but unable to assist him.
+
+The Sparrow's strongly marked face changed as he read Dorise's angry
+letter.
+
+"H'm!" he grunted. "I will see her. We must discover why she has sent
+you this warning. Come back again this evening. But be very careful
+where you go in the meantime."
+
+Thus dismissed, Hugh walked along Ellerston Street into Curzon Street
+towards Piccadilly, not knowing where to go to spend the intervening
+hours.
+
+The instant he had gone, however, The Sparrow turned to his companion,
+who said:
+
+"I wonder if Lisette has revealed anything?"
+
+"By Jove!" remarked The Sparrow, for once suddenly perturbed. /"I
+never thought of that!"/
+
+
+
+                        TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER
+
+                           CLOSING THE NET
+
+"Well--recollect how much the girl knows!" Howell remarked as he stood
+before The Sparrow in the latter's room.
+
+"I have not forgotten," said the other. "The whole circumstances of
+old Henfrey's death are not known to me. That it was an unfortunate
+affair has long ago been proved."
+
+"Yvonne was the culprit, of course," said Howell. "That was apparent
+from the first."
+
+"I suppose she was," remarked The Sparrow reflectively. "But that
+attempt upon her life puzzles me."
+
+"Who could have greater motive in killing her out of revenge than the
+dead man's son?"
+
+"Agreed. But I am convinced that the lad is innocent. Therefore I gave
+him our protection."
+
+"I was travelling abroad at the time, you recollect. When I learnt of
+the affair through Franklyn about a week afterwards I was amazed. The
+loss of Yvonne to us is a serious one."
+
+"Very--I agree. She had done some excellent work--the affair in the
+Rue Royale, for instance."
+
+"And the clever ruse by which she got those emeralds of the Roumanian
+princess. The Vienna police are still searching for her--after three
+years," laughed the companion of the chief of the international
+organization, whose word was law in the criminal underworld of Europe.
+
+"Knowing what you did regarding the knowledge of old Mr. Henfrey's
+death possessed by Lisette, I have been surprised that you placed her
+beneath your protection."
+
+"If she had been arrested she might have told some very unpleasant
+truths, in order to save herself," The Sparrow remarked, "so I chose
+the latter evil."
+
+"Young Henfrey met her. I wonder whether she told him anything?"
+
+"No. I questioned her. She was discreet, it seems. Or at least, she
+declares that she was."
+
+"That's a good feature. But, speaking frankly, have you any idea of
+the identity of the person--man or woman--who attempted to kill
+Yvonne?" asked Howell.
+
+"I have a suspicion--a pretty shrewd suspicion," replied the little
+bristly-haired man.
+
+His companion was silent.
+
+"And you don't offer to confide in me your suspicions--eh?"
+
+"It is wiser to obtain proof before making any allegations," answered
+The Sparrow, smiling.
+
+"You will still protect Lisette?" Howell asked. "I agree that, like
+Yvonne, she has been of great use to us in many ways. Beauty and wit
+are always assets in our rather ticklish branch of commerce. Where is
+Lisette now?"
+
+"At the moment, she's in Madrid," The Sparrow replied. "There is a
+little affair there--the jewels of a Belgian's wife--a fellow who,
+successfully posing as a German during the occupation of Brussels,
+made a big fortune by profiteering in leather. They are in Madrid for
+six months, in order to escape unwelcome inquiries by the Government
+in Brussels. They have a villa just outside the city, and I have sent
+Lisette there with certain instructions."
+
+"Who is with her?"
+
+"Nobody yet. Franklyn will go in due course."
+
+Howell's thin lips relaxed into a curious smile.
+
+"Franklyn is in love with Lisette," he remarked.
+
+"That is why I am sending them together to execute the little
+mission," The Sparrow said. "Lisette was here a fortnight ago, and I
+mapped out for her a plan. I went myself to Madrid not long ago, in
+order to survey the situation."
+
+"The game is worth the candle, I suppose--eh?"
+
+"Yes. If we get the lot Van Groot, in Amsterdam, will give at least
+fifteen thousand for them. Moulaert bought most of them from old
+Leplae in the Rue de la Paix. There are some beautiful rubies among
+them. I saw Madame wearing some of the jewels at the Palace Hotel, in
+Madrid, while they were staying there before their villa was ready.
+Moulaert, with his wife and two friends from the Belgian Legation,
+dined at a table next to mine, little dreaming with what purpose I ate
+my meal alone."
+
+Truly, the intuition and cleverness of The Sparrow were wonderful. He
+never moved without fully considering every phase of the consequences.
+Unlike most adventurers, he drank hardly anything. Half a glass of dry
+sherry at eleven in the morning, the same at luncheon, and one glass
+of claret for his dinner.
+
+Yet often at restaurants he would order champagne, choice vintage
+clarets, and liqueurs--when occasion demanded. He would offer them to
+his friends, but just sip them himself, having previously arranged
+with the waiter to miss filling his glass.
+
+Of the peril of drink "Mr. Peters" was constantly lecturing the great
+circle of his friends.
+
+Each year--on the 26th of February to be exact--there was held a
+dinner at a well-known restaurant in the West End--the annual dinner
+of a club known as "The Wonder Wizards." It was supposed to be a
+circle of professional conjurers.
+
+This dinner was usually attended by fifty guests of both sexes, all
+well-dressed and prosperous, and of several nationalities. It was
+presided over by a Mr. Charles Williams.
+
+Now, to tell the truth, the guests believed him to be The Sparrow; but
+in reality Mr. Williams was the tall White Cavalier whom Hugh had
+believed to be the great leader, until he had gone to Mayfair and met
+the impelling personality whom the police had for so long failed to
+arrest.
+
+The situation was indeed humorous. It was The Sparrow's fancy to hold
+the reunion at a public restaurant instead of at a private house.
+Under the very nose of Scotland Yard the deputy of the notorious
+Sparrow entertained the chiefs of the great criminal octopus. There
+were speeches, but from them the waiters learned nothing. It was
+simply a club of conjurers. None suspected that the guests were those
+who conjured fortunes out of the pockets of the unsuspecting. And
+while the chairman--believed by those who attended to be The Sparrow
+himself--sat there, the bristly-haired, rather insignificant-looking
+little man occupied a seat in a far-off corner, from where he
+scrutinized his guests very closely, and smiled at the excellent
+manner in which his deputy performed the duties of chairman.
+
+Because it was a club of conjurers, and because the conjurers
+displayed their new tricks and illusions, after an excellent dinner
+the waiters were excluded and the doors locked after the coffee.
+
+It was then that the bogus Sparrow addressed those present, and gave
+certain instructions which were later on carried into every corner of
+Europe. Each member had his speciality, and each group its district
+and its sanctuary, in case of a hue-and-cry. Every crime that could be
+committed was committed by them--everything save murder.
+
+The tall, thin man whom everyone believed to be The Sparrow never
+failed to impress upon his hearers, after the doors were carefully
+locked, that however they might attack and rob the rich, human life
+was sacred.
+
+It was the real Sparrow's order. He abominated the thought of taking
+human life, hence when old Mr. Henfrey had been foully done to death
+in the West End he had at once set to work to discover the actual
+criminal. This he had failed to do. And afterwards there had followed
+the attempted assassination of Yvonne Ferad, known as Mademoiselle of
+Monte Carlo.
+
+The two men stood discussing the young French girl, Lisette, whom Hugh
+had met when in hiding in the Via della Maddalena in Genoa.
+
+"I only hope; that she has not told young Henfrey anything," Howell
+said, with distinct apprehension.
+
+"No," laughed The Sparrow. "She came to me and told me how she had met
+him in Genoa and discovered to her amazement that he was old Henfrey's
+son."
+
+"How curious that the pair should meet by accident," remarked Howell.
+"I tell you that Benton is not playing a straight game. That
+iniquitous will which the old man left he surely must have signed
+under some misapprehension. Perhaps he thought he was applying for a
+life policy--or something of that short. Signatures to wills have been
+procured under many pretexts by scoundrelly relatives and unscrupulous
+lawyers."
+
+"I know. And the witnesses have placed their signatures afterward,"
+remarked The Sparrow thoughtfully. "But in this case all seems above
+board--at least so far as the will is concerned. Benton was old
+Henfrey's bosom friend. Henfrey was very taken with Louise, and I know
+that he was desirous Hugh should marry her."
+
+"And if he did, Hugh would acquire the old man's fortune, and Benton
+would step in and seize it--as is his intention."
+
+"Undoubtedly. All we can do is to keep Hugh and Louise apart. The
+latter is in entire ignorance of the true profession of her adopted
+father, and she'd be horrified if she knew that Molly was simply a
+clever adventuress, who is very much wanted in Paris and in Brussels,"
+said the gloved man.
+
+"A good job that she knows nothing," said Howell. "But it would be a
+revelation to her if the police descended upon Shapley Manor--wouldn't
+it?"
+
+"Yes. That is why I must see Dorise Ranscomb and ascertain from her
+exactly what she has heard. I know the police tracked Hugh to London,
+and for that reason he went with Benton down into Surrey--out of the
+frying-pan into the fire."
+
+"Well, before we can go farther, it seems that we should ascertain who
+shot Yvonne," Howell suggested. "It was a most dastardly thing, and
+whoever did it ought to be punished."
+
+"He ought. But I'm as much in the dark as you are, Howell; but, as I
+have already said, I entertain strong suspicions."
+
+"I'll suggest one name--Benton?"
+
+The Sparrow shook his head.
+
+"The manservant, Giulio Cataldi?" Howell ventured. "I never liked that
+sly old Italian."
+
+"What motive could the old fellow have had?"
+
+"Robbery, probably. We have no idea what were Yvonne's winnings that
+night--or of the money she had in her bag."
+
+"Yes, we do know," was The Sparrow's reply. "According to the police
+report, Yvonne, on her return home, went to her room, carrying her
+bag, which she placed upon her dressing-table. Then, after removing
+her cloak and hat, she went downstairs again and out on to the
+veranda. A few minutes later the young man was announced. High words
+were heard by old Cataldi, and then a shot."
+
+"And Yvonne's bag?"
+
+"It was found where she had left it. In it were three thousand eight
+hundred francs, all in notes."
+
+"Yet Franklyn told me that he had heard how Yvonne won quite a large
+sum that night."
+
+"She might have done so--and have lost the greater part of it," The
+Sparrow replied.
+
+"On the other hand, what more feasible than that the old manservant,
+watching her place it there, abstracted the bulk of the money--a large
+sum, no doubt--and afterwards, in order to conceal his crime, shot his
+mistress in such circumstances as to place the onus of the crime upon
+her midnight visitor?"
+
+"That the affair was very cleverly planned there is no doubt," said
+The Sparrow. "There is a distinct intention to fasten the guilt upon
+young Henfrey, because he alone would have a motive for revenge for
+the death of his father. Of that fact the man or woman who fired the
+shot was most certainly aware. How could Cataldi have known of it?"
+
+"I certainly believe the Italian robbed his mistress and afterwards
+attempted to murder her," Howell insisted.
+
+"He might rob his mistress, certainly. He might even have robbed her
+of considerable sums systematically," The Sparrow assented. "The maids
+told the police that Mademoiselle's habit was to leave her bag with
+her winnings upon the dressing-table while she went downstairs and
+took a glass of wine."
+
+"Exactly. She did so every evening. Her habits were regular. Yet she
+never knew the extent of her winnings at the tables before she counted
+them. And she never did so until the following morning. That is what
+Franklyn told me in Venice when we met a month afterwards."
+
+"He learnt that from me," The Sparrow said with a smile. "No," he went
+on; "though old Cataldi could well have robbed his mistress, just as
+the maids could have done, and Yvonne would have been none the wiser,
+yet I do not think he would attempt to conceal his crime by shooting
+her, because by so doing he cut off all future supplies. If he were a
+thief he would not be such a fool. Therefore you may rest assured,
+Howell, that the hand that fired the shot was that of some person who
+desired to close Yvonne's mouth."
+
+"She might have held some secret concerning old Cataldi. Or, on his
+part, he might have cherished some grievance against her. Italians are
+usually very vindictive," replied the visitor. "On the other hand, it
+would be to Benton's advantage that the truth concerning old Henfrey's
+death was suppressed. Yvonne was about to tell the young man something
+--perhaps confess the truth, who knows?--when the shot was fired."
+
+"Well, my dear Howell, you have your opinion and I have mine," laughed
+The Sparrow. "The latter I shall keep to myself--until my theory is
+disproved."
+
+Thereupon Howell took a cigar that his host offered him, and while he
+slowly lit it, The Sparrow crossed to the telephone.
+
+He quickly found Lady Ranscomb's number in the directory, and a few
+moments later was talking to the butler, of whom he inquired for Miss
+Dorise.
+
+"Tell her," he added, "that a friend of Mr. Henfrey's wishes to speak
+to her."
+
+In a few moments The Sparrow heard the girl's voice.
+
+"Yes?" she inquired. "Who is speaking?"
+
+"A friend of Mr. Henfrey," was the reply of the man with the gloved
+hand. "You will probably guess who it is."
+
+He heard a little nervous laugh, and then:
+
+"Oh, yes. I--I have an idea, but I can't talk to you over the 'phone.
+I've got somebody who's just called. Mother is out--and----" Then she
+lowered her voice, evidently not desirous of being heard in the
+adjoining room. "Well, I don't know what to do."
+
+"What do you mean? Does it concern Mr. Henfrey?"
+
+"Yes. It does. There's a man here to see me from Scotland Yard! What
+shall I do?"
+
+The Sparrow gasped at the girl's announcement.
+
+Next second he recovered himself.
+
+"A man from Scotland Yard!" he echoed. "Why has he called?"
+
+"He knows that Mr. Henfrey is living at Shapley, in Surrey. And he has
+been asking whether I am acquainted with you."
+
+
+
+                         TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER
+
+                          WHAT LISETTE KNEW
+
+A fortnight had gone by.
+
+Ten o'clock in the morning in the Puerta del Sol, that great plaza in
+Madrid--the fine square which, like the similarly-named gates at
+Toledo and Segovia, commands a view of the rising sun, as does the
+ancient Temple of Abu Simbel on the Nile.
+
+Hugh Henfrey--a smart, lithe figure in blue serge--had been lounging
+for ten minutes before the long facade of the Ministerio de la
+Gobernacion (or Ministry of the Interior) smoking a cigarette and
+looking eagerly across the great square. The two soldiers on sentry at
+the door, suspicious of all foreigners in the days of Bolshevism and
+revolution, had eyed him narrowly. But he appeared to be inoffensive,
+so they had passed him by as a harmless lounger.
+
+Five minutes later a smartly-dressed girl, with short skirt, silk
+stockings, and a pretty hat, came along the pavement, and Hugh sprang
+forward to greet her.
+
+It was Lisette, the girl whom he had met when in hiding in that back
+street in Genoa.
+
+"Well?" he exclaimed. "So here we are! The Sparrow sent me to you."
+
+"Yes. I had a telegram from him four days ago ordering me to meet you.
+Strange things are happening--it seems!"
+
+"How?" asked the young Englishman, in ignorance of the great
+conspiracy or of what was taking place. "Since I saw you last,
+mademoiselle, I have been moving about rapidly, and always in danger
+of arrest."
+
+"So have I. But I am here at The Sparrow's orders--on a little
+business which I hope to bring off successfully on any evening. I have
+an English friend with me--a Mr. Franklyn."
+
+"I left London suddenly. I saw The Sparrow in the evening, and next
+morning, at eleven o'clock, without even a bag, I left London for
+Madrid with a very useful passport."
+
+"You are here because Madrid is safer for you than London, I suppose?"
+said the girl in broken English.
+
+"That is so. A certain Mr. Howell, a friend of The Sparrow's suggested
+that I should come here," Hugh explained. "Ever since we met in Italy
+I have been in close hiding until, by some means, my whereabouts
+became known, and I had to fly."
+
+The smartly-dressed girl walked slowly at his side and, for some
+moments, remained silent.
+
+"Ah! So you have met Hamilton Shaw--alias Howell?" she remarked at
+last in a changed voice. "He certainly is not your friend."
+
+"Not my friend! Why? I've only met him lately."
+
+"You say that the police knew of your hiding-place," said
+mademoiselle, speaking in French, as it was easier for her. "Would you
+be surprised if Howell had revealed your secret?"
+
+"Howell!" gasped Hugh. "Yes, I certainly would. He is a close friend
+of The Sparrow!"
+
+"That may be. But that does not prove that he is any friend of yours.
+If you came here at Howell's suggestion--then, Mr. Henfrey, I should
+advise you to leave Madrid at once. I say this because I have a
+suspicion that he intends both of us to fall into a trap!"
+
+"But why? I don't understand."
+
+"I can give you no explanation," said the girl. "Now I know that
+Hamilton Shaw sent you here, I can, I think, discern his motive. I
+myself will see Mr. Franklyn at once, and shall leave Madrid as soon
+as possible. And I advise you, Mr. Henfrey, to do the same."
+
+"Surely you don't suspect that it was this Mr. Howell who gave me away
+to Scotland Yard!" exclaimed Hugh, surprised, but at the same time
+recollecting that The Sparrow had been alarmed at the detective's
+visit to Dorise. He knew that Benton and Mrs. Bond had suddenly
+disappeared from Shapley, but the reason he could only guess. He had,
+of course, no proof that Benton and Molly were members of the great
+criminal organization. He only knew that Benton had been his late
+father's closest friend.
+
+He discussed the situation with the girl jewel-thief as they walked
+along the busy Carrera de San Jeronimo wherein are the best shops in
+Madrid, to the great Plaza de Canovas in the leafy Prado.
+
+Again he tried to extract from her what she knew concerning his
+father's death. But she would tell him nothing.
+
+"I am not permitted to say anything, Mr. Henfrey. I can only regret
+it," she said quietly. "Mr. Franklyn is at the Ritz opposite. I should
+like you to meet him."
+
+And she took him across to the elegant hotel opposite the Neptune
+fountain, where, in a private sitting-room on the second floor, she
+introduced him to a rather elderly, aristocratic-looking Englishman,
+whom none would take to be one of the most expert jewel-thieves in
+Europe.
+
+When the door was closed and they were alone, mademoiselle suddenly
+revealed to her friend what Hugh had said concerning Howell's
+suggestion that he should travel to Madrid.
+
+Franklyn's face changed. He was instantly apprehensive.
+
+"Then we certainly are not safe here any longer. Howell probably
+intends to play us false! We shall know from The Sparrow the reason we
+are here, and, for aught we know, the police are watching and will
+arrest us red-handed. No," he added, "we must leave this place--all
+three of us--as soon as possible. You, Lisette, had better go to Paris
+and explain matters to The Sparrow, while I shall fade away to
+Switzerland. And you, Mr. Henfrey? Where will you go?"
+
+"To France," was Hugh's reply, on the spur of the moment. "I can get
+to Marseilles."
+
+"Yes. Go by way of Barcelona. It is quickest," said the Englishman.
+"The express leaves just after three o'clock."
+
+Then, after he had thanked Hugh for his timely warning, the latter
+walked out more than ever mystified at the attitude of The Sparrow's
+accomplices.
+
+It did not seem possible that Howell should have told Scotland Yard
+that he was hiding at Shapley; yet it was quite evident that both
+mademoiselle and her companion were equally in fear of the man Howell,
+whose real name was Hamilton Shaw. The theory seemed to him a thin
+one, for Howell was The Sparrow's intimate friend.
+
+Yet, mademoiselle, while they had been discussing the situation, had
+denounced him as their enemy, declaring that The Sparrow himself
+should be warned of him.
+
+That afternoon Hugh, having only been in Madrid twelve hours, left
+again on the long, dusty railway journey across Spain to Zaragoza and
+down the valley of the Ebro to the Mediterranean. After crossing the
+French frontier, he broke the journey at the old-world town of Nimes
+for a couple of days, and then went on to Marseilles, where he took up
+his quarters in the big Louvre et Paix Hotel, still utterly mystified,
+and still not daring to write to Dorise.
+
+It was as well that he left Madrid, for, just as Lisette and Franklyn
+had suspected, the police called at his hotel--an obscure one near the
+station--only two hours after his departure. Then, finding him gone,
+they sought both mademoiselle and Franklyn, only to find that they
+also had fled.
+
+/Someone had given away their secret!/
+
+On arrival at Marseilles in the evening Hugh ate his dinner alone in
+the hotel, and then strolled up the well-lit Cannebiere, with its many
+smart shops and gay cafes--that street which, to many thousands on
+their way to the Near or Far East, is their last glimpse of European
+life. He was entirely at a loose end.
+
+Unnoticed behind him there walked an undersized little Frenchman, an
+alert, business-like man of about forty-five, who had awaited him
+outside his hotel, and who leisurely followed him up the broad, main
+street of that busy city.
+
+He was well-dressed, possessing a pair of shrewd, searching eyes, and
+a moustache carefully trimmed. His appearance was that of a prosperous
+French tradesman--one of thousands one meets in the city of
+Marseilles.
+
+As Hugh idled along, gazing into some of the shop windows as he lazily
+smoked his cigarette, the under-sized stranger kept very careful watch
+upon his movements. He evidently intended that he should not escape
+observation. Hugh paused at a tobacconist's and bought some stamps,
+but as he came out of the shop, the watcher drew back suddenly and in
+such a manner as to reveal to anyone who might have observed him that
+he was no tyro in the art of surveillance.
+
+Walking a little farther along, Hugh came to the corner of the broad
+Rue de Rome, where he entered a crowded cafe in which an orchestra was
+playing.
+
+He had taken a corner seat in the window, had ordered his coffee, and
+was glancing at the /Petit Parisien/, which he had taken from his
+pocket, when another man entered, gazed around in search of a seat
+and, noticing one at Hugh's table, crossed, lifted his hat, and took
+the vacant chair.
+
+He was the stranger who had followed him from the Louvre et Paix.
+
+The young Englishman, all unsuspecting, glanced at the newcomer, and
+then resumed his paper, while the keen-eyed little man took a long,
+thin cigar which the waiter brought, lit it carefully, and sipped his
+coffee, his interest apparently centred in the music.
+
+Suddenly a tall, dark-haired woman, who had been sitting near by with
+a man who seemed to be her husband, rose and left. A moment before she
+had exchanged glances with the watcher, who, apparently at her
+bidding, rose and followed her.
+
+All this seemed quite unnoticed by Hugh, immersed as he was in his
+newspaper.
+
+Outside the man and woman met. They held hurried consultation. The
+woman told him something which evidently caused him sudden surprise.
+
+"I will call on you at eleven to-morrow morning, madame," he said.
+
+"No. I will meet you at the Reserve. I will lunch there at twelve. You
+will lunch with me?"
+
+"Very well," he answered. "/Au revoir/," and he returned to his seat
+in the cafe, while she disappeared without returning to her companion.
+
+The mysterious watcher resumed his coffee, for he had only been absent
+for a few moments, and the waiter had not cleared it away.
+
+Hugh took out his cigarette-case and, suddenly finding himself without
+a match, made the opportunity for which the mysterious stranger had
+been waiting.
+
+He struck one and handed it to his /vis-a-vis/, bowing with his
+foreign grace.
+
+Then they naturally dropped into conversation.
+
+"Ah! m'sieur is English!" exclaimed the shrewd-eyed little man. "Here,
+in Marseilles, we have many English who pass to and fro from the
+boats. I suppose, m'sieur is going East?" he suggested affably.
+
+"No," replied Hugh, speaking in French, "I have some business here--
+that is all." He was highly suspicious of all strangers, and the more
+so of anyone who endeavoured to get into conversation with him.
+
+"You know Marseilles--of course?" asked the stranger, sharply
+scrutinizing him.
+
+"I have been here several times before. I find the city always gay and
+bright."
+
+"Not so bright as before the war," declared the little man, smoking at
+his ease. "There have been many changes lately."
+
+Hugh Henfrey could not make the fellow out. Yet many times before he
+had been addressed by strangers who seemed to question him out of
+curiosity, and for no apparent reason. This man was one of them, no
+doubt.
+
+The man, who had accompanied the woman whom the stranger had followed
+out, rose, exchanged a significant glance with the little man, and
+walked out. That the three were in accord seemed quite apparent,
+though Hugh was still unsuspicious.
+
+He chatted merrily with the stranger for nearly half an hour, and then
+rose and left the cafe. When quite close to the hotel the stranger
+overtook him, and halting, asked in a low voice, in very good English:
+
+"I believe you are Mr. Henfrey--are you not?"
+
+"Why do you ask that?" inquired Hugh, much surprised. "My name is
+Jordan--William Jordan."
+
+"Yes," laughed the man. "That is, I know, the name you have given at
+the hotel. But your real name is Henfrey."
+
+Hugh started. The stranger, noticing his alarm, hastened to reassure
+him.
+
+
+
+                        TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER
+
+                           FRIEND OR ENEMY?
+
+"You need not worry," said the stranger to Hugh. "I am not your enemy,
+but a friend. I warn you that Marseilles is unsafe for you. Get away
+as soon as possible. The Spanish police have learnt that you have come
+here," he went on as he strolled at his side.
+
+Hugh was amazed.
+
+"How did you know my identity?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"I was instructed to watch for your arrival--and to warn you."
+
+"Who instructed you?"
+
+"A friend of yours--and mine--The Sparrow."
+
+"Has he been here?"
+
+"No. He spoke to me on the telephone from Paris."
+
+"What were his instructions?"
+
+"That you were to go at once--to-night--by car to the Hotel de Paris,
+at Cette. A car and driver awaits you at the Garage Beauvau, in the
+Rue Beauvau. I have arranged everything at The Sparrow's orders. You
+are one of Us, I understand," and the man laughed lightly.
+
+"But my bag?" exclaimed Hugh.
+
+"Go to the hotel, pay your bill, and take your bag to the station
+cloak-room. Then go and get the car, pick up your bag, and get out on
+the road to Cette as soon as ever you can. Your driver will ask no
+questions, and will remain silent. He has his orders from The
+Sparrow."
+
+"Does The Sparrow ever come to Marseilles?" Hugh asked.
+
+"Yes, sometimes--when anything really big brings him here. I have,
+however, only seen him once, five years ago. He was at your hotel, and
+the police were so hot upon his track that only by dint of great
+promptitude and courage he escaped by getting out of the window of his
+room and descending by means of the rain-water pipe. It was one of the
+narrowest escapes he has ever had."
+
+As the words left the man's mouth, they were passing a well-lit
+brasserie. A tall, cadaverous man passed them and Hugh had a suspicion
+that they exchanged glances of recognition.
+
+Was his pretended friend an agent of the police?
+
+For a few seconds he debated within himself how he should act. To
+refuse to do as he was bid might be to bring instant arrest upon
+himself. If the stranger were actually a detective--which he certainly
+did not appear to be--then the ruse was to get him on the road to
+Cette because the legal formalities were not yet complete for his
+arrest as a British subject.
+
+Yet he knew all about The Sparrow, and his attitude was not in the
+least hostile.
+
+Hugh could not make up his mind whether the stranger was an associate
+of the famous Sparrow, or whether he was very cleverly inveigling him
+into the net.
+
+It was only that exchange of glances with the passer-by which had
+aroused Hugh's suspicions.
+
+But that significant look caused him to hesitate to accept the
+mysterious stranger as his friend.
+
+True, he had accepted as friends numbers of other unknown persons
+since that fateful night at Monte Carlo. Yet in this case, he felt, by
+intuition, that all was not plain sailing.
+
+"Very well," he said, at last. "I esteem it a very great favour that
+you should have interested yourself on behalf of one who is an entire
+stranger to you, and I heartily thank you for warning me of my danger.
+When I see The Sparrow I shall tell him how cleverly you approached
+me, and how perfect were your arrangements for my escape."
+
+"I require no thanks or reward, Mr. Henfrey," replied the man
+politely. "My one desire is to get you safely out of Marseilles."
+
+And with that the stranger lifted his hat and left him.
+
+Hugh went about fifty yards farther along the broad, well-lit street
+full of life and movement, for the main streets of Marseilles are
+alive both day and night.
+
+By some intuition--why, he knew not--he suspected that affable little
+man who had posed as his friend. Was it possible that, believing the
+notorious Sparrow to be his friend, he had at haphazard invented the
+story, and posed as one of The Sparrow's gang?
+
+If so, it was certainly a very clever and ingenious subterfuge.
+
+He was undecided how to act. He did not wish to give offence to his
+friend, the king of the underworld, and yet he felt a distinct
+suspicion of the man who had so cleverly approached him, and who had
+openly declared himself to be a crook.
+
+That strange glance he had exchanged with the passer-by beneath the
+rays of the street-lamp had been mysterious and significant. If the
+passer-by had been a crook, like himself, the sign of recognition
+would be one of salutation. But the expression upon his alleged
+friend's face was one of triumph. That made all the difference, and to
+Hugh, with his observation quickened as it had been in those months of
+living with daily dread of arrest, it had caused him to be seized with
+strong and distinct suspicions.
+
+He felt in his hip pocket and found that his revolver, an American
+Smith-Wesson, was there. He had a dislike of automatic pistols, as he
+had once had a very narrow escape. He had been teaching a girl to
+shoot with a revolver, when, believing that she had discharged the
+whole magazine, he was examining the weapon and pulled the trigger,
+narrowly escaping shooting her dead.
+
+For a few seconds he stood upon the broad pavement. Then he drew out
+his cigarette-case. In it were four cigarettes, two of which The
+Sparrow had given him when in London.
+
+"Yes," he muttered to himself. "Somebody must have given me away at
+Shapley, and now they have followed me! I will act for myself, and
+take the risks."
+
+Then he walked boldly on, crossed the road, and entered the big Hotel
+de Louvre et Paix. To appear unconcerned he had a drink at the bar,
+and ascending in the lift, called the floor-waiter, asked for his
+bill, and packed his bag.
+
+"Ah!" he said to himself. "If I could only get to know where The
+Sparrow is and ask him the truth! He may be at that address in Paris
+which he gave me."
+
+After a little delay the bill was brought and he paid it. Then in a
+taxi he drove to the station where he deposited his bag in the cloak-
+room.
+
+Close by the /consigne/ a woman was standing. He glanced at her, when,
+to his surprise, he saw that she was the same woman who had been
+sitting in the cafe with a male companion.
+
+Was she, he wondered, in league with his so-called friend? And if so,
+what was intended.
+
+Sight of that woman lounging there, however, decided him. She was, no
+doubt, awaiting his coming.
+
+He walked out of the great railway terminus, and, inquiring the way to
+the Rue Beauvau, soon found the garage where a powerful open car was
+awaiting him in the roadway outside.
+
+A smart driver in a dark overcoat came forward, and apparently
+recognizing Hugh from a description that had been given to him,
+touched his cap, and asked in French:
+
+"Where does m'sieur wish to go?"
+
+"To the station to fetch my coat and bag," replied the young
+Englishman, peering into the driver's face. He was a clean-shaven man
+of about forty, broad-shouldered and stalwart. Was it possible that
+the car had been hired by the police, and the driver was himself a
+police agent?
+
+"Very well, m'sieur," the man answered politely. And Hugh having
+entered, he drove up the Boulevard de la Liberte to the Gare St.
+Charles.
+
+As he approached the /consigne/, he looked along the platform, and
+there, sure enough, was the same woman on the watch, though she
+pretended to be without the slightest interest in his movements.
+
+Hugh put on his coat, and, carrying his bag, placed it in the car.
+
+"You have your orders?" asked Hugh.
+
+"Yes, m'sieur. We are to go to Cette with all speed. Is not that so?"
+
+"Yes," was Hugh's reply. "I will come up beside you. I prefer it. We
+shall have a long, dark ride to-night."
+
+"Ah! but the roads are good," was the man's reply. "I came from Cette
+yesterday," he added, as he mounted to his seat and the passenger got
+up beside him.
+
+Hugh sat there very thoughtful as the car sped out of the city of
+noise and bustle. The man's remark that he had come from Cette on the
+previous day gave colour to the idea that no net had been spread, but
+that the stranger was acting at the orders of the ubiquitous Sparrow.
+Indeed, were it not for the strange glance the undersized little man
+had given to the passer-by, he would have been convinced that he was
+actually once again under the protection of the all-powerful ruler of
+the criminal underworld.
+
+As it was, he remained suspicious. He did not like that woman who had
+watched so patiently his coming and going at the station.
+
+With strong headlights glaring--for the night was extremely dark and a
+strong wind was blowing--they were soon out on the broad highway which
+leads first across the plain and then beside the sea, and again across
+the lowlands to old-world Arles.
+
+It was midnight before they got to the village of Lancon, an obscure
+little place in total darkness.
+
+But on the way the driver, who had told Hugh that his name was Henri
+Aramon, and who insinuated that he was one of The Sparrow's
+associates, became most affable and talkative. Over those miles of
+dark roads, unfamiliar to Hugh, they travelled at high speed, for
+Henri had from the first showed himself to be an expert driver, not
+only in the unceasing traffic of the main streets of Marseilles, but
+also on the dark, much-worn roads leading out of the city. The roads
+around Marseilles have never been outstanding for their excellence,
+and after the war they were indeed execrable.
+
+"This is Lancon," the driver remarked, as they sped through the dark
+little town. "We now go on to Salon, where we have a direct road
+across the plain they call the Crau into Arles. From there the road to
+Cette is quite good and straight. The road we are now on is the
+worst," he added.
+
+Hugh was undecided. Was the man who was driving him so rapidly out of
+the danger zone his friend--or his enemy?
+
+He sat there for over an hour unable to decide.
+
+"This is an outlandish part of France," he remarked to the driver
+presently.
+
+"Yes. But after Salon it is more desolate."
+
+"And is there no railway near?"
+
+"After Salon, yes. It runs parallel with the road about two miles to
+the north--the railway between Arles and Aix-en-Provence."
+
+"So if we get a breakdown, which I hope we shall not, we are not far
+from a railway?" Hugh remarked, as through the night the heavy car
+tore along that open desolate road.
+
+As he sat there he thought of Dorise, wondering what had happened--and
+of Louise. If he had obeyed his father's wishes and married the latter
+all the trouble would have been avoided, he thought. Yet he loved
+Dorise--loved her with his whole soul.
+
+And she doubted him.
+
+Poor fellow! Hustled from pillar to post, and compelled to resort to
+every ruse in order to avoid arrest for a crime which he did not
+commit, yet about which he could not establish his innocence, he very
+often despaired. At that moment he felt somehow--how he could not
+explain--that he was in a very tight corner. He felt confident after
+two hours of reflection that he was being driven over these roads that
+night in order that the police should gain time to execute some legal
+formality for his arrest.
+
+Why had not the police of Marseilles arrested him? There was some
+subtle motive for sending him to Cette.
+
+He had not had time to send a telegram to Mr. Peters in London, or to
+Monsieur Gautier, the name by which The Sparrow told him he was known
+at his flat in the Rue des Petits Champs, in the centre of Paris. He
+longed to be able to communicate with his all-powerful friend, but
+there had been no opportunity.
+
+Suddenly the car began to pass through banks of mist, which are usual
+at night over the low marshes around the mouths of the Rhone. It was
+about half-past two in the morning. They had passed through the long
+dark streets of Salon, and were already five or six miles on the broad
+straight road which runs across the marshes through St. Martin-de-Crau
+into Arles.
+
+Of a sudden Hugh declared that he must have a cigarette, and producing
+his case handed one to the driver and took one himself. Then he lit
+the man's, and afterwards his own.
+
+"It is cold here on the marshes, monsieur," remarked the driver, his
+cigarette between his lips. "This mist, too, is puzzling. But it is
+nearly always like this at night. That is why nobody lives about
+here."
+
+"Is it quite deserted?"
+
+"Yes, except for a few shepherds, and they live up north at the foot
+of the hills."
+
+For some ten minutes or so they kept on, but Hugh had suddenly become
+very watchful of the driver.
+
+Presently the man exclaimed in French:
+
+"I do not feel very well!"
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Hugh in alarm. "You must not be taken ill
+here--so far from anywhere!"
+
+But the man was evidently unwell, for he pulled up the car.
+
+"Oh! my head!" he cried, putting both hands to his brow as the
+cigarette dropped from his lips. "My head! It seems as if it will
+burst! And--and I can't see! Everything is going round--round! Where--
+/where am I/?"
+
+"You are all right, my friend. Get into the back of the car and rest.
+You will be yourself very quickly."
+
+And he half dragged the man from his seat and placed him in the back
+of the car, where he fell inert and unconscious.
+
+The cigarette which The Sparrow had given to Hugh only to be used in
+case of urgent necessity had certainly done its work. The man, whether
+friend or enemy, would now remain unconscious for many hours.
+
+Hugh, having settled him in the bottom of the car, placed a rug over
+him. Then, mounting to the driver's place, he turned the car and drove
+as rapidly as he dared back over the roads to Salon.
+
+Time after time, he wondered whether he had been misled; whether,
+after all, the man who had driven him was actually acting under The
+Sparrow's orders. If so, then he had committed a fatal error!
+
+However, the die was cast. He had acted upon his own initiative, and
+if a net had actually been spread to catch him he had successfully
+broken through it. He laughed as he thought of the police at Cette
+awaiting his arrival, and their consternation when hour after hour
+passed without news of the car from Marseilles.
+
+At Salon he passed half way through the town to cross roads where he
+had noticed in passing a sign-board which indicated the road to
+Avignon--the broad high road from Marseilles to Paris.
+
+Already he had made up his mind how to act. He would get to Avignon,
+and thence by express to Paris. The /rapides/ from Marseilles and the
+Riviera all stopped at the ancient city of the Popes.
+
+Therefore, being a good motor driver, Hugh started away down the long
+road which led through the valley to Orgon, and thence direct to
+Avignon, which came into sight about seven o'clock in the morning.
+
+Before entering the old city of walls and castles Hugh turned into a
+side road about two miles distant, drove the car to the end, and
+opening a gate succeeded in getting it some little distance into a
+wood, where it was well concealed from anyone passing along the road.
+
+Then, descending and ascertaining that the driver was sleeping
+comfortably from the effects of the strong narcotic, he took his bag
+and walked into the town.
+
+At the railway station he found the through express from Ventimiglia--
+the Italian frontier--to Paris would be due in twenty minutes,
+therefore he purchased a first-class ticket for Paris, and in a short
+time was taking his morning coffee in the /wagon-restaurant/ on his
+way to the French capital.
+
+
+
+                         TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER
+
+                           THE MAN CATALDI
+
+On the day that Hugh was travelling in hot haste to Paris, Charles
+Benton arrived in Nice early in the afternoon.
+
+Leaving the station it was apparent he knew his way about the town,
+for passing down the Avenue de la Gare, with its row of high
+eucalyptus trees, to the Place Massena, he plunged into the narrow,
+rather evil-smelling streets of the old quarter.
+
+Before a house in the Rue Rossette he paused, and ascending to a flat
+on the third floor, rang the bell. The door was slowly opened by an
+elderly, rather shabbily-attired Italian.
+
+It was Yvonne's late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi.
+
+The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor.
+
+"Well, Cataldi!" exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer cheerily. "I'm
+quite a stranger--am I not? I was in Nice, and I could not leave
+without calling to see you."
+
+The old man, with ill-grace scarcely concealed, invited him into his
+shabby room, saying:
+
+"Well, Signor Benton, I never thought to see you again."
+
+"Perhaps you didn't want to--eh? After that little affair in Brussels.
+But I assure you it was not my fault. Mademoiselle Yvonne made the
+blunder."
+
+"And nearly let us all into the hands of the police--including The
+Sparrow himself!" growled the old fellow.
+
+"Ah! But all that has long blown over. Now," he went on, after he had
+offered the old man a cigar. "Now the real reason I've called is to
+ask you about this nasty affair concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne. You
+were there that night. What do you know about it?"
+
+"Nothing," the old fellow declared promptly. "Since that night I've
+earned an honest living. I'm a waiter in a cafe in the Avenue de la
+Gare."
+
+"A most excellent decision," laughed the well-dressed man. "It is not
+everyone who can afford to be honest in these hard times. I wish I
+could be, but I find it impossible. Now, tell me, Giulio, what do you
+know about the affair at the Villa Amette? The boy, Henfrey, went
+there to demand of Mademoiselle how his father died. She refused to
+tell him, angry words arose--and he shot her. Now, isn't that your
+theory--the same as that held by the police?"
+
+The old man looked straight into his visitor's face for a few moments.
+Then he replied quite calmly:
+
+"I know nothing, Signor Benton--and I don't want to know anything.
+I've told the police all I know. Indeed, when they began to inquire
+into my antecedents I was not very reassured, I can tell you."
+
+"I should think not," laughed Benton. "Still, they never suspected you
+to be the man wanted for the Morel affair--an unfortunate matter that
+was."
+
+"Yes," sighed the old fellow. "Please do not mention it," and he
+turned away to the window as though to conceal his guilty countenance.
+
+"You mean that you /know/ something--but you won't tell it!" Benton
+said.
+
+"I know nothing," was the old fellow's stubborn reply.
+
+"But you know that the young fellow, Henfrey, is guilty!" exclaimed
+Benton. "Come! you were there at the time! You heard high words
+between them--didn't you?"
+
+"I have already made my statement to the police," declared the old
+Italian. "What else I know I shall keep to myself."
+
+"But I'm interested in ascertaining whether Henfrey is innocent or
+guilty. Only two persons can tell us that--Mademoiselle, who is, alas!
+in a hopeless mental state, and yourself. You know--but you refuse to
+incriminate the guilty person. Why don't you tell the truth? You know
+that Henfrey shot her!"
+
+"I tell you I know nothing," retorted the old man. "Why do you come
+here and disturb me?" he added peevishly.
+
+"Because I want to know the truth," Benton answered. "And I mean to!"
+
+"Go away!" snapped the wilful old fellow. "I've done with you all--all
+the crowd of you!"
+
+"Ah!" laughed Benton. "Then you forget the little matter of the man
+Morel--eh? That is not forgotten by the police, remember!"
+
+"And if you said a word to them, Signor Benton, then you would
+implicate yourself," the old man growled. Seeing hostility in the
+Englishman's attitude he instantly resented it.
+
+"Probably. But as I have no intention of giving you away, my dear
+Giulio, I do not think we need discuss it. What I am anxious to do is
+to establish the guilt--or the innocence--of Hugh Henfrey," he went
+on.
+
+"No doubt. You have reason for establishing his guilt--eh?"
+
+"No. Reasons for establishing his innocence."
+
+"For your own ends, Signor Benton," was the shrewd old man's reply.
+
+"At one time there was a suspicion that you yourself had fired at
+Mademoiselle."
+
+"What!" gasped the old man, his countenance changing instantly. "Who
+says that?" he asked angrily.
+
+"The police were suspicious, I believe. And as far as I can gather
+they are not yet altogether satisfied."
+
+"Ah!" growled the old Italian in a changed voice. "They will have to
+prove it!"
+
+"Well, they declare that the shot was fired by either one or the other
+of you," Benton said, much surprised at the curious effect the
+allegation had upon the old fellow.
+
+"So they think that if the Signorino Henfrey is innocent I am guilty
+of the murderous attack--eh?"
+
+Benton nodded.
+
+"But they are seeking to arrest the signorino!" remarked the Italian.
+
+"Yes. That is why I am here--to establish his innocence."
+
+"And if I were to tell you that he was innocent I should condemn
+myself!" laughed the crafty old man.
+
+"Look here, Giulio," said Benton. "I confess that I have long ago
+regretted the shabby manner in which I treated you when we were all in
+Brussels, and I hope you will allow me to make some little amend."
+Then, taking from his pocket-book several hundred-franc notes, he
+doubled them up and placed them on the table.
+
+"Ah!" said the old man. "I see! You want to /buy/ my secret! No, take
+your money!" he cried, pushing it back towards him contemptuously. "I
+want none of it."
+
+"Because you are now earning an honest living," Benton sneered.
+
+"Yes--and Il Passero knows it!" was Cataldi's bold reply.
+
+"Then you refuse to tell me anything you know concerning the events of
+that night at the Villa Amette?"
+
+"Yes," he snapped. "Take your money, and leave me in peace!"
+
+"And I have come all the way from England to see you," remarked the
+disappointed man.
+
+"Be extremely careful. You have enemies, so have I. They are the same
+as those who denounced the signorino to the police--as they will no
+doubt, before long, denounce you!" said the old man.
+
+"Bah! You always were a pessimist, Giulio," Benton laughed. "I do not
+fear any enemies--I assure you. The Sparrow takes good care that we
+are prevented from falling into any traps the police may set," he
+added after a moment's pause.
+
+The old waiter shook his head dubiously.
+
+"One day there may be a slip--and it will cost you all very dearly,"
+he said.
+
+"You are in a bad mood, Giulio--like all those who exist by being
+honest," Benton laughed, though he was extremely annoyed at his
+failure to learn anything from the old fellow.
+
+Was it possible that the suspicions which both Molly and he had
+entertained were true--namely, that the old man had attempted to kill
+his mistress? After all, the hue-and-cry had been raised by the police
+merely because Hugh Henfrey had fled and successfully escaped.
+
+Benton, after grumbling because the old man would make no statement,
+and again hinting at the fact that he might be the culprit, left with
+very ill grace, his long journey from London having been in vain.
+
+If Henfrey was to be free to marry Louise, then his innocence must
+first be proved. Charles Benton had for many weeks realized that his
+chance of securing old Mr. Henfrey's great fortune was slowly slipping
+from him. Once Hugh had married Louise and settled the money upon her,
+then the rest would be easy. He had many times discussed it with
+Molly, and they were both agreed upon a vile, despicable plot which
+would result in the young man's sudden end and the diversion of his
+father's fortune.
+
+The whole plot against old Mr. Henfrey was truly one of the most
+elaborate and amazing ones ever conceived by criminal minds.
+
+Charles Benton was a little too well known in Nice, hence he took care
+to leave the place by an early train, and went on to Cannes, where he
+was a little less known. As an international crook he had spent
+several seasons at Nice and Monte Carlo, but had seldom gone to
+Cannes, as it was too aristocratic and too slow for an /escroc/ like
+himself.
+
+Arrived at Cannes he put up at the Hotel Beau Site, and that night ate
+an expensive dinner in the restaurant at the Casino. Then, next day,
+he took the /train-de-luxe/ direct for Calais, and went on to London,
+all unconscious of the sensational events which were then happening.
+
+On arrival in London he found a telegram lying upon his table among
+some letters. It was signed "Shaw," and urged him to meet him "at the
+usual place" at seven o'clock in the evening. "I know you are away,
+but I'll look in each night at seven," it concluded.
+
+It was just six o'clock, therefore Benton washed and changed, and just
+before seven o'clock entered a little cafe off Wardour Street,
+patronized mostly by foreigners. At one of the tables, sitting alone,
+was a wiry-looking, middle-aged man--Mr. Howell, The Sparrow's friend.
+
+"Well?" asked Howell, when a few minutes later they were walking along
+Wardour Street together. "How did you get on in Nice?"
+
+"Had my journey for nothing."
+
+"Wouldn't the old man tell anything?" asked Howell eagerly.
+
+"Not a word," Benton replied. "But my firm opinion is that he himself
+tried to kill Yvonne--that he shot her."
+
+"Do you really agree with me?" gasped Howell excitedly. "Of course,
+there has, all along, been a certain amount of suspicion against him.
+The police were once on the point of arresting him. I happen to know
+that."
+
+"Well, my belief is that young Henfrey is innocent. I never thought so
+until now."
+
+"Then we must prove Cataldi guilty, and Henfrey can marry Louise,"
+Howell said. "But the reason I wanted to get in touch with you is that
+the police went to Shapley."
+
+"To Shapley!" gasped Benton.
+
+"Yes. They went there the night you left London. Evidently somebody
+has given you away!"
+
+"Given me away! Who in the devil's name can it be? If I get to know
+who the traitor is I--I'll--by gad, I'll kill him. I swear I will!"
+
+"Who knows? Some secret enemy of yours--no doubt. Molly has been
+arrested and has been up at Bow Street. They also arrested Louise, but
+there being no charge against her, she has been released. I've sent
+her up to Cambridge--to old Mrs. Curtis. I thought she'd be quite
+quiet and safe there for a time."
+
+"But Molly arrested! What's the charge?"
+
+"Theft. An extradition warrant from Paris. That jeweller's affair in
+the Rue St. Honore, eighteen months ago."
+
+"Well, I hope they won't bring forward other charges, or it will go
+infernally bad with her. What has The Sparrow done?"
+
+"He's abroad somewhere--but I've had five hundred pounds from an
+unknown source to pay for her defence. I saw the solicitors.
+Brigthorne, the well-known barrister, appeared for her."
+
+"But all this is very serious, my dear Howell," Benton declared, much
+alarmed.
+
+"Of course it is. You can't marry the girl to young Henfrey until he
+is proved innocent, and that cannot be until the guilt is fixed upon
+the crafty old Giulio."
+
+"Exactly. That's what we must do. But with Molly arrested we shall be
+compelled to be very careful," said Benton, as they turned toward
+Piccadilly Circus. "I don't see how we dare move until Molly is either
+free or convicted. If she knew our game she might give us away.
+Remember that if we bring off the Henfrey affair Molly has to have a
+share in the spoils. But if she happens to be in a French prison she
+won't get much chance--eh?"
+
+"If she goes it will be ten years, without a doubt," Howell remarked.
+
+"Yes. And in the meantime much can happen--eh?" laughed Benton.
+
+"Lots. But one reassuring fact is that, as far as old Henfrey's fate
+is concerned, Mademoiselle's lips are closed. Whoever shot her did us
+a very good turn."
+
+"Of course. But I agree we must fix the guilt upon old Cataldi. He
+almost as good as admitted it by his face when I taxed him with it.
+Why not give him away to the Nice police?"
+
+"No, not yet. Certainly not," exclaimed Howell.
+
+"It's a pity The Sparrow does not know about the Henfrey business. He
+might help us. Dare we tell him? What do you think?"
+
+"Tell him! Good Heavens! No! Surely you are fully aware how he always
+sets his face against any attempt upon human life, and no one who has
+taken life has ever had his forgiveness," said Howell. "The Sparrow is
+our master--a fine and marvellous mind which has no equal in Europe.
+If he had gone into politics he could have been the greatest statesman
+of the age. But he is Il Passero, the man who directs affairs of every
+kind, and the man at the helm of every great enterprise. Yet his one
+fixed motto is that life shall not be taken."
+
+"But in old Henfrey's case we acted upon our own initiative," remarked
+Benton.
+
+"Yes. Yours was a wonderfully well-conceived idea. And all worked
+without a hitch until young Henfrey's visit to Monte Carlo, and his
+affection for that girl Ranscomb."
+
+"We are weaning him away from her," Benton said. "At last the girl's
+suspicions are excited, and there is just that little disagreement
+which, broadening, leads to the open breach. Oh! my dear Howell, how
+could you and I live if it were not for that silly infection called
+love? In our profession love is all-conquering. Without it we could
+make no progress, no smart coups, no conquests of women who afterwards
+shed out to us money which at the assizes they would designate by the
+ugly word 'blackmail.'"
+
+"Ah! Charles. You were always a philosopher," laughed his companion--
+the man who was a bosom friend of The Sparrow. "But it carries us no
+nearer. We must, at all costs, fix the hand that shot Yvonne."
+
+"Giulio shot her--without a doubt!" was Benton's quick reply.
+
+They were standing together on the kerb outside the Tube station at
+Piccadilly Circus as Benton uttered the words.
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, then let us prove it," said Howell. "But not
+yet, remember. We must first see how it goes with Molly. She must be
+watched carefully. Of course, I agree that Giulio Cataldi shot Yvonne.
+Later we will prove that fact, but the worst of it is that the French
+police are hot on the track of young Henfrey."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked his companion quickly.
+
+"Well," he answered, after a second's hesitation, "I heard so two days
+ago."
+
+Then Howell, pleading an urgent meeting with a mutual friend, also a
+crook like themselves, grasped the other's hand, and they parted.
+
+
+
+                         TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER
+
+                        LISETTE'S DISCLOSURES
+
+At ten o'clock on the morning that Hugh Henfrey left Avignon for
+Paris, The Sparrow stood at the window of his cozy little flat in the
+Rue des Petits Champs, where he was known to his elderly housekeeper--
+a worthy old soul from Yvetot, in the north--as Guillaume Gautier.
+
+The house was one of those great old ones built in the days of the
+First Empire, with a narrow entrance and square courtyard into which
+the stage coaches with postilions rumbled before the days of the
+P.L.M. and aircraft. In the Napoleonic days it had been the residence
+of the Dukes de Vizelle, but in modern times it had been converted
+into a series of very commodious flats.
+
+The Sparrow, sprightly and alert, stood, after taking his /cafe au
+lait/, looking down into the courtyard. He had been reading through
+several letters and telegrams which had caused him some perturbation.
+
+"They are playing me false!" he muttered, as he gazed out of the
+window. "I'm certain of it--quite certain! But, Gad! If they do I'll
+be even with them! Who could have given Henfrey away in London--/and
+why/?"
+
+He paced the length of the room, his teeth hard set and his hands
+clenched.
+
+"I thought they were all loyal after what I have done for them--after
+the fortunes I have put into their pockets. Fancy! One of them a well-
+known member of Parliament--another a director of one of the soundest
+insurance companies! Nobody suspects the really great crooks. It is
+only the little clumsy muddlers whom the police catch and the judge
+makes examples of!"
+
+Then crossing back to the window, he said aloud:
+
+"Lisette ought to be here! She was due in from Toulouse at nine
+o'clock. I hope nothing further has happened. One thing is
+satisfactory--young Henfrey is safe."
+
+As a matter of fact, the girl had spoken to The Sparrow from her hotel
+in Toulouse late on the previous night, and told him that her "friend
+Hugh" was in Marseilles.
+
+Even to the master criminal the whole problem was increasingly
+complicated. He could not prove the innocence of young Henfrey,
+because of the mysterious, sinister influence being brought to bear
+against him. He had interested himself in aiding the young fellow to
+evade arrest, because he had no desire that there should be a trial in
+which he and his associates might be implicated.
+
+The Sparrow hated trials of any sort. With him silence was golden, and
+very wisely he would pay any sum rather than court publicity.
+
+Half an hour went past, but the girl he expected did not put in an
+appearance.
+
+Monsieur Gautier--the man with the gloved hand--was believed by his
+old housekeeper to be a rich and somewhat eccentric bachelor, who was
+interested in old clocks and antique silver, and who travelled
+extensively in order to purchase fine specimens. Indeed it was by that
+description he was registered in the archives of the Surete, with the
+observation that notwithstanding his foreign name he was an Englishman
+of highest standing.
+
+It was never dreamed that the bristly-haired alert little man, who was
+so often seen in the salerooms of Paris when antique silver was being
+sold, was the notorious Sparrow.
+
+Lisette's failure to arrive considerably disturbed him. He hoped that
+nothing had happened to her. Time after time, he walked to the window
+and looked out eagerly for her to cross the courtyard. In those rooms
+he sometimes lived for weeks in safe obscurity, his neighbours
+regarding him as a man of the greatest integrity, though a trifle
+eccentric in his habits.
+
+At last, just before eleven, he saw Lisette's smart figure in a heavy
+travelling coat crossing the courtyard, and a few moments later she
+was shown into his room.
+
+"You're late!" the old man said, as soon as the door was closed. "I
+feared that something had gone wrong! Why did you leave Madrid? What
+has happened?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Happened!" she echoed in French. "Why, very nearly a disaster!
+Someone has given us away--at least, Monsieur Henfrey was given away
+to the police!"
+
+"Not arrested?" he asked breathlessly.
+
+"No. We all three managed to get away--but only just in time! I had a
+wire to-night from Monsieur Tresham, telling me guardedly that within
+an hour or so after we left Madrid the police called at my hotel--and
+at Henfrey's."
+
+"Who can have done that?" asked The Sparrow, his eyes narrowing in
+anger, his gloved hand clenched.
+
+"Your enemy--and mine!" was the girl's reply. "Franklyn is in
+Switzerland. Monsieur Henfrey is in Marseilles--at the Louvre et Paix
+--and I am here."
+
+"Then we have a secret enemy--eh?"
+
+"Yes--and he is not very far to seek. Monsieur Howell has done this!"
+
+"Howell! He would never do such a thing, my dear mademoiselle,"
+replied the gloved man, smiling.
+
+"Oh! wouldn't he? I would not trust either Benton or Howell!"
+
+"I think you are mistaken, mademoiselle. They have never shown much
+friendship towards each other."
+
+"They are close friends as far as concerns the Henfrey affair,"
+declared mademoiselle. "I happen to know that it was Howell who
+prepared the old man's will. It is in his handwriting, and his
+manservant, Cooke, is one of the witnesses."
+
+"What? /You know about that will, Lisette?/ Tell me everything."
+
+"Howell himself let it out to me. They were careful that you should
+not know. At the time I was in London with Franklyn and Benton over
+the jewels of that ship-owner's wife, I forget her name--the affair in
+Carlton House Terrace."
+
+"Yes. I recollect. A very neat piece of business."
+
+"Well--Howell told me how he had prepared the will, and how Benton,
+who was staying with old Mr. Henfrey away in the country, got him to
+put his signature to it by pretending it to be for the purchase of a
+house at Eltham, in Kent. The house was, indeed, purchased at Benton's
+suggestion, but the signature was to a will which Howell's man, Cooke,
+and a friend of his, named Saunders, afterwards witnessed, and which
+has now been proved--the will by which the young man is compelled to
+marry Benton's adopted daughter before he inherits his father's
+estates."
+
+"You actually know this?"
+
+"Howell told me so with his own lips."
+
+"Then why is young Henfrey being made the victim?" asked The Sparrow
+shrewdly. "Why, indeed, have you not revealed this to me before?"
+
+"Because I had no proof before that Howell is /our/ enemy. He has now
+given us away. He has some motive. What is it?"
+
+The bristly-haired little man of twenty names and as many
+individualities pondered for a moment. It was evident that he was both
+apprehensive and amazed at the suggestion the pretty young French girl
+had placed before him.
+
+When one finds a betrayer, then in order to fix his guilt it becomes
+necessary to discover the motive.
+
+The Sparrow was in a quandary. Seldom was he in such a perturbed state
+of mind. He and his accomplices could always defy the police. It was
+not the first time in his career, however, that he had found a traitor
+in his camp. If Howell was really a traitor, then he would pay dearly
+for it. Three times within the last ten years there had been traitors
+in the great criminal organization. One was a Dutchman; the second was
+a Greek; and the third a Swiss. Each died--for dead men tell no tales.
+
+The Sparrow ordered some /cafe noir/ from his housekeeper and produced
+a particularly seductive brand of liqueur, which mademoiselle took--
+together with a cigarette.
+
+Then she left, he giving her the parting injunction:
+
+"It is probable that you will go to Marseilles and meet young Henfrey.
+I will think it all over. You will have a note from me at the Grand
+Hotel before noon to-morrow."
+
+
+
+                        TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER
+
+                    THE INQUISITIVE MR. SHRIMPTON
+
+An hour later Hugh stood in The Sparrow's room, and related his
+exciting adventure in Marseilles and on the high road.
+
+"H'm!" remarked the man with the gloved hand. "A very pretty piece of
+business. The police endeavoured to mislead you, and you, by a very
+fortunate circumstance, suspected. That cigarette, my dear young
+friend, stood you in very good stead. It was fortunate that I gave it
+to you."
+
+"By this time the driver of the car has, of course, recovered and told
+his story," Hugh remarked.
+
+"And by this time the police probably know that you have come to
+Paris," remarked The Sparrow. "Now, Mr. Henfrey, only an hour ago I
+learnt something which has altered my plans entirely. There is a
+traitor somewhere--somebody has given you away."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"At present I have not decided. But we must all be wary and watchful,"
+was The Sparrow's reply. "In any case, it is a happy circumstance that
+you saw through the ruse of the police to get you to Cette. First the
+Madrid police were put upon your track, and then, as you eluded them,
+the Marseilles police were given timely information--a clever trap,"
+he laughed. "I admire it. But at Marseilles they are even more shrewd
+than in Paris. Maillot, the /chef de la Surete/ at Marseilles, is a
+really capable official. I know him well. A year ago he dined with me
+at the Palais de la Bouillabaisse. I pretended that I had been the
+victim of a great theft, and he accepted my invitation. He little
+dreamed that I was Il Passero, for whom he had been spreading the net
+for years!"
+
+"You are really marvellous, Mr. Peters," remarked Hugh. "And I have to
+thank you for the way in which you have protected me time after time.
+Your organization is simply wonderful."
+
+The man with the black glove laughed.
+
+"Nothing really wonderful," he said. "Those who are innocent I
+protect, those who are traitors I condemn. And they never escape me.
+We have traitors at work now. It is for me to fix the identity. And in
+this you, Mr. Henfrey, must help me. Have you heard from Miss
+Ranscomb?"
+
+"No. Not a word," replied the young man. "I dare not write to her."
+
+"No, don't. A man from Scotland Yard went to see her. So it is best to
+remain apart--my dear boy--even though that unfortunate
+misunderstanding concerning Louise Lambert has arisen between you."
+
+"But I am anxious to put it right," the young fellow said. "Dorise
+misjudges me."
+
+"Ah! I know. But at present you must allow her to think ill of you.
+You must not court arrest. We now know that you have enemies who
+intend you to be the victim, while they reap the profit," said The
+Sparrow kindly. "Leave matters to me and act at my suggestion."
+
+"That I certainly will," Hugh replied. "You have never yet advised me
+wrongly."
+
+"Ah! I am not infallible," laughed the master criminal.
+
+Then he rose, and crossing to the telephone, he inquired for the Grand
+Hotel. After a few minutes he spoke to Mademoiselle Lisette, telling
+her that she need not go to Marseilles, and asking her to call upon
+him again at nine o'clock that night.
+
+"Monsieur Hugh has returned from the south," he added. "He is anxious
+to see you again."
+
+"/Tres bien, m'sieur/," answered the smart Parisienne. "I will be
+there. But will you not dine with me--eh? At Vian's at seven. You know
+the place."
+
+"Mademoiselle Lisette asks us to dine with her at Vian's," The Sparrow
+said, turning to Hugh.
+
+"Yes, I shall be delighted," replied the young man.
+
+So The Sparrow accepted the girl's invitation.
+
+On that same morning, Dorise Ranscomb had, after breakfast, settled
+herself to write some letters. Her mother had gone to Warwickshire for
+the week-end, and she was alone with the maids.
+
+The whole matter concerning Hugh puzzled her. She could not bring
+herself to a decision as to his innocence or his guilt.
+
+As she sat writing in the morning-room, the maid announced that Mr.
+Shrimpton wished to see her.
+
+She started at the name. It was the detective inspector from Scotland
+Yard who had called upon her on a previous occasion.
+
+A few moments afterwards he was shown in, a tall figure in a rough
+tweed suit.
+
+"I really must apologize, Miss Ranscomb, for disturbing you, but I
+have heard news of Mr. Henfrey. He has been in Marseilles. Have you
+heard from him?"
+
+"Not a word," the girl replied. "And, Mr. Shrimpton, I am growing very
+concerned. I really can't think that he tried to kill the young
+Frenchwoman. Why should he?"
+
+"Well, because she had connived at his father's death. That seems to
+be proved."
+
+"Then your theory is that it was an act of vengeance?"
+
+"Exactly, Miss Ranscomb. That is our opinion, and a warrant being out
+for his arrest both in France and in England, we are doing all we can
+to get him."
+
+"But are you certain?" asked the girl, much distressed. "After all,
+though on the face of things it seems that there is a distinct motive,
+I do not think that Hugh would be guilty of such a thing."
+
+"Naturally. Forgive me for saying so, miss, but I quite appreciate
+your point of view. If I were in your place I should regard the matter
+in just the same light. I, however, wondered whether you had heard
+news of him during the last day or two."
+
+"No. I have heard nothing."
+
+"And," he said, "I suppose if you did hear, you would not tell me?"
+
+"That is my own affair, Mr. Shrimpton," she replied resentfully. "If
+you desire to arrest Mr. Henfrey it is your own affair. Why do you ask
+me to assist you?"
+
+"In the interests of justice," was the inspector's reply.
+
+"Well," said the girl, very promptly, "I tell you at once that I
+refuse to assist you in your endeavour to arrest Mr. Henfrey. Whether
+he is guilty or not guilty I have not yet decided."
+
+"But he must be guilty. There was the motive. He shot the woman who
+had enticed his father to his death."
+
+"And how have you ascertained that?"
+
+"By logical deduction."
+
+"Then you are trying to convict Mr. Henfrey upon circumstantial
+evidence alone?"
+
+"Others have gone to the gallows on circumstantial evidence--Crippen,
+for instance. There was no actual witness of his crime."
+
+"I fear I must allow you to continue your investigations, Mr.
+Shrimpton," she said coldly.
+
+"But your lover has deceived you. He was staying down in Surrey with
+the girl, Miss Lambert, as his fellow-guest."
+
+"I know that," was Dorise's reply. "But I have since come to the
+conclusion that my surmise--my jealousy if you like to call it so--is
+unfounded."
+
+"Ah! then you refuse to assist justice?"
+
+"No, I do not. But knowing nothing of the circumstances I do not see
+how I can assist you."
+
+"But no doubt you know that Mr. Henfrey evaded us and went away--that
+he was assisted by a man whom we know as The Sparrow."
+
+"I do not know where he is," replied the girl with truth.
+
+"But you know The Sparrow," said the detective. "You admitted that you
+had met him when I last called here."
+
+"I have met him," she replied.
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+She smiled, recollecting that even though she had quarrelled with
+Hugh, the strange old fellow had been his best friend. She remembered
+how the White Cavalier had been sent by him with messages to reassure
+her.
+
+"I refuse to give away the secrets of my friends," she responded a
+trifle haughtily.
+
+"Then you prefer to shield the master criminal of Europe?"
+
+"I have no knowledge that The Sparrow is a criminal."
+
+"Ask the police of any city in Europe. They will tell you that they
+have for years been endeavouring to capture Il Passero. Yet so
+cleverly is his gang organized that never once has he been betrayed.
+All his friends are so loyal to him."
+
+"Yet you want me to betray him!"
+
+"You are not a member of the gang of criminals, Miss Ranscomb,"
+replied Shrimpton.
+
+"Whether I am or not, I refuse to say a word concerning anyone who has
+been of service to me," was her stubborn reply. And with that the man
+from the Criminal Investigation Department had to be content.
+
+Even then, Dorise was not quite certain whether she had misjudged the
+man who loved her so well, but who was beneath a cloud. She had acted
+hastily in writing that letter, she felt. Yet she had successfully
+warned him of his peril, and he had been able to extricate himself
+from the net spread for him.
+
+It was evident that The Sparrow, who was her friend and Hugh's, was a
+most elusive person.
+
+She recollected the White Cavalier at the ball at Nice, and how she
+had never suspected him to be the deputy of the King of the
+Underworld--the man whose one hand was gloved.
+
+Within half an hour of the departure of her visitor from Scotland
+Yard, the maid announced Mr. Sherrard.
+
+Dorise, with a frown, arose from her chair, and a few seconds later
+faced the man who was her mother's intimate friend, and who daily
+forced his unwelcome attentions upon her.
+
+"Your mother told me you would be alone, Dorise," he said in his
+forced manner of affected elegance. "So I just dropped in. I hope I'm
+not worrying you."
+
+"Oh! not at all," replied the girl, sealing a letter which she had
+just written. "Mother has gone to Warwickshire, and I'm going out to
+lunch with May Petheridge, an old schoolfellow of mine."
+
+"Oh! Then I won't keep you," said the smug lover of Lady Ranscomb's
+choice. He was one of those over-dressed fops who haunted the lounges
+of the Ritz and the Carlton, and who scraped acquaintance with anybody
+with a title. At tea parties he would refer to Lord This and Lady That
+as intimate friends, whereas he had only been introduced to them by
+some fat wife of a fatter profiteer.
+
+Sherrard saw that Dorise's attitude was one of hostility, but with his
+superior overbearing manner he pretended not to notice it.
+
+"You were not at Lady Oundle's the night before last," he remarked,
+for want of something better to say. "I went there specially to meet
+you, Dorise."
+
+"I hate Lady Oundle's dances," was the girl's reply. "Such a lot of
+fearful old fogies go there."
+
+"True, but a lot of your mother's friends are in her set."
+
+"I know. But mother always avoids going to her dances if she possibly
+can. We had a good excuse to be away, as mother was packing."
+
+"Elise was there," he remarked.
+
+"And you danced with her, of course. She's such a ripping dancer."
+
+"Twice. When I found you were not there I went on to the club," he
+replied, with his usual air of boredom. "When do you expect your
+mother back?"
+
+"Next Tuesday. I'm going down to Huntingdon to-morrow to stay with the
+Fishers."
+
+"Oh! by the way," he remarked suddenly. "Tubby Hall, who is just back
+from Madrid, told me in the club last night that he'd seen your friend
+Henfrey in a restaurant there with a pretty French girl."
+
+"In Madrid!" echoed Dorise, for she had no idea of her lover's
+whereabouts. "He must have been mistaken surely."
+
+"No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey's. He says that he and the girl
+seemed to be particularly good friends."
+
+Dorise hesitated.
+
+"You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Not at all. I've only told you what Tubby said."
+
+"Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?"
+
+"I think not. But I really didn't inquire," Sherrard replied, not
+failing, however, to note how puzzled she was.
+
+Lady Ranscomb was already assuring him that the girl's affection for
+the absconding Henfrey would, sooner or later, fade out. More than
+once he and she had held consultation concerning the proposed
+marriage, and more than once Sherrard had been on the point of
+withdrawing from the contest for the young girl's heart. But her
+mother was never tired of bidding him be patient, and saying that in
+the end he would obtain his desire.
+
+Sherrard, however, little dreamed how great was Dorise's love for
+Hugh, and how deeply she regretted having written that hasty letter to
+Shapley.
+
+Yet one of Hugh's friends had met him in Madrid in company with what
+was described as a pretty young French girl!
+
+What was the secret of it all? Was Hugh really guilty of the attempt
+upon the notorious Mademoiselle? If not, why did he not face the
+charge like a man?
+
+Such were her thoughts when, an hour later, her mother's car took her
+out to Kensington to lunch with her old school friend who was on the
+point of being married to a man who had won great distinction in the
+Air Force, and whose portrait was almost daily in the papers.
+
+Would she ever marry Hugh, she wondered, as she sat gazing blankly out
+upon the London traffic. She would write to him, but, alas! she knew
+neither the name under which he was going, nor his address.
+
+And a telephone message to Mr. Peters's house had been answered to the
+effect that the man whose hand was gloved was abroad, and the date of
+his return uncertain.
+
+
+
+                        TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER
+
+                          THE SPARROW'S NEST
+
+Mademoiselle Lisette met her two guests at Vian's small but exclusive
+restaurant in the Rue Daunou, and all three had a merry meal together.
+Afterwards The Sparrow smoked a good cigar and became amused at the
+young girl's chatter.
+
+She was a sprightly little person, and had effectively brought off
+several highly successful coups. Before leaving his cosy flat in the
+Rue des Petits Champs, The Sparrow had sat for an hour calmly
+reviewing the situation in the light of what Lisette had told him and
+of Hugh's exciting adventure on the Arles road.
+
+That he had successfully escaped from a very clever trap was plain,
+but who was the traitor? Who, indeed, had fired that shot which,
+failing to kill Yvonne, had unbalanced her brain so that no attention
+could be paid to her wandering remarks?
+
+He had that morning been on the point of trying to get into touch with
+his friend Howell, but after Lisette's disclosures, he was very glad
+that he had not done so. His master-mind worked quickly. He could sum
+up a situation and act almost instantly where other men would be
+inclined to waver. But when The Sparrow arrived at a decision it was
+unalterable. All his associates knew that too well. Some of them
+called him stubborn, but they had to agree that he was invariably
+right in his suspicions and conclusions.
+
+He had debated whether he should tell Hugh what Lisette had alleged
+concerning the forgery of his father's will, but had decided to keep
+the matter to himself and see what further proof he could obtain.
+Therefore he had forbidden the girl to tell Henfrey anything, for,
+after all, it was quite likely that her statements could not be
+substantiated.
+
+After their coffee all three returned to the Rue des Petits Champs
+where Lisette, merry and full of vivacity, joined them in a cigarette.
+
+The Sparrow had been preoccupied and thoughtful the whole evening. But
+at last, as they sat together, he said:
+
+"We shall all three go south to-morrow--to Nice direct."
+
+"To Nice!" exclaimed Lisette. "It is hardly safe--is it?"
+
+"Yes. You will leave by the midday train from the Gare de Lyon--and go
+to Madame Odette's in the boulevard Gambetta. I may want you. We shall
+follow by the /train-de-luxe/. It is best that Mr. Henfrey is out of
+Paris. The Surete will certainly be searching for him."
+
+Then, turning to Hugh, he told him that he had better remain his guest
+that night, and in the morning he would buy him another suit, hat and
+coat.
+
+"There will not be so much risk in Nice as here in Paris," he added.
+"After all, we ought not to have ventured out to Vian's."
+
+Later he sat down, and after referring to a pocket-book containing
+certain entries, he scribbled four cryptic telegrams which were,
+apparently, Bourse quotations, but when read by their addressees were
+of quite a different character.
+
+He went out and himself dispatched these from the office of the Grand
+Hotel. He never entrusted his telegrams of instructions to others.
+
+When he returned ten minutes later he took up /Le Soir/, and searching
+it eagerly, suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"Ah! Here it is! Manfield has been successful and got away all right
+with the German countess's trinkets!"
+
+And with a laugh he handed the paper to Lisette, who read aloud an
+account of a daring robbery in one of the best hotels in Cologne--
+jewels valued at a hundred thousand marks having mysteriously
+disappeared. International thieves were suspected, but the Cologne
+police had no clue.
+
+"M'sieur Manfield is always extremely shrewd. He is such a real
+ladies' man," laughed Lisette, using some of the /argot/ of the
+Montmartre.
+
+"Yes. Do you recollect that American, Lindsay--with whom you had
+something to do?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember. I was in London and we went out to dinner
+together quite a lot. Manfield was with me and we got from his
+dispatch-box the papers concerning that oil well at Baku. The company
+was started later on in Chicago, and only two months ago I received my
+dividend."
+
+"Teddy Manfield is a very good friend," declared the man with the
+gloved hand. "Birth and education always count, even in these days. To
+any ex-service man I hold out my hand as the unit who saved us from
+becoming a German colony. But do others? I make war upon those who
+have profited by war. I have never attacked those who have remained
+honest during the great struggle. In the case of dog-eat-dog I place
+myself on the side of the worker and the misled patriot--not only in
+Britain, but in all the countries of the Allies. If members of the
+Allied Governments are profiteers what can the man-in-the-street
+expect of the poor little scraping-up tradesman oppressed by taxation
+and bewildered by waste? But there!" he added, "I am no politician! My
+only object is to solve the mystery of who shot poor Mademoiselle
+Yvonne."
+
+The pretty decoy of the great association of /escrocs/ smoked another
+cigarette, and gazed into the young man's face. Sometimes she
+shuddered when she reflected upon all she knew concerning his father's
+unfortunate end, and of the cleverly concocted will by which he was to
+marry Louise Lambert, and afterwards enjoy but a short career.
+
+Fate had made Lisette what she was--a child of fortune. Her own life
+would, if written, form a strange and sensational narrative. For she
+had been implicated in a number of great robberies which had startled
+the world.
+
+She knew much of the truth of the Henfrey affair, and she had now
+decided to assist Hugh to vanquish those whose intentions were
+distinctly evil.
+
+At last she rose and wished them /bon soir/.
+
+"I shall leave the Gare de Lyon at eleven fifty-eight to-morrow, and
+go direct to Madame Odette's in Nice," she said.
+
+"Yes. Remain there. If I want you I will let you know," answered The
+Sparrow.
+
+And then she descended the stairs and walked to her hotel.
+
+Next evening Hugh and The Sparrow, both dressed quite differently,
+left by the Riviera /train-de-luxe/. As The Sparrow lay that night in
+the /wagon-lit/ he tried to sleep, but the roar and rattle of the
+train prevented it. Therefore he calmly thought out a complete and
+deliberate plan.
+
+From one of his friends in London he had had secret warning that the
+police, on the day he left Charing Cross, had descended upon Shapley
+Manor and had arrested Mrs. Bond under a warrant applied for by the
+French police, and he also knew that her extradition for trial in
+Paris had been granted.
+
+That there was a traitor in the camp was proved, but happily Hugh
+Henfrey had escaped just in time.
+
+For himself The Sparrow cared little. He seemed to be immune from
+arrest, so cleverly did he disguise his true identity; yet now that
+some person had revealed his secrets, what more likely than the
+person, whoever it was, would also give him away for the sake of the
+big reward which he knew was offered for his apprehension.
+
+Before leaving Paris that evening he had dispatched a telegram, a
+reply to which was handed him in the train when it stopped at Lyons
+early next morning.
+
+This decided him. He sent another telegram and then returned to where
+Hugh was lying half awake. When they stopped at Marseilles, both men
+were careful not to leave the train, but continued in it, arriving at
+the great station of Nice in the early afternoon.
+
+They left their bags at a small hotel just outside the station, and
+taking a cab, they drove away into the old town. Afterwards they
+proceeded on foot to the Rue Rossetti, where they climbed to the flat
+occupied by old Giulio Cataldi.
+
+The old fellow was out, but the elderly Italian woman who kept house
+for him said she expected him back at any moment. He was due to come
+off duty at the cafe where he was employed.
+
+So Hugh and his companion waited, examining the poorly-furnished
+little room.
+
+Now The Sparrow entertained a strong suspicion that Cataldi knew more
+of the tragedy at the Villa Amette than anyone else. Indeed, of late,
+it had more than once crossed his mind that he might be the actual
+culprit.
+
+At last the door opened and the old man entered, surprised to find
+himself in the presence of the master criminal, The Sparrow, whom he
+had only met once before.
+
+He greeted his visitors rather timidly.
+
+After a short chat The Sparrow, who had offered the old man a
+cigarette from a cheap plated case much worn, began to make certain
+inquiries.
+
+"This is a very serious and confidential affair, Cataldi," he said. "I
+want to know the absolute truth--and I must have it."
+
+"I know it is serious, signore," replied the old man, much perturbed
+by the unexpected visit of the king of the underworld, the elusive
+Sparrow of whom everyone spoke in awe. "But I only know one or two
+facts. I recognize Signor Henfrey."
+
+"Ah! Then you know me!" exclaimed Hugh. "You recognized me on that
+night at the Villa Amette, when you opened the door to me."
+
+"I do, signore. I recollect everything. It is all photographed upon my
+memory. Poor Mademoiselle! You questioned her--as a gentleman would--
+and you demanded to know about your father's death. She prevaricated--
+and----"
+
+"Then you overheard it?" said Hugh.
+
+"Yes, I listened. Was I not Mademoiselle's servant? On that night she
+had won quite a large sum at the Rooms, and she had given me--ah! she
+was always most generous--five hundred francs--twenty pounds in your
+English money. And they were acceptable in these days of high prices.
+I heard much. I was interested. Mademoiselle was my mistress whom I
+had served faithfully."
+
+"You wondered why this young Englishman should call upon her at that
+hour?" said The Sparrow.
+
+"I did. She never received visitors after her five o'clock tea. It was
+the habit at the Villa Amette to lunch at one o'clock, English tea at
+five o'clock, and dinner at eight--when the Rooms were slack save for
+the tourists from seven till ten. Strange! The tourists always think
+they can win while the gambling world has gone to its meals! They get
+seats, it is true, but they always lose."
+
+"Yes," replied The Sparrow. "It is a strange fact that the greatest
+losses are sustained by the players when the Rooms are most empty.
+Nobody has yet ever been able to account for it."
+
+"And yet it is so," declared old Cataldi. "I have watched it day by
+day. But poor Mademoiselle! What can we do to solve the mystery?"
+
+"Were you not with Mademoiselle and Mr. Benton when you both brought
+off that great coup in the Avenue Louise, in Brussels?" asked The
+Sparrow.
+
+"Yes, signore," said the old man. "But I do not wish to speak of it
+now."
+
+"Quite naturally. I quite appreciate it. Since Mademoiselle's--er--
+accident you have, I suppose, been leading an honest life?"
+
+"Yes. I have tried to do so. At present I am a cafe waiter."
+
+"And you can tell me nothing further regarding the affair at the Villa
+Amette?" asked The Sparrow, eyeing him narrowly.
+
+"I regret, signore, I can tell you nothing further," replied the
+staid, rather sad-looking old man; "nothing." And he sighed.
+
+"Why?" asked the man whose tentacles were, like an octopus, upon a
+hundred schemes, and as many criminal coups in Europe. He sought a
+solution of the problem, but nothing appeared forthcoming.
+
+He had strained every effort, but he could ascertain nothing.
+
+That Cataldi knew the key to the whole problem The Sparrow felt
+assured. Yet why did not the old fellow tell the truth?
+
+At last The Sparrow rose and left, and Hugh followed him. Both were
+bitterly disappointed. The old man refused to say more than that he
+was ignorant of the whole affair.
+
+Cataldi's attitude annoyed the master criminal.
+
+For three days he remained in Nice with Hugh, at great risk of
+recognition and arrest.
+
+On the fourth day they went together in a hired car along the winding
+road across the Var to Cannes.
+
+At a big white villa a little distance outside the pretty winter town
+of flowers and palms, they halted. The house, which was on the Frejus
+road, was once the residence of a Russian prince.
+
+With The Sparrow Hugh was ushered into a big, sunny room overlooking
+the beautiful garden where climbing geraniums ran riot with carnations
+and violets, and for some minutes they waited. From the windows spread
+a wide view of the calm sapphire sea.
+
+Then suddenly the door opened.
+
+
+
+                         TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER
+
+                      THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
+
+Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of
+a beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man.
+
+For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she
+turned her gaze upon Hugh.
+
+Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain,
+and placing both hands to her head, gasped:
+
+/"Dieu!"/
+
+It was Yvonne Ferad. And the cry was one of recognition.
+
+Hugh dashed forward with the doctor, for she was on the point of
+collapse at recognizing them. But in a few seconds she recovered
+herself, though she was deathly pale and much agitated.
+
+"Yvonne!" exclaimed The Sparrow in a low, kindly voice. "Then you know
+who we really are? Your reason has returned?"
+
+"Yes," she answered in French. "I remember who you are. Ah! But--but
+it is all so strange!" she cried wildly. "I--I--I can't think! At
+last! Yes. I know. I recollect! You!" And she stared at Hugh. "You--
+you are /Monsieur Henfrey/!"
+
+"That is so, mademoiselle."
+
+"Ah, messieurs," remarked the elderly doctor, who was standing behind
+his patient. "She recognized you both--after all! The sudden shock at
+seeing you has accomplished what we have failed all these months to
+accomplish. It is efficacious only in some few cases. In this it is
+successful. But be careful. I beg of you not to overtax poor
+mademoiselle's brain with many questions. I will leave you."
+
+And he withdrew, closing the door softly after him.
+
+For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+about general things.
+
+"I have been very ill," she said in a low, tremulous voice. "I could
+think of nothing since my accident, until now--and now"--and she gazed
+around her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance--"and now
+I remember!--but it all seems too hazy and indistinct."
+
+"You recollect things--eh?" asked The Sparrow in a kindly voice,
+placing his hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.
+
+"Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seems
+ages and ages since I last met you, Mr.--Mr. Peters," and she laughed
+lightly. "Peters--that is the name?"
+
+"It is, mademoiselle," he laughed. "And it is a happy event that, by
+seeing us unexpectedly, your memory has returned. But the reason Mr.
+Henfrey is here is to resume that conversation which was so suddenly
+interrupted at the Villa Amette."
+
+Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for
+she was gazing out of the window to the distant sea.
+
+"Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the--the secret of his
+father's death?" she asked of The Sparrow.
+
+"Certainly. You were about to do so when--when the accident happened."
+
+"Yes. But--but, oh!--how can I tell him the actual truth when--when,
+alas! I am so guilty?" cried the woman, much distressed.
+
+"No, no, mademoiselle," said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly upon her
+shoulder. "Calm yourself. You did not kill my father. Of that I am
+quite convinced. Do not distress yourself, but tell me all that you
+know."
+
+"Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe," she said
+slowly. "But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted by
+Benton." Then, turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her
+natural tone, though slightly high-pitched and nervous:
+
+"Benton, the blackguard, was your father's friend at Woodthorpe. With
+a man named Howell, known also as Shaw, he prepared a will which your
+father signed unconsciously, and which provided that in the event of
+his death you should be cut off from almost every benefit if you did
+not marry Louise Lambert, Benton's adopted daughter."
+
+"But who is Louise actually?" asked Hugh interrupting.
+
+"The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her.
+Of course Louise is unaware of that fact," Yvonne replied.
+
+Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs.
+Bond was so solicitous of the poor girl's welfare.
+
+"Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father's visits to
+town, Benton, his friend, introduced us. Naturally I had no knowledge
+of the plot which Benton and Howell had formed, and finding your
+father a very agreeable gentleman, I invited him to the furnished flat
+I had taken at Queen's Gate. I went to the theatre with him on two
+occasions, Benton accompanying us, and then your father returned to
+the country. One day, about two months later Howell happened to be in
+London, and presumably they decided that the plot was ripe for
+execution, for they asked me to write to Mr. Henfrey at Woodthorpe,
+and suggest that he should come to London, have an early supper with
+us, and go to a big charity ball at the Albert Hall. In due course I
+received a wire from Mr. Henfrey, who came to London, had supper with
+me, Benton and Howell being also present, while Howell's small closed
+car, which he always drove himself, was waiting outside to take us to
+the ball."
+
+Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection of
+that night horrified her--as indeed it did.
+
+"After supper I rose and left the room to speak to my servant for a
+moment, when, just as I re-entered, I saw Howell, who was standing
+behind Mr. Henfrey's chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm around
+your father's neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of the
+neck just above his collar. 'Here!' your father cried out, thinking it
+was a joke, 'what's the game?' But the last word was scarcely audible,
+for he collapsed across the table. I stood there aghast. Howell,
+suddenly noticing me, told me roughly to clear out, as I was not
+wanted. I demanded to know what had happened, but I was told that it
+did not concern me. My idea was that Mr. Henfrey had been drugged, for
+he was still alive and apparently dazed. I afterwards heard, however,
+that Howell had pressed the needle of a hypodermic syringe containing
+a newly discovered and untraceable poison which he had obtained in
+secret from a certain chemist in Frankfort, who makes a speciality of
+such things."
+
+"And what happened then?" asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at the
+story.
+
+"Benton and Howell sent me out of the room. They waited for over an
+hour. Then Howell went down to the car. Afterwards, when all was
+clear, they half carried poor Mr. Henfrey downstairs, placed him in
+the car, and drove away. Next day I heard that my guest had been found
+by a constable in a doorway in Albemarle Street. The officer, who
+first thought he was intoxicated, later took him to St. George's
+Hospital, where he died. Afterwards a scratch was found on the palm of
+his hand, and the doctors believed it had been caused by a pin
+infected with some poison. The truth was, however, that his hand was
+scratched in opening a bottle of champagne at supper. The doctors
+never suspected the tiny puncture in the hair at the nape of the neck,
+and they never discovered it."
+
+"I knew nothing of the affair," declared The Sparrow, his face clouded
+by anger. "Then Howell was the actual murderer?"
+
+"He was," Yvonne replied. "I saw him press the needle into Mr.
+Henfrey's neck, while Benton stood by, ready to seize the victim if he
+resisted. Benton and Howell had agreed to kill Mr. Henfrey, compel his
+son to marry Louise, and then get Hugh out of the world by one or
+other of their devilish schemes. Ah!" she sighed, looking sadly before
+her. "I see it all now--everything."
+
+"Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also
+meet with an unexpected end?"
+
+"Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and your
+own friends--an end probably like your father's. A secret visit to
+London, and a mysterious death," Mademoiselle replied.
+
+She spoke quite calmly and rationally. The shock of suddenly
+encountering the two persons who had been uppermost in her thoughts
+before those terrible injuries to her brain had balanced it again.
+Though the pains in her head were excruciating, as she explained, yet
+she could now think, and she remembered all the bitterness of the
+past.
+
+"You, M'sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have been
+the victim of a great and dastardly conspiracy," she said. "But I ask
+your forgiveness, for I assure you that when I invited your father up
+from Woodthorpe I had no idea whatever of what those assassins
+intended."
+
+"Benton is already under arrest for another affair," broke in The
+Sparrow quietly. "I heard so from London yesterday."
+
+"Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime," the
+handsome woman cried. "Though I have been a thief, a swindler, and a
+decoy--ah! yes, I admit it all--I have never committed the crime of
+murder. I know, messieurs," she went on--"I know that I am a social
+outcast, the mysterious Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, they call me! But
+I have suffered. I have indeed in these past months paid my debt to
+Society, and of you, Mr. Henfrey, I beg forgiveness."
+
+"I forgive you, Mademoiselle," Hugh replied, grasping her slim, white
+hand.
+
+"Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Ranscomb, Mr. Henfrey's fiancee,
+and tell her the whole truth," said The Sparrow.
+
+"That I certainly will," Yvonne replied. "Now that I can think I shall
+be allowed to leave this place--eh?"
+
+"Of course. I will see after that," said the man known as Mr. Peters.
+"You must return to the Villa Amette--for you are still Mademoiselle
+of Monte Carlo, remember! Leave it all to me." And he laughed happily.
+
+"But we are no nearer the solution of the mystery as to who attempted
+to kill you, Mademoiselle," Hugh remarked.
+
+"There can be but one person. Old Cataldi knows who it is," she
+answered.
+
+"Cataldi? Then why has he not told me? I questioned him closely only
+the other day," said The Sparrow.
+
+"For certain reasons," Mademoiselle replied. "He /dare/ not tell the
+truth!"
+
+"Why?" asked Hugh.
+
+"Because--well----" and she turned to The Sparrow. "You will recollect
+the affair we brought off in Brussels at that house of the Belgian
+baroness close to the Bois de la Cambre. A servant was shot dead.
+Giulio Cataldi shot him in self-defence. But Howell knows of it."
+
+"Well?" asked The Sparrow.
+
+"Howell was in Monte Carlo on the night of the attempt upon me. I met
+him in the Casino half an hour before I left to walk home. He no doubt
+recognized Mr. Henfrey, who was also there, as the son of the man whom
+he had murdered, watched him, and followed him up to my villa. He
+suspected that Mr. Henfrey's object was to face me and demand an
+explanation."
+
+"Do you really think so?" gasped Hugh.
+
+"Of that I feel positive. Only Cataldi can prove it."
+
+"Why Cataldi?" inquired Hugh.
+
+"See him again and tell him what I have revealed to you," answered
+Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+
+"Who was it who warned me against you by that letter posted in Tours?"
+
+"It was part of Howell's scheme, no doubt. I have no idea of the
+identity of the writer of any anonymous letter. But Howell, no doubt,
+saw that if he rid himself of me it would be to his great advantage."
+
+"Then Cataldi will not speak the truth because he fears Howell?"
+remarked the notorious chief of Europe's underworld.
+
+"Exactly. Now that I can think, I can piece the whole puzzle together.
+It is all quite plain. Do you not recollect Howell's curious rifle
+fashioned in the form of a walking-stick? When I halted to speak to
+Madame Beranger on the steps of the Casino as I came out that night,
+he passed me carrying that stick. Indeed, he is seldom without it. By
+means of that disguised rifle I was shot!"
+
+"But you speak of Cataldi. How can he know?"
+
+"When I entered the house I told him quickly that I believed Howell
+was following me. I ordered him to watch. This no doubt he did. He has
+ever been faithful to me."
+
+"Buy why should Howell have attempted to fix his guilt upon Mr.
+Henfrey?" asked The Sparrow. "In doing so he was defeating his own
+aims. If Mr. Henfrey were sent to prison he could not marry Louise
+Lambert, and if he had married Louise he would have benefited Howell!
+Therefore the whole plot was nullified."
+
+"Exactly, m'sieur. Howell attempted to kill me in order to preserve
+his secret, fearing that if I told Mr. Henfrey the truth he would
+inform the police of the circumstances of his father's assassination.
+In making the attempt he defeated his own ends--a fact which he only
+realized when too late!"
+
+
+
+                              CONCLUSION
+
+The foregoing is perhaps one of the most remarkable stories of the
+underworld of Europe.
+
+Its details are set down in full in three big portfolios in the
+archives of the Surete in Paris--where the present writer has had
+access to them.
+
+In that bald official narrative which is docketed under the heading
+"No. 23489/263--Henfrey" there is no mention of the love affair
+between Dorise Ranscomb and Hugh Henfrey of Woodthorpe.
+
+But the true facts are that within three days of Mademoiselle's
+recovery of her mental balance, old Giulio Cataldi made a sworn
+statement to the police at Nice, and in consequence two gendarmes of
+the Department of Seine et Oise went one night to a small hotel at
+Provins, where they arrested the Englishman, Shaw, alias Howell, who
+had gone there in what he thought was safe hiding.
+
+The arrest took place at midnight, but Howell, on being cornered in
+his bedroom, showed fight, and raising an automatic pistol, which he
+had under his pillow, shot and wounded one of the gendarmes. Whereupon
+his companion drew his revolver in self-defence and shot the
+Englishman dead.
+
+Benton, a few months later, was sentenced to forced labour for fifteen
+years, while his accomplice, Molly Bond, received a sentence of ten
+years. Only one case--that of jewel robbery--was, however, proved
+against her.
+
+Dorise, about six weeks after Mademoiselle Yvonne's explanation, met
+her in London, and there she and Hugh became reconciled. Her jealousy
+of Louise Lambert disappeared when she knew the actual truth, and she
+admired her lover all the more for his generosity in promising, when
+the Probate Court had set aside the false will, that he would settle a
+comfortable income upon the poor innocent girl.
+
+This, indeed, he did.
+
+The Sparrow has never since been traced, though Scotland Yard and the
+Surete have searched everywhere for him. But he is far too clever. The
+writer believes he is now living in obscurity, but perfectly happy, in
+a little village outside Barcelona. He loves the sunshine.
+
+As for Hugh, he is now happily married to Dorise, and as the Probate
+Court has decided that Woodthorpe and the substantial income are his,
+he is enjoying all his father's wealth.
+
+Yvonne Ferad is still Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. She still lives on
+the hill in the picturesque Villa Amette, and is still known to the
+habitues of the Rooms as--Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+
+On most nights in spring she can be seen at the Rooms, and those who
+know the truth tell the queer story which I have in the foregoing
+pages attempted to relate.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
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