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+Project Gutenberg’s Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+
+Author: William Le Queux
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2006 [EBook #4694]
+Last Updated: November 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dagny; John Bickers
+
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg’s Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
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+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+
+Author: William Le Queux
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2006 [EBook #4694]
+Last Updated: November 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By William Le Queux <br /> <br /> 1921
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+    </p>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3">
+      <tr>
+        <td></td>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO</b></big>
+          </a>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> FIRST CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SUICIDE’S CHAIR
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> SECOND CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CONCERNS A GUILTY SECRET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THIRD CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          IN THE NIGHT
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> FOURTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          WHAT THE DOSSIER CONTAINED
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> FIFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          ON THE HOG’S BACK
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SIXTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FACING THE UNKNOWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> SEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FROM DARK TO DAWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> EIGHTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE WHITE CAVALIER
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> NINTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CONCERNS THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> TENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          A LESSON IN ARGOT
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ELEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> TWELFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE STRANGER IN BOND STREET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THIRTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          POISONED LIPS
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> FOURTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          RED DAWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> FIFTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE NAMELESS MAN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> SIXTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE ESCROCS OF LONDON
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          ON THE SURREY HILLS
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVE
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> NINETEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> TWENTIETH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WHO KNEW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CLOSING THE NET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          WHAT LISETTE KNEW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FRIEND OR ENEMY?
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN CATALDI
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          LISETTE’S DISCLOSURES
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE INQUISITIVE MR. SHRIMPTON
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SPARROW’S NEST
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION </a>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIRST CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SUICIDE&rsquo;S CHAIR
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes! I&rsquo;m not mistaken at all! <i>It&rsquo;s the same woman!</i>&rdquo;
+      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&mdash;that one known to habitual gamblers as &ldquo;The
+      Suicide&rsquo;s Table.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you quite certain?&rdquo; asked his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Positive. I should know her again anywhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s very handsome. And look, too, by Jove!&mdash;how she is
+      winning!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But let&rsquo;s get away. She might recognize me,&rdquo;
+      exclaimed the younger man anxiously. &ldquo;Ah! If I could only induce her
+      to disclose what she knows about my poor father&rsquo;s mysterious end
+      then we might clear up the mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid, if all we hear is true about her, Mademoiselle of
+      Monte Carlo will never do that,&rdquo; was the other&rsquo;s reply as they
+      moved away together down the long saloon towards the trente-et-quarante
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux</i>,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Into that stifling atmosphere&mdash;for the Administration of the Bains de
+      Mer of Monaco seem as afraid of fresh air as of purity propaganda&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those who know Monte Carlo, those who have been habitues for twenty years&mdash;as
+      the present writer has been&mdash;know too well, and have seen too often,
+      the deadly influence of the tables upon the lighter side of woman&rsquo;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 &ldquo;loan&rdquo;
+      from somebody. What matter? When one is at &ldquo;Monty&rdquo; 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-&ldquo;countesses&rdquo; at which
+      they have held up their hands in horror when they have seen them pictured
+      in the papers wearing those latest &ldquo;creations&rdquo; of the Place
+      Vendome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes. It is a hypocritical world, and nowhere is canting hypocrisy more
+      apparent than inside the Casino at Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the two Englishmen were strolling over the polished parquet of the
+      elegant world-famous <i>salles-de-jeu</i> &ldquo;Mademoiselle of Monte
+      Carlo&rdquo; was experiencing quite an extraordinary run of luck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But &ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;the Suicide&rsquo;s Chair,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s Cemetery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;and
+      won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, that afternoon she was winning&mdash;and very considerably too.
+      She had won four maximums <i>en plein</i> within the last half-hour, and
+      the crowd around the table noting her good fortune were now following her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether she won or lost, or whether she did not risk a stake, she simply
+      smiled and elevated her shoulders, muttering something to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole Cote d&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the two Englishmen slipped past the end table unseen on their way out
+      into the big atrium with its many columns&mdash;the hall in which players
+      go out to cool themselves, or collect their determination for a final
+      flutter&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Zero-trois!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!</i>&rdquo; came the strident cry
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a few seconds later the croupier cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Rien ne vas plus!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The red and black wheel was already spinning, and the little ivory ball
+      sent by the croupier&rsquo;s hand in the opposite direction was clicking
+      quickly over the numbered spaces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Zer-r-o!</i>&rdquo; cried the croupier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a moment later Mademoiselle had pushed before her at the end of the
+      croupier&rsquo;s rake another pile of counters, while all those who had
+      followed the remarkable woman&rsquo;s play were also paid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle is in good form to-day,&rdquo; 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&mdash;two or three louis&mdash;perhaps&mdash;and then at
+      once go to their ease in their own obscure abode.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed a man who overheard her. &ldquo;Mademoiselle
+      has wonderful luck! She won seventy-five thousand francs at the <i>Cercle
+      Prive</i> last night. She won <i>en plein</i> five times running. <i>Dieu!</i>
+      Such luck! And it never causes her the slightest excitement.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady must be very rich!&rdquo; remarked an American woman
+      sitting next to the old Frenchwoman, and who knew French well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rich! Of course! She must have won several million francs from the
+      Administration. They don&rsquo;t like to see her here. But I suppose her
+      success attracts others to play. The gambling fever is as infectious as
+      the influenza,&rdquo; declared the old Frenchwoman. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; she went on in a whisper. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she makes money at the tables,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money!&rdquo; exclaimed the old woman. &ldquo;Money! <i>Dieu!</i>
+      She has losses, it is true, but oh!&mdash;what she wins! I only wish I had
+      ten per cent of it. I should then be rich. Mine is a poor game, madame&mdash;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&mdash;and that is how I live.
+      Ah! madame, life is a great game here in the Principality.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the cosmopolitans of
+      the world: politicians, financiers, merchants, princes, authors, and
+      artists&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sit down,&rdquo; suggested Hugh wearily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      sure that she&rsquo;s the same woman&mdash;absolutely certain!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite confident you have made no mistake&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite, my dear Walter. I&rsquo;d know that woman among ten
+      thousand. I only know that her surname is Ferad. Her Christian name I do
+      not know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you suspect that she knows the secret of your father&rsquo;s
+      death?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m confident that she does,&rdquo; replied the good-looking
+      young Englishman. &ldquo;But it is a secret she will, I fear, never
+      reveal, unless&mdash;unless I compel her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how can you compel her?&rdquo; asked the elder of the two men,
+      whose dark hair was slightly tinged with grey. &ldquo;It is difficult to
+      compel a woman to do anything,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to know the truth!&rdquo; cried Hugh Henfrey fiercely, a
+      look of determination in his eyes. &ldquo;That woman knows the true story
+      of my father&rsquo;s death, and I&rsquo;ll make her reveal it. By gad&mdash;I
+      will! I mean it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be rash, Hugh,&rdquo; urged the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rash!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;It&rsquo;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&mdash;provided
+      I married Louise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, why not marry her?&rdquo; queried Brock lazily. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+      always so mysterious, my dear Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why!&mdash;because I love Dorise Ranscomb. But Louise interests me,
+      and I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s Mansions, Westminster. After that
+      she has travelled about with friends and has, I believe, been abroad quite
+      a lot. I&rsquo;ve nothing against Louise, except&mdash;well, except for
+      the strange uncanny influence which that man Benton has over her. I hate
+      the fellow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see! And as you cannot yet reach Woodthorpe and your father&rsquo;s
+      fortune, except by marrying Louise&mdash;which you don&rsquo;t intend to
+      do&mdash;what are you going to do now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, I intend that this woman they call &lsquo;Mademoiselle of
+      Monte Carlo,&rsquo; the lucky woman who is a decoy of the Administration
+      of the Bains de Mer, shall tell me the true circumstance of my father&rsquo;s
+      death. If I know them&mdash;then my hand will be strengthened.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meanwhile you love Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s daughter, you say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I love Dorise with all my heart. She, of course, knows nothing
+      of the conditions of the will.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence of some moments, interrupted only by the pop-pop of
+      the pigeon-shots below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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&rsquo;Azur to Covent
+      Garden, and to the florists&rsquo; shops in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve never told me the exact circumstances of your father&rsquo;s
+      death, Hugh,&rdquo; remarked Brock at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exact circumstances? Ah! That&rsquo;s what I want to know. Only
+      that woman knows the secret,&rdquo; answered the young man. &ldquo;All I
+      know is that the poor old guv&rsquo;-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&mdash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your father was murdered&mdash;eh?&rdquo; exclaimed the elder
+      man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most certainly he was. And that woman is aware of the whole
+      circumstances and of the identity of the assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a letter I afterwards opened&mdash;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 &lsquo;beware of that woman
+      you know&mdash;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.&rsquo; It bore the French
+      stamp and the postmark of Tours.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never knew all this,&rdquo; Brock said. &ldquo;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&mdash;who is
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SECOND CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CONCERNS A GUILTY SECRET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Just after seven o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Palmiers was a place where one met a merry cosmopolitan crowd, but
+      where the cocotte in her bright plumage was absent&mdash;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
+      &ldquo;a little loan.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hugh as his friend came down from his room to the
+      lounge, &ldquo;I suppose we ought to be going&mdash;eh? Dorise said
+      half-past seven, and we&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s to the Metropole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;smart.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mother and daughter greeted the two men enthusiastically, and at Lady
+      Ranscomb&rsquo;s orders the waiter brought them small glasses of an
+      aperitif.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been all day motoring up to the Col di Tenda. Sospel is
+      lovely!&rdquo; declared Dorise&rsquo;s mother. &ldquo;Have you ever been
+      there?&rdquo; she asked of Brock, who was an habitue of the Riviera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once and only once. I motored from Nice across to Turin,&rdquo; was
+      his reply. &ldquo;Yes. It is truly a lovely run there. The Alps are
+      gorgeous. I like San Dalmazzo and the chestnut groves there,&rdquo; he
+      added. &ldquo;But the frontiers are annoying. All those restrictions.
+      Nevertheless, the run to Turin is one of the finest I know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they rose, and all four walked into the crowded <i>salle-a-manger</i>,
+      where the chatter was in every European language, and the gay crowd were
+      gossiping mostly of their luck or their bad fortune at the <i>tapis vert</i>.
+      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 <i>en plein</i>
+      on thirty-six.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To those who visit &ldquo;Charley&rsquo;s Mount&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;records&rdquo;&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quartette enjoyed a costly but exquisite dinner, chatting and laughing
+      the while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men were friends of Lady Ranscomb and frequent visitors to her fine
+      house in Mount Street. Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s,
+      or the Embassy. Lady Ranscomb was Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had about six hundred a year&mdash;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&mdash;in order to get back what
+      was surely by right his inheritance?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, after all, as he again met Dorise&rsquo;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&mdash;and
+      especially young, good-looking widows with daughters &ldquo;on their hands&rdquo;&mdash;are
+      too prone to try and get rid of them &ldquo;because my daughter makes me
+      look so old,&rdquo; as they whisper to their intimates of their own age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner all four strolled across to the Casino, presenting their
+      yellow cards of admission&mdash;the monthly cards granted to those who are
+      approved by the smug-looking, black-coated committee of inspection, who
+      judge by one&rsquo;s appearance whether one had money to lose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise soon detached herself from her mother and strolled up the Rooms
+      with Hugh, Lady Ranscomb and Brock following.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Dorise exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look over there&mdash;at that table in the corner. There&rsquo;s
+      that remarkable woman they call &lsquo;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo&rsquo;!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>rapide</i> 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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I warned him to return to Paris. The fool! It is only what I
+      expected.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know of her?&rdquo; he asked in a casual way when they
+      were on the other side of the great saloon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, a Frenchman I met in the hotel the day before yesterday told
+      me all sorts of queer stories about her,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;She&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I noticed her playing this afternoon,&rdquo; Hugh said a moment
+      later in a quiet reflective tone. &ldquo;What do the gossips really say
+      about her, Dorise? All this is interesting. But there are so many
+      interesting people here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why dangerous?&rdquo; inquired Hugh in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That I don&rsquo;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&mdash;well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; added the
+      girl with a laugh, &ldquo;I suppose people gossip about everyone in this
+      place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was your informant?&rdquo; asked her lover, much interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then he probably knew more about her than he told you, I
+      expect.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt, for he warned my mother and myself against making her
+      acquaintance,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;He said she was a most
+      undesirable person.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Lady Ranscomb and Walter Brock joined them, whereupon the
+      former exclaimed to her daughter:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see that woman over there?&mdash;still playing&mdash;the
+      woman in black and the jade beads, against whom Monsieur Courtin warned
+      us?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mother, I noticed her. I&rsquo;ve just been telling Hugh about
+      her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A mysterious person&mdash;eh?&rdquo; laughed Hugh with
+      well-affected indifference. &ldquo;But one never knows who&rsquo;s who in
+      Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mademoiselle is apparently something of a mystery,&rdquo;
+      remarked Brock. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And one of the wealthiest&mdash;if report be true,&rdquo; said Lady
+      Ranscomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She fascinates me,&rdquo; Dorise declared. &ldquo;If Monsieur
+      Courtin had not warned us I should most probably have spoken to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear, you must do no such thing!&rdquo; cried her mother,
+      horrified. &ldquo;It was extremely kind of monsieur to give us the hint.
+      He has probably seen how unconventional you are, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, as they strolled on into the farther room, the conversation
+      dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So they&rsquo;ve heard about Mademoiselle, it seems!&rdquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; growled the other. &ldquo;I wish we could get hold of
+      that Monsieur Courtin. He might tell us a bit about her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt if he would. These French officials are always close as
+      oysters.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, I will try and make his acquaintance at the Metropole
+      to-morrow,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no harm in trying.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock
+      on the previous night by the <i>rapide</i> for Paris. He had been recalled
+      urgently, and a special <i>coupe-lit</i> had been reserved for him from
+      Ventimiglia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s, in Bucharest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! If she would only tell!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he kept on repeating to himself. &ldquo;If she would
+      only tell the truth&mdash;if she would only tell!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s death&mdash;and more, the reason of that
+      strange incomprehensible will which was intended to wed him to Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At four o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gad! She shall tell me! She shall! I&rsquo;ll compel her to speak&mdash;to
+      tell me the truth&mdash;or&mdash;or&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>terrasse</i> smoking and
+      listening to the weird music of the red-coated orchestra of Roumanian
+      gipsies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the evening, indeed, he idled, chatting with men and women he knew. <i>Carmen</i>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At eleven o&rsquo;clock he returned to the cafe and took a seat on the <i>terrasse</i>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His ring at the door was answered by a staid elderly Italian manservant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe Mademoiselle is at home,&rdquo; Hugh said in French.
+      &ldquo;I desire to see her, and also to apologize for the lateness of the
+      hour. My visit is one of urgency.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle sees nobody except by appointment,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s
+      polite but firm reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think she will see me if you give her this card,&rdquo; answered
+      Hugh in a strained, unusual voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some moments the servant did not reappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, standing there, entertained just a faint suspicion that he heard a
+      woman&rsquo;s shrill exclamation of surprise. And that sound emboldened
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, after an age it seemed, the man returned, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle will see you, Monsieur. Please come this way.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir? Pray what do you mean by resorting to this ruse in order
+      to see me? Who are you?&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was silent for a moment. Then in a hard voice he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The handsome woman smiled sarcastically and shrugged her half-bare
+      shoulders, her fingers trembling with her jade beads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Your father is dead&mdash;is he?&rdquo; she asked with an air
+      of indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. <i>He is dead</i>,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;I happen to be aware
+      that you knew my father, and&mdash;that you are cognizant of certain facts
+      concerning his mysterious end.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I!&rdquo; she cried, raising her voice in sudden indignation.
+      &ldquo;What on earth do you mean?&rdquo; She spoke in perfect English,
+      though he had hitherto spoken in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, Mademoiselle, that I intend to know the truth,&rdquo; said
+      Hugh, fixing his eyes determinedly upon hers. &ldquo;I am here to learn it
+      from your lips.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be mad!&rdquo; cried the woman. &ldquo;I know nothing of
+      the affair. You are mistaken!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you, then, deny that you have ever met a man named Charles
+      Benton?&rdquo; demanded the young fellow, raising his voice. &ldquo;Perhaps,
+      however, that is a bitter memory, Mademoiselle&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s son had utterly unnerved her.
+      What could he know concerning Charles Benton? How much of the affair did
+      he suspect?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met many people, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; she
+      replied quietly at last. &ldquo;I may have met somebody named Benton.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I see,&rdquo; the young man said. &ldquo;It is a memory that
+      you do not wish to recall any more than that of my dead father.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father was a good man. Benton was not.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you admit knowing both of them, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; cried
+      Hugh quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I&mdash;well&mdash;I may as well admit it! Why, indeed, should
+      I seek to hide the truth&mdash;<i>from you</i>,&rdquo; she said in a
+      changed voice. &ldquo;Pardon me. I was very upset at receiving the card.
+      Pardon me&mdash;will you not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not, unless you tell me the truth concerning my father&rsquo;s
+      death and his iniquitous will left concerning myself. I am here to
+      ascertain that, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I tell you&mdash;what then?&rdquo; she asked with knit
+      brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you tell me, then I am prepared to promise you on oath secrecy
+      concerning yourself&mdash;provided you allow me to punish those who are
+      responsible. Remember, my father died by foul means. <i>And you know it!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman faced him boldly, but she was very pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that is a promise?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You will protect me&mdash;you
+      will be silent regarding me&mdash;you swear to be so&mdash;if&mdash;if I
+      tell you something. I repeat that your father was a good man. I held him
+      in the highest esteem, and&mdash;and&mdash;after all&mdash;it is but right
+      that you, his son, should know the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you Mademoiselle. I will protect you if you will only reveal
+      to me the devilish plot which resulted in his untimely end,&rdquo; Hugh
+      assured her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she knit her brows and reflected for a few moments. Then in a low,
+      intense, unnatural voice she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Mr. Henfrey. I feel that, after all, my conscience would be
+      relieved if I revealed to you the truth. First&mdash;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&mdash;how&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that instant Hugh was startled by a bright flash outside the half-open
+      window, a loud report, followed by a woman&rsquo;s shrill shriek of pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THIRD CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      IN THE NIGHT
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey, startled by the sudden shot, shouted for assistance, and
+      then threw himself upon his knees beside the prostrate woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From a bullet wound over the right ear blood was slowly oozing and
+      trickling over her white cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Help! Help!&rdquo; he shouted loudly. &ldquo;Mademoiselle has been
+      shot from outside! <i>Help!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few seconds the elderly manservant burst into the room in a state of
+      intense excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick!&rdquo; cried Hugh. &ldquo;Telephone for a doctor at once. I
+      fear your mistress is dying!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey had placed his hand upon Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was every apparent sign that the small blue wound had proved fatal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Inform the police also!&rdquo; Hugh shouted to the elderly Italian
+      who was at the telephone in the adjoining room. &ldquo;The murderer must
+      be found!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time four female servants had entered the room where their
+      mistress was lying huddled and motionless. All of them were in <i>deshabille</i>.
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But why had Mademoiselle been shot just at the moment when she was about
+      to reveal the secret of his lamented father&rsquo;s death?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He descended to the garden, where he examined the bushes which cast their
+      dark shadows. But all was silence. The assassin had escaped!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having ordered everyone out of the room except Henfrey, he bent and made
+      an examination of the prostrate woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the unfortunate lady has
+      certainly been shot at close quarters. The wound is, I tell you at once,
+      extremely dangerous,&rdquo; he added, after a searching investigation.
+      &ldquo;But she is still alive,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;she is
+      still breathing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still alive!&rdquo; gasped Henfrey. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s excellent!
+      I&mdash;I feared that she was dead!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. She still breathes,&rdquo; the doctor replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will she recover, doctor?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly in French.
+      &ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little man became serious and shook his head gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur, that I cannot say,&rdquo; was his reply. &ldquo;She
+      is in a very grave state&mdash;very! And the brain may be affected.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh held his breath. <i>Surely Yvonne Ferad was not to die with the
+      secret upon her lips!</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the doctor&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; cried the elder, who was the one in authority, a tall,
+      lantern-jawed man with a dark brown beard and yellow teeth. &ldquo;Do not
+      touch that lady! What has happened here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh came forward, and in his best French explained the circumstances of
+      the tragedy&mdash;how Mademoiselle had been shot in his presence by an
+      unknown hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The assassin, whoever he was, stood out yonder&mdash;upon the
+      veranda&mdash;but I never saw him,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;It was all over
+      in a second&mdash;and he has escaped!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray who are you?&rdquo; demanded the police officer bluntly.
+      &ldquo;Please explain.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, I called upon Mademoiselle because I wished to obtain
+      some important information from her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What information? Rather late for a call, surely?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman hesitated. Then, with true British grit, he assumed
+      an attitude of boldness, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I compelled to answer that question?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Charles Ogier, chief inspector of the Surete of Monaco, and I
+      press for a reply,&rdquo; answered the other firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I, Hugh Henfrey, a British subject, at present decline to
+      satisfy you,&rdquo; was the young man&rsquo;s bold response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the lady still alive?&rdquo; inquired the inspector of Doctor
+      Leneveu.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I have ordered her to be taken up to her room&mdash;of course,
+      when m&rsquo;sieur the inspector gives permission.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the police officer; &ldquo;they had better take
+      her upstairs. We will remain here and make inquiries. This is a very queer
+      affair&mdash;to say the least,&rdquo; he added, glancing suspiciously at
+      Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Inspector Ogier was closely questioning the young
+      Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you knew the lady?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s mysterious death had been filched from
+      him by the hand of some unknown assassin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I did not know her personally,&rdquo; Henfrey replied somewhat
+      lamely. &ldquo;I came to call upon her, and she received me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you call at this hour? Could you not have called in the
+      daytime?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle was in the Rooms until late,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you followed her home&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The police officer pursed his lips and raised his eyes significantly at
+      his colleague.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was actually happening when the shot was fired? Describe
+      it to me, please,&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was standing just here&rdquo;&mdash;and he crossed the room and
+      stood upon the spot where he had been&mdash;&ldquo;Mademoiselle was over
+      there beside the window. I had my back to the window. She was about to
+      tell me something&mdash;to answer a question I had put to her&mdash;when
+      someone from outside shot her through the open glass door.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you did not see her assailant?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw nothing. The shot startled me, and, seeing her staggering, I
+      rushed to her. In the meantime the assailant&mdash;whoever he was&mdash;disappeared!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After all it was a very lame one. He would not fully admit the reason of
+      his visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; exclaimed the police officer.
+      &ldquo;It seems extraordinary that any person should creep along this
+      veranda.&rdquo; And he walked out and looked about in the moonlight.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree, monsieur,&rdquo; replied the Englishman. &ldquo;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&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite possibly,&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s assailant was outside&mdash;and
+      not inside?&rdquo; he asked, with a queer expression upon his aquiline
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh saw that he was hinting at his suspicion that he himself had shot
+      her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite certain,&rdquo; he assured him. &ldquo;Why do you ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have my own reasons,&rdquo; replied the police officer with a
+      hard laugh. &ldquo;Now, tell me what do you know about Mademoiselle Ferad?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Practically nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did you call upon her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unknown&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unknown to me. It might be known to Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was this information you so urgently desired?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some important information. I travelled from London to Monte Carlo
+      in order to obtain it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you had a motive in coming here&mdash;some strong motive,
+      I take it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. A very strong motive. I wanted her to clear up certain
+      mysterious happenings in England.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ogier was instantly alert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What happenings?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was silent for a few moments. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happenings in London that&mdash;well, that I do not wish to recall.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ogier again looked him straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suggest, M&rsquo;sieur Henfrey&rdquo;&mdash;for Hugh had given
+      him his name&mdash;&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, m&rsquo;sieur. She keeps herself apart. She is a mysterious
+      person&mdash;the most remarkable in all the Principality. We, at the
+      Bureau, have heard all sorts of curious stories concerning her&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so am I,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;I have a strong reason to be.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you tell me that reason?&rdquo; inquired the officer of the
+      Surete, still looking at him very shrewdly. &ldquo;Why fence with me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey hesitated. Then he replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a purely personal matter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet, you have said that you were not acquainted with
+      Mademoiselle!&rdquo; remarked Ogier suspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your theory is that while you stood in conversation with her
+      somebody crept along the veranda and shot her&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s service a little over five years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever seen this Englishman before?&rdquo; Ogier asked,
+      indicating Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, until to-night, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;He
+      called about twenty minutes after Mademoiselle&rsquo;s return from the
+      Rooms.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Mademoiselle quarrelled with anybody of late?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to my knowledge, m&rsquo;sieur. She is of a very quiet and even
+      disposition.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there anyone you know who might possess a motive to shoot her?&rdquo;
+      asked Ogier. &ldquo;The crime has not been committed with a motive of
+      robbery, but either out of jealousy or revenge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know of nobody,&rdquo; declared the highly respectable Italian,
+      whose moustache was tinged with grey. He shrugged his shoulders and showed
+      his palms as he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle arrived here two months ago, I believe?&rdquo; queried
+      the police official.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she ever live in London?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly,
+      interrupting Ogier&rsquo;s interrogation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;once. She had a furnished house on the Cromwell Road for
+      about six months.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long ago?&rdquo; asked Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please allow me to make my inquiries, monsieur!&rdquo; exclaimed
+      the detective angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the question I ask is of greatest importance to me in my own
+      inquiries,&rdquo; Hugh persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am here to discover the identity of Mademoiselle&rsquo;s
+      assailant,&rdquo; Ogier asserted. &ldquo;And I will not brook your
+      interference.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle has been shot, and it is for you to discover who fired
+      at her,&rdquo; snapped the young Englishman. &ldquo;I consider that I have
+      just as much right to put a question to this man as you have, that is&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      added with sarcasm&mdash;&ldquo;that is, of course, if you don&rsquo;t
+      suspect him of shooting his mistress.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I certainly do not suspect that,&rdquo; the Frenchman said.
+      &ldquo;But, to tell you candidly, your story of the affair strikes me as a
+      very improbable one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; laughed Hugh, &ldquo;I thought so! You suspect me&mdash;eh?
+      Very well. Where is the weapon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you have hidden it,&rdquo; suggested the other meaningly.
+      &ldquo;We shall, no doubt, find it somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will, and that will lead to the arrest of the guilty
+      person,&rdquo; Hugh laughed. Then he was about to put further questions to
+      the man Cataldi when Doctor Leneveu entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is she?&rdquo; demanded Hugh breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countenance of the fussy little doctor fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; he said in a low earnest voice, &ldquo;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!&rdquo; Then turning to Ogier, the doctor exclaimed:
+      &ldquo;This is an amazing affair&mdash;especially in face of what is
+      whispered concerning the unfortunate lady. What do you make of it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer of the Surete knit his brows, and with frankness replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I am entirely mystified&mdash;entirely mystified!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOURTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      WHAT THE DOSSIER CONTAINED
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Walter Brock was awakened at four o&rsquo;clock that morning by Hugh
+      touching him upon the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started up in bed and staring at his friend&rsquo;s pale, haggard face
+      exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&mdash;why, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo has been shot!&rdquo; the other replied
+      in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shot!&rdquo; gasped Brock, startled. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Briefly Hugh who had only just entered the hotel, explained the curious
+      circumstances&mdash;how, just at the moment she had been about to reveal
+      the secret of his father&rsquo;s death she was shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most extraordinary!&rdquo; declared his friend. &ldquo;Surely, we
+      have not been followed here by someone who is determined to prevent you
+      from knowing the truth!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems much like it, Walter,&rdquo; replied the younger man very
+      seriously. &ldquo;There must be some strong motive or no person would dare
+      to shoot her right before my eyes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed. Somebody who is concerned in your father&rsquo;s death has
+      adopted this desperate measure in order to prevent Mademoiselle from
+      telling you the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do the police say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do not appear to trouble to track Mademoiselle&rsquo;s
+      assailant. They say they will wait until daylight before searching for
+      footprints on the gravel outside.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! They are not very fond of making arrests within the
+      Principality. It&rsquo;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,&rdquo; Brock said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police, I believe, suspect me of shooting her,&rdquo; said Hugh
+      bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very awkward. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;they don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brock, who was still sitting up in bed in his pale blue silk pyjamas,
+      reflected a few moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Hugh,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;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&rsquo;s mysterious death, and in a frenzy of anger
+      you shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh drew a long breath, and his eyebrows narrowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! I had never regarded it in that light before!&rdquo; he
+      gasped. &ldquo;But what about the weapon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s a pity, old man, that you didn&rsquo;t
+      make a clean breast of the motive of your visit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I now see my horrible mistake,&rdquo; Henfrey admitted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which renders the situation only worse,&rdquo; Brock said. Then,
+      after a pause, he added: &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I intend to pursue that course. But the worst of it is, Walter,
+      that the doctors hold out no hope of Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;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&mdash;the dozens upon dozens of poor ruined
+      gamesters who are yearly laid to rest in the Suicides&rsquo; Cemetery&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sincerely hope they won&rsquo;t, otherwise it will go very hard
+      with me,&rdquo; Hugh said in a low, intense voice. &ldquo;Ah! What a night
+      it has been for me!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s death,&rdquo; remarked the elder man,
+      running his fingers through his hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is the position of this moment. But further, I am
+      suspected of the crime!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, the situation was most serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! m&rsquo;sieur, Mademoiselle is just the same,&rdquo; he
+      replied in response to Hugh&rsquo;s eager inquiry. &ldquo;The police have
+      gone, but Doctor Leneveu is still upstairs.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have the police searched the garden?&rdquo; inquired Hugh eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur. They made a thorough examination, but have
+      discovered no marks of footprints except those of yourself, myself, and a
+      tradesman&rsquo;s lad who brought up a parcel late last night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then they found no weapon?&rdquo; asked the young Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, m&rsquo;sieur. There is no clue whatever to the assailant.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curious that there should be no footmarks,&rdquo; remarked Brock.
+      &ldquo;Yet they found yours, Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. The man must surely have left some trace outside!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One would certainly have thought so,&rdquo; Brock said. &ldquo;I
+      wonder if we may go into the room where the tragedy happened?&rdquo; he
+      asked of the servant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the courteous reply, and he
+      conducted them both into the apartment wherein Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+      had been shot down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you accompany Mademoiselle when she went to London, Giulio?&rdquo;
+      asked young Henfrey of the old Italian, after he had described to Brock
+      exactly what had occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When in London you knew some of Mademoiselle&rsquo;s friends, I
+      suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few&mdash;only a few,&rdquo; was the Italian&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever know a certain Mr. Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old fellow shook his head blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to my knowledge, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember an elderly gentleman named Henfrey calling?&rdquo;
+      asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Cataldi reflected for a moment, and then answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The name sounds familiar to me, m&rsquo;sieur, but in what
+      connexion I cannot recollect. That is your name, is it not?&rdquo; he
+      asked, remembering the card he had taken to his mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I have reason to believe that my
+      late father was acquainted with your mistress, and that he called upon her
+      in London.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      the servant said. &ldquo;But whether he actually called, or whether
+      someone at table mentioned his name I really cannot recollect.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That&rsquo;s a pity,&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh with a sigh. &ldquo;As
+      a matter of fact it was in order to make certain inquiries regarding my
+      late father that I called upon Mademoiselle last night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Giulio Cataldi turned in pretence of rearranging a chair, but in reality
+      to avert his face from the young man&rsquo;s gaze&mdash;a fact which Hugh
+      did not fail to notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had he really told the truth when he declared that he could not recollect
+      his father calling?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long were you in London with Mademoiselle?&rdquo; asked
+      Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About six weeks&mdash;not longer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it because of some untoward occurrence that the old Italian did not
+      like London, Hugh wondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are quite sure that you do not recollect my father calling
+      upon your mistress?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have said, m&rsquo;sieur, I do not remember. Yet I recall the
+      name, as it is a rather unusual one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have never heard of Mr. Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cataldi shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; Hugh went on, &ldquo;tell me whether you entertain any
+      suspicions of anyone who might be tempted to kill your mistress.
+      Mademoiselle has enemies, has she not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows?&rdquo; exclaimed the man with the grey moustache and
+      small, black furtive eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone has enemies of one sort or another,&rdquo; Walter
+      remarked. &ldquo;And no doubt Mademoiselle has. It is for us to discover
+      the enemy who shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, it is, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; exclaimed the servant.
+      &ldquo;The poor Signorina! I do hope that the police will discover who
+      tried to kill her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For aught we know the attempt upon the lady&rsquo;s life may prove
+      successful after all,&rdquo; said Hugh despairingly. &ldquo;The doctors
+      hold out no hope of her recovery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None. A third doctor has been in consultation&mdash;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&mdash;<i>povera Signorina</i>! She was always so kind and considerate
+      to us all.&rdquo; And the old man&rsquo;s voice trembled with emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True, the story of the death of Hugh&rsquo;s father was an unusually
+      strange one, curious in every particular&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they walked back to the town Hugh&rsquo;s heart sank within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will die,&rdquo; he muttered bitterly to himself. &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll
+      die, and I shall never learn the truth of the poor guv&rsquo;nor&rsquo;s
+      sad end, or the reason why I am being forced to marry Louise Lambert.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an iniquitous will, Hugh!&rdquo; declared his friend.
+      &ldquo;And it&rsquo;s infernally hard on you that just at the very moment
+      when you could have learnt the truth that shot was fired.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think the woman had any hand in my father&rsquo;s death?&rdquo;
+      Hugh asked. &ldquo;Do you think that she had repented, and was about to
+      try and atone for what she had done by confessing the whole affair?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is just the view I take,&rdquo; answered Brock. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, then, it seems more than likely that I&rsquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so. There is a monetary motive behind your
+      marriage with Louise. If you died, your enemy would gain nothing. That
+      seems clear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who can be my secret enemy?&rdquo; asked the young man in
+      dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle alone knows that, and it was undoubtedly her intention
+      to warn you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But if she dies I shall remain in ignorance,&rdquo; he
+      declared in a hard voice. &ldquo;The whole affair is so tangled that I can
+      see nothing clearly&mdash;only that my refusal to marry Louise will mean
+      ruin to me&mdash;and I shall lose Dorise in the bargain!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s bullet was, they declared, most dangerous. Indeed,
+      the three medical men marvelled that she still lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Phare du Littoral.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before noon Hugh went to the telephone in the hotel and inquired of
+      Cataldi the progress of his mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is just the same, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; came the voice in
+      broken English. &ldquo;<i>Santa Madonna!</i> How terrible it all is!
+      Doctor Leneveu has left, and Doctor Duponteil is now here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have the police been again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, m&rsquo;sieur. Nobody has been,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh rang off and crossed the hall, little dreaming that the
+      well-dressed Frenchman had been highly interested in his questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later he went along to the Metropole, where he had an
+      engagement to lunch with Dorise and her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they met, however, Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Hugh, you look very pale. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; he laughed forcedly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not very
+      bright to-day. I think it was the sirocco of yesterday that has upset me a
+      little, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, while they were seated at table, Dorise suddenly exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! do you know, mother, that young French lady over yonder, Madame
+      Jacomet, has just told me something. There&rsquo;s a whisper that the
+      mysterious woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, was shot during the night
+      by a discarded lover!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shot!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady Ranscomb. &ldquo;Dear me! How very
+      dreadful. What really happened?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. Madame Jacomet was told by her husband, who
+      heard it in Ciro&rsquo;s this morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How terrible!&rdquo; remarked Hugh, striving to remain calm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But women of her class invariably come to a bad end,&rdquo;
+      remarked the widow. &ldquo;How pleased I am, Dorise, that you never spoke
+      to her. She&rsquo;s a most dreadful person, they say.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she evidently knows how to win money at the tables, mother,&rdquo;
+      said the girl, lifting her clear blue eyes to those of her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I wonder what the scandal is all about?&rdquo; said the
+      widow of the great engineer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! don&rsquo;t trouble to inquire Lady Ranscomb,&rdquo; Hugh
+      hastened to remark. &ldquo;One hears scandal on every hand in Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I suppose so,&rdquo; replied the elder woman, and then the
+      subject was dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between his thin lips was a long, thin, Swiss cigar&mdash;his favorite
+      smoke&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the pale yellow paper were many lines of typewriting in French&mdash;a
+      carbon copy evidently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was headed: &ldquo;Republique Francaise. Department of Herault.
+      Prefecture of Police. Bureau of the Director of Police. Reference Number
+      20197.B.,&rdquo; and was dated nearly a year before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It commenced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Copy of an &lsquo;information&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Extracts of reports concerning Marie Leullier, alias Yvonne Ferad,
+      are herewith appended:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London&mdash;to
+      the Prefecture of Police, Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Information from the Borough Police Office, Worthing, to the
+      Prefecture of Police, Department of Herault.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Charles Ogier, inspector of the detective police of Monaco, smiled,
+      laid down his cigar, and took up another and even more interesting
+      document.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ON THE HOG&rsquo;S BACK
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shapley, sir? Why, take the road there yonder up the hill till you
+      get to the main road which runs along the Hog&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll find the Manor on the left in among a
+      big clump of trees.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How far?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About a mile, sir.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger, the only passenger who had alighted, slipped sixpence into
+      the man&rsquo;s hand, buttoned his coat, and started out to walk in the
+      direction indicated, breasting the keen east wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;so I can
+      ring up for a car to fetch me&mdash;which is a consolation, after all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! good,&rdquo; said the caller. &ldquo;Just tell her I&rsquo;m
+      here.&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Manor was a spacious, well-furnished place, full of good pictures and
+      much old oak furniture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant passed along the corridor, and entering the drawing-room,
+      announced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton is here, ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Mr. Benton! Show him in,&rdquo; cried his mistress
+      enthusiastically. &ldquo;Show him in at once!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Charles? So you&rsquo;ve discovered me here, eh?&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, jumping up and taking his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Molly. And you seem to have very comfortable quarters,&rdquo;
+      laughed Benton as he threw himself unceremoniously into a chintz-covered
+      armchair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are, I assure you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I suppose you&rsquo;re quite a great lady in these parts&mdash;eh?&mdash;now
+      that you live at Shapley Manor. Where&rsquo;s Louise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went up to town this morning. She won&rsquo;t be back till
+      after dinner. She&rsquo;s with her old school-fellow&mdash;that girl
+      Bertha Trench.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good. Then we can have a chat. I&rsquo;ve several things to consult
+      you about and ask your opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have some tea first,&rdquo; urged his good-looking hostess, pouring
+      him some into a Crown Derby cup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he commenced. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve done quite
+      well to take this place, as you&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure of that, Charles?&rdquo; she asked, fixing her big
+      grey eyes upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certain. It was the wisest course to get back here to England,
+      although you had to take a very round-about journey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the girl believed it, of course,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. She believes anything I tell her,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      present surroundings from that stuffy little flat <i>au troisieme</i> in
+      the Rue Racine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You had a very narrow escape, Molly. I
+      dared not come near you, but I knew that you&rsquo;d look after the girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I always look after her as though she were my own child.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton&rsquo;s lip curled as he sipped his China tea, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because so much depends upon her&mdash;eh? I&rsquo;m glad you view
+      the situation from a fair and proper stand-point. We&rsquo;re now out for
+      a big thing, therefore we must not allow any little hitch to prevent us
+      from bringing it off successfully.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite agree, Charles. Our great asset is Louise. But she must be
+      innocent of it all. She must know absolutely nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True. If she had an inkling that we were forcing her to marry Hugh
+      she would fiercely resent it. She&rsquo;s a girl of spirit, after all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Charles, I know that,&rdquo; laughed the woman. &ldquo;Ever
+      since she came home from school I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not overlooked that,&rdquo; the man said. &ldquo;But of late
+      I&rsquo;ve come to fear that we are treading upon thin ice. I don&rsquo;t
+      like the look of affairs at the present moment. Young Henfrey is head over
+      ears in love with that girl Dorise Ranscomb, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! It&rsquo;s only a flirtation, my dear Charles,&rdquo; laughed
+      the woman. &ldquo;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&rsquo;ll
+      fall into Louise&rsquo;s arms. She&rsquo;s really very fond of him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She may be, but he takes no notice of her. She told me so the other
+      day. He&rsquo;s gone to the Riviera&mdash;followed Dorise, I suppose,&rdquo;
+      Benton said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne wrote me a few days ago to say that he was there with a
+      friend of his named Walter Brock. Who&rsquo;s he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are both out at Monte Carlo, Yvonne says. And Henfrey is with
+      Dorise daily,&rdquo; remarked the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne is always apprehensive lest young Henfrey should learn the
+      secret of the old fellow&rsquo;s end,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t
+      see how the truth of the&mdash;well, rather ugly affair can ever come out,
+      except by an indiscretion by one or other of us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is scarcely likely, Charles, is it?&rdquo; his hostess
+      laughed as she pushed across to him a big silver box of cigarettes and
+      then reclined lazily among her cushions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It would certainly be a very sensational affair if the
+      newspapers got hold of the facts, my dear Molly. But don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall have to exercise a good deal of discretion and caution in
+      regard to Louise,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;The affair is not at all so
+      plain sailing as I at first believed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It is a serious contretemps that you had to leave Paris, Molly,&rdquo;
+      agreed her well-dressed visitor. &ldquo;The young American was a fool, of
+      course, but I think&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne is evidently keeping a good watch upon young Hugh,&rdquo;
+      remarked Benton presently, as he blew a ring of cigarette smoke towards
+      the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the scene of so many unseemly wrangles among the
+      robed and cocked-hatted borough councillors who are, <i>par excellence</i>,
+      outstanding illustrations of the provincial petty jealousies of bumbledom&mdash;Mrs.
+      Bond was welcomed by the trades-people who vied with each other to &ldquo;serve
+      her.&rdquo; 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 <i>Surrey Advertiser</i>. He had
+      been in the Queen&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mead, who went on his &ldquo;push-bike&rdquo; every evening along the Hog&rsquo;s
+      Back to Guildford, was never tired of singing the praises of his generous
+      mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s a real good sort,&rdquo; he would tell his friends in
+      the bar of the Lion or the Angel. &ldquo;She knows how to treat a man. She&rsquo;s
+      a widow, and good-looking. I suppose she&rsquo;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&rsquo;t to be sneezed at, I can tell you. It&rsquo;s
+      better than driving a lorry outside Ypres!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know, Charles,&rdquo; she said presently, &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s what we must prevent, my dear Molly!&rdquo; exclaimed
+      the lady&rsquo;s visitor. &ldquo;Think of all it means to us. You are
+      quite safe here&mdash;as safe as I am to-day. But we can&rsquo;t last out
+      without money&mdash;either of us. We must have cash-money&mdash;and
+      cash-money always.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That&rsquo;s so. But Yvonne is wonderful&mdash;amazing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t the same stake in the affair as we have.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked the woman for whom the European police were
+      in search.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because she is rich&mdash;she&rsquo;s won pots of money at
+      the tables&mdash;and we&mdash;well, both of us have only limited means.
+      Yours, Molly, are larger than mine&mdash;thanks to Frank. But I must have
+      money soon. My expenses in town are mounting up daily.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your rooms don&rsquo;t cost you very much! Old Mrs. Evans looks
+      after things as she has always done.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      he added with a light laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll stay and have dinner, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; urged
+      his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I do Louise may return, and just now I don&rsquo;t want to meet
+      her. It is better not.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she won&rsquo;t be back till the last train to Guildford. Mead
+      is meeting her. Yes&mdash;stay.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must get a car to take me back to town. I have to go to Glasgow
+      by the early train in the morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;re order one from one of the garages in Guildford.
+      You really must stay, Charles. There&rsquo;s lots we have to talk over&mdash;a
+      lot of things that are of vital consequence to us both.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment there came a rap at the door and the young manservant
+      entered, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re wanted on the telephone, ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bond rose from the settee and went to the telephone in the library,
+      where she heard the voice of a female telephone operator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that Shapley Manor?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I have a telegram
+      for Mrs. Bond. Handed in at Nice at two twenty-five, received here at four
+      twenty-eight. &lsquo;To Bond, Shapley Manor, near Guildford. Yvonne shot
+      by some unknown person while with Hugh. In grave danger.&mdash;S.&rsquo;
+      That is the message. Have you got it please?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bond held her breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Anything else?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, madam,&rdquo; replied the telephone operator at the Guildford
+      Post Office. &ldquo;Nothing else. I will forward the duplicate by post.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she switched off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SIXTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FACING THE UNKNOWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      That the police were convinced that Hugh Henfrey had shot Mademoiselle was
+      plain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wherever he went an agent of detective police followed him. At the Cafe de
+      Paris as he took his aperitif on the <i>terrasse</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after luncheon he met Dorise and her mother in the Rooms. With them
+      were the Comte d&rsquo;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 <i>en plein</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Hugh succeeded in getting Dorise alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s awfully stuffy here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s
+      go outside&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;Azur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They turned the corner by the Palais des Beaux Arts into the Boulevard
+      Peirara.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s walk out of the town,&rdquo; he suggested to the girl.
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m tired of the place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I, Hugh,&rdquo; Dorise admitted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s womenfolk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the pair went along in the welcome shadows, for the sun fell strong
+      upon the tumbling stream, Hugh was remarking upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been at Monte Carlo with his father before the war, and realized
+      the change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish mother would move on,&rdquo; Dorise exclaimed as they
+      strolled slowly together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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
+      <i>couturiere</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you also are tired of the place?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;Mother promised to spend Easter
+      in Florence. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Somebody in the hotel has put her off. An old Englishwoman who
+      lives in Florence told her that there&rsquo;s nothing to see beyond the
+      Galleries, and that the place is very catty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh laughed and replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you must persuade your mother to take you,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be easily persuaded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. She doesn&rsquo;t like travelling in Italy. She
+      once had her dressing-case stolen from the train between Milan and Genoa,
+      so she&rsquo;s always horribly bitter against all Italians.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are thieves also on English railways, Dorise,&rdquo; Hugh
+      remarked. &ldquo;People are far too prone to exaggerate the shortcomings
+      of foreigners, and close their eyes to the faults of the British.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But everybody is not so cosmopolitan as you are, Hugh,&rdquo; the
+      girl laughed, raising her eyes to those of her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you sigh?&rdquo; asked the girl, having noticed a change in
+      her companion ever since they had met in the Rooms. He seemed strangely
+      thoughtful and preoccupied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; he asked, suddenly pulling himself together. &ldquo;I
+      didn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he added with a forced laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t look yourself to-day, Hugh,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been told that once before,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;The
+      weather&mdash;I think! Are you going over to the <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice
+      to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And you are coming also. Hasn&rsquo;t mother asked you?&rdquo;
+      she inquired in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How silly! She must have forgotten. She told me she intended to ask
+      you to have a seat in the car. The Comte d&rsquo;Autun is coming with us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He admires you, Dorise, hence I don&rsquo;t like him,&rdquo;
+      Hugh blurted forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, surely, you&rsquo;re not jealous, you dear old thing!&rdquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like him because he seems to live by gambling,&rdquo;
+      Hugh declared. &ldquo;I know your mother likes him very much&mdash;of
+      course!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she likes you, too, dear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She may like me, but I fear she begins to suspect that we love each
+      other, dearest,&rdquo; he said in a hard tone. &ldquo;If she does, she
+      will take care in future to keep us apart, and I&mdash;I shall lose you,
+      Dorise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;no, you won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Hugh, you are awfully pessimistic to-day,&rdquo; the girl
+      cried. &ldquo;What is up with you? Have you lost heavily at the tables&mdash;or
+      what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I have been thinking of the future,&rdquo; he said in a hard
+      voice so very unusual to him. &ldquo;I am thinking of your mother&rsquo;s
+      choice of a husband for you&mdash;George Sherrard.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate him&mdash;the egotistical puppy!&rdquo; exclaimed the girl,
+      her fine eyes flashing with anger. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never marry him&mdash;<i>never</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hugh Henfrey made no reply, and they went on together in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you trust me, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl at last in a low
+      earnest tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s a rich man, and your
+      mother adores the Golden Calf.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know she does. If people have money she wants to know them. Her
+      first inquiry is whether they have money.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on the tip of Hugh&rsquo;s tongue to remark with sarcasm that such
+      ideals might well be expected of the wife of a jerry-builder in Golder&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Your mother has not asked me over to
+      Nice to-night because she believes you and I have been too much together
+      of late.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; declared Dorise. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s not
+      that, Hugh&mdash;I&rsquo;m quite sure! It&rsquo;s simply an oversight. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t mention it to her on any account, Dorise,&rdquo;
+      Hugh urged. &ldquo;If you did it would at once show her that you preferred
+      my company to that of the Count. Go with him. I shan&rsquo;t be jealous!
+      Besides, in view of my financial circumstances, what right have I to be
+      jealous? You can&rsquo;t marry a fellow like myself, Dorise. It wouldn&rsquo;t
+      be fair to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl halted. In her eyes shone the light of unshed tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh! What do you mean? What are you saying?&rdquo; she asked in a
+      low, faltering voice. &ldquo;Have I not told you that whatever happens I
+      shall never love another man but yourself?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my darling,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Thank you for
+      those words. They put into me a fresh hope, a fresh determination, and a
+      fearlessness&mdash;oh! you&mdash;you don&rsquo;t know!&rdquo; he added in
+      a low, earnest voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I know, Hugh, is that you love me,&rdquo; was the simple
+      response as she reciprocated his fierce caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love you, darling!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Yes. You are mine&mdash;mine!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, Hugh. I love no other man. I hate that tailor&rsquo;s dummy,
+      George Sherrard, and as for the Count&mdash;well, he&rsquo;s an idiotic
+      Frenchman&mdash;the &lsquo;hardy annual of Monte Carlo&rsquo; I heard him
+      called the other day. No, Hugh, I assure you that you have no cause for
+      jealousy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she smiled sweetly into his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it, darling! I know it,&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Hugh,&rdquo; exclaimed the girl, still clasped in her
+      lover&rsquo;s arms. &ldquo;But somehow you don&rsquo;t seem your old self
+      to-day. What is the matter? Can&rsquo;t you tell me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, darling. Excuse me. I&mdash;I&rsquo;m a bit upset that&rsquo;s
+      all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m upset because for the last day or two I have begun to
+      realize that our secret must very soon come out, and then&mdash;well, your
+      mother will forbid me the house because I have no money. You know that she
+      worships Mammon always&mdash;just as your father did&mdash;forgive me for
+      my words.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do forgive you because you speak the truth,&rdquo; Dorise
+      replied. &ldquo;I know that mother wants me to marry a rich man, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she will compel you to do so, darling. I am convinced of that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won&rsquo;t!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;I will never marry a
+      man I do not love!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother, if she doesn&rsquo;t suspect our compact, will soon do
+      so,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s a clever woman. She is on the
+      alert, because she intends you to marry soon, and to marry a rich man.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she looked straight into his eyes as she broke off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;because&mdash;because I love
+      you, Hugh!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling! You have never been so frank with me before,&rdquo; he
+      said softly. &ldquo;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!&rdquo; and clasping her again tightly in
+      his arms he pressed his lips fondly to hers in a long passionate embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;indeed, a double secret&mdash;that of his revered
+      father&rsquo;s mysterious end and the inexplicable attack upon Yvonne
+      Ferad at the very moment when he had been about to learn the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise little dreamed that if her lover married her he would inherit the
+      remainder of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do come over to the ball at Nice to-night,&rdquo; the girl urged
+      presently as they stood with hands clasped gazing into each other&rsquo;s
+      eyes. &ldquo;It will be nothing without you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling, that&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate him!&rdquo; Dorise declared. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s all elegance,
+      bows and flattery. He bores me to death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. He gave us an awfully good time in Paris last season&mdash;took
+      us to Longchamps, and we afterwards went to Deauville with him. He wins
+      and loses big sums on the turf.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A born gambler. Everyone knows that. I heard a lot about him in the
+      Travellers&rsquo; Club, in Paris.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if mother telephones to you, you&rsquo;ll come with us&mdash;won&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo; entreated the girl again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man hesitated. His mind was full of the tragic affair of the
+      previous night. He was wondering whether the end had come&mdash;whether
+      Mademoiselle&rsquo;s lips were already sealed by Death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave an evasive reply, whereupon Dorise, taking his hand in hers, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your objection to going out with us to-night, Hugh? Do tell
+      me. If you don&rsquo;t wish me to go, I&rsquo;ll make an excuse to mother
+      and she can take the Count.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not the slightest objection,&rdquo; he declared at once.
+      &ldquo;Go, dearest&mdash;only leave me out of it. The <i>bal blanc</i> is
+      always good fun.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not go if you refuse to go,&rdquo; she said with a pout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore in order to please her he consented&mdash;providing Lady
+      Ranscomb invited him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle is still unconscious, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the
+      servant&rsquo;s reply to his eager inquiry. &ldquo;The doctors have been
+      several times this afternoon, but they hold out no hope.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if I can be of any assistance?&rdquo; Hugh asked in
+      French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not, m&rsquo;sieur. What assistance can any of us give poor
+      Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, what indeed, Hugh thought as he put down the receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His marriage with Dorise, indeed his whole future, depended upon the
+      disclosure of the clever plot whereby Louise Lambert was to become his
+      wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dressed slowly, and having done so, descended to the <i>salle a manger</i>.
+      The big white room was filled with a gay, reckless cosmopolitan crowd&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brock was not there, and he seated himself alone at their table near the
+      long-curtained window. He was surprised at his friend&rsquo;s absence.
+      Perhaps, however, he had met friends and gone over to Beaulieu, Nice, or
+      Mentone with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that recklessness jarred upon the young man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had brushed his hair and rearranged his tie, and was about to put on
+      the pierrot&rsquo;s costume of white satin with big buttons of black
+      velvet which he had worn at the <i>bal blanc</i> at Mentone about a week
+      before, when the page handed him another note.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Written in a distinctly foreign hand, it read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s delay is dangerous to you. Do not trouble to
+      find out who sends you this warning! <i>Bon voyage!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But who was his unknown friend?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick, signore!&rdquo; he whispered excitedly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s be off and trust to our good fortune in getting away. I will
+      tell the officers of the <i>dogana</i> at Ventimiglia a good story&mdash;trust
+      me! I haven&rsquo;t been smuggling backwards and forwards for ten years
+      without knowing the ropes!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where are we going?&rdquo; asked Hugh bewildered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, signore, are going to prison if we fail on this venture, I
+      fear,&rdquo; was the rough-looking driver&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was going forth to face the unknown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FROM DARK TO DAWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      road over the yellow rocks which Napoleon made into Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had arrived at the frontier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>dogana</i>
+      he was reclining upon a cushion presenting quite a pathetic figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But who had made all these preparations for his flight?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Buona sera, signore</i>!&rdquo; cried the chauffeur merrily, as
+      a Customs officer in uniform came forward. &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s my driving
+      licence and papers for the car. And our two passports.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you anything to declare?&rdquo; he added in Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half a dozen very bad cigarettes,&rdquo; replied the other,
+      laughing. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re French! And also I&rsquo;ve got a very bad
+      cold! No duty on that, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chauffeur realized that the moment was a critical one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was rolling a cigarette unconcernedly, but bending to the Customs
+      officer, he said in a low voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My <i>padrone</i> is an <i>Americano</i>. 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&rsquo;ve got to take
+      him to Professor Landrini, in Turin. He&rsquo;s pretty bad. We&rsquo;ve
+      come from Hyeres. His doctor ordered me to take him to Turin at once. We
+      don&rsquo;t want any delay. He told me to give you this,&rdquo; and he
+      slipped a note for a hundred lire into the man&rsquo;s hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer expressed surprise, but the merry chauffeur of the rich
+      American exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry. The <i>Americano</i> is very rich; I only wish
+      there were more of his sort about. He&rsquo;s the great Headon, the
+      meat-canner of Chicago. You see his name on the tins.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man recognized the name, and at once desisted in his examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then to the two police officers who came to his side, he explained:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was a well-known American&mdash;the Customs officer had mentioned the
+      name of Headon, which both police officers recognized&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides, the chauffeur, in full view of the two police agents, slipped a
+      second note into the hand of the Customs officer, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So all is well, isn&rsquo;t it, signori? Just visa my papers, and
+      we&rsquo;ll get along. It looks as though we&rsquo;re to have a bad
+      thunderstorm, and, if so, we shall catch it up on the Col di Tenda!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was being watched with breathless anxiety by the supposed invalid
+      reclining against the cushion with his crutches at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the mysterious chauffeur reappeared, and with him the French police
+      officer in plain clothes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are keeping watch for a young Englishman from Monte Carlo who
+      has shot a woman,&rdquo; remarked the latter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! But they arrested him to-night in Mentone,&rdquo; replied the
+      driver. &ldquo;I heard it half an hour ago as I came through.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they told me so at the Garage Grimaldi. He shot a woman known
+      as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo&mdash;didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s the man! But they have not informed us yet. I&rsquo;ll
+      telephone to Mentone.&rdquo; Then he added: &ldquo;As a formality I&rsquo;ll
+      just have a peep at your master.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chauffeur held his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s pretty bad, I think. I hope we shall be in Turin early
+      in the morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Advancing to the car, the police officer opened the door and flashed his
+      torch upon the occupant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we?&rdquo; he asked faintly in English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the Italian <i>douane</i>, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the police
+      officer&rsquo;s reply, as for a few seconds he gazed upon the invalid&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the door remained open there was danger. At last, however, the man
+      reclosed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh&rsquo;s heart gave a great bound. The chauffeur had restarted the
+      engine, and mounting to the wheel shouted a merry:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Buona notte, signori</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the car moved away along the winding road and Hugh knew that he was
+      on Italian soil&mdash;that he had happily escaped from France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was the mystery of it all? Ay, what indeed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So far Dorise knew nothing of Hugh&rsquo;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 <i>escrocs</i> of Europe gather at the <i>tapis
+      vert</i> in winter and spring, it is not surprising that they close their
+      eyes to such minor crimes as theft, blackmail and false pretences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late, and few people were about in the narrow, ill-lit streets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, a couple of Italian carabineers stopped the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh&rsquo;s heart beat quickly. Had they at the <i>dogana</i> discovered
+      the trick and telephoned from the frontier?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another lamp was flashed upon his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carabineer asked in Italian:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your name, signore?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hugh, pretending that he did not understand the language, asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? What?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here are our papers, signore,&rdquo; interrupted the ever-ready
+      chauffeur, and he produced the papers for the officer&rsquo;s inspection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at them, bending to read them by the light of the torch which
+      his companion held.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after an officious gesture, he handed them back, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Benissimo</i>! You may pass!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh realised that his guide&rsquo;s intention was to go in the direction
+      of Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh got out and said in French:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, so far we&rsquo;ve been successful. I admire your ingenuity
+      and your pluck.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man laughed and thanked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done what I was told to do,&rdquo; he replied simply.
+      &ldquo;Monsieur is, I understand, in a bit of a scrape, and it is for all
+      of us to assist each other&mdash;is it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. But who told you to do all this?&rdquo; Hugh inquired,
+      standing in the dark road beside the car. The pair could not see each
+      other&rsquo;s faces, though the big head-lamps glared far ahead over the
+      white road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;a friend of yours, m&rsquo;sieur.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is his name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon, I am not allowed to say.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is so very strange&mdash;so utterly mysterious!&rdquo;
+      cried Hugh. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the fellow&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;At the <i>dogana</i>, 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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Again I admire your perfect nonchalance and ingenuity,&rdquo; Hugh
+      said. &ldquo;I owe my liberty entirely to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not liberty, m&rsquo;sieur. We are not yet what you say in English
+      &lsquo;out of the wood.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we going now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Genoa. We ought to be there by early morning,&rdquo; was the
+      reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what shall we do in Genoa?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us get there first&mdash;and see.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I wish you would tell me who you are&mdash;and why you take
+      such a keen interest in my welfare,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man gave vent to an irritating laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not permitted to disclose the identity of your friend,&rdquo;
+      he answered. &ldquo;All I know is that you are innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then perhaps you know the guilty person?&rdquo; Hugh suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Let us talk of something else, signore,&rdquo; was the
+      mysterious chauffeur&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I confess to you that I am bent upon solving the mystery of
+      Mademoiselle&rsquo;s assailant. It means a very great deal to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;If the culprit is found, then there
+      would no longer be any suspicion against myself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably he never will be found,&rdquo; the man said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, how did you know about the affair, and why are you
+      risking arrest by driving me to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have reasons,&rdquo; was all he would say. &ldquo;I obey the
+      demands of those who are your friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They desire to conceal their identity. There is a strong reason why
+      this should be done.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they not protecting one who is suspected of a serious crime? If
+      discovered they would be punished,&rdquo; was the quiet response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! There is some hidden motive behind all this!&rdquo; declared
+      the young Englishman. &ldquo;I rather regret that I did not remain and
+      face the music.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have been far too dangerous, signore. Your enemies would
+      have contrived to convict you of the crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My enemies&mdash;but who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that, signore, I am ignorant. Only I have been told that you
+      have enemies, and very bitter ones.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have committed no crime, and yet I am a fugitive from
+      justice!&rdquo; Hugh cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You escaped in the very nick of time,&rdquo; the man replied.
+      &ldquo;But had we not better be moving again? We must be in Genoa by
+      daybreak.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do, I beg of you, tell me more,&rdquo; the young man implored.
+      &ldquo;To whom do I owe my liberty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have already told you, signore, you owe it to those who intend
+      to protect you from a false charge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But there is a lady in the case,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;I
+      fear that if she hears that I am a fugitive she will misjudge me and
+      believe me to be guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably so. That is, I admit, unfortunate&mdash;but, alas! it
+      cannot be avoided. It was, however, better for you to get out of France.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you think I am safe in Italy?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, not by any means. You are not an Italian subject. No, you
+      must not be very long in Italy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what am I to do when we get to Genoa?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signore had better wait until we arrive there,&rdquo; was the
+      driver&rsquo;s enigmatical reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What could it all mean? What, indeed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EIGHTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE WHITE CAVALIER
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The great <i>bal blanc</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what prevented Hugh from coming with us, mother?&rdquo;
+      the girl remarked as she sat with Lady Ranscomb watching the merriment and
+      the throwing of serpentines and confetti.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. He certainly ought to have let me know, and not
+      have kept me waiting nearly half an hour, as he did,&rdquo; her mother
+      snapped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not reply. The truth was that while her mother and the Count
+      had been waiting for Hugh&rsquo;s appearance, she had gone to the
+      telephone and inquired for Mr. Henfrey. Walter Brock had spoken to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m awfully sorry, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he had replied.
+      &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know where Hugh can be. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very curious, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Dorise remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very. I can&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he promised to go with us to the ball at Nice to-night!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Ranscomb, all I can think is that something&mdash;something
+      very important must have detained him somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Walter knew that his friend was suspected by the police, but dared not
+      tell her the truth. Hugh&rsquo;s disappearance had caused him considerable
+      anxiety because, for aught he knew, he might already be arrested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are few merrier gatherings in all Europe than the <i>bal blanc</i>.
+      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&mdash;the two shades of
+      colour chosen yearly by the International Fetes Committee&mdash;are
+      abandoned, and only white is worn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh must have been detained by something very unexpected, mother,&rdquo;
+      Dorise said. &ldquo;He never disappoints us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he does. One night we were going to the Embassy Club&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+      you recollect it&mdash;and he never turned up.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may have been indisposed, mother,&rdquo; Dorise said. &ldquo;Really
+      I think you judge him just a little too harshly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;s fatal!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I believe it&mdash;I firmly believe it,&rdquo; declared Lady
+      Ranscomb. &ldquo;Your poor father pointed it out to me long ago, and I
+      find that what he said is too true.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we can&rsquo;t all be lucky, mother,&rdquo; said the girl,
+      watching the revelry before her blankly as she reflected upon the mystery
+      of Hugh&rsquo;s absence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. But we can, nevertheless, be rich, if we look always to the
+      main chance and make the best of our opportunities,&rdquo; her mother said
+      meaningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the Count d&rsquo;Autun approached them. He was dressed as
+      a pierrot, but being masked was only recognizable by the fine ruby ring
+      upon his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will mademoiselle do me the honour?&rdquo; he said in French,
+      bowing elegantly. &ldquo;They are dancing in the theatre. Will you come,
+      Mademoiselle Dorise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delighted,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To lift one&rsquo;s <i>loup</i> 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, <i>escrocs</i>, and the most
+      notorious adventurers and adventuresses in all Europe. Truly, it was a
+      never-to-be-forgotten scene of cosmopolitan fun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Count, who was a bad dancer, collided with a slim, well-dressed French
+      girl, but did not apologize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! la la!&rdquo; cried the girl to her partner, a stout figure in
+      Mephistophelian garb. &ldquo;An exquisitely polite gentleman that, mon
+      cher Alphonse! I believe he must really be the Pork King from Chicago&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Count heard it, and was furious. Dorise, however, said nothing. She
+      was thinking of Hugh&rsquo;s strange disappearance, and how he had broken
+      his word to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Lady Ranscomb, secretly very glad that Hugh had been prevented
+      from accompanying them, and centring all her hopes upon her daughter&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s absence.
+      She was devoted to Hugh. He was all in all to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About half-past one o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he muttered in English beneath his breath. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+      she&mdash;without a doubt!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;Autun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier pretended to take no interest in them, but was,
+      nevertheless, watching intently. At last he saw the girl&rsquo;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&rsquo;s side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please do not betray surprise, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he said in a
+      low, refined voice. &ldquo;We may be watched. But I have a message for
+      you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me?&rdquo; she asked, peering through her mask at the man in
+      the plumed hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I cannot speak to you here. It is too public. Besides,
+      your mother yonder may notice us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked the girl, naturally curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not let us talk here. See, right over yonder in the corner
+      behind where they are dancing in a ring&mdash;under the balcony. Let us
+      meet there at once. <i>Au revoir</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, who are you?&rdquo; Dorise inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m Mr. X,&rdquo; was his reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. X? Who&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Myself. But my name matters nothing, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I have come here to give you a confidential message.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why confidential&mdash;and from whom?&rdquo; she asked, standing
+      against the wall and surveying the mysterious masker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From a gentleman friend of yours&mdash;Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From Hugh?&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Do you know him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expected him to come with us to-night, but he has vanished from
+      his hotel.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. That is why I am here,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a note in the stranger&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said you had a message for me,&rdquo; she remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I am here to tell you that a serious
+      contretemps has occurred, and that Mr. Henfrey has escaped from France.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Escaped!&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because the police suspect him of a crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crime! What crime? Surely he is innocent?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will he write to me?&rdquo; she asked in despair. &ldquo;Surely
+      he will not keep me in suspense?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+      Then, lowering his voice, he urged her to move away, as he thought that an
+      idling masker was trying to overhear their conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he went on a few moments later, &ldquo;it might be
+      dangerous if he were to write to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was thinking of what her mother would say when the truth reached
+      her ears. Hugh was a <i>fugitive</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what crime is he suspected?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, I don&rsquo;t exactly know,&rdquo; was the stranger&rsquo;s
+      faltering response. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know where he is now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least. All I know is that he is safely across the
+      frontier into Italy,&rdquo; was the reply of the tall white cavalier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could see your face,&rdquo; declared Dorise frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that a message from Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;not exactly. It is a message from one who is his friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very mysterious,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;If you do not
+      know where he is at the moment, perhaps you know where we can find him
+      later.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But do let me know your name,&rdquo;
+      she implored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any old name is good enough for me,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Call
+      me Mr. X.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t mystify me further, please.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, call me Smith, Jones, Robinson&mdash;whatever you like.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you refuse to satisfy my curiosity&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret that I am compelled to do so&mdash;for certain reasons.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a detective?&rdquo; Dorise suddenly inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were a police officer I should scarcely act as an intermediary
+      between Mr. Henfrey and yourself, Miss Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo; she asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I repeat that he is entirely innocent,&rdquo; was the earnest
+      response. &ldquo;But I would advise you to affect ignorance. The police
+      may question you. If they do, you know nothing, remember&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how long will it be before I can see him again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That I cannot tell. There is a mystery underlying it all that
+      even I cannot fathom, Miss Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of mystery?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am bewildered!&rdquo; the girl declared. &ldquo;It is all so very
+      mysterious&mdash;Hugh a fugitive from justice! I&mdash;I really cannot
+      believe it! What can the mystery be?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the masked man said
+      very politely. &ldquo;And now I think we must part. Perhaps if ever we
+      meet again&mdash;which is scarcely probable&mdash;you will recognize my
+      voice. And always recollect that should you or Mr. Henfrey ever receive a
+      message from &lsquo;Silverado&rsquo; it will be from myself.&rdquo; And he
+      spelt the name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silverado. Yes, I shall not forget you, my mysterious friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo; he said as, bowing gracefully, he turned
+      and left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not sleep before she had sent him a reassuring message.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly noon next day before she left her room, yet almost as soon
+      as she had descended in the lift the head <i>femme de chambre</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NINTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CONCERNS THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Hugh got out, the mysterious man, whose face was more forbidding in
+      the light of day, exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, all this is very strange!&rdquo; remarked Hugh, utterly
+      bewildered as he glanced at the forbidding-looking chauffeur and the
+      dust-covered car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree, signore,&rdquo; the man laughed. &ldquo;But get in again
+      and I will drive to the Via della Maddalena.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the third flight Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as she saw the chauffeur she welcomed him, addressing him as
+      Paolo, and invited them in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the English signore,&rdquo; explained the man. &ldquo;He
+      has come to stay with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signore is welcome,&rdquo; replied the old woman as she
+      clattered into the narrow, cheaply furnished little sitting-room, which
+      was in half darkness owing to the <i>persiennes</i> being closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, it was an uninviting place, which smelt of garlic and of the
+      paraffin oil with which the tiled floors had been rubbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will require another certificate of identity, signore,&rdquo;
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where on earth did you get this from?&rdquo; asked Hugh, noticing
+      that it was a replica of the United States consular seal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man smiled, replying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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!&rdquo; And he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh took the passport and the disc, adding:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How am I to repay you for all this?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed the old woman. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I recollect it,
+      signora. But the Signore Inglese must be very careful&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall, no doubt, pass the time very pleasantly,&rdquo; laughed
+      Hugh, speaking in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the old crone left them and returned with two cups of excellent <i>cafe
+      nero</i>, that coffee which, roasted at home one can get only in Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was indeed refreshing after that long night drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh stood there without luggage, and with only about thirty pounds in his
+      pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the man who had driven him looked him curiously in the face, and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who has told her? Surely she knows nothing of the affair at the
+      Villa Amette?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why have all these elaborate arrangements been made for my
+      security?&rdquo; Hugh demanded, more than ever nonplussed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is useless to take one precaution unless the whole are taken,&rdquo;
+      laughed the sphinx-like fellow whose cheerful banter had so successfully
+      passed them through the customs barrier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, swallowing his coffee, he wished Hugh, &ldquo;buon viaggio&rdquo;
+      and was about to depart, when Hugh said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of hers and of yourself,&rdquo; was the chauffeur&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;No, please do not question me, signore,&rdquo; he added.
+      &ldquo;I have done my best for you. And now my journey is at an end, while
+      yours is only beginning. Pardon me&mdash;but you have money with you, I
+      suppose? If you have not, these good people here will trust you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is this house?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man laughed. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh realized that he was in a hiding-place used by thieves. A little
+      later he knew that the ugly old woman&rsquo;s husband paid toll to a
+      certain <i>delegato</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;addio&rdquo;
+      left and descended the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A quarter of an hour later he made the acquaintance of the woman&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We only had word of your coming late last night,&rdquo; the man
+      said. &ldquo;You had already started from Monte Carlo, and we wondered if
+      you would get past the frontier all right.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh, sipping the wine out of courtesy. &ldquo;We
+      got out of France quite safely. But tell me, who made all these
+      arrangements for me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Il Passero, of course,&rdquo; replied the man, whose wife
+      addressed him affectionately as Beppo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Il Passero, pray?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know him surely. Il Passero, or The Sparrow. We call him
+      so because he is always flitting about Europe, and always elusive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police want him, I suppose.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is this mysterious and unknown friend of mine?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero is the chief of the most daring of all the gangs of
+      international thieves. We all work at his direction.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did he know of my danger?&rdquo; asked Hugh, mystified and
+      dismayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero knows many strange things,&rdquo; he replied with a
+      grin. &ldquo;It is his business to know them. And besides, he has some
+      friends in the police&mdash;persons who never suspect him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nationality is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man Beppo shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not Italian,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Yet he speaks the <i>lingua
+      Toscano</i> perfectly and French and English and <i>Tedesco</i>. He might
+      be Belgian or German, or even English. Nobody knows his true nationality.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the man who brought me here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that was Paolo, Il Passero&rsquo;s chauffeur&mdash;a merry
+      fellow&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remarkable,&rdquo; laughed Hugh. &ldquo;But I cannot see why The
+      Sparrow has taken such a paternal interest in me,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He no doubt has, for he has, apparently, arranged for your safe
+      return to England.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know him, of course. What manner of man is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A signore&mdash;a great signore,&rdquo; replied Beppo. &ldquo;He is
+      rich, and is often on the Riviera in winter. He&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no idea where he lives in London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was once told that he had a big house somewhere in what you call
+      the West End&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is head of a gang&mdash;is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;He is marvellous, and
+      has indeed well earned his sobriquet &lsquo;Il Passero.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden thought flitted through Hugh&rsquo;s mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose he is a friend of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, tell me,&rdquo; urged young Henfrey. &ldquo;What do you know
+      concerning Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian looked at him strangely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he replied, still speaking bad French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not speaking the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I tell it to you? I do not know you!&rdquo; was the
+      quick retort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are harbouring me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the orders of Il Passero.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surely can tell me what you know of Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh
+      persisted after a brief pause. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They say that you shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;you know that I did not,&rdquo; Henfrey said. &ldquo;Have
+      you yourself ever met Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a friend of Il Passero?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s famous Madonna.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      wife became installed there as his fellow-guest. He did not know her name
+      and she did not tell him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A LESSON IN ARGOT
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; whispered the girl in French, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s a
+      <i>pince sans rire</i>! Be careful!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now tell me something concerning yourself, mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+      Hugh urged presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Myself! Oh! la la!&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;What is there to
+      tell? I am just of <i>la haute pegre&mdash;a truqueuse</i>. Ah! you will
+      not know the expression. Well&mdash;I am a thief in high society. I give
+      indications where we can make a coup, and afterwards <i>bruler le pegriot</i>&mdash;efface
+      the trace of the affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why are you here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Malheureusement</i>! I was in Orleans and a <i>friquet</i>
+      nearly captured me. So Il Passero sent me here for a while.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You help Il Passero&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Very often. Ah! m&rsquo;sieur, he is a most wonderful man&mdash;English,
+      I think. <i>Girofle</i> (genteel and amiable), like yourself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh protested, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I mean it. Il Passero is a real gentleman&mdash;but&mdash;<i>maquiller
+      son truc</i>, and he is marvellous. When he exercises his wonderful talent
+      and forms a plan it is always flawless.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone seems to hold him in high esteem. I have never met him,&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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
+      <i>ecrache-tarte</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, pray?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo;
+      she added, &ldquo;you are not of our world. You are in just a little
+      temporary trouble. Over what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In reply he was perfectly frank with her. He told her of the suspicion
+      against him because of the affair of the Villa Amette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she replied, her manner changing, &ldquo;I have heard
+      that Mademoiselle was shot, but I had no idea that you had any connexion
+      with that ugly business.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unfortunately I have. Do you happen to know Yvonne Ferad?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Everyone knows her. She is very charming. Nobody knows
+      the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What truth?&rdquo; inquired Hugh quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;that she is a <i>marque de ce</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A <i>marque de ce</i>&mdash;what is that?&rdquo; asked Hugh
+      eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! <i>non</i>, m&rsquo;sieur. I must not tell you anything against
+      her. You are her friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am endeavouring to find out something about her. To me she is
+      a mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. She is to everybody.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you mean by that expression?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I told you I should offend Il Passero,&rdquo; replied the girl
+      simply. &ldquo;It is evident that he wishes you should remain in
+      ignorance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, you can tell me in confidence? I will divulge nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered the girl, whose face he could not see in the
+      shadow. &ldquo;I am sorry, M&rsquo;sieur Brown&rdquo;&mdash;she had not
+      been told his Christian name&mdash;&ldquo;but I am not permitted to tell
+      you anything concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a very remarkable person&mdash;eh?&rdquo; said Henfrey,
+      again defeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remarkable! Oh, yes. She is of the <i>grande monde</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that still your argot?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The latter is true, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not. She has <i>le clou</i> for the <i>eponge d&rsquo;or</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not follow that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;she has the attraction for those
+      who hold the golden sponge&mdash;the Ministers of State. Our argot is
+      difficult for you, m&rsquo;sieur&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see! Your expressions are a kind of cipher, unintelligible to the
+      ordinary person&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. If I exclaim, <i>par exemple, tarte</i>, it means
+      false; if I say <i>gilet de flanelle</i>, it is lemonade; if I say <i>frise</i>,
+      it means a Jew; or <i>casserole</i>, which is in our own tongue a police
+      officer. So you see it is a little difficult&mdash;is it not? To us <i>tire-jus</i>
+      is a handkerchief, and we call the ville de Paris <i>Pantruche</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s clever and desperate band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; she said a few moments later. &ldquo;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. <i>Dieu</i>! But I had a narrow escape the other
+      day in Orleans!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell me about Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. I beg of you to tell
+      me something, Mademoiselle Lisette,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would if I were permitted,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Mademoiselle
+      Yvonne is charming. You know her, so I need say nothing, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is clever&mdash;very clever,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;As Il
+      Passero is clever, so is she.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she is actively associated with him&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She is cognizant of all his movements, and of all his plans.
+      While she moves in one sphere&mdash;often in a lower sphere, like myself&mdash;yet
+      in society she moves in the higher sphere, and she &lsquo;indicates,&rsquo;
+      just as I do.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she is one of The Sparrow&rsquo;s associates?&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;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&mdash;which he did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt that is so. But why should he take all this interest in
+      me? I don&rsquo;t know and have never even met him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard that he has a house in London,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+      &ldquo;Do you know where it is situated?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What names?&rdquo; asked Hugh, highly interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! a number. They are always being changed,&rdquo; the French girl
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where do you write when you want to communicate with him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Generally to the Poste Restante in the Avenue de l&rsquo;Opera, in
+      Paris. Letters received there are collected for him and forwarded every
+      day.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so clever is he that nobody suspects him&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly, m&rsquo;sieur. His policy is always &lsquo;<i>Rengraciez</i>!&rsquo;
+      and he cares not a single <i>rotin</i> for <i>La Reniffe</i>,&rdquo; she
+      replied, dropping again into the slang of French thieves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he is on friendly terms with Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked. &ldquo;He may have been at Monte Carlo on the night of the
+      tragic affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, he at least knows that I am innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And he probably knows the guilty person. That would account
+      for the interest he takes in you, though you do not know him,&rdquo; said
+      Lisette. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, in my case he has, no doubt, done me signal service,&rdquo;
+      young Henfrey replied. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;why cannot you
+      tell me something more concerning Mademoiselle? What did you mean by
+      saying that she was a <i>marque de ce</i>? I know it is your slang, but
+      won&rsquo;t you explain what it means? You have explained most of your
+      other expressions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the girl thief was obdurate. She was certainly a <i>chic</i> 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 &ldquo;indicating&rdquo; where coups could be
+      made, she had been taken into his employment as a decoy, frequently
+      travelling on the international <i>wagon-lits</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh pressed her many times to tell him something concerning the
+      mysterious Mademoiselle, but he failed to elicit any further information
+      of interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her fortune at the Rooms is wonderful, they say,&rdquo; Lisette
+      said. &ldquo;She must be very rich.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she is one of Il Passero&rsquo;s assistants&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl laughed lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; was her enigmatical reply. &ldquo;Who knows? It is,
+      however, evident that Il Passero is seriously concerned at the tragic
+      affair at the Villa Amette.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever been there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated a few moments, then said: &ldquo;Yes, once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you know the old Italian servant Cataldi?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She replied in the affirmative. Then she added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know him, but I do not like him. She trusts him, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not. I should be afraid, for to my knowledge he is a <i>saigneur
+      a musique</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Henfrey. &ldquo;Is he guilty of murder&mdash;and
+      Mademoiselle knows it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle may not know about it. She is probably in ignorance,
+      or she would not employ him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her remark was of considerable interest, inasmuch as old Cataldi had
+      seemed to be most devoted to his mistress, and entirely trusted by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know the circumstances?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But it is not our habit to speak of another&rsquo;s&mdash;well,
+      shortcomings,&rdquo; was her reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely, Mademoiselle should have been told the truth! Does not Il
+      Passero know?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s chauffeur had impressed upon him the serious danger he
+      would be running if he wrote to her while she was at Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I question whether he does know. But if he does he would say
+      nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; sighed Hugh. &ldquo;Yours is indeed a queer world,
+      mademoiselle. And not without interest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is full of adventure and excitement, of ups and downs, of
+      constant travel and change, and of eternal apprehension of arrest,&rdquo;
+      replied the girl, with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would tell me something about Yvonne Ferad,&rdquo; he
+      repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! m&rsquo;sieur, I am not permitted,&rdquo; was her obdurate
+      reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who could have fired the shot, do you think?&rdquo; Henfrey asked.
+      &ldquo;You know her friends. Perhaps you know her enemies?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Lisette was silent for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied reflectively. &ldquo;She has enemies, I
+      know. But who has not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any person who, to your knowledge, would have any motive
+      to kill her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are several people who hate her. One of them might have done
+      it out of revenge. You say you saw nobody?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you go and see her at that hour?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I wanted her to tell me something&mdash;something of
+      greatest importance to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she refused, of course? She keeps her own secrets.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. On the other hand, she was about to disclose to me the
+      information I sought when someone fired through the open window.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The shot might have been intended for you&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It certainly might,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;But with what
+      motive?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To prevent you from learning the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was on the point of telling me what I wanted to know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. And what more likely than someone outside, realizing that
+      Mademoiselle was about to make a disclosure, fired at you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you said that Mademoiselle had enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she has. But I think my theory is the correct one,&rdquo;
+      replied the girl. &ldquo;What was it that you asked her to reveal to you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he replied, after a brief hesitation, &ldquo;my father
+      died mysteriously in London some time ago, and I have reason to believe
+      that she knows the truth concerning the sad affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did it happen?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s
+      Hospital, but an hour later he died without recovering consciousness.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was your father&rsquo;s name?&rdquo; asked Lisette in a
+      strangely altered voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey!&rdquo; gasped the girl, starting up at mention of the
+      name. &ldquo;<i>Henfrey</i>! And&mdash;and are&mdash;you&mdash;<i>his son</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh. &ldquo;Why? You know about the affair,
+      mademoiselle! Tell me all you know,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I&mdash;the
+      son of the dead man&mdash;have a right to demand the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey!&rdquo; repeated the girl hoarsely in a state of intense
+      agitation. &ldquo;Monsieur Henfrey! And&mdash;and to think that I am here&mdash;with
+      you&mdash;<i>his son</i>! Ah! forgive me!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;Let
+      us return.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you shall tell me the truth!&rdquo; cried Hugh excitedly.
+      &ldquo;You know it! You cannot deny that you know it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All, however, he could get from her were the words:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;Monsieur Henfrey&rsquo;s son! <i>Surely Il Passero does
+      not know this</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      ELEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      A month of weary anxiety and nervous tension had gone by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening after Hugh&rsquo;s disappearance, Monsieur Ogier had called
+      upon Dorise Ranscomb&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was very much mystified at Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this state of keen anxiety and overstrung nerves she was compelled to
+      meet almost daily, and be civil to, her mother&rsquo;s friend, the odious
+      George Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was for ever singing the man&rsquo;s praises, and never
+      weary of expressing her surprise at Hugh&rsquo;s unforgivable behaviour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He simply disappeared, and nobody has heard a word of him since!&rdquo;
+      she remarked one day as they sat at breakfast. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite
+      certain he&rsquo;s done something wrong. I&rsquo;ve never liked him,
+      Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like him, mother, because he hasn&rsquo;t money,&rdquo;
+      remarked the girl bitterly. &ldquo;If he were rich and entertained you,
+      you would call him a delightful man!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dorise! What are you saying? What&rsquo;s the good of life without
+      money?&rdquo; queried the widow of the great contractor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone can&rsquo;t be rich,&rdquo; the girl averred simply.
+      &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s positively hateful to judge people by their
+      pockets.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, has Hugh written to you?&rdquo; snapped her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise replied in the negative, stifling a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he isn&rsquo;t likely to. He&rsquo;s probably hiding somewhere.
+      I wonder what he&rsquo;s done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. I&rsquo;m sure of that!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not so sure,&rdquo; was her mother&rsquo;s
+      response. &ldquo;I was chatting about it to Mr. Sherrard last night, and
+      he&rsquo;s promised to make inquiry.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let Mr. Sherrard inquire as much as he likes,&rdquo; cried the girl
+      angrily. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll find nothing against Hugh, except that he&rsquo;s
+      poor.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! And he&rsquo;s been far too much in your company of
+      late, Dorise. People were beginning to talk at Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Let them talk, mother! I don&rsquo;t care a scrap. I&rsquo;m my
+      own mistress!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I tell you frankly that I&rsquo;m very glad that we&rsquo;ve
+      seen the last of the fellow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother! You are really horrid!&rdquo; cried the girl, rising
+      abruptly and leaving the table. When out of the room she burst into tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor girl, her heart was indeed full.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Lisette he had failed to elicit any further facts concerning his
+      father&rsquo;s death, though it was apparent that she knew something about
+      it&mdash;something she dared not tell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;at orders of The
+      Sparrow, she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Hugh left Ravecca had given him eighty pounds in English notes,
+      saying that he acted at Il Passero&rsquo;s orders, for Hugh would no doubt
+      need the money, and it would be most dangerous for him to write to his
+      bankers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first Henfrey protested, but, as his funds were nearly exhausted, he
+      had accepted the money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>consigne</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man, noticing the effect his words had upon him, smiled reassuringly,
+      and said in broken English: &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the man walked on, leaving Hugh alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Much surprised, Hugh did as he was bid, and a few minutes later the
+      Belgian met him again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very dangerous for us to be seen together,&rdquo; he said
+      quickly, scarcely pausing as he walked. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s long looked for letter. Indeed, he had been
+      hastening his footsteps full of keen apprehension when the stranger had
+      accosted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in accordance with the man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;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.&rdquo; He spoke in French, and had shown his visitor
+      into a small but well furnished room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh. &ldquo;Is there danger in that quarter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how could they know?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely, Dorise would be most careful not to betray me!&rdquo; cried
+      the young Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, somebody undoubtedly has.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume you are one of Il Passero&rsquo;s friends?&rdquo; Hugh
+      said with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Hence I am your friend,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard of late how Mademoiselle Yvonne is progressing?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man, who told his visitor his name was Jules Vervoort, shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is no better. I heard last week that the doctors have said that
+      she will never recover her mental balance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Is she demented?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ordered by Il Passero&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+      &ldquo;It is fortunate that you were not recognized when you came this
+      morning,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I want my letters,&rdquo; said Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why are all these precautions being taken to prevent my arrest?&rdquo;
+      Hugh asked. &ldquo;I confess I don&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I. But when Il Passero commands we all obey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are, I presume, his agent in Brussels?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His friend&mdash;not his agent,&rdquo; Vervoort replied with a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know Mademoiselle Lisette?&rdquo; Hugh asked. &ldquo;She was
+      with me in Genoa.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now look here, Monsieur Vervoort,&rdquo; he exclaimed at last,
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much in the dark about all this curious business.
+      Lisette knows a lot concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admitted. She acted once as her maid, I believe, in some big
+      affair. But I don&rsquo;t know much about it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;the
+      lady they call Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall I go?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow seems to be ubiquitous,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is. No really great robbery can be accomplished unless he plans
+      and finances it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot think why he takes so keen an interest in me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He often does in persons who are quite ignorant of his existence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my own case. I never heard of him until I was in Genoa, a
+      fugitive,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;But you told me I shall receive a
+      message from Miss Ranscomb by special messenger. When?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you are in Malines.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is very strange. Will the mysterious messenger call
+      upon Miss Ranscomb in London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and a very clever one indeed,&rdquo; he added with a
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I had better get away to Malines without delay?&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; replied Hugh. &ldquo;I have enough for the present.
+      My only desire is to be back again in London.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am afraid that is not possible for some time to come.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I shall hear from Miss Ranscomb?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. The messenger will come to you in Malines.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the messenger?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that I have no knowledge,&rdquo; was Vervoort&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore, in accordance with the Belgian&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope monsieur will make himself quite comfortable,&rdquo; madame
+      said, a broad smile of welcome upon her round face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be comfortable enough under madame&rsquo;s care,&rdquo;
+      Vervoort assured him. &ldquo;She has had some well-known guests before
+      now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, monsieur. More than one of them have been world-famous and&mdash;well&mdash;believed
+      to be perfectly honest and upright.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed Vervoort. &ldquo;Do you remember the English
+      ex-member of Parliament?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;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&mdash;in
+      return for certain facilities regarding the English police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of the English police, madame?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+      The fat woman grinned expressively and shrugged her broad shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Someone is coming here to meet Monsieur Henfrey,&rdquo; Vervoort
+      said. &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I only received word of it the day before
+      yesterday. A messenger from London, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, each day I become more and more mystified,&rdquo; Hugh
+      declared. &ldquo;Why Il Passero, whom I do not know, should take all this
+      interest in me, I cannot imagine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero very often assists those against whom a false charge is
+      laid,&rdquo; the woman remarked. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWELFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE STRANGER IN BOND STREET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      As Dorise walked up Bond Street, smartly dressed, next afternoon, on her
+      way to her dressmaker&rsquo;s, she was followed by a well-dressed young
+      girl in black, dark-eyed, with well-cut, refined features, and apparently
+      a lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Piccadilly the stranger had followed Dorise unseen, until at the
+      corner of Maddox Street she overtook her, and smiling, uttered her name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; responded Doris in surprise. &ldquo;But I regret&mdash;you
+      have the advantage of me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably,&rdquo; replied the stranger. &ldquo;Do you recollect the
+      <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice and a certain white cavalier? I have a message
+      from him to give you in secret.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why in secret?&rdquo; Dorise asked rather defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;for certain reasons which I think you can guess,&rdquo;
+      answered the girl in black, as she strolled at Dorise&rsquo;s side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did not you call on me at home?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because of your mother. She would probably have been a little
+      inquisitive. Let us go into some place&mdash;a tea-room&mdash;where we can
+      talk,&rdquo; she suggested. &ldquo;I have come to see you concerning Mr.
+      Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo; asked Dorise, in an instant anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite safe. He arrived in Malines yesterday&mdash;and is with
+      friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he had my letters?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately, no. But do not let us talk here. Let&rsquo;s go in
+      yonder,&rdquo; and she indicated the Laurel Tea Rooms, which, the hour
+      being early, they found, to their satisfaction, practically deserted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a table in the far corner they resumed their conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why has he not received my letters?&rdquo; asked Dorise. &ldquo;It
+      is nearly a month ago since I first wrote.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By some mysterious means the police got to know of your friend&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who sent you to me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s awfully good of you,&rdquo; Dorise
+      replied. &ldquo;Does he know you are here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I have not met him. I am simply a messenger. In fact, I
+      travel far and wide for those who employ me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret, but they must remain nameless,&rdquo; said the girl, with
+      a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was puzzled as to how the French police could have gained any
+      knowledge of Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had, she remembered, addressed the envelope to Mr. Godfrey Brown, at
+      the Poste Restante in Brussels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s waste-paper basket
+      from time to time, hence the knowledge he had gained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you actually going to Malines?&rdquo; asked Dorise of the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. As your messenger,&rdquo; the other replied with a smile.
+      &ldquo;I am leaving to-night. If you care to write him a letter, I will
+      deliver it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come with me over to the Empress Club, and I will write
+      the letter there?&rdquo; Dorise suggested, still entirely mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this the stranger agreed, and they left the tea-shop and walked
+      together to the well-known ladies&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had finished it, she placed it in an envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not address it,&rdquo; remarked the other girl. &ldquo;It
+      will be safer blank, for I shall give it into his hand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And ten minute later the mysterious girl departed, leaving Dorise to
+      reflect over the curious encounter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh was in Malines. She went to the telephone, rang up Walter Brock,
+      and told him the reassuring news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Malines?&rdquo; he cried over the wire. &ldquo;I wonder if I
+      dare go there to see him? What a dead-alive hole!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not until then did Dorise recollect that the girl had not given her Hugh&rsquo;s
+      address. She had, perhaps, purposely withheld it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This fact she told Hugh&rsquo;s friend, who replied over the wire:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is highly satisfactory news, in any case. We can only
+      wait, Miss Ranscomb. But this must relieve your mind, I feel sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it does,&rdquo; admitted Dorise, and a few moments later she
+      rang off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Il Passero&rsquo;s <i>chic</i> messenger crossed from Dover
+      to Ostend, and next morning she called at Madame Maupoil&rsquo;s, in
+      Malines, where she delivered Dorise&rsquo;s note into Hugh&rsquo;s own
+      hand. She was an expert and hardened traveller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh thanked her cordially, and while she sat chatting with Madame
+      Maupoil, sipping her <i>cafe au lait</i>, he sat down and wrote a long
+      letter to the girl he loved so deeply&mdash;a letter which reached its
+      destination four days later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      back, was surely one of the finest within a couple of hundred miles of
+      London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s arrival there she had had many callers among the
+      <i>nouveau riche</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The display of wealth had always been one of Molly Maxwell&rsquo;s games.
+      It always paid. She knew that to succeed one must spend, and now, with her
+      recently acquired &ldquo;fortune,&rdquo; she spent to a very considerable
+      tune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish you&rsquo;d go in the car to Guildford and exchange those
+      library books, Louise,&rdquo; exclaimed the handsome woman, suddenly
+      looking up from her paper. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got those horrid Brailsfords
+      coming to lunch. I was bound to ask them back.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you come, too?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I expect Mr. Benton this morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know he was back from Paris. I&rsquo;m so glad he&rsquo;s
+      coming,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll stay all the
+      afternoon, of course?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so. Go at once and get back as soon as you can, dear. Choose
+      me some nice new books, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louise Lambert, Benton&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking of Hugh Henfrey,&rdquo; the woman remarked
+      suddenly. &ldquo;I wonder why he never writes to you?&rdquo; she added,
+      watching the girl&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louise&rsquo;s cheeks reddened slightly, as she replied with affected
+      carelessness:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he doesn&rsquo;t care to write, I shall trouble no longer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s still abroad, is he not? The last I heard of him was
+      that he was at Monte Carlo with that Ranscomb girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mention of Dorise Ranscomb caused the girl&rsquo;s cheeks to colour more
+      deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I heard that also.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t seem to care very much, Louise,&rdquo; remarked the
+      woman. &ldquo;And yet, he&rsquo;s such an awfully nice young fellow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve said that dozens of times before,&rdquo; was Louise&rsquo;s
+      abrupt reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you suggest that?&rdquo; asked the girl resentfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;because, my dear, I know that you are very fond of him,&rdquo;
+      the woman laughed. &ldquo;Now, you can&rsquo;t deny it&mdash;can you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;a fact of which
+      both Benton and his female accomplice were well aware.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t reply,&rdquo; laughed the woman for whom the Paris
+      Surete was searching everywhere; &ldquo;but your face betrays the truth,
+      my dear. Don&rsquo;t worry,&rdquo; she added in a tone of sympathy.
+      &ldquo;No doubt he&rsquo;ll write as soon as he is back in England.
+      Personally, I don&rsquo;t believe he really cares a rap for the Ranscomb
+      girl. It&rsquo;s only a matter of money&mdash;and Dorise has plenty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wish to hear anything about Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s love
+      affairs!&rdquo; cried the girl petulantly. &ldquo;I tell you that they do
+      not interest me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are piqued that he does not write, child. Ah, dear, I
+      know!&rdquo; she laughed, as the girl left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A quarter of an hour later Louise was seated in the car, while Mead drove
+      her along the broad highway over the Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was in complete ignorance of the truth. She never dreamed that
+      the source of the woman&rsquo;s wealth was highly suspicious, or that the
+      constant travelling was in order to evade the police.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she had heard of Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the conditions of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;The Humbert Millions,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Uncle,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car at last ran into the station yard at Guildford, and at the
+      bookstall Louise exchanged her books with the courteous manager.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was passing through the booking-office back to the car, when a voice
+      behind her called:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Louise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning, she found her &ldquo;uncle,&rdquo; Charles Benton, who, wearing a
+      light overcoat and grey velour hat, grasped her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dear,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;This is fortunate. Mead is
+      here, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, uncle,&rdquo; replied the girl, much gratified at meeting him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was about to engage a taxi to take me up to the Manor, but now
+      you can take me there,&rdquo; said the rather handsome man. &ldquo;How is
+      Mrs. Bond?&rdquo; he asked, calling her by her new name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite well. She&rsquo;s expecting you to lunch. But she has some
+      impossible people there to-day&mdash;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&rsquo;re
+      rolling in money, but can&rsquo;t keep servants.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear, it&rsquo;s the same everywhere,&rdquo; said Benton as
+      he entered the car after her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drove over the railway bridge and up the steep hill out of Guildford
+      seated side by side. Benton had been her &ldquo;uncle&rdquo; ever since
+      her childhood days, and a most kind and considerate one he had always
+      proved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;uncle,&rdquo; she looked upon
+      Benton as her father and obeyed all his commands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see Mrs. Bond at once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, turning to Louise, he exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see Molly privately. I have some urgent business to
+      discuss with her before your profiteer friends arrive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; replied the girl cheerily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+      leave you alone,&rdquo; and she ascended the broad oak staircase, the
+      steps of which were worn thin by the tramp of many generations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments later Charles Benton stood in the morning-room, where Mrs.
+      Bond still sat before the welcome log fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back again, Charles!&rdquo; she exclaimed, rising to greet him.
+      &ldquo;Well, how goes it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not too well,&rdquo; was his reply as he closed the door. &ldquo;I
+      only got back last night. Five days ago I saw The Sparrow at the Palace
+      Hotel in Madrid. He&rsquo;s doing all he can in young Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      interests, but he is not too hopeful.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t make out,&rdquo; said the man, apparently much
+      perturbed. &ldquo;He wired me to go to Madrid, and I went. But it seems
+      that I&rsquo;ve been on a fool&rsquo;s errand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very unsatisfactory,&rdquo; said the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, my dear Molly! From his attitude it seemed to me that he is
+      protecting Henfrey from some secret motive of his own&mdash;one that is
+      not at all in accordance with our plans.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is surely acting in our interests!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I&rsquo;m not so sure about that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surprise me. He knows our intentions and approved of them!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His approval has, I think, been upset by the murderous attack upon
+      Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he surely will not act against us! If he does&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he does&mdash;then we may as well throw up the sponge, Molly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We could give it all away to the police,&rdquo; remarked the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And by so doing give ourselves away!&rdquo; answered Benton.
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow has many friends in the police, recollect. Abroad, he
+      distributes a quantity of annual <i>douceurs</i>, and hence he is
+      practically immune from arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish we were,&rdquo; laughed the handsome adventuress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. We have only to dance to his tune,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;And
+      the tune just now is not one which is pleasing to us&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem strangely apprehensive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am. I believe that The Sparrow, while making pretence of
+      supporting our little affair, is in favour of Hugh&rsquo;s marriage with
+      Dorise Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman looked him straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He could never go back on his word!&rdquo; she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow is a curious combination of the crook&mdash;chivalrous
+      and philanthropic&mdash;as you already know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, he wouldn&rsquo;t let us down?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton paused. He was thinking deeply. A certain fact had suddenly
+      occurred to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excellent!&rdquo; exclaimed Molly. &ldquo;If we fail we can, after
+      all, have our revenge. But,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;would not he suspect
+      us both, and, in turn, give us away?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He will never suspect, my dear Molly. Leave it to me. Are we
+      not his dearest and most trusted friends?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THIRTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      POISONED LIPS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Week after week passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;that which looked far down the glen to the blue distant
+      mountains&mdash;had been modernised; yet that, in itself, was sufficiently
+      spacious for the entertainment of large house-parties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning, early in June, Dorise, in a rough tweed suit and a pearl-grey
+      suede tam-o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The spate is excellent for us,&rdquo; exclaimed George Sherrard.
+      &ldquo;We ought to kill a salmon to-day, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sincerely hope so,&rdquo; replied the girl; &ldquo;but somehow I
+      never have any luck in these days.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you really don&rsquo;t! But Marjorie killed a twelve-pounder
+      last week, your mother tells me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After fixing the rods and baiting them, the head keeper discreetly
+      withdrew, leaving the pair alone. In the servants&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a lovely day&mdash;and what a silent, delightful spot,&rdquo;
+      Sherrard remarked, as he filled his pipe preparatory to walking up-stream,
+      while the girl remained beside the dark pool where sport seemed likely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, inwardly wishing to get rid of her
+      companion so as to be left alone with her own thoughts. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+      remain here for a little and then go down-stream to the end of our water.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right oh!&rdquo; he replied cheerily as he moved away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise breathed more freely when he had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Sherrard had arrived from London quite unexpectedly at nine o&rsquo;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 &ldquo;run up for a few
+      days&rsquo; fishing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s scheme was to throw the pair into each other&rsquo;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 &ldquo;off her hands.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the contrary, the girl&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, within her blouse she carried his last letter which she had
+      received three weeks before when in London&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That, in itself, showed her that the police were bent on discovering and
+      arresting Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Dorise!&rdquo; cried a voice. &ldquo;No luck, eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard had returned and had witnessed her outbreak of impatience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None!&rdquo; she snapped, for the loss of her fly annoyed her. She
+      knew that she had been careless, because under old Murray&rsquo;s careful
+      tuition she had become quite expert with the rod, both with trout and
+      salmon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had similar luck. I&rsquo;ve
+      just got hooked up in a root and lost a fly. Let&rsquo;s have lunch&mdash;shall
+      we?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother&rsquo;s visitor, but,
+      nevertheless, was compelled to be polite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I say!&rdquo; exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been
+      gossiping for some time. &ldquo;Have you heard from your friend Henfrey
+      lately?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not lately,&rdquo; replied the girl, a trifle resentful that he
+      should obtrude upon her private affairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only ask because&mdash;well, because there are some jolly queer
+      stories going about town of him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Queer stories!&rdquo; she echoed quickly. &ldquo;What are they?
+      What do people say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! They say lots of extraordinary things. I think your mother has
+      done very well to drop him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has mother dropped him?&rdquo; asked the girl in pretence of
+      ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told me so last night, and I was extremely glad to hear it&mdash;though
+      he is your friend. It seems that he&rsquo;s hardly the kind of fellow you
+      should know, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you say that?&rdquo; his companion asked, her eyes flashing
+      instantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Haven&rsquo;t you heard?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heard what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The story that&rsquo;s going round the clubs. He&rsquo;s missing,
+      and has been so for quite a long time. You haven&rsquo;t seen him&mdash;have
+      you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was compelled to reply in the negative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what do they say against him?&rdquo; she demanded breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a lot of funny stories,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;They say he&rsquo;s hiding from the police because he
+      attempted to murder a notorious woman called Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+      Do you know about it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a wicked lie!&rdquo; blurted forth the girl. &ldquo;Hugh
+      never attempted to kill the woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard looked straight into her blue eyes, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you it&rsquo;s an abominable lie! Hugh is not an assassin!&rdquo;
+      cried the girl fiercely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I merely repeat what I have heard on very good authority,&rdquo;
+      replied the smug-faced man with the thick red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have of course told my mother that&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think it was any secret,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Indeed,
+      I think it most fortunate we all know the truth. The police must get him
+      one day&mdash;before long.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few moments Dorise remained silent, her eyes fixed across the broad
+      river to the opposite bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if they do, he will most certainly clear himself, Mr. Sherrard,&rdquo;
+      she said coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! You still have great faith in him,&rdquo; he laughed airily.
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;we shall see,&rdquo; and he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Sherrard. I still have faith in Mr. Henfrey. I know him
+      well enough to be certain that he is no assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I ask you, Dorise, why is he hiding?&rdquo; said her
+      companion. &ldquo;If he is innocent, what can he fear?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know he is innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. You must remain in that belief until he is found guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You already condemn him!&rdquo; the girl cried in anger. &ldquo;By
+      what right do you do this, I ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, common sense shows that he is in fear lest the truth should
+      come to light,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s lame reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the woman is still alive, is she not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She&rsquo;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&rsquo;s there
+      in close confinement.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rose abruptly, and looking very straight into the man&rsquo;s
+      eyes, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I merely tell you of the report from France to Scotland Yard,&rdquo;
+      said Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You tell me this in order to prejudice me against Hugh&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh! Whom you love&mdash;eh?&rdquo; sneered Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I <i>do</i> love him,&rdquo; the girl blurted forth. &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is to be regretted, Dorise, that you have fallen in love with a
+      fellow who is wanted by the police,&rdquo; he remarked with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, I love a genuine man,&rdquo; she retorted with bitter
+      sarcasm. &ldquo;I know my mother&rsquo;s intention is that I shall marry
+      you. But I tell you here frankly&mdash;as I stand here&mdash;I would
+      rather kill myself first!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Sherrard with his dark bushy brows and thick lips only laughed at
+      her indignation. This incensed her the more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But really, Dorise&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo; he cried, advancing
+      towards her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean exactly what I say. Let me get back. When I go fishing I
+      prefer to go alone,&rdquo; the girl said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what am I to say to Lady Ranscomb?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her that I love Hugh,&rdquo; laughed the girl defiantly.
+      &ldquo;Tell her that I intend to defeat all her clever intrigues and sly
+      devices!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no knowledge of any intrigue, Dorise,&rdquo; 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&mdash;well, as she has already bluntly told him, she
+      would die rather than become Mrs. George Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Intrigue!&rdquo; the girl retorted. &ldquo;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 &lsquo;bomber&rsquo; over the enemy&rsquo;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&rsquo;s why I
+      despise you!&rdquo; and the girl&rsquo;s pale face showed two pink spots
+      in the centre of her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really,&rdquo; he said in that same superior tone which he so
+      constantly assumed. &ldquo;I must say that you are the reverse of polite,
+      Miss Dorise,&rdquo; and his colour heightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am! And I intend to be so!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;Go back to my mother,&rdquo;
+      she went on. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&mdash;and to a
+      purpose when their mistresses will it so.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Dorise&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;The night train from Perth to London
+      leaves at nine-forty to-night,&rdquo; she said with biting sarcasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; he growled beneath his breath. &ldquo;We shall
+      see!&mdash;yes, we shall see!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      RED DAWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you?&rdquo; she asked the man who was odious to her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      so sorry I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She called on me last week,&rdquo; said Lady Ranscomb. &ldquo;Newte
+      told her I was not at home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old-fashioned butler, John Newte, a white-haired, rosy-faced man, who
+      had seen forty years&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;awful hard luck,&rdquo; as he
+      had been looking forward to a week&rsquo;s good sport on the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do come back, George,&rdquo; Lady Ranscomb urged. &ldquo;Get your
+      business over and get back here for the weekend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s half-hearted response,
+      whereat Newte entered to announce that the car was ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he bade mother and daughter adieu, and went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise could see that her mother was considerably annoyed at her plans
+      being so abruptly frustrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must ask somebody else,&rdquo; she said, as they lingered over
+      the dessert. &ldquo;Whom shall we ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t care in the least, mother. I&rsquo;m quite
+      happy here alone. It is a rest. We shall have to be back in town in a
+      fortnight, I suppose.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George could quite well have waited for a day or two,&rdquo; Lady
+      Ranscomb declared. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An appointment with a lady, perhaps,&rdquo; laughed Dorise
+      mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What next, my dear! You know he is over head and ears in love with
+      you!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That&rsquo;s quite enough, mother. You&rsquo;ve told me that
+      lots of times before. But I tell you quite frankly his love leaves me
+      quite cold.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! dear. That reply is, after all, but natural. You, of course,
+      won&rsquo;t confess the truth,&rdquo; her mother laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, mother. I&rsquo;m heartily glad the fellow has gone. I hate
+      his supercilious manner, his superior tone, and his unctuous bearing. He&rsquo;s
+      simply odious! That&rsquo;s my opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mother looked at her severely across the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please remember, Dorise, that George is my friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never forget that,&rdquo; said the girl meaningly, as she rose
+      and left the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later, when she entered her bedroom, she found Duncan, her
+      maid, awaiting her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I&rsquo;ve been waiting to see you this half hour, miss,&rdquo;
+      she said. &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t get you alone. Just before eight o&rsquo;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.&rdquo; And the prim lady&rsquo;s
+      maid handed her young mistress a small white envelope upon which her name
+      was written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening it, she found a plain visiting card which bore the words in a man&rsquo;s
+      handwriting:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&mdash;SILVERADO.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise held her breath. It was a message from the mysterious white
+      cavalier who had sought her out at the <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice, and told
+      her of Hugh&rsquo;s peril!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise stood before the long cheval glass, the card still in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have to go into Edinburgh to-morrow morning,&rdquo; her mother
+      remarked. &ldquo;So we should start pretty early. I&rsquo;ve ordered the
+      car for nine o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, mother. Good-night,&rdquo; said the girl as she closed
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she was about to pass through the small swing gate, she heard a voice
+      which she recognized exclaim:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Ranscomb! I have to apologize!&rdquo; And from the dark shadow
+      a rather tall man emerged and barred her path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay you will think this all very mysterious,&rdquo; he went
+      on, laughing lightly. &ldquo;But I do hope I have not inconvenienced you.
+      If so, pray accept my deepest apologies. Will you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are still Mr. X&mdash;eh?&rdquo; asked the girl, who had
+      halted, and was gazing upon his rather striking face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still the same,&rdquo; he said, smiling. &ldquo;Or you may call me
+      Brown, Jones, or Robinson&mdash;or any of the other saints&rsquo; names if
+      you prefer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been very kind to me. Surely I may know your real name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Ranscomb. For certain very important reasons I do not wish
+      to disclose it. Pardon me&mdash;will you not? I ask that favour of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will you not satisfy my curiosity?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At my personal risk? No. I do not think you would wish me to do
+      that&mdash;eh?&rdquo; he asked in a tone of mild reproof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On behalf of Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He is still in hiding. It has been impossible&mdash;through
+      force of circumstances&mdash;for him to send you further messages.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he? I want to see him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have patience, Miss Ranscomb, and I will arrange a meeting between
+      you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why do the police still search for him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and they are determined upon his arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do you think he is guilty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But shall we ever be in a position to prove that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so. We must have patience&mdash;and still more patience,&rdquo;
+      urged the mysterious man as he stood in the full light of the brilliant
+      moon. &ldquo;I have here a letter for you which Mr. Henfrey wrote a week
+      ago. It only came into my hands yesterday.&rdquo; And he gave her an
+      envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me something about this woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+      Who is she?&rdquo; asked Dorise excitedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;she is a person who was notorious at the Rooms, as you
+      yourself know. You have seen her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And tell me, why do you take such an interest in Hugh?&rdquo;
+      inquired the girl, not without a note of suspicion in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For reasons best known to myself, Miss Ranscomb. Reasons which are
+      personal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s hardly a satisfactory reply.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I can give few satisfactory replies until we succeed in
+      ascertaining the truth of what occurred at the Villa Amette,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;I must urge you, Miss Ranscomb, to remain patient, and&mdash;and
+      not to lose faith in the man who is wrongfully accused.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when can I see him?&rdquo; asked Dorise eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon. But you must be discreet&mdash;and you must ask no questions.
+      Just place yourself in my hands&mdash;that is, if you can trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, even though I am ignorant of your name.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is best that you remain in ignorance,&rdquo; was his reply.
+      &ldquo;Otherwise perhaps you would hesitate to trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the tall, good-looking man only laughed, and then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name really doesn&rsquo;t matter at present. Later, Miss
+      Ranscomb, you will no doubt know it. I am only acting in the interests of
+      Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you mistrust me,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;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&mdash;well&mdash;I tell you in confidence that I dare
+      not!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dare not! Of what are you afraid?&rdquo; inquired Dorise. The man
+      she had met under such romantic circumstances interested her keenly. He
+      was Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid of several things,&rdquo; replied the white
+      cavalier. &ldquo;The greatest fear I have is that you may not believe in
+      me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do believe in you,&rdquo; declared the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excellent!&rdquo; he replied enthusiastically. &ldquo;Then let us
+      get to business&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what character?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;that I am acting in the interests of the man
+      with&mdash;the man who is, I believe, your greatest and most intimate
+      friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understood that when we met in Nice.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Now I understand that your mother, Lady Ranscomb, is much
+      against your marriage with Hugh Henfrey. She has other views.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really! Who told you that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have ascertained it in the course of my inquiry.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise paused, and then looking the man of mystery straight in the face,
+      asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you really know about me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he laughed lightly. &ldquo;A good deal. Now tell me
+      when could you be free to get away from your mother for a whole day?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to know. Just tell me the date. When are you returning to
+      London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On Saturday week. I could get away&mdash;say&mdash;on Tuesday week.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good. You would have to leave London by an early train in the
+      morning&mdash;if I fail to send a car for you, which I hope to do. And be
+      back again late at night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Because I have a reason.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you will take me to meet Hugh&mdash;eh? Ah! How good you
+      are!&rdquo; cried the girl in deep emotion. &ldquo;I shall never be able
+      to thank you sufficiently for all you are doing. I&mdash;I have been
+      longing all these weeks to see him again&mdash;to hear his explanation why
+      he went to the woman&rsquo;s house at that hour&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will tell you everything, no doubt,&rdquo; said her mysterious
+      visitor. &ldquo;He will tell you everything except one fact.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo; she asked breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why should you?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You are, after all, a
+      stranger.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s Cross station at ten o&rsquo;clock
+      on the morning of Tuesday week? If so, I will meet you there.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But where are we going?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I have no idea. When one is escaping from the police one&rsquo;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,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish you would tell me the motive of your extreme kindness
+      towards us both,&rdquo; Dorise urged. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t make it out at
+      all. I am bewildered.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;so am I, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; replied the tall, elegant
+      man who spoke with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. &ldquo;There
+      are certain facts&mdash;facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at
+      the Villa Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand,&rdquo;
+      she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and
+      distinct motive to call that night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the adventuress, Miss Ranscomb, often has, deep in her soul,
+      the heart of a pure woman,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall&mdash;and before long, too,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he ever told you anything concerning her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing much. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has never told you the conditions of his father&rsquo;s will?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never&mdash;except that he has been left very poorly off, though
+      his father died in affluent circumstances. What are the conditions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mysterious stranger paused for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you, of late, formed an acquaintance of a certain Mrs. Bond, a
+      widow?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I met her recently in South Kensington, at the house of a friend of
+      my mother, Mrs. Binyon. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How many times have you met her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two&mdash;or I think three. She came to tea with us the day before
+      we came up here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! Your mother seems rather prone to make easy
+      acquaintanceships&mdash;eh? The Hardcastles were distinctly undesirable,
+      were they not?&mdash;and the Jameses also?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what do you know about them?&rdquo; asked the girl, much
+      surprised, as they were two families who had been discovered to be not
+      what they represented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;I happen to be aware of your mother&rsquo;s
+      charm&mdash;that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to know quite a bit about us,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;How
+      is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have made it my business to know, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo;
+      he replied. &ldquo;Further, I would urge upon you to have nothing to do
+      with Mrs. Bond.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know all about that,&rdquo; he answered in a curious tone.
+      &ldquo;But I repeat my warning that Mrs. Bond is by no means a desirable
+      acquaintance. I tell you so for your own benefit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I want you to please
+      make me a promise&mdash;namely, that you will say nothing to a single soul
+      of what I have said this evening&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand. But you really mystify me. I know you are my friend,&rdquo;
+      she said, &ldquo;but why are you doing all this for our benefit?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In order that Hugh Henfrey may return to your side, and that hand
+      in hand you may be able to defeat your enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My enemies! Who are they?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 <i>Times</i> newspaper at any
+      time for an appointment with &lsquo;Silverado.&rsquo; Give me seven days,
+      and I will keep it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do tell me your name!&rdquo; she urged, as they moved together
+      from the pathway along the road in the direction of Perth. &ldquo;I beg of
+      you to do so.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already begged a favour of you, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he
+      answered in a soft, refined voice. &ldquo;I ask you not to press your
+      question. Suffice it that I am your sincere friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when shall I see Hugh?&rdquo; she cried, again halting. &ldquo;I
+      cannot bear this terrible suspense any longer&mdash;indeed I can&rsquo;t!
+      Can I go to him soon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; cried a voice from the shadow of a bush close beside
+      them as a dark alert figure sprang forth into the light. &ldquo;It is
+      needless. I am here, dearest!&mdash;<i>at last</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And next second she found herself clasped in her lover&rsquo;s strong
+      embrace, while the stranger, utterly taken aback, stood looking on,
+      absolutely mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE NAMELESS MAN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this gentleman, Dorise?&rdquo; asked Hugh, when a moment
+      later the girl and her companion had recovered from their surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot introduce you,&rdquo; was her reply. &ldquo;He refuses to
+      give his name.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tall man laughed, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already told you that my name is X.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh regarded the stranger with distinct suspicion. It was curious that he
+      should discover them together, yet he made but little comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were just speaking about you, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; the tall man
+      went on. &ldquo;I believed that you were still in Belgium.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know I was there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&mdash;well, information concerning your hiding-place reached
+      me,&rdquo; was his enigmatical reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to know a good deal concerning me,&rdquo; Hugh remarked
+      resentfully, looking at the stern, rather handsome face in the moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the girl declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, Miss Ranscomb, I require no thanks,&rdquo; the polite
+      stranger assured her. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who are you?&rdquo; demanded Hugh, filled with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That matters not, now that you are back in England. Only I beseech
+      of you to be very careful,&rdquo; said the tall man. Then he added:
+      &ldquo;There are pitfalls into which you may very easily fall&mdash;traps
+      set by your enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, I thank you sincerely for what you have done for Miss
+      Ranscomb during my absence,&rdquo; said the young man, much mystified at
+      finding Dorise strolling at that hour with a man of whose name even she
+      was ignorant. &ldquo;I know I have enemies, and I shall certainly heed
+      your warning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your enemies must not know you are in England. If they do, they
+      will most certainly inform the police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall take care of that,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I
+      shall be compelled to go into hiding again&mdash;but where, I do not know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you must certainly continue to lie low for a time,&rdquo; the
+      man urged. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I know of what you are accused, Hugh!&rdquo; cried the girl.
+      &ldquo;And I also know you are innocent!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Henfrey is innocent,&rdquo; said the tall stranger. &ldquo;But
+      there must be no publicity, hence his only chance of safety lies in strict
+      concealment.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is difficult to conceal oneself in England,&rdquo; replied Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed, as he slowly answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are certain places where no questions are asked&mdash;if you
+      know where to look for them. But first, I am very interested to know how
+      you got over here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and here
+      I am. But I assure you it was an adventurous crossing, for the weather was
+      terrible&mdash;a gale blew nearly the whole time.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are here, it is true, Mr. Henfrey. But you mustn&rsquo;t remain
+      here,&rdquo; the stranger declared. &ldquo;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 &lsquo;Heathcote,&rsquo; 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&mdash;shall I
+      write it down?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks very much indeed,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I shall
+      remember it. Mrs. Mason, &lsquo;Heathcote,&rsquo; Abingdon Road,
+      Kensington.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s it. Get there as soon as ever you can,&rdquo; urged
+      the stranger. &ldquo;Recollect that your enemies are still in active
+      search of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh looked his mysterious friend full in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; he said, in a firm, hard voice. &ldquo;Are you
+      known as Il Passero?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; answered the stranger. &ldquo;I refuse to satisfy
+      your curiosity as to who I may be. I am your friend&mdash;that is all that
+      concerns you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the famous Passero&mdash;The Sparrow&mdash;is my unknown
+      friend,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I have a suspicion that you and he are
+      identical!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a motive in not disclosing my identity,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s
+      reply in a curious tone. &ldquo;Get to Mrs. Mason&rsquo;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. <i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, raising his hat, he turned abruptly, and, leaving them, set off up
+      the high road which led to Perth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, listen, sir&mdash;one moment!&rdquo; cried Hugh, as he turned
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless the stranger heeded not, and a few seconds later his figure
+      was lost in the shadow of the high hedgerow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hugh, a few moments later, &ldquo;all this is
+      most amazing. I feel certain that he is either the mysterious Sparrow
+      himself, or one of his chief accomplices.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow? Who is he&mdash;dear?&rdquo; asked Dorise, her hand
+      upon her lover&rsquo;s shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sit down somewhere, and I will tell you,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very remarkable!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;I wonder if
+      he really is the notorious Sparrow?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel convinced he is,&rdquo; declared Hugh. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He certainly was quite as surprised as myself,&rdquo; the girl
+      replied, happy beyond expression that her lover was once again at her
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his strong arms he held her in a long, tight embrace, kissing her upon
+      the lips in a frenzy of satisfaction&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he put a question to her:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really believe I am innocent of the charge against me,
+      darling?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, Hugh,&rdquo; she answered frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Thank you for those words,&rdquo; he said, in a broken voice.
+      &ldquo;I feared that you might think because of my flight that I was
+      guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are not. Mother, of course, says all sorts of nasty
+      things&mdash;that you must have done something very wrong&mdash;and all
+      that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you go there at all, dear?&rdquo; the girl asked.
+      &ldquo;You surely knew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it quite well,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I expected to meet an
+      adventuress&mdash;but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand you, Hugh,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, darling. You, of course, cannot understand!&rdquo; he
+      exclaimed. &ldquo;I admit that I followed her home, and I demanded an
+      interview.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her
+      own.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What secret?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One that concerns my whole future.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you tell me what it is?&rdquo; she asked, looking into his
+      face, which in the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was
+      unusually pale and haggard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well&mdash;at the present moment I am myself mystified,
+      darling. Hence I cannot explain the truth,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yet&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew a deep breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For nearly two hours the pair remained together. Often she was locked in
+      her lover&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      hands, and their lips met time after time in ecstasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He inquired about George Sherrard, but she said little. She hesitated to
+      tell him of the incident while fishing that morning, but merely said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to
+      London on business. And I was very glad.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed the girl. &ldquo;But she will continue to
+      press. She&rsquo;s constantly singing his praises until I&rsquo;m utterly
+      sick of hearing of all his good qualities.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh sighed, and replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added, in a changed voice, &ldquo;you have not
+      forgotten what you told me at Monte Carlo&mdash;that you love me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat it, Hugh!&rdquo; declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her
+      hand stealing into his. &ldquo;I love only you!&mdash;<i>you</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then again he took her in his arms, and imprinted a fierce, passionate
+      kiss upon her ready lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose we must part again,&rdquo; he sighed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! do be careful, Hugh, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ll get away into the wilds of Kensington&mdash;to
+      Abingdon Road. One is safer in a London suburb than in a desert, no doubt.
+      West London is a good hiding-place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Recollect the name. Mason, wasn&rsquo;t it? And she lives at
+      &lsquo;Heathcote.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was it. But do not communicate with me, otherwise my place of
+      concealment will most certainly be discovered.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But can&rsquo;t I see you, Hugh?&rdquo; implored the girl. &ldquo;Must
+      we again be parted?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think he is a thief?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him further details of their first meeting at Nice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. That is one of his methods&mdash;secrecy and generosity
+      are his two traits. He and his accomplices rob the wealthy, and assist
+      those wrongly accused. It must be he&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He recollected at that moment the girl who had been his fellow-guest in
+      Genoa&mdash;the dainty mademoiselle who evidently had some secret
+      knowledge of his father&rsquo;s death, and yet refused to divulge a single
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      tragic end, and thus defeat the clever plot of those whose intention it,
+      apparently, was to marry him to Louise Lambert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On every hand there was mystification. The one woman&mdash;notorious as
+      she was&mdash;who knew the truth had been rendered mentally incompetent by
+      an assassin&rsquo;s bullet, while he, himself, was accused of the crime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey would have long ago confessed to Dorise the whole facts
+      concerning his father&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the face of it, his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was early morning, after they had rambled for several hours in the
+      moonlight, when Hugh bade his well-beloved farewell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had returned through the park and were at a gate quite close to the
+      castle when they halted. It had crossed Hugh&rsquo;s mind that they might
+      be seen by one of the keepers, and he had mentioned this to Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What matter?&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;They do not know you, and
+      probably will not recognize me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So after promising Hugh to remain discreet, she told him they were
+      returning to London in a few days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; he said suddenly. &ldquo;We must meet again very
+      soon, darling. I daresay I may venture out at night, therefore why not let
+      us make an appointment&mdash;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&mdash;about a year
+      ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I know the spot,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;I remember
+      what a cold, wet night it was, too!&rdquo; and she laughed at the
+      recollection. &ldquo;Very well. I will contrive to be there. That night we
+      are due at a dance at the Gordons&rsquo; in Grosvenor Gardens. But I&rsquo;ll
+      manage to be there somehow&mdash;if only for five minutes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; he exclaimed, again kissing her fondly. &ldquo;Now I
+      must make all speed to Kensington and there go once more into hiding. When&mdash;oh,
+      when will this wearying life be over!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a friend, as I have, in the mysterious white cavalier,&rdquo;
+      she said. &ldquo;I wonder who he really is?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow&mdash;without a doubt&mdash;the famous &lsquo;Il
+      Passero&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s a strange world in which I find myself,
+      Dorise, I assure you! Good-bye, darling&mdash;good-bye!&rdquo; and he took
+      her in a final embrace. &ldquo;Good-bye&mdash;till Tuesday week.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then stepping on to the grass, where his feet fell noiselessly, he
+      disappeared in the dark shadow of the great avenue of beeches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SIXTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE ESCROCS OF LONDON
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; sanctuary in the shadow of
+      the cathedral at Malines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the Tuesday night Hugh had had a frugal and badly-cooked meal with
+      three mysterious men who had arrived as Mrs. Mason&rsquo;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 &ldquo;deal&rdquo; in diamonds in which they had been interested.
+      The &ldquo;deal&rdquo; in question had been reported in the newspapers on
+      the previous morning, namely, how a Dutch diamond dealer&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry Austen has gone down to Surrey to stay with Molly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Molly? Why, I thought she was in Paris!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was&mdash;but she went to America for a trip and she finds it
+      more pleasant to live down in Surrey just now,&rdquo; replied the other
+      with a grin. &ldquo;She has Charlie&rsquo;s girl living with her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; grunted the third man. &ldquo;Not quite the sort
+      of companion Charlie might choose for his daughter&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock, when he put on his hat and went forth into the
+      dark, deserted street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Welcome at last, darling!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I was wondering
+      if you could get away, after all!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had a little difficulty,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m at
+      a dance at the Gordons&rsquo; in Grosvenor Gardens, but I managed to slip
+      out, find a taxi, and run along here. I fear I can&rsquo;t stay long, or
+      they will miss me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even five minutes with you is bliss to me, darling,&rdquo; he said,
+      grasping her ungloved hand and raising it to his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Hugh. If you could only return to us, instead of living under
+      this awful cloud of suspicion!&rdquo; the girl cried. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s Court Road, quite close to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! life is a bit dull, certainly,&rdquo; he replied cheerfully.
+      &ldquo;But I have papers and books&mdash;and I can look out of the window
+      on to the houses opposite.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you go out for a ramble at night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Last night I set out at one o&rsquo;clock
+      and walked up to Hampstead Heath, as far as Jack Straw&rsquo;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&mdash;just beyond Scotland Yard. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when will all this end?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will only end when I am able to discover the truth,&rdquo; he
+      said vaguely. &ldquo;Meanwhile I am not disheartened, darling, because&mdash;because
+      I know that you believe in me&mdash;that you still trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man whom I saw in Nice dressed as a cavalier, and who again
+      came to me in Scotland, is a mystery,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do you
+      really believe he is the person you suspect?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. I still believe he is the notorious and defiant criminal
+      &lsquo;Il Passero&rsquo;&mdash;the most daring and ingenious thief of the
+      present century.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is evidently your friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is the great mystery of it all. I cannot discern his
+      motive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a sinister one, do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I do not believe so. I have heard of The Sparrow&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Hugh, I wish you would be more frank with me,&rdquo; the girl
+      said. &ldquo;There are several things you are hiding from me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I admit it, darling,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To many men the temptation would have proved too great. The inheritance of
+      his father&rsquo;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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;rag&rdquo; in the Gladstonian days, and of
+      his life since as a fairly well-off bachelor with rooms in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus a close intimacy had sprung up between them, and Hugh had naturally
+      regarded his father&rsquo;s friend with entire confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You admit that you are not telling me the whole truth, Hugh,&rdquo;
+      remarked the girl after a long pause. &ldquo;It is hardly fair of you, is
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling, you do not know my position,&rdquo; he hastened to
+      explain as he gripped her little hand more tightly in his own. &ldquo;I
+      only wish I could learn the truth myself so as to make complete
+      explanation. But at present all is doubt and uncertainty. Won&rsquo;t you
+      trust me, Dorise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust you!&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;Why, of course I will! You
+      surely know that, Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man was again silent for some moments. Then he exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet, after all, I can see no ray of hope.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hope of our marriage, Dorise,&rdquo; he said hoarsely. &ldquo;How
+      can I, without money, ever hope to make you my wife?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will have your father&rsquo;s estate in due course, won&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo; she asked quite innocently. &ldquo;You always plead poverty.
+      You are so like a man.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Dorise, I am really poor. You don&rsquo;t understand&mdash;<i>you
+      can&rsquo;t</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You may have debts. Every man has
+      them&mdash;tailor&rsquo;s bills, restaurant bills, betting debts,
+      jewellery debts. Oh! I know. I&rsquo;ve heard all about these things from
+      another. Well, if you have them, you&rsquo;ll be able to settle them out
+      of your father&rsquo;s estate all in due course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he has left me nothing?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing!&rdquo; exclaimed the handsome girl at his side. &ldquo;What
+      do you mean?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he said very slowly. &ldquo;At present I
+      have nothing&mdash;that&rsquo;s all. That is why at Monte Carlo I
+      suggested that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not conclude the sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember. You said that I had better marry George Sherrard&mdash;that
+      thick-lipped ass. You said that because you are hard-up?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The notorious thief?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh nodded, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you go to her home that night, Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have already told you, I went to demand a reply to a single
+      question I put to her,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But please do no let us
+      discuss the affair further. The whole circumstances are painful to me&mdash;more
+      painful than you can possibly imagine. One day&mdash;and I hope it will be
+      soon&mdash;you will fully realize what all this has cost me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, Hugh,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I know, dear&mdash;and I do
+      trust you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They halted, and he bent and impressed upon her lips a fierce caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Engaged.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can I say to you in reply to your words of hope, darling?&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Hugh as he walked beside her. &ldquo;I know full well how much
+      all this must puzzle you. Have you seen Brock?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s much worried about you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he, dear old chap? I only wish I dared write to him, and give
+      him my address.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him that you were back in London. But I did not give him
+      your address. You told me to disclose nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right, Dorise,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An empty seat was near, and with one accord the lovers sank upon it, Hugh
+      still holding the girl&rsquo;s soft hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must really go,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Mother will miss me, no
+      doubt.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And George Sherrard, too?&rdquo; asked her companion bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may, of course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then he is with you to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unfortunately, he is. Ah! Hugh! How I hate his exquisite and
+      superior manners. But he is such a close friend of mother&rsquo;s that I
+      can never escape him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he still pesters you with his attentions, of course,&rdquo;
+      remarked Hugh in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, he is always pretending to be in love with me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love!&rdquo; echoed Hugh. &ldquo;Can such a man ever love a woman?
+      Never, Dorise. He does not love you as I love you&mdash;with my whole
+      heart and my whole soul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course the fellow cannot,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But, for
+      mother&rsquo;s sake, I have to suffer his presence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least you are frank, darling,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and only you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he took her in his strong arms and pressed her to him, still being
+      watched by the mysterious individual who had followed Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my darling, these are, indeed, moments of supreme happiness,&rdquo;
+      Hugh exclaimed as he held her tightly in his arms. &ldquo;I wonder when we
+      dare meet again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon, dear&mdash;very soon, I hope. Let us make another
+      appointment,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;On Friday week mother is going to
+      spend the night with Mrs. Deane down at Ascot. I shall make excuse to stay
+      at home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right. Friday week at the same place and time,&rdquo; he said
+      cheerily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go now,&rdquo; she said regretfully. &ldquo;I
+      only wish I could stay longer, but I must get back at once. If mother
+      misses me she&rsquo;ll have a fit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, when he had pressed her hand and wished her adieu, he continued,
+      towards Notting Hill Gate, and thence returned to Kensington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ON THE SURREY HILLS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      On the following morning, about twelve o&rsquo;clock, Emily, Mrs. Mason&rsquo;s
+      stout maid-of-all-work, showed a tall, well-dressed man into Hugh&rsquo;s
+      frowsy little sitting-room where he sat reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sprang to his feet when he recognized his visitor to be Charles Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well my boy!&rdquo; cried his visitor cheerily. &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve
+      found you at last! We all thought you were on the Continent, lying low
+      somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have been,&rdquo; replied the young man faintly. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve
+      heard of that affair at Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And you are suspected&mdash;wanted by the police? That&rsquo;s
+      why I&rsquo;m here,&rdquo; Benton replied. &ldquo;This place isn&rsquo;t
+      safe for you. You must get away from it at once,&rdquo; he added, lowering
+      his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why isn&rsquo;t it safe?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because at Scotland Yard they know you are somewhere in Kensington,
+      and they&rsquo;re hunting high and low for you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo; asked Hugh blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;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&mdash;a place called Shapley Manor.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She might learn the truth and give me away,&rdquo; remarked Hugh
+      dubiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won&rsquo;t. Recollect, Hugh, that I was your father&rsquo;s
+      friend, and am yours. What advice I give you is for your own good. You can&rsquo;t
+      stay here&mdash;it&rsquo;s impossible.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The name of The Sparrow was upon Hugh&rsquo;s lips, and he was about to
+      tell Benton of that mysterious person&rsquo;s efforts on his behalf, but,
+      on reflection, he saw that he had no right to expose The Sparrow&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know that I was here?&rdquo; asked Hugh suddenly in
+      curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I&rsquo;m not at liberty to say. It was not a friend of yours,
+      but rather an enemy who told me&mdash;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,&rdquo; Benton went on. &ldquo;If you agree, I&rsquo;ll
+      get a car now, without delay, and we&rsquo;ll run down into Surrey
+      together,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;and others did the dirty work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You recollect Mrs. Bond,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;But I believe
+      Maxwell, her first husband, was alive then, wasn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a faint recollection of meeting a Mrs. Maxwell in Paris&mdash;at
+      lunch at the Pre Catalan&mdash;was it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course. About six years ago. That&rsquo;s quite right!&rdquo;
+      laughed Benton. &ldquo;Well, Maxwell died and she married again&mdash;a
+      Colonel Bond. He was killed in Mesopotamia, and now she&rsquo;s living up
+      on the Hog&rsquo;s Back, beyond Guildford, on the road to Farnham.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s closest friend, warning him of
+      his peril?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter thought decided him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s awfully good of Mrs. Bond whom I know so
+      slightly to invite me to stay with her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, my dear boy. She&rsquo;s a very old friend of mine. I once
+      did her a rather good turn when Maxwell was alive, and she&rsquo;s never
+      forgotten it. She&rsquo;s one of the best women in the world, I assure
+      you,&rdquo; Benton declared. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run along to a garage I
+      know in Knightsbridge and get a car to take us down to Shapley. It&rsquo;s
+      right out in the country, and as long as you keep clear of the town of
+      Guildford&mdash;where the police are unusually wary under one of the
+      shrewdest chief constables in England&mdash;then you needn&rsquo;t have
+      much fear. Pack up your traps, Hugh, and I&rsquo;ll call for you at the
+      end of the road in half an hour.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I&rsquo;ll want a dress suit and lots of other things if I&rsquo;m
+      going to stay at a country house,&rdquo; the young man demurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rot! You can get all you want in Aldershot, Farnham or Portsmouth.
+      Come just as you are. Mrs. Bond will make all allowances.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And probably have her suspicions aroused at the same time?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she won&rsquo;t. This is a sudden trip into the country. I told
+      her you had been taken unwell&mdash;a nervous breakdown&mdash;and that the
+      doctor had ordered you complete rest at once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had stayed in Monte Carlo and faced the charge against me,&rdquo;
+      declared Hugh fervently. &ldquo;Being hunted from pillar to post like this
+      is so absolutely nerve-racking.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you go to that woman&rsquo;s house, Hugh?&rdquo; Benton
+      asked. &ldquo;What business had you that led you to call at that hour upon
+      such a notorious person?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh remained silent. He saw that to tell Benton the truth would be to
+      reopen the whole question of the will and of Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he merely shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you tell me what really happened at the Villa Amette,
+      Hugh?&rdquo; asked the elder man persuasively. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen
+      Brock, but he apparently knows nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he does not. I was alone,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s answer.
+      &ldquo;The least said about that night of horror the better, Benton.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the car turned into the gravelled drive, and Hugh found himself
+      at Shapley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Mr. Henfrey! I&rsquo;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&mdash;both of you. It&rsquo;s very healthy up here
+      on the Surrey hills, and you&rsquo;ll soon be quite right again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure, Mrs. Bond, it is most hospitable of you,&rdquo;
+      Hugh said. &ldquo;London in these after the war days is quite impossible.
+      I always long for the country. Certainly your house is delightful,&rdquo;
+      he added, looking round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s one of the nicest houses in the whole county of Surrey,
+      my boy,&rdquo; Benton declared enthusiastically. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I really don&rsquo;t know how to thank you sufficiently, Mrs.
+      Bond,&rdquo; Hugh declared. &ldquo;It is really extremely good of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember, Mr. Henfrey, we are not strangers,&rdquo; exclaimed the
+      handsome woman. &ldquo;Do you recollect when we met in Paris, and
+      afterwards in Biarritz, and then that night at the Carlton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recollect perfectly well. We met before the war, when one could
+      really enjoy oneself contentedly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since then I have been travelling a great deal,&rdquo; said the
+      woman. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been in Italy, the South of Spain, the Azores,
+      and over to the States. I got back only a few months ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you must make yourselves at home, both of you,&rdquo; the
+      handsome woman urged as they came down into the drawing-room after a wash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t this a charming place?&rdquo; remarked Benton as, an
+      hour later, they strolled on the long terrace smoking cigarettes before
+      dinner. &ldquo;Mrs. Bond was indeed fortunate in finding it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; declared Hugh in genuine admiration. Since that
+      memorable night in Monte Carlo he had been living in frowsy surroundings,
+      concealed in thieves&rsquo; hiding-places, eating coarse food, and hearing
+      the slang of the underworld of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had been exciting, yet he had been drawn into it against his will&mdash;just
+      because he had feared for Dorise&rsquo;s sake, to face the music after
+      that mysterious shot had been fired at the Villa Amette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be quite safe here, you know, Hugh. Don&rsquo;t worry.
+      I&rsquo;m truly sorry that you have landed yourself into this hole, but&mdash;well,
+      for the life of me I can&rsquo;t see what led you to seek out that woman,
+      Yvonne Ferad. Why ever did you go there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I had reasons&mdash;private reasons of my own,&rdquo; he
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve been told. It is all so very sad&mdash;so horrible.
+      Though people have denounced her as an adventuress, yet I know that at
+      heart she is a real good woman.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she? How do you know?&rdquo; asked Benton quickly, for instantly
+      he was on the alert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. And that is all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, Hugh&mdash;tell me in confidence, my boy&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had my own reasons.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you tell them to me, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the tall man in
+      a strange, low voice. &ldquo;Remember, I am an old friend of your father.
+      And I am still your best friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh pursued his walk in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;I prefer not to discuss the
+      affair. That night is one full of painful memories.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; answered Benton shortly. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t
+      want to tell me, Hugh, I quite understand. That&rsquo;s enough. Have
+      another cigarette,&rdquo; and he handed the young fellow his heavy gold
+      case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Late one night as they sat together in the billiard-room after their final
+      game, Benton, removing the cigar from his lips, exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she?&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh in surprise. Only once before had
+      Benton mentioned Louise&rsquo;s name, then he had casually remarked that
+      she was on a visit to some friends in Yorkshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She&rsquo;s making her home with Mrs. Bond for the present.
+      She returns here to-morrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he said this, he watched the young man&rsquo;s face. It was
+      sphinx-like.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That&rsquo;s jolly!&rdquo; he replied, with well assumed
+      satisfaction. &ldquo;It seems such an age since we last met&mdash;nearly a
+      year before my father&rsquo;s death, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his heart he had no great liking for the girl, although she was bright,
+      vivacious and extremely good company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next afternoon the pair met in the hall after the car had brought her from
+      Guildford station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Hugh!&rdquo; she cried as she grasped his hand. &ldquo;Uncle
+      wrote and told me you were here! How jolly, isn&rsquo;t it? Why&mdash;you
+      seem to have grown older,&rdquo; she laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you younger,&rdquo; he replied, bending over her hand
+      gallantly. &ldquo;I hear you&rsquo;ve been all over the world of late!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Wasn&rsquo;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&rsquo;m often away with friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he followed her into the big morning-room where Mrs. Bond, alias Molly
+      Maxwell, was awaiting her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>nouveau riche</i> who abound in that
+      neighbourhood. But the callers had left and they were now alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      possessions. True, she was very sweet and possessed more than the ordinary
+      <i>chic</i> and good taste in dress. Yet he felt that he could never
+      fulfil his dead father&rsquo;s curious desire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could never marry her&mdash;<i>never</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVE
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hence it was on the morning following Louise&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Mr. Carlton
+      Symes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on dark-blue paper, such as is usually associated with the law or
+      officialdom. Written in a neat, educated hand, it read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MR. HENFREY,&mdash;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,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;GEORGE PETERS.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The address given was 14, Ellerston Street, Mayfair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh knew the street, which turned off Curzon Street, a short
+      thoroughfare, but very exclusive. Some smart society folk lived there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;-shanter, and carried a stout ash-plant as a
+      walking-stick. They were out together until luncheon time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Benton sat with his hostess, and had a long confidential chat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Molly,&rdquo; he said, as he smoked lazily, &ldquo;I
+      thought it an excellent plan to bring them together, and to let them have
+      an opportunity of really knowing each other. It&rsquo;s no doubt true that
+      he&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s house at night is
+      quite sufficient.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if I know anything of young men, Charles, I don&rsquo;t think
+      you&rsquo;ll ever induce that boy to marry Louise,&rdquo; remarked the
+      handsome adventuress whom nobody suspected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then if he doesn&rsquo;t, we&rsquo;ll just turn him over to
+      Scotland Yard. We haven&rsquo;t any further use for him,&rdquo; said
+      Benton savagely. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the money we want.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I fear we shall go on wanting it, my dear Charles,&rdquo;
+      declared the woman, who was so well versed in the ways of men. &ldquo;Louise
+      likes him. She has told me so. But he only tolerates her&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+      all! He&rsquo;s obsessed by the mystery of old Henfrey&rsquo;s death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if that was the reason he went that night to see Yvonne?&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Benton in a changed voice, as the idea suddenly occurred to him.
+      &ldquo;I wonder if&mdash;if he suspected something, and went boldly and
+      asked her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I wonder!&rdquo; echoed the woman. &ldquo;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&rsquo;t likely to have told the
+      old man&rsquo;s son very much.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you&rsquo;re right, Molly,&rdquo; replied the man. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+      quite right! I don&rsquo;t think we have much to fear on that score. We&rsquo;ve
+      got Hugh with us, and if he again turns antagonistic the end is quite easy&mdash;just
+      an anonymous line to the police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t want to do that if there is any other way,&rdquo;
+      the woman said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see any other way,&rdquo; replied the adventurer.
+      &ldquo;If he won&rsquo;t marry Louise, then the money passes out of our
+      reach.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like The Sparrow taking such a deep interest in his
+      welfare,&rdquo; growled the woman beneath her breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I don&rsquo;t like the fact that Yvonne is still alive. If she
+      were dead&mdash;then we should have nothing to fear&mdash;nothing!&rdquo;
+      Benton said grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who fired the shot if Hugh didn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; asked Mrs.
+      Bond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Personally, I think he did. He discovered something&mdash;something
+      we don&rsquo;t yet know&mdash;and he went to the Villa Amette and shot her
+      in revenge for the old man&rsquo;s death. That&rsquo;s my firm belief.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why has The Sparrow taken all these elaborate precautions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he&rsquo;s afraid himself of the truth coming out,&rdquo;
+      said Benton. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may find him his enemy one day,&rdquo; laughed the woman. And
+      then they rose and strolled out into the grounds, across the lawn down to
+      the great pond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton looked up at him quickly, but said nothing before Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; Mead shall take you,&rdquo; was the woman&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When do you wish to start?&rdquo; asked his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! about nine&mdash;if I may,&rdquo; was the young man&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be back to-night?&rdquo; asked the girl who, in a pretty
+      pink dinner frock, sat opposite him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But it won&rsquo;t be till late, I expect,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember, to-morrow we are going for a run to Bournemouth and back,&rdquo;
+      said the girl. &ldquo;Mrs. Bond has kindly arranged it, and I daresay she
+      will come, too.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know yet, dear,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Bond. The truth
+      was that she intended that the young couple should spend the day alone
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton was filled with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it&rsquo;s a bit dangerous to go to town,
+      Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be, but I must take the risk,&rdquo; was the other&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you going up for?&rdquo; asked Benton bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see somebody&mdash;important,&rdquo; 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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Hugh!&rdquo; cried Louise from the other end of the
+      fine old hall. And a moment later the car drove away in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s old
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;bus.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go to the Berkeley Hotel,&rdquo; he said to the man.
+      &ldquo;Drop me there, and pick me up outside there at twelve, will you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s service he had, for a month, driven a
+      lorry for a local firm of builders, and went constantly to and from
+      London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They arrived at the corner of St. James&rsquo;s Street at half-past ten.
+      Hugh gave Mead five shillings to get his evening meal, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be back here at midnight, Mead. I expect I&rsquo;ll be through my
+      business long before that. But it&rsquo;s a clear night, and we shall have
+      a splendid run home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, sir. Thank you,&rdquo; replied his hostess&rsquo;s
+      chauffeur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;visitors,&rdquo; and a few moments later a smart
+      young footman opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. George Peters?&rdquo; inquired Hugh. &ldquo;I have an
+      appointment.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name, sir?&rdquo; the young, narrow-eyed man asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, sir! Mr. Peters is expecting you,&rdquo; he said. And at
+      once he conducted him along the narrow hall to a room beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole conception was delightful, and the girl&rsquo;s laughing face
+      was most perfect in its portraiture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! here you are, Mr. Henfrey!&rdquo; he exclaimed warmly, as he
+      offered his visitor his hand. Upon the latter was a well-worn black glove&mdash;evidently
+      to hide either some disease or deformity. &ldquo;I was wondering if you
+      received my letter safely?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh, glancing at the shrewd little man whose
+      gloved right hand attracted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down,&rdquo; the other said, as he closed the door. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      very anxious to have a little chat with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I was surprised to learn that you had
+      left your safe asylum in Kensington. Not only was I surprised&mdash;but I
+      confess, I was alarmed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that I have to thank you for making those arrangements
+      for my escape from Monte Carlo?&rdquo; remarked Hugh, looking him straight
+      in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No thanks are needed, my dear Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied the elder
+      man. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was advised to do so by a friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not by Miss Ranscomb, I am sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, by a Mr. Benton, whom I know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s eyebrows narrowed for a second.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton?&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Charles Benton&mdash;is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. As he was a friend of my late father I naturally trust him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Peters paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, naturally,&rdquo; he said a second later. &ldquo;But where are
+      you living now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You went there at Benton&rsquo;s suggestion?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled
+      himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; he said at last. &ldquo;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&mdash;remember, <i>everything</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you knew all about it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know a little&mdash;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?&rdquo; said the little man, his shrewd eyes
+      fixed upon his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other man frowned slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so you went there with the purpose of getting the truth from
+      her?&rdquo; he remarked, with a grunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh nodded in the affirmative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she tell you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. She was about to tell me something when the shot was fired
+      by someone on the veranda outside.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! Then the natural surmise would be that you, suspecting
+      that woman of causing your father&rsquo;s death, shot her because she
+      refused to tell you anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat she was about to disclose the circumstances&mdash;to
+      divulge her secret, when she was struck down.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no suspicion of anyone? You don&rsquo;t think that her
+      manservant&mdash;I forget the fellow&rsquo;s name&mdash;fired the shot?
+      Remember, he was not in the room at the time!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel confident that he did not. He was far too distressed at the
+      terrible affair,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;The outrage must have been
+      committed by someone to whom the preservation of the secret of my father&rsquo;s
+      end was of most vital importance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed,&rdquo; replied the man with the black glove. &ldquo;The
+      problem we have to solve is who was responsible for your father&rsquo;s
+      death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;If that shot had not been fired I
+      should have known the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think, then, that Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo would have told
+      you the truth?&rdquo; asked the bristly-haired man with a mysterious
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She would.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Henfrey, I think I am not of your opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think possibly she would have implicated herself if she had
+      told me the truth?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because Benton suggested it. He told me that Scotland Yard knew of
+      my presence in Kensington, making further residence there dangerous.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; And the man with the black glove paused again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like Benton, do you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no real reason to dislike him. He has always been very
+      friendly towards me&mdash;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&rsquo;s will.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange clause?&rdquo; echoed the old man. &ldquo;What clause?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father, in his will, cut me off every benefit he could unless I
+      married Benton&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was Benton with him?&rdquo; asked Mr. Peters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Benton went to New York about two months before.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! And how soon after your father&rsquo;s return did he
+      come home?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it was about three months. He was in America five months
+      altogether, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, still curled in his chair, smoked his cigar in silence.
+      Apparently he was thinking deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s daughter. I
+      know her&mdash;a truly charming girl. I congratulate you,&rdquo; he added,
+      as though speaking to himself. &ldquo;But the situation is indeed a very
+      complicated one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me it is terrible. I am living under a cloud, and in constant
+      fear of arrest. What can be done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear nothing much can be done at present,&rdquo; said the old
+      man, shaking his head gravely. &ldquo;I quite realize that you are victim
+      of certain enemies who intend to get hold of your father&rsquo;s fortune.
+      It is for us to combat them&mdash;if we can.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will continue to help me?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly,
+      looking into the mysterious face of the old fellow who wore the black
+      glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you my aid,&rdquo; he replied, putting out his gloved
+      hand as pledge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as Hugh took it, he looked straight into those keen eyes, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have asked me many questions, sir, and I have replied to them
+      all. May I ask one of you&mdash;my friend?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; replied the older man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then am I correct in assuming that you are actually the person of
+      whom I have heard so much up and down Europe&mdash;the man of whom certain
+      men and women speak with admiration, and with bated breath&mdash;the man
+      known in certain circles as&mdash;as <i>Il Passero</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countenance of the little man with the bristly white hair and the
+      black glove relaxed into a smile, as, still holding Hugh&rsquo;s hand in
+      friendship, he replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It is true. Some know me as &lsquo;The Sparrow!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NINETEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was at last face to face with the most notorious criminal in
+      Europe!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The black-gloved hand of the wizened, bristly-haired old man was the hand
+      that controlled a great organization spread all over Europe&mdash;an
+      organization which only knew Il Passero by repute, but had never seen him
+      in the flesh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet there he was, a discreet, rather petulant old gentleman, who lived at
+      ease in an exclusive West End street, and was entirely unsuspected!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When &ldquo;Mr. Peters&rdquo; admitted his identity, Hugh drew a long
+      breath. He was staggered. He was profuse in his thanks, but &ldquo;The
+      Sparrow&rdquo; merely smiled, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true that I and certain of my friends make war upon Society&mdash;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&mdash;as
+      you are to-day.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard many strange things concerning you from those who have
+      never met you,&rdquo; Hugh said frankly. &ldquo;But nothing to your
+      detriment. Everyone speaks of you, sir, as a gallant sportsman, possessed
+      of an almost uncanny cleverness in outwitting the authorities.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well!&rdquo; laughed the shrewd old man. &ldquo;By the exercise
+      of a little wit, and the possession of a little knowledge of the <i>personnel</i>
+      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&mdash;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,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But does he not recognize you, or suspect?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your organization is most wonderful, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Peters,&rdquo;
+      declared the young man. &ldquo;Since my flight I have had opportunity of
+      learning something concerning it. And frankly, I am utterly astounded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s face again relaxed into a sphinx-like smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I order, I am obeyed,&rdquo; he said in a curious tone.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I take it, sir, that you trust me, and that my case is one of
+      extreme necessity?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added. He did not tell the
+      young man of his knowledge of Benton and his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am very desirous of seeing Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+      &ldquo;Is there any way possible by which I can meet her without running
+      too great a risk?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow reflected in silence for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day is Wednesday,&rdquo; he remarked slowly at last. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will she?&rdquo; cried Hugh eagerly. &ldquo;Will you arrange it?
+      You are, indeed, a good Samaritan!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little old man smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite understand that this enforced parting under such
+      circumstances is most unfortunate for you both,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But
+      I have done, and will continue to do, all I can in your interest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t quite make you out, Mr. Peters,&rdquo; said the young
+      man. &ldquo;Why should you evince such a paternal interest in me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow did not at once reply. A strange expression played about his
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I not already answered that question twice?&rdquo; he asked.
+      &ldquo;Rest assured, Mr. Henfrey, that I have your interests very much at
+      heart.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have some reason for that, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;yes, I have a reason&mdash;a reason which is my own
+      affair.&rdquo; And he rose to wish his visitor &ldquo;good-night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not forget to let Miss Ranscomb know that you will be at
+      Farnham. She will, no doubt, manage to get her mother&rsquo;s car for the
+      afternoon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Good-night!&rdquo; and with his gloved
+      fingers he took the young man&rsquo;s outstretched hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, while Hugh Henfrey was seated beside Mead as Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s car
+      went swiftly towards Kensington, a thin, rather wiry-looking man of middle
+      age entered The Sparrow&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter sprang to his feet quickly at sight of his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Howell! I&rsquo;m glad you&rsquo;ve come. Benton and Molly
+      Maxwell are deceiving us. They mean mischief!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man he addressed as Howell looked aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mischief?&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll
+      repeat, if we&rsquo;re not very careful. That girl of Benton&rsquo;s they
+      are using as a decoy&mdash;and she&rsquo;s a dangerous one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For whom?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For old Henfrey&rsquo;s son.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow&rsquo;s visitor gave vent to a low whistle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They intend to get old Henfrey&rsquo;s money?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and they will if we are not very wary,&rdquo; declared
+      the little, bristly-haired old gentleman known as The Sparrow. &ldquo;The
+      boy has been entirely entrapped. They made one <i>faux pas</i>, and it is
+      upon that we may&mdash;if we are careful&mdash;get the better of them. I
+      don&rsquo;t like the situation at all. They have a distinctly evil design
+      against the boy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton and Molly are a combination pretty hard to beat,&rdquo;
+      remarked Mr. Howell. &ldquo;But I thought they were friends of ours.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True. They were. But after the little affair in Marseilles I don&rsquo;t
+      trust them,&rdquo; replied The Sparrow. &ldquo;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&mdash;and my
+      suspicion usually proves correct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His midnight visitor drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What we all say of you is that The Sparrow is gifted with an extra
+      sense,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little old man with the gloved hand smiled contentedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t know why,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have such a marvellous memory.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Memory!&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Quite wrong. I keep everything
+      filed. I work yonder at my desk all day. See this old wardrobe,&rdquo; and
+      he crossed to a long, genuine Jacobean wardrobe which stood in a corner
+      and, unlocking it, opened the carved doors. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These he brought to his table, and opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes!&rdquo; he said, knitting his brows as he read a document
+      beneath the green-shaded electric lamp. &ldquo;You know Franklyn, don&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harold Franklyn?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Well, he&rsquo;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&rsquo;s maid&mdash;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;business&rdquo;
+      he held a controlling interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;gloved because
+      of a natural deformity&mdash;was the hand which controlled most of the
+      greater robberies, for his war upon society was constantly far-reaching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Franklyn coming straight back?&rdquo; asked Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the plan. He should leave Vienna to-morrow night,&rdquo;
+      said The Sparrow, again consulting the papers. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s jewels to old Van Ort,
+      and they&rsquo;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&rsquo;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,&rdquo; and the old fellow laughed
+      oddly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought Franklyn worked with Molly,&rdquo; said Mr. Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he does. I want him back, for I&rsquo;ve a delicate mission for
+      him,&rdquo; replied the sphinx-like man known as The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howell, at the invitation of the arch-criminal, helped himself to a
+      drink. Then The Sparrow said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. But Tresham is already there. I had a letter from him
+      from the Palace Hotel yesterday.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will recall him by wire to-morrow. Our plans are complete. The
+      Marquis&rsquo;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&mdash;when we have time to go and get it,&rdquo; he
+      laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Franklyn to help the Maxwell woman again?&rdquo; asked Mr.
+      Howell, who was known as an expert valuer of antiques and articles of
+      worth, and who had an office in St. James&rsquo;s. He only dealt in
+      collectors&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;indicators,&rdquo;
+      both male and female, were everywhere, and cosmopolitan as he was himself,
+      and a wealthy man, he was able to direct&mdash;and finance&mdash;all sorts
+      of coups, from a barefaced jewel theft to the forgery of American
+      banknotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;they were the servants, well-paid too,
+      and he was the master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;or of a
+      baronetcy, and more than probable he would have entered Parliament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;as he did anonymously to the War
+      Office&mdash;of certain trusted persons who were, at the moment of the
+      outbreak of war, betraying Britain&rsquo;s secrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;d better be off. It&rsquo;s late!&rdquo; said Mr. Howell,
+      after they had been in close conversation for nearly half an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I suppose you must go,&rdquo; The Sparrow remarked, rising.
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;he is their victim,&rdquo; he added; &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps Franklyn can assist us?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;a very
+      bad crowd indeed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTIETH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WHO KNEW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Late on Thursday night Dorise and her mother were driving home from Lady
+      Strathbayne&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was tired. The dinner had been followed by a small dance, and she had
+      greatly enjoyed it. For once, George Sherrard, her mother&rsquo;s friend,
+      had not accompanied them. As a matter of fact, Lady Strathbayne disliked
+      the man, hence he had not been invited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard about Hugh Henfrey this evening.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From whom?&rdquo; asked her daughter, instantly aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From that man who took me in to dinner. I think his name was
+      Bowden.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That stout, red-faced man. I don&rsquo;t know him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I. He was, however, very pleasant, and seems to have
+      travelled a lot,&rdquo; replied her mother. &ldquo;He told me that your
+      precious friend, Henfrey, is back, and is staying down in Surrey as guest
+      of some woman named Bond.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise sat staggered. Then her lover&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did he know, I wonder?&rdquo; she asked anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I suppose he&rsquo;s heard. He seemed to know all about the
+      fellow. It appears that at last he&rsquo;s become engaged.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Engaged? Hugh engaged?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, to a girl named Louise Lambert. She&rsquo;s the adopted
+      daughter of a man named Benton, who was, by the way, a great friend of old
+      Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh engaged to Louise Lambert! Dorise sat bewildered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo; she blurted forth at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear. You mean you don&rsquo;t want to believe it&mdash;because
+      you are in love with him!&rdquo; said her mother as the car rushed
+      homeward. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb, clever woman of the world as she was, watched her daughter&rsquo;s
+      face in the fleeting lights as they sped homeward, and saw what a crushing
+      blow the announcement had dealt her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe it,&rdquo; the girl cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had received word in secret&mdash;presumably from the White Cavalier&mdash;to
+      meet Hugh at the Bush Hotel at Farnham on the following afternoon, but
+      this secret news held her in doubt and despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb dropped the subject, and began to speak of other things&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On arrival home Dorise went at once to her room, where her maid awaited
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the distracted girl had thrown off her cloak, her maid unhooked her
+      dress, whereupon Dorise dismissed her to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to read, so go to bed,&rdquo; she said in a petulant voice
+      which rather surprised the neat muslin-aproned maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, miss. Good-night,&rdquo; the latter replied meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had met Louise Lambert&mdash;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh would be awaiting her at Farnham next afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within herself arose a great struggle. Hugh was accused of a crime&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But why did he visit that notorious woman at that hour of the night? What
+      could have been the secret bond between them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Dorise spent a sleepless night. She lay awake thinking&mdash;and yet
+      thinking!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At breakfast her mother looked at her and, with satisfaction, saw that she
+      had gained a point nearer her object.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise went into Bond Street shopping at eleven o&rsquo;clock, still
+      undecided whether to face Hugh or not. The shopping was a fiasco. She
+      bought only a bunch of flowers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On returning home, her mother told her of George&rsquo;s acceptance of an
+      invitation to lunch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a matinee at the Lyric, and he&rsquo;s taking us
+      there,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;But, dear,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;you
+      look ever so pale! What is worrying you? I hope you are not fretting over
+      that good-for-nothing waster, Henfrey! Personally, I&rsquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, mother, I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know what to do,&rdquo;
+      the girl confessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do! Take my advice, darling. Think no more of the fellow. He&rsquo;s
+      no use to you&mdash;or to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, mother dear&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Dorise, no more need be said!&rdquo; interrupted Lady Ranscomb
+      severely. &ldquo;You surely would not be so idiotic as to throw in your
+      lot with a man who is certainly a criminal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A criminal! Why do you denounce him, mother?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;or are you
+      blind?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl remained silent. Her mother&rsquo;s argument was certainly a very
+      sound one. Had Hugh deceived her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lover&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such a compliment Hugh had never paid to her. The recollection of it stung
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On that afternoon Hugh had borrowed Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s car upon a rather
+      lame pretext, and had pulled up in the square, inartistic yard before the
+      Bush&mdash;the old coaching house, popular before the new road over the
+      Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no sign of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Until six o&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you have a nice run, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl, clasping her
+      hands behind her head and looking up at him as he stood upon the pale-blue
+      hearthrug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I went around Hindhead down to
+      Frensham Ponds and back through Farnham&mdash;quite a pleasant run.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton has had to go to town,&rdquo; said his hostess. &ldquo;Almost
+      as soon as you had gone he was rung up, and he had to get a taxi out from
+      Guildford. He&rsquo;ll be back to-morrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;and, by the way, Hugh,&rdquo; exclaimed Louise,
+      &ldquo;there was a call for you about a quarter of an hour afterwards. I
+      thought nobody knew you were down here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me!&rdquo; gasped Henfrey, instantly alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I answered the &lsquo;phone. It was a girl&rsquo;s voice!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A girl! Who?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know who she was. She wouldn&rsquo;t give her name,&rdquo;
+      Louise replied. &ldquo;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&rsquo;t matter at all, and rang off.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder who she was?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is certainly rather curious,&rdquo; the woman admitted. &ldquo;Evidently
+      it is known by somebody that you are staying with me. Don&rsquo;t you
+      think it would be wiser to leave?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh hesitated. He wished to take Benton&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      proposal that Hugh should stay there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton will be back to-morrow,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;Do you
+      think it safe for me to remain here till then?&rdquo; he added anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was from Benton, who spoke from London&mdash;a few quick, cryptic, but
+      reassuring words&mdash;and when the woman left the room three minutes
+      later all her anxiety as to the police had apparently passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking over that little matter, Mr. Henfrey. I
+      really don&rsquo;t think there is much cause for alarm. Charles will be
+      back to-morrow, and we can consult him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh shrugged his shoulders. He was much puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is, Mrs. Bond, I&rsquo;m tired of being hunted like this!&rdquo;
+      he said. &ldquo;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&mdash;well, they
+      can. I&rsquo;m innocent&mdash;therefore, how can they prove me guilty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! you mustn&rsquo;t let it obsess you,&rdquo; the woman urged.
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s dead,&rdquo; said the young man in a low, hoarse voice;
+      &ldquo;but Mademoiselle Ferad knows the secret of his death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died suddenly&mdash;did he not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He was murdered, Mrs. Bond. I&rsquo;m certain of it. My father
+      was murdered!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Murdered?&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;What did the doctors say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They arrived at no definite conclusion,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s
+      response. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police believe that you went to the Villa Amette and murdered
+      Mademoiselle out of revenge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let them prove it!&rdquo; said the young fellow defiantly. &ldquo;Let
+      them prove it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Prove what?&rdquo; asked Louise, as she suddenly reopened the door,
+      greatly to the woman&rsquo;s consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Only somebody&mdash;that Spicer woman over at Godalming&mdash;has
+      been saying some wicked and nasty things about Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied
+      Mrs. Bond. &ldquo;Personally, I should be annoyed. Really those gossiping
+      people are simply intolerable.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have they been saying, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s really nothing,&rdquo; laughed Henfrey. &ldquo;I
+      apologize. I was put out a moment ago, but I now see the absurdity of it.
+      Forgive me, Louise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl looked from Mrs. Bond to her guest in amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is there to forgive?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact that I was in the very act of losing my temper. That&rsquo;s
+      all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, when Louise was ascending the stairs with Mrs. Bond, the girl
+      asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why was Hugh so put out? What has Mrs. Spicer been saying about
+      him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only that he was a shirker during the war. And, naturally, he is
+      highly indignant.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has a right to be. He did splendidly. His record shows that,&rdquo;
+      declared the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I urged him to take no notice of the insults. The Spicer woman has
+      a very venomous tongue, my dear! She is a vicar&rsquo;s widow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then they separated to their respective rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s orders implicitly&mdash;as so many others
+      did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning he came down to breakfast before the ladies, and beside his
+      plate he found a letter&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those lines which he read staggered him; the room seemed to revolve, and
+      he re-read them, scarce believing his own eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At the moment he had read the letter Mrs. Bond entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo! You&rsquo;re down early,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;And
+      already had your letters, I see! They don&rsquo;t generally come so early.
+      The postman has to walk over from Puttenham.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she took up her own and carelessly placed them aside. They consisted
+      mostly of circulars and the accounts of Guildford tradesmen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I was down early. Lately I&rsquo;ve
+      acquired the habit of early rising.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An excellent habit in a young man,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;All
+      men who achieve success are early risers&mdash;so a Cabinet Minister said
+      the other day. And really, I believe it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;a fact recently
+      discovered in our post-war days,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;as you are doing. Hard things are being said
+      about you&mdash;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&mdash;whom I know not&mdash;knows of your
+      hiding-place, for, by a roundabout way, I heard of it, and hence, I
+      address this letter to you.&mdash;DORISE.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey stood staggered. There was no mistaking the meaning of that
+      letter now that he had read it a second time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise doubted him! And what answer could he give her? Any explanation
+      must, to her, be but a lame excuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh ate his breakfast sullenly. To Louise, who put in a late appearance,
+      and helped herself off the hot-plate, he said cheerfully:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How lazy you are!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not laziness, Hugh,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;The
+      maid was so late with my tea&mdash;and&mdash;well, to tell the truth, I
+      upset a whole new box of powder on my dressing-table and had to clean up
+      the mess.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More haste&mdash;less speed,&rdquo; laughed Hugh. &ldquo;It is
+      always the same in the morning&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s death, combined with that extraordinary will by which
+      it was decreed that if he married Louise he would acquire his father&rsquo;s
+      fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His thoughts all through breakfast were of The Sparrow&mdash;the great
+      criminal, who was his friend. Hence, after they rose, he strolled into the
+      morning-room with his hostess, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go to town again this morning. I have an urgent
+      letter. Can Mead take me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; was the woman&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So half an hour later Hugh was driving up the steep High Street of
+      Guildford on his way to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant the servant recognized the visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Peters will not be in for a quarter of an hour,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Would you care to wait, sir?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I want to see him very urgently.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come in? Mr. Peters has left instructions that you might
+      probably call; Mr. Henfrey, is it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh. The man seemed to possess a memory like
+      that of a club hall-porter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments after he distinctly heard a man&rsquo;s voice, which he at
+      once recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant had told him that Mr. Peters was absent, yet he recognized his
+      voice&mdash;a rather high-pitched, musical one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Henfrey is waiting,&rdquo; he heard the servant say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right! I hope you told him I was out,&rdquo; The Sparrow replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh stood before an old coloured print representing the hobby-horse
+      school&mdash;the days of the &ldquo;bone-shakers&rdquo;&mdash;and studied
+      it. He awaited Il Passero and the advice which he had promised to give.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;in
+      Genoa, in Brussels, in London&mdash;anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hence his peril of arrest. It was that point which he wished to discuss
+      with the great arch-criminal of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That house was one of mystery. The servant had told him that he was
+      expected. Why? What did The Sparrow suspect?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, as he stood there, he heard voices again. They were raised in
+      discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One voice he recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I tell you my view is still the same,&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+      &ldquo;What you have told me does not alter it, however much you may
+      ridicule me!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you know the truth&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really didn&rsquo;t say so, my dear Howell. But I have my
+      suspicions&mdash;strong suspicions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which you will, in due course, impart to young Henfrey, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do nothing of the sort,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;The lad is in serious peril. I happen to know that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why don&rsquo;t you warn him at once?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s my affair!&rdquo; snapped the gentleman known in
+      Mayfair as Mr. Peters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;IF Henfrey is here, then I&rsquo;d like to meet him,&rdquo; Howell
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The house was, in more than one way, a curiosity. It had a secret exit
+      through a mews at the rear&mdash;now converted into a garage&mdash;and
+      several other mysterious contrivances which were unsuspected by visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would hardly do for him to know what we know, Mr. Peters&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+      Hugh heard Howell say a moment later. It was the habit of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      accomplices to address their great director&mdash;the brain of criminal
+      Europe&mdash;by the name under which they inquired for him. The Sparrow
+      had twenty names&mdash;one for every city in which he had a cosy <i>pied-a-terre</i>.
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, Il Passero, the cosmopolitan of many names and half a dozen
+      nationalities, had brought criminality to a fine art.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, standing there breathless, listened to every word. Who was this man
+      Howell?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; cried The Sparrow suddenly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll go and get young Henfrey. But,&rdquo;
+      he added, &ldquo;be extremely careful. Disclose nothing you know
+      concerning the affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be discreet, never fear,&rdquo; replied his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend, Mr. George Howell,&rdquo; said The Sparrow, introducing
+      the slim, wiry-looking, middle-aged man, who was alert and clean-shaven,
+      and plainly but well dressed&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His bearing was that of high respectability. The diamond scarf-pin was his
+      only ornament&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glad to meet you, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; he replied, with a gay,
+      rather nonchalant air. &ldquo;My friend Mr. Peters has been speaking about
+      you. Had a rather anxious time, I hear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey looked at the stranger inquisitively, and then glanced at The
+      Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Howell is quite safe,&rdquo; declared the man with the gloved
+      hand. &ldquo;He is one of Us. So you may speak without fear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied the young man, &ldquo;the fact is, I&rsquo;ve
+      had a very apprehensive time. I&rsquo;m here to seek Mr. Peters&rsquo;
+      kind advice, for without him I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;d have been arrested
+      and perhaps convicted long ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! A bit of bad luck&mdash;eh? Nearly found out, have you been?
+      Ah! All of us have our narrow escapes. I&rsquo;ve had many in my time,&rdquo;
+      and he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So have all of us,&rdquo; laughed the bristly-haired man. &ldquo;But
+      tell me, Henfrey, why have you come to see me so quickly?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because they know where I&rsquo;m in hiding!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They know? Who knows?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Ranscomb knows my whereabouts and has written to me in my real
+      name and addressed the letter to Shapley.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what of that?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I told her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She tells me that my present hiding-place is known!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not known to the police? <i>Impossible</i>!&rdquo; gasped the
+      black-gloved man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that such is a fact.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Molly is there!&rdquo; cried the man Howell. &ldquo;If the
+      police suspect that Henfrey is at Shapley, then they&rsquo;ll visit the
+      place and have a decided haul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh in ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. I never discuss other people&rsquo;s private affairs, Mr.
+      Henfrey,&rdquo; Howell answered very quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was surprised at the familiar mention of &ldquo;Molly,&rdquo; and the
+      declaration that if the Manor were searched the police would have &ldquo;a
+      decided haul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very interesting,&rdquo; declared The Sparrow. &ldquo;What
+      did Miss Ranscomb say in her letter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a second Hugh hesitated; then, drawing it from his pocket, he gave it
+      to the gloved man to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow&rsquo;s strongly marked face changed as he read Dorise&rsquo;s
+      angry letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus dismissed, Hugh walked along Ellerston Street into Curzon Street
+      towards Piccadilly, not knowing where to go to spend the intervening
+      hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The instant he had gone, however, The Sparrow turned to his companion, who
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if Lisette has revealed anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow, for once suddenly perturbed.
+      <i>&ldquo;I never thought of that!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CLOSING THE NET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;recollect how much the girl knows!&rdquo; Howell
+      remarked as he stood before The Sparrow in the latter&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not forgotten,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;The whole
+      circumstances of old Henfrey&rsquo;s death are not known to me. That it
+      was an unfortunate affair has long ago been proved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne was the culprit, of course,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;That
+      was apparent from the first.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose she was,&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow reflectively.
+      &ldquo;But that attempt upon her life puzzles me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who could have greater motive in killing her out of revenge than
+      the dead man&rsquo;s son?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed. But I am convinced that the lad is innocent. Therefore I
+      gave him our protection.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very&mdash;I agree. She had done some excellent work&mdash;the
+      affair in the Rue Royale, for instance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the clever ruse by which she got those emeralds of the
+      Roumanian princess. The Vienna police are still searching for her&mdash;after
+      three years,&rdquo; laughed the companion of the chief of the
+      international organization, whose word was law in the criminal underworld
+      of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Knowing what you did regarding the knowledge of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      death possessed by Lisette, I have been surprised that you placed her
+      beneath your protection.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she had been arrested she might have told some very unpleasant
+      truths, in order to save herself,&rdquo; The Sparrow remarked, &ldquo;so I
+      chose the latter evil.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Henfrey met her. I wonder whether she told him anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I questioned her. She was discreet, it seems. Or at least, she
+      declares that she was.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good feature. But, speaking frankly, have you any
+      idea of the identity of the person&mdash;man or woman&mdash;who attempted
+      to kill Yvonne?&rdquo; asked Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a suspicion&mdash;a pretty shrewd suspicion,&rdquo; replied
+      the little bristly-haired man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His companion was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t offer to confide in me your suspicions&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is wiser to obtain proof before making any allegations,&rdquo;
+      answered The Sparrow, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will still protect Lisette?&rdquo; Howell asked. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the moment, she&rsquo;s in Madrid,&rdquo; The Sparrow replied.
+      &ldquo;There is a little affair there&mdash;the jewels of a Belgian&rsquo;s
+      wife&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is with her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody yet. Franklyn will go in due course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Howell&rsquo;s thin lips relaxed into a curious smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Franklyn is in love with Lisette,&rdquo; he remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is why I am sending them together to execute the little
+      mission,&rdquo; The Sparrow said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The game is worth the candle, I suppose&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet often at restaurants he would order champagne, choice vintage clarets,
+      and liqueurs&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the peril of drink &ldquo;Mr. Peters&rdquo; was constantly lecturing
+      the great circle of his friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each year&mdash;on the 26th of February to be exact&mdash;there was held a
+      dinner at a well-known restaurant in the West End&mdash;the annual dinner
+      of a club known as &ldquo;The Wonder Wizards.&rdquo; It was supposed to be
+      a circle of professional conjurers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The situation was indeed humorous. It was The Sparrow&rsquo;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&mdash;believed
+      by those who attended to be The Sparrow himself&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;everything save murder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the real Sparrow&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men stood discussing the young French girl, Lisette, whom Hugh had
+      met when in hiding in the Via della Maddalena in Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only hope; that she has not told young Henfrey anything,&rdquo;
+      Howell said, with distinct apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed The Sparrow. &ldquo;She came to me and told me
+      how she had met him in Genoa and discovered to her amazement that he was
+      old Henfrey&rsquo;s son.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How curious that the pair should meet by accident,&rdquo; remarked
+      Howell. &ldquo;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&mdash;or
+      something of that short. Signatures to wills have been procured under many
+      pretexts by scoundrelly relatives and unscrupulous lawyers.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. And the witnesses have placed their signatures afterward,&rdquo;
+      remarked The Sparrow thoughtfully. &ldquo;But in this case all seems above
+      board&mdash;at least so far as the will is concerned. Benton was old
+      Henfrey&rsquo;s bosom friend. Henfrey was very taken with Louise, and I
+      know that he was desirous Hugh should marry her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he did, Hugh would acquire the old man&rsquo;s fortune, and
+      Benton would step in and seize it&mdash;as is his intention.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;d be horrified if she knew that Molly was simply a
+      clever adventuress, who is very much wanted in Paris and in Brussels,&rdquo;
+      said the gloved man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A good job that she knows nothing,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;But
+      it would be a revelation to her if the police descended upon Shapley Manor&mdash;wouldn&rsquo;t
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;out of the
+      frying-pan into the fire.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, before we can go farther, it seems that we should ascertain
+      who shot Yvonne,&rdquo; Howell suggested. &ldquo;It was a most dastardly
+      thing, and whoever did it ought to be punished.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He ought. But I&rsquo;m as much in the dark as you are, Howell;
+      but, as I have already said, I entertain strong suspicions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll suggest one name&mdash;Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The manservant, Giulio Cataldi?&rdquo; Howell ventured. &ldquo;I
+      never liked that sly old Italian.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What motive could the old fellow have had?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robbery, probably. We have no idea what were Yvonne&rsquo;s
+      winnings that night&mdash;or of the money she had in her bag.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we do know,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Yvonne&rsquo;s bag?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was found where she had left it. In it were three thousand eight
+      hundred francs, all in notes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet Franklyn told me that he had heard how Yvonne won quite a large
+      sum that night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She might have done so&mdash;and have lost the greater part of it,&rdquo;
+      The Sparrow replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the other hand, what more feasible than that the old manservant,
+      watching her place it there, abstracted the bulk of the money&mdash;a
+      large sum, no doubt&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the affair was very cleverly planned there is no doubt,&rdquo;
+      said The Sparrow. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I certainly believe the Italian robbed his mistress and afterwards
+      attempted to murder her,&rdquo; Howell insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might rob his mistress, certainly. He might even have robbed her
+      of considerable sums systematically,&rdquo; The Sparrow assented. &ldquo;The
+      maids told the police that Mademoiselle&rsquo;s habit was to leave her bag
+      with her winnings upon the dressing-table while she went downstairs and
+      took a glass of wine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He learnt that from me,&rdquo; The Sparrow said with a smile.
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he went on; &ldquo;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&rsquo;s mouth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; replied the visitor. &ldquo;On the other
+      hand, it would be to Benton&rsquo;s advantage that the truth concerning
+      old Henfrey&rsquo;s death was suppressed. Yvonne was about to tell the
+      young man something&mdash;perhaps confess the truth, who knows?&mdash;when
+      the shot was fired.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear Howell, you have your opinion and I have mine,&rdquo;
+      laughed The Sparrow. &ldquo;The latter I shall keep to myself&mdash;until
+      my theory is disproved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon Howell took a cigar that his host offered him, and while he
+      slowly lit it, The Sparrow crossed to the telephone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He quickly found Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s number in the directory, and a few
+      moments later was talking to the butler, of whom he inquired for Miss
+      Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that a friend of Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      wishes to speak to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments The Sparrow heard the girl&rsquo;s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Who is speaking?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; was the reply of the man with the
+      gloved hand. &ldquo;You will probably guess who it is.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard a little nervous laugh, and then:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. I&mdash;I have an idea, but I can&rsquo;t talk to you over
+      the &lsquo;phone. I&rsquo;ve got somebody who&rsquo;s just called. Mother
+      is out&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Then she lowered her voice,
+      evidently not desirous of being heard in the adjoining room. &ldquo;Well,
+      I don&rsquo;t know what to do.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean? Does it concern Mr. Henfrey?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It does. There&rsquo;s a man here to see me from Scotland
+      Yard! What shall I do?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow gasped at the girl&rsquo;s announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next second he recovered himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man from Scotland Yard!&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Why has he
+      called?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He knows that Mr. Henfrey is living at Shapley, in Surrey. And he
+      has been asking whether I am acquainted with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      WHAT LISETTE KNEW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      A fortnight had gone by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten o&rsquo;clock in the morning in the Puerta del Sol, that great plaza
+      in Madrid&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey&mdash;a smart, lithe figure in blue serge&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Lisette, the girl whom he had met when in hiding in that back
+      street in Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;So here we are! The Sparrow sent
+      me to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I had a telegram from him four days ago ordering me to meet
+      you. Strange things are happening&mdash;it seems!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked the young Englishman, in ignorance of the great
+      conspiracy or of what was taking place. &ldquo;Since I saw you last,
+      mademoiselle, I have been moving about rapidly, and always in danger of
+      arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So have I. But I am here at The Sparrow&rsquo;s orders&mdash;on a
+      little business which I hope to bring off successfully on any evening. I
+      have an English friend with me&mdash;a Mr. Franklyn.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I left London suddenly. I saw The Sparrow in the evening, and next
+      morning, at eleven o&rsquo;clock, without even a bag, I left London for
+      Madrid with a very useful passport.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are here because Madrid is safer for you than London, I
+      suppose?&rdquo; said the girl in broken English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. A certain Mr. Howell, a friend of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      suggested that I should come here,&rdquo; Hugh explained. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smartly-dressed girl walked slowly at his side and, for some moments,
+      remained silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! So you have met Hamilton Shaw&mdash;alias Howell?&rdquo; she
+      remarked at last in a changed voice. &ldquo;He certainly is not your
+      friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not my friend! Why? I&rsquo;ve only met him lately.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say that the police knew of your hiding-place,&rdquo; said
+      mademoiselle, speaking in French, as it was easier for her. &ldquo;Would
+      you be surprised if Howell had revealed your secret?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell!&rdquo; gasped Hugh. &ldquo;Yes, I certainly would. He is a
+      close friend of The Sparrow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be. But that does not prove that he is any friend of
+      yours. If you came here at Howell&rsquo;s suggestion&mdash;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? I don&rsquo;t understand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can give you no explanation,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely you don&rsquo;t suspect that it was this Mr. Howell who gave
+      me away to Scotland Yard!&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh, surprised, but at the
+      same time recollecting that The Sparrow had been alarmed at the detective&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      closest friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he tried to extract from her what she knew concerning his father&rsquo;s
+      death. But she would tell him nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not permitted to say anything, Mr. Henfrey. I can only regret
+      it,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;Mr. Franklyn is at the Ritz opposite.
+      I should like you to meet him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door was closed and they were alone, mademoiselle suddenly
+      revealed to her friend what Hugh had said concerning Howell&rsquo;s
+      suggestion that he should travel to Madrid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Franklyn&rsquo;s face changed. He was instantly apprehensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;we must leave this place&mdash;all
+      three of us&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To France,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply, on the spur of the
+      moment. &ldquo;I can get to Marseilles.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Go by way of Barcelona. It is quickest,&rdquo; said the
+      Englishman. &ldquo;The express leaves just after three o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after he had thanked Hugh for his timely warning, the latter walked
+      out more than ever mystified at the attitude of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      accomplices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s intimate friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as well that he left Madrid, for, just as Lisette and Franklyn had
+      suspected, the police called at his hotel&mdash;an obscure one near the
+      station&mdash;only two hours after his departure. Then, finding him gone,
+      they sought both mademoiselle and Franklyn, only to find that they also
+      had fled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Someone had given away their secret!</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;one of thousands one meets in the city of
+      Marseilles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken a corner seat in the window, had ordered his coffee, and was
+      glancing at the <i>Petit Parisien</i>, which he had taken from his pocket,
+      when another man entered, gazed around in search of a seat and, noticing
+      one at Hugh&rsquo;s table, crossed, lifted his hat, and took the vacant
+      chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the stranger who had followed him from the Louvre et Paix.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this seemed quite unnoticed by Hugh, immersed as he was in his
+      newspaper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside the man and woman met. They held hurried consultation. The woman
+      told him something which evidently caused him sudden surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will call on you at eleven to-morrow morning, madame,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I will meet you at the Reserve. I will lunch there at twelve.
+      You will lunch with me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;<i>Au revoir</i>,&rdquo; and
+      he returned to his seat in the cafe, while she disappeared without
+      returning to her companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mysterious watcher resumed his coffee, for he had only been absent for
+      a few moments, and the waiter had not cleared it away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh took out his cigarette-case and, suddenly finding himself without a
+      match, made the opportunity for which the mysterious stranger had been
+      waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He struck one and handed it to his <i>vis-a-vis</i>, bowing with his
+      foreign grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they naturally dropped into conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur is English!&rdquo; exclaimed the shrewd-eyed
+      little man. &ldquo;Here, in Marseilles, we have many English who pass to
+      and fro from the boats. I suppose, m&rsquo;sieur is going East?&rdquo; he
+      suggested affably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Hugh, speaking in French, &ldquo;I have some
+      business here&mdash;that is all.&rdquo; He was highly suspicious of all
+      strangers, and the more so of anyone who endeavoured to get into
+      conversation with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know Marseilles&mdash;of course?&rdquo; asked the stranger,
+      sharply scrutinizing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been here several times before. I find the city always gay
+      and bright.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so bright as before the war,&rdquo; declared the little man,
+      smoking at his ease. &ldquo;There have been many changes lately.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you are Mr. Henfrey&mdash;are you not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you ask that?&rdquo; inquired Hugh, much surprised. &ldquo;My
+      name is Jordan&mdash;William Jordan.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed the man. &ldquo;That is, I know, the name you
+      have given at the hotel. But your real name is Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh started. The stranger, noticing his alarm, hastened to reassure him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FRIEND OR ENEMY?
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not worry,&rdquo; said the stranger to Hugh. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he went on as he strolled at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was amazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know my identity?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was instructed to watch for your arrival&mdash;and to warn you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who instructed you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of yours&mdash;and mine&mdash;The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he been here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He spoke to me on the telephone from Paris.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What were his instructions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you were to go at once&mdash;to-night&mdash;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&rsquo;s
+      orders. You are one of Us, I understand,&rdquo; and the man laughed
+      lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But my bag?&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does The Sparrow ever come to Marseilles?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sometimes&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the words left the man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was his pretended friend an agent of the police?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;which he certainly did not appear
+      to be&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet he knew all about The Sparrow, and his attitude was not in the least
+      hostile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only that exchange of glances with the passer-by which had aroused
+      Hugh&rsquo;s suspicions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that significant look caused him to hesitate to accept the mysterious
+      stranger as his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he said, at last. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I require no thanks or reward, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied the man
+      politely. &ldquo;My one desire is to get you safely out of Marseilles.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And with that the stranger lifted his hat and left him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By some intuition&mdash;why, he knew not&mdash;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&rsquo;s gang?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If so, it was certainly a very clever and ingenious subterfuge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he muttered to himself. &ldquo;Somebody must have given
+      me away at Shapley, and now they have followed me! I will act for myself,
+      and take the risks.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Close by the <i>consigne</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was she, he wondered, in league with his so-called friend? And if so, what
+      was intended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sight of that woman lounging there, however, decided him. She was, no
+      doubt, awaiting his coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does m&rsquo;sieur wish to go?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the station to fetch my coat and bag,&rdquo; replied the young
+      Englishman, peering into the driver&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; the man answered politely. And
+      Hugh having entered, he drove up the Boulevard de la Liberte to the Gare
+      St. Charles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he approached the <i>consigne</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh put on his coat, and, carrying his bag, placed it in the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have your orders?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur. We are to go to Cette with all speed. Is not
+      that so?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I will come up beside
+      you. I prefer it. We shall have a long, dark ride to-night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but the roads are good,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;I came from Cette yesterday,&rdquo; he added, as he mounted to his
+      seat and the passenger got up beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh sat there very thoughtful as the car sped out of the city of noise
+      and bustle. The man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As it was, he remained suspicious. He did not like that woman who had
+      watched so patiently his coming and going at the station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With strong headlights glaring&mdash;for the night was extremely dark and
+      a strong wind was blowing&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was midnight before they got to the village of Lancon, an obscure
+      little place in total darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Lancon,&rdquo; the driver remarked, as they sped through
+      the dark little town. &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was undecided. Was the man who was driving him so rapidly out of the
+      danger zone his friend&mdash;or his enemy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat there for over an hour unable to decide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is an outlandish part of France,&rdquo; he remarked to the
+      driver presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But after Salon it is more desolate.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is there no railway near?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After Salon, yes. It runs parallel with the road about two miles to
+      the north&mdash;the railway between Arles and Aix-en-Provence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So if we get a breakdown, which I hope we shall not, we are not far
+      from a railway?&rdquo; Hugh remarked, as through the night the heavy car
+      tore along that open desolate road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he sat there he thought of Dorise, wondering what had happened&mdash;and
+      of Louise. If he had obeyed his father&rsquo;s wishes and married the
+      latter all the trouble would have been avoided, he thought. Yet he loved
+      Dorise&mdash;loved her with his whole soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she doubted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;how he could not explain&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why had not the police of Marseilles arrested him? There was some subtle
+      motive for sending him to Cette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s,
+      and afterwards his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is cold here on the marshes, monsieur,&rdquo; remarked the
+      driver, his cigarette between his lips. &ldquo;This mist, too, is
+      puzzling. But it is nearly always like this at night. That is why nobody
+      lives about here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it quite deserted?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, except for a few shepherds, and they live up north at the foot
+      of the hills.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some ten minutes or so they kept on, but Hugh had suddenly become very
+      watchful of the driver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the man exclaimed in French:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not feel very well!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; asked Hugh in alarm. &ldquo;You must not
+      be taken ill here&mdash;so far from anywhere!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the man was evidently unwell, for he pulled up the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! my head!&rdquo; he cried, putting both hands to his brow as the
+      cigarette dropped from his lips. &ldquo;My head! It seems as if it will
+      burst! And&mdash;and I can&rsquo;t see! Everything is going round&mdash;round!
+      Where&mdash;<i>where am I</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are all right, my friend. Get into the back of the car and
+      rest. You will be yourself very quickly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he half dragged the man from his seat and placed him in the back of
+      the car, where he fell inert and unconscious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, having settled him in the bottom of the car, placed a rug over him.
+      Then, mounting to the driver&rsquo;s place, he turned the car and drove as
+      rapidly as he dared back over the roads to Salon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      orders. If so, then he had committed a fatal error!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      broad high road from Marseilles to Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Already he had made up his mind how to act. He would get to Avignon, and
+      thence by express to Paris. The <i>rapides</i> from Marseilles and the
+      Riviera all stopped at the ancient city of the Popes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the railway station he found the through express from Ventimiglia&mdash;the
+      Italian frontier&mdash;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 <i>wagon-restaurant</i> on his way to the
+      French capital.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN CATALDI
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      On the day that Hugh was travelling in hot haste to Paris, Charles Benton
+      arrived in Nice early in the afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Yvonne&rsquo;s late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Cataldi!&rdquo; exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer
+      cheerily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite a stranger&mdash;am I not? I was in Nice,
+      and I could not leave without calling to see you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, with ill-grace scarcely concealed, invited him into his
+      shabby room, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Signor Benton, I never thought to see you again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you didn&rsquo;t want to&mdash;eh? After that little affair
+      in Brussels. But I assure you it was not my fault. Mademoiselle Yvonne
+      made the blunder.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And nearly let us all into the hands of the police&mdash;including
+      The Sparrow himself!&rdquo; growled the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But all that has long blown over. Now,&rdquo; he went on, after
+      he had offered the old man a cigar. &ldquo;Now the real reason I&rsquo;ve
+      called is to ask you about this nasty affair concerning Mademoiselle
+      Yvonne. You were there that night. What do you know about it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; the old fellow declared promptly. &ldquo;Since that
+      night I&rsquo;ve earned an honest living. I&rsquo;m a waiter in a cafe in
+      the Avenue de la Gare.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A most excellent decision,&rdquo; laughed the well-dressed man.
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and he shot her. Now, isn&rsquo;t that your
+      theory&mdash;the same as that held by the police?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man looked straight into his visitor&rsquo;s face for a few
+      moments. Then he replied quite calmly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing, Signor Benton&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t want to know
+      anything. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think not,&rdquo; laughed Benton. &ldquo;Still, they never
+      suspected you to be the man wanted for the Morel affair&mdash;an
+      unfortunate matter that was.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed the old fellow. &ldquo;Please do not mention it,&rdquo;
+      and he turned away to the window as though to conceal his guilty
+      countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that you <i>know</i> something&mdash;but you won&rsquo;t
+      tell it!&rdquo; Benton said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing,&rdquo; was the old fellow&rsquo;s stubborn reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know that the young fellow, Henfrey, is guilty!&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Benton. &ldquo;Come! you were there at the time! You heard high
+      words between them&mdash;didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already made my statement to the police,&rdquo; declared the
+      old Italian. &ldquo;What else I know I shall keep to myself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I&rsquo;m interested in ascertaining whether Henfrey is
+      innocent or guilty. Only two persons can tell us that&mdash;Mademoiselle,
+      who is, alas! in a hopeless mental state, and yourself. You know&mdash;but
+      you refuse to incriminate the guilty person. Why don&rsquo;t you tell the
+      truth? You know that Henfrey shot her!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you I know nothing,&rdquo; retorted the old man. &ldquo;Why
+      do you come here and disturb me?&rdquo; he added peevishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I want to know the truth,&rdquo; Benton answered. &ldquo;And
+      I mean to!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go away!&rdquo; snapped the wilful old fellow. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+      done with you all&mdash;all the crowd of you!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; laughed Benton. &ldquo;Then you forget the little matter
+      of the man Morel&mdash;eh? That is not forgotten by the police, remember!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you said a word to them, Signor Benton, then you would
+      implicate yourself,&rdquo; the old man growled. Seeing hostility in the
+      Englishman&rsquo;s attitude he instantly resented it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;or the innocence&mdash;of Hugh Henfrey,&rdquo;
+      he went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. You have reason for establishing his guilt&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Reasons for establishing his innocence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For your own ends, Signor Benton,&rdquo; was the shrewd old man&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At one time there was a suspicion that you yourself had fired at
+      Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; gasped the old man, his countenance changing
+      instantly. &ldquo;Who says that?&rdquo; he asked angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police were suspicious, I believe. And as far as I can gather
+      they are not yet altogether satisfied.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; growled the old Italian in a changed voice. &ldquo;They
+      will have to prove it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they declare that the shot was fired by either one or the
+      other of you,&rdquo; Benton said, much surprised at the curious effect the
+      allegation had upon the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So they think that if the Signorino Henfrey is innocent I am guilty
+      of the murderous attack&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they are seeking to arrest the signorino!&rdquo; remarked the
+      Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is why I am here&mdash;to establish his innocence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I were to tell you that he was innocent I should condemn
+      myself!&rdquo; laughed the crafty old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Giulio,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+      Then, taking from his pocket-book several hundred-franc notes, he doubled
+      them up and placed them on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;I see! You want to <i>buy</i>
+      my secret! No, take your money!&rdquo; he cried, pushing it back towards
+      him contemptuously. &ldquo;I want none of it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are now earning an honest living,&rdquo; Benton
+      sneered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and Il Passero knows it!&rdquo; was Cataldi&rsquo;s bold
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you refuse to tell me anything you know concerning the events
+      of that night at the Villa Amette?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he snapped. &ldquo;Take your money, and leave me in
+      peace!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have come all the way from England to see you,&rdquo;
+      remarked the disappointed man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be extremely careful. You have enemies, so have I. They are the
+      same as those who denounced the signorino to the police&mdash;as they will
+      no doubt, before long, denounce you!&rdquo; said the old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! You always were a pessimist, Giulio,&rdquo; Benton laughed.
+      &ldquo;I do not fear any enemies&mdash;I assure you. The Sparrow takes
+      good care that we are prevented from falling into any traps the police may
+      set,&rdquo; he added after a moment&rsquo;s pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old waiter shook his head dubiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One day there may be a slip&mdash;and it will cost you all very
+      dearly,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in a bad mood, Giulio&mdash;like all those who exist by
+      being honest,&rdquo; Benton laughed, though he was extremely annoyed at
+      his failure to learn anything from the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it possible that the suspicions which both Molly and he had
+      entertained were true&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s sudden end and the diversion of his father&rsquo;s
+      fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole plot against old Mr. Henfrey was truly one of the most elaborate
+      and amazing ones ever conceived by criminal minds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>escroc</i> like himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>train-de-luxe</i> direct for Calais, and went on to London, all
+      unconscious of the sensational events which were then happening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On arrival in London he found a telegram lying upon his table among some
+      letters. It was signed &ldquo;Shaw,&rdquo; and urged him to meet him
+      &ldquo;at the usual place&rdquo; at seven o&rsquo;clock in the evening.
+      &ldquo;I know you are away, but I&rsquo;ll look in each night at seven,&rdquo;
+      it concluded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was just six o&rsquo;clock, therefore Benton washed and changed, and
+      just before seven o&rsquo;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&mdash;Mr. Howell, The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked Howell, when a few minutes later they were
+      walking along Wardour Street together. &ldquo;How did you get on in Nice?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had my journey for nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t the old man tell anything?&rdquo; asked Howell
+      eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word,&rdquo; Benton replied. &ldquo;But my firm opinion is
+      that he himself tried to kill Yvonne&mdash;that he shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really agree with me?&rdquo; gasped Howell excitedly.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my belief is that young Henfrey is innocent. I never thought
+      so until now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we must prove Cataldi guilty, and Henfrey can marry Louise,&rdquo;
+      Howell said. &ldquo;But the reason I wanted to get in touch with you is
+      that the police went to Shapley.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Shapley!&rdquo; gasped Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. They went there the night you left London. Evidently somebody
+      has given you away!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Given me away! Who in the devil&rsquo;s name can it be? If I get to
+      know who the traitor is I&mdash;I&rsquo;ll&mdash;by gad, I&rsquo;ll kill
+      him. I swear I will!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows? Some secret enemy of yours&mdash;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&rsquo;ve
+      sent her up to Cambridge&mdash;to old Mrs. Curtis. I thought she&rsquo;d
+      be quite quiet and safe there for a time.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Molly arrested! What&rsquo;s the charge?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Theft. An extradition warrant from Paris. That jeweller&rsquo;s
+      affair in the Rue St. Honore, eighteen months ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hope they won&rsquo;t bring forward other charges, or it
+      will go infernally bad with her. What has The Sparrow done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s abroad somewhere&mdash;but I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is very serious, my dear Howell,&rdquo; Benton
+      declared, much alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is. You can&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. That&rsquo;s what we must do. But with Molly arrested we
+      shall be compelled to be very careful,&rdquo; said Benton, as they turned
+      toward Piccadilly Circus. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;t
+      get much chance&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she goes it will be ten years, without a doubt,&rdquo; Howell
+      remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And in the meantime much can happen&mdash;eh?&rdquo; laughed
+      Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lots. But one reassuring fact is that, as far as old Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      fate is concerned, Mademoiselle&rsquo;s lips are closed. Whoever shot her
+      did us a very good turn.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not yet. Certainly not,&rdquo; exclaimed Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity The Sparrow does not know about the Henfrey
+      business. He might help us. Dare we tell him? What do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;The
+      Sparrow is our master&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But in old Henfrey&rsquo;s case we acted upon our own initiative,&rdquo;
+      remarked Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Yours was a wonderfully well-conceived idea. And all worked
+      without a hitch until young Henfrey&rsquo;s visit to Monte Carlo, and his
+      affection for that girl Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are weaning him away from her,&rdquo; Benton said. &ldquo;At
+      last the girl&rsquo;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 &lsquo;blackmail.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Charles. You were always a philosopher,&rdquo; laughed his
+      companion&mdash;the man who was a bosom friend of The Sparrow. &ldquo;But
+      it carries us no nearer. We must, at all costs, fix the hand that shot
+      Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Giulio shot her&mdash;without a doubt!&rdquo; was Benton&rsquo;s
+      quick reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were standing together on the kerb outside the Tube station at
+      Piccadilly Circus as Benton uttered the words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear fellow, then let us prove it,&rdquo; said Howell.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo; asked his companion quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he answered, after a second&rsquo;s hesitation,
+      &ldquo;I heard so two days ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Howell, pleading an urgent meeting with a mutual friend, also a crook
+      like themselves, grasped the other&rsquo;s hand, and they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      LISETTE&rsquo;S DISCLOSURES
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At ten o&rsquo;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&mdash;a
+      worthy old soul from Yvetot, in the north&mdash;as Guillaume Gautier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow, sprightly and alert, stood, after taking his <i>cafe au lait</i>,
+      looking down into the courtyard. He had been reading through several
+      letters and telegrams which had caused him some perturbation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are playing me false!&rdquo; he muttered, as he gazed out of
+      the window. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m certain of it&mdash;quite certain! But, Gad!
+      If they do I&rsquo;ll be even with them! Who could have given Henfrey away
+      in London&mdash;<i>and why</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paced the length of the room, his teeth hard set and his hands
+      clenched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought they were all loyal after what I have done for them&mdash;after
+      the fortunes I have put into their pockets. Fancy! One of them a
+      well-known member of Parliament&mdash;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then crossing back to the window, he said aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lisette ought to be here! She was due in from Toulouse at nine o&rsquo;clock.
+      I hope nothing further has happened. One thing is satisfactory&mdash;young
+      Henfrey is safe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;friend
+      Hugh&rdquo; was in Marseilles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow hated trials of any sort. With him silence was golden, and
+      very wisely he would pay any sum rather than court publicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour went past, but the girl he expected did not put in an
+      appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Gautier&mdash;the man with the gloved hand&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lisette&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, just before eleven, he saw Lisette&rsquo;s smart figure in a
+      heavy travelling coat crossing the courtyard, and a few moments later she
+      was shown into his room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re late!&rdquo; the old man said, as soon as the door was
+      closed. &ldquo;I feared that something had gone wrong! Why did you leave
+      Madrid? What has happened?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happened!&rdquo; she echoed in French. &ldquo;Why, very nearly a
+      disaster! Someone has given us away&mdash;at least, Monsieur Henfrey was
+      given away to the police!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not arrested?&rdquo; he asked breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. We all three managed to get away&mdash;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&mdash;and
+      at Henfrey&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who can have done that?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow, his eyes
+      narrowing in anger, his gloved hand clenched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your enemy&mdash;and mine!&rdquo; was the girl&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;Franklyn is in Switzerland. Monsieur Henfrey is in Marseilles&mdash;at
+      the Louvre et Paix&mdash;and I am here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we have a secret enemy&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and he is not very far to seek. Monsieur Howell has done
+      this!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell! He would never do such a thing, my dear mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+      replied the gloved man, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! wouldn&rsquo;t he? I would not trust either Benton or Howell!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you are mistaken, mademoiselle. They have never shown much
+      friendship towards each other.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are close friends as far as concerns the Henfrey affair,&rdquo;
+      declared mademoiselle. &ldquo;I happen to know that it was Howell who
+      prepared the old man&rsquo;s will. It is in his handwriting, and his
+      manservant, Cooke, is one of the witnesses.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? <i>You know about that will, Lisette?</i> Tell me everything.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s wife, I forget her name&mdash;the affair
+      in Carlton House Terrace.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I recollect. A very neat piece of business.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;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&rsquo;s
+      suggestion, but the signature was to a will which Howell&rsquo;s man,
+      Cooke, and a friend of his, named Saunders, afterwards witnessed, and
+      which has now been proved&mdash;the will by which the young man is
+      compelled to marry Benton&rsquo;s adopted daughter before he inherits his
+      father&rsquo;s estates.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You actually know this?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell told me so with his own lips.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why is young Henfrey being made the victim?&rdquo; asked The
+      Sparrow shrewdly. &ldquo;Why, indeed, have you not revealed this to me
+      before?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I had no proof before that Howell is <i>our</i> enemy. He
+      has now given us away. He has some motive. What is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When one finds a betrayer, then in order to fix his guilt it becomes
+      necessary to discover the motive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;for dead men tell no tales.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow ordered some <i>cafe noir</i> from his housekeeper and
+      produced a particularly seductive brand of liqueur, which mademoiselle
+      took&mdash;together with a cigarette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she left, he giving her the parting injunction:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE INQUISITIVE MR. SHRIMPTON
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      An hour later Hugh stood in The Sparrow&rsquo;s room, and related his
+      exciting adventure in Marseilles and on the high road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; remarked the man with the gloved hand. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By this time the driver of the car has, of course, recovered and
+      told his story,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And by this time the police probably know that you have come to
+      Paris,&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow. &ldquo;Now, Mr. Henfrey, only an hour
+      ago I learnt something which has altered my plans entirely. There is a
+      traitor somewhere&mdash;somebody has given you away.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I have not decided. But we must all be wary and
+      watchful,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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&mdash;a
+      clever trap,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;I admire it. But at Marseilles they
+      are even more shrewd than in Paris. Maillot, the <i>chef de la Surete</i>
+      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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are really marvellous, Mr. Peters,&rdquo; remarked Hugh.
+      &ldquo;And I have to thank you for the way in which you have protected me
+      time after time. Your organization is simply wonderful.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man with the black glove laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing really wonderful,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Not a word,&rdquo; replied the young man. &ldquo;I dare not
+      write to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t. A man from Scotland Yard went to see her. So it is
+      best to remain apart&mdash;my dear boy&mdash;even though that unfortunate
+      misunderstanding concerning Louise Lambert has arisen between you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am anxious to put it right,&rdquo; the young fellow said.
+      &ldquo;Dorise misjudges me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said The Sparrow
+      kindly. &ldquo;Leave matters to me and act at my suggestion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I certainly will,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;You have never
+      yet advised me wrongly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am not infallible,&rdquo; laughed the master criminal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Hugh has returned from the south,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;He
+      is anxious to see you again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Tres bien, m&rsquo;sieur</i>,&rdquo; answered the smart
+      Parisienne. &ldquo;I will be there. But will you not dine with me&mdash;eh?
+      At Vian&rsquo;s at seven. You know the place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Lisette asks us to dine with her at Vian&rsquo;s,&rdquo;
+      The Sparrow said, turning to Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I shall be delighted,&rdquo; replied the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So The Sparrow accepted the girl&rsquo;s invitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole matter concerning Hugh puzzled her. She could not bring herself
+      to a decision as to his innocence or his guilt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat writing in the morning-room, the maid announced that Mr.
+      Shrimpton wished to see her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started at the name. It was the detective inspector from Scotland Yard
+      who had called upon her on a previous occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments afterwards he was shown in, a tall figure in a rough tweed
+      suit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;And, Mr. Shrimpton, I
+      am growing very concerned. I really can&rsquo;t think that he tried to
+      kill the young Frenchwoman. Why should he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because she had connived at his father&rsquo;s death. That
+      seems to be proved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your theory is that it was an act of vengeance?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But are you certain?&rdquo; asked the girl, much distressed.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I have heard nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I suppose if you did hear, you would
+      not tell me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my own affair, Mr. Shrimpton,&rdquo; she replied
+      resentfully. &ldquo;If you desire to arrest Mr. Henfrey it is your own
+      affair. Why do you ask me to assist you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the interests of justice,&rdquo; was the inspector&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the girl, very promptly, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he must be guilty. There was the motive. He shot the woman who
+      had enticed his father to his death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how have you ascertained that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By logical deduction.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are trying to convict Mr. Henfrey upon circumstantial
+      evidence alone?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Others have gone to the gallows on circumstantial evidence&mdash;Crippen,
+      for instance. There was no actual witness of his crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I must allow you to continue your investigations, Mr.
+      Shrimpton,&rdquo; she said coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your lover has deceived you. He was staying down in Surrey with
+      the girl, Miss Lambert, as his fellow-guest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that,&rdquo; was Dorise&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;But I have
+      since come to the conclusion that my surmise&mdash;my jealousy if you like
+      to call it so&mdash;is unfounded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! then you refuse to assist justice?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I do not. But knowing nothing of the circumstances I do not see
+      how I can assist you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But no doubt you know that Mr. Henfrey evaded us and went away&mdash;that
+      he was assisted by a man whom we know as The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know where he is,&rdquo; replied the girl with truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know The Sparrow,&rdquo; said the detective. &ldquo;You
+      admitted that you had met him when I last called here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met him,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does he live?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I refuse to give away the secrets of my friends,&rdquo; she
+      responded a trifle haughtily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you prefer to shield the master criminal of Europe?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no knowledge that The Sparrow is a criminal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you want me to betray him!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not a member of the gang of criminals, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo;
+      replied Shrimpton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whether I am or not, I refuse to say a word concerning anyone who
+      has been of service to me,&rdquo; was her stubborn reply. And with that
+      the man from the Criminal Investigation Department had to be content.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was evident that The Sparrow, who was her friend and Hugh&rsquo;s, was
+      a most elusive person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      man whose one hand was gloved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within half an hour of the departure of her visitor from Scotland Yard,
+      the maid announced Mr. Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise, with a frown, arose from her chair, and a few seconds later faced
+      the man who was her mother&rsquo;s intimate friend, and who daily forced
+      his unwelcome attentions upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother told me you would be alone, Dorise,&rdquo; he said in
+      his forced manner of affected elegance. &ldquo;So I just dropped in. I
+      hope I&rsquo;m not worrying you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! not at all,&rdquo; replied the girl, sealing a letter which she
+      had just written. &ldquo;Mother has gone to Warwickshire, and I&rsquo;m
+      going out to lunch with May Petheridge, an old schoolfellow of mine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Then I won&rsquo;t keep you,&rdquo; said the smug lover of Lady
+      Ranscomb&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard saw that Dorise&rsquo;s attitude was one of hostility, but with
+      his superior overbearing manner he pretended not to notice it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were not at Lady Oundle&rsquo;s the night before last,&rdquo;
+      he remarked, for want of something better to say. &ldquo;I went there
+      specially to meet you, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate Lady Oundle&rsquo;s dances,&rdquo; was the girl&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;Such a lot of fearful old fogies go there.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, but a lot of your mother&rsquo;s friends are in her set.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Elise was there,&rdquo; he remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you danced with her, of course. She&rsquo;s such a ripping
+      dancer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twice. When I found you were not there I went on to the club,&rdquo;
+      he replied, with his usual air of boredom. &ldquo;When do you expect your
+      mother back?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next Tuesday. I&rsquo;m going down to Huntingdon to-morrow to stay
+      with the Fishers.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! by the way,&rdquo; he remarked suddenly. &ldquo;Tubby Hall, who
+      is just back from Madrid, told me in the club last night that he&rsquo;d
+      seen your friend Henfrey in a restaurant there with a pretty French girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Madrid!&rdquo; echoed Dorise, for she had no idea of her lover&rsquo;s
+      whereabouts. &ldquo;He must have been mistaken surely.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey&rsquo;s. He says that he and
+      the girl seemed to be particularly good friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. I&rsquo;ve only told you what Tubby said.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not. But I really didn&rsquo;t inquire,&rdquo; Sherrard
+      replied, not failing, however, to note how puzzled she was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was already assuring him that the girl&rsquo;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&rsquo;s heart. But her mother was never tired of
+      bidding him be patient, and saying that in the end he would obtain his
+      desire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard, however, little dreamed how great was Dorise&rsquo;s love for
+      Hugh, and how deeply she regretted having written that hasty letter to
+      Shapley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet one of Hugh&rsquo;s friends had met him in Madrid in company with what
+      was described as a pretty young French girl!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such were her thoughts when, an hour later, her mother&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a telephone message to Mr. Peters&rsquo;s house had been answered to
+      the effect that the man whose hand was gloved was abroad, and the date of
+      his return uncertain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SPARROW&rsquo;S NEST
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Lisette met her two guests at Vian&rsquo;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&rsquo;s chatter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      exciting adventure on the Arles road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had that morning been on the point of trying to get into touch with his
+      friend Howell, but after Lisette&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had debated whether he should tell Hugh what Lisette had alleged
+      concerning the forgery of his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After their coffee all three returned to the Rue des Petits Champs where
+      Lisette, merry and full of vivacity, joined them in a cigarette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow had been preoccupied and thoughtful the whole evening. But at
+      last, as they sat together, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall all three go south to-morrow&mdash;to Nice direct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Nice!&rdquo; exclaimed Lisette. &ldquo;It is hardly safe&mdash;is
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. You will leave by the midday train from the Gare de Lyon&mdash;and
+      go to Madame Odette&rsquo;s in the boulevard Gambetta. I may want you. We
+      shall follow by the <i>train-de-luxe</i>. It is best that Mr. Henfrey is
+      out of Paris. The Surete will certainly be searching for him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will not be so much risk in Nice as here in Paris,&rdquo; he
+      added. &ldquo;After all, we ought not to have ventured out to Vian&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out and himself dispatched these from the office of the Grand
+      Hotel. He never entrusted his telegrams of instructions to others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he returned ten minutes later he took up <i>Le Soir</i>, and
+      searching it eagerly, suddenly exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Here it is! Manfield has been successful and got away all right
+      with the German countess&rsquo;s trinkets!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;jewels
+      valued at a hundred thousand marks having mysteriously disappeared.
+      International thieves were suspected, but the Cologne police had no clue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M&rsquo;sieur Manfield is always extremely shrewd. He is such a
+      real ladies&rsquo; man,&rdquo; laughed Lisette, using some of the <i>argot</i>
+      of the Montmartre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Do you recollect that American, Lindsay&mdash;with whom you
+      had something to do?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Teddy Manfield is a very good friend,&rdquo; declared the man with
+      the gloved hand. &ldquo;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&mdash;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!&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I am no politician! My only
+      object is to solve the mystery of who shot poor Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pretty decoy of the great association of <i>escrocs</i> smoked another
+      cigarette, and gazed into the young man&rsquo;s face. Sometimes she
+      shuddered when she reflected upon all she knew concerning his father&rsquo;s
+      unfortunate end, and of the cleverly concocted will by which he was to
+      marry Louise Lambert, and afterwards enjoy but a short career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fate had made Lisette what she was&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she rose and wished them <i>bon soir</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall leave the Gare de Lyon at eleven fifty-eight to-morrow, and
+      go direct to Madame Odette&rsquo;s in Nice,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Remain there. If I want you I will let you know,&rdquo;
+      answered The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she descended the stairs and walked to her hotel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next evening Hugh and The Sparrow, both dressed quite differently, left by
+      the Riviera <i>train-de-luxe</i>. As The Sparrow lay that night in the <i>wagon-lit</i>
+      he tried to sleep, but the roar and rattle of the train prevented it.
+      Therefore he calmly thought out a complete and deliberate plan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That there was a traitor in the camp was proved, but happily Hugh Henfrey
+      had escaped just in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh and his companion waited, examining the poorly-furnished little
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He greeted his visitors rather timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a very serious and confidential affair, Cataldi,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;I want to know the absolute truth&mdash;and I must have it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it is serious, signore,&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;But I only know one
+      or two facts. I recognize Signor Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you know me!&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh. &ldquo;You recognized
+      me on that night at the Villa Amette, when you opened the door to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, signore. I recollect everything. It is all photographed upon
+      my memory. Poor Mademoiselle! You questioned her&mdash;as a gentleman
+      would&mdash;and you demanded to know about your father&rsquo;s death. She
+      prevaricated&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you overheard it?&rdquo; said Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I listened. Was I not Mademoiselle&rsquo;s servant? On that
+      night she had won quite a large sum at the Rooms, and she had given me&mdash;ah!
+      she was always most generous&mdash;five hundred francs&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wondered why this young Englishman should call upon her at that
+      hour?&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did. She never received visitors after her five o&rsquo;clock
+      tea. It was the habit at the Villa Amette to lunch at one o&rsquo;clock,
+      English tea at five o&rsquo;clock, and dinner at eight&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied The Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet it is so,&rdquo; declared old Cataldi. &ldquo;I have
+      watched it day by day. But poor Mademoiselle! What can we do to solve the
+      mystery?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you not with Mademoiselle and Mr. Benton when you both brought
+      off that great coup in the Avenue Louise, in Brussels?&rdquo; asked The
+      Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, signore,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;But I do not wish to
+      speak of it now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite naturally. I quite appreciate it. Since Mademoiselle&rsquo;s&mdash;er&mdash;accident
+      you have, I suppose, been leading an honest life?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I have tried to do so. At present I am a cafe waiter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you can tell me nothing further regarding the affair at the
+      Villa Amette?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow, eyeing him narrowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret, signore, I can tell you nothing further,&rdquo; replied
+      the staid, rather sad-looking old man; &ldquo;nothing.&rdquo; And he
+      sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had strained every effort, but he could ascertain nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That Cataldi knew the key to the whole problem The Sparrow felt assured.
+      Yet why did not the old fellow tell the truth?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cataldi&rsquo;s attitude annoyed the master criminal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For three days he remained in Nice with Hugh, at great risk of recognition
+      and arrest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the fourth day they went together in a hired car along the winding road
+      across the Var to Cannes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then suddenly the door opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of a
+      beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she turned
+      her gaze upon Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain, and
+      placing both hands to her head, gasped:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Dieu!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Yvonne Ferad. And the cry was one of recognition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne!&rdquo; exclaimed The Sparrow in a low, kindly voice.
+      &ldquo;Then you know who we really are? Your reason has returned?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered in French. &ldquo;I remember who you are.
+      Ah! But&mdash;but it is all so strange!&rdquo; she cried wildly. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;I
+      can&rsquo;t think! At last! Yes. I know. I recollect! You!&rdquo; And she
+      stared at Hugh. &ldquo;You&mdash;you are <i>Monsieur Henfrey</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so, mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, messieurs,&rdquo; remarked the elderly doctor, who was standing
+      behind his patient. &ldquo;She recognized you both&mdash;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&rsquo;s brain with many questions. I will leave you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he withdrew, closing the door softly after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo about
+      general things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been very ill,&rdquo; she said in a low, tremulous voice.
+      &ldquo;I could think of nothing since my accident, until now&mdash;and now&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      she gazed around her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance&mdash;&ldquo;and
+      now I remember!&mdash;but it all seems too hazy and indistinct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You recollect things&mdash;eh?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow in a kindly
+      voice, placing his hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seems
+      ages and ages since I last met you, Mr.&mdash;Mr. Peters,&rdquo; and she
+      laughed lightly. &ldquo;Peters&mdash;that is the name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for she
+      was gazing out of the window to the distant sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the&mdash;the secret
+      of his father&rsquo;s death?&rdquo; she asked of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. You were about to do so when&mdash;when the accident
+      happened.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But&mdash;but, oh!&mdash;how can I tell him the actual truth
+      when&mdash;when, alas! I am so guilty?&rdquo; cried the woman, much
+      distressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, mademoiselle,&rdquo; said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly
+      upon her shoulder. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe,&rdquo; she
+      said slowly. &ldquo;But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted
+      by Benton.&rdquo; Then, turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her
+      natural tone, though slightly high-pitched and nervous:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton, the blackguard, was your father&rsquo;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&rsquo;s adopted daughter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who is Louise actually?&rdquo; asked Hugh interrupting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her.
+      Of course Louise is unaware of that fact,&rdquo; Yvonne replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bond
+      was so solicitous of the poor girl&rsquo;s welfare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s small closed car, which he always drove himself, was
+      waiting outside to take us to the ball.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that
+      night horrified her&mdash;as indeed it did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm around your
+      father&rsquo;s neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of the neck
+      just above his collar. &lsquo;Here!&rsquo; your father cried out, thinking
+      it was a joke, &lsquo;what&rsquo;s the game?&rsquo; 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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what happened then?&rdquo; asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at
+      the story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew nothing of the affair,&rdquo; declared The Sparrow, his face
+      clouded by anger. &ldquo;Then Howell was the actual murderer?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was,&rdquo; Yvonne replied. &ldquo;I saw him press the needle
+      into Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;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!&rdquo; she sighed, looking sadly
+      before her. &ldquo;I see it all now&mdash;everything.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also
+      meet with an unexpected end?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and
+      your own friends&mdash;an end probably like your father&rsquo;s. A secret
+      visit to London, and a mysterious death,&rdquo; Mademoiselle replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, M&rsquo;sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have
+      been the victim of a great and dastardly conspiracy,&rdquo; she said.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton is already under arrest for another affair,&rdquo; broke in
+      The Sparrow quietly. &ldquo;I heard so from London yesterday.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime,&rdquo;
+      the handsome woman cried. &ldquo;Though I have been a thief, a swindler,
+      and a decoy&mdash;ah! yes, I admit it all&mdash;I have never committed the
+      crime of murder. I know, messieurs,&rdquo; she went on&mdash;&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgive you, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh replied, grasping her
+      slim, white hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Ranscomb, Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      fiancee, and tell her the whole truth,&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I certainly will,&rdquo; Yvonne replied. &ldquo;Now that I can
+      think I shall be allowed to leave this place&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I will see after that,&rdquo; said the man known as Mr.
+      Peters. &ldquo;You must return to the Villa Amette&mdash;for you are still
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, remember! Leave it all to me.&rdquo; And he
+      laughed happily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we are no nearer the solution of the mystery as to who
+      attempted to kill you, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be but one person. Old Cataldi knows who it is,&rdquo;
+      she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cataldi? Then why has he not told me? I questioned him closely only
+      the other day,&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For certain reasons,&rdquo; Mademoiselle replied. &ldquo;He <i>dare</i>
+      not tell the truth!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; and she turned to The
+      Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s object was to face me and demand an explanation.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really think so?&rdquo; gasped Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that I feel positive. Only Cataldi can prove it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why Cataldi?&rdquo; inquired Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See him again and tell him what I have revealed to you,&rdquo;
+      answered Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was it who warned me against you by that letter posted in
+      Tours?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was part of Howell&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then Cataldi will not speak the truth because he fears Howell?&rdquo;
+      remarked the notorious chief of Europe&rsquo;s underworld.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Now that I can think, I can piece the whole puzzle
+      together. It is all quite plain. Do you not recollect Howell&rsquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you speak of Cataldi. How can he know?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buy why should Howell have attempted to fix his guilt upon Mr.
+      Henfrey?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly, m&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      assassination. In making the attempt he defeated his own ends&mdash;a fact
+      which he only realized when too late!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CONCLUSION
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The foregoing is perhaps one of the most remarkable stories of the
+      underworld of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Its details are set down in full in three big portfolios in the archives
+      of the Surete in Paris&mdash;where the present writer has had access to
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In that bald official narrative which is docketed under the heading
+      &ldquo;No. 23489/263&mdash;Henfrey&rdquo; there is no mention of the love
+      affair between Dorise Ranscomb and Hugh Henfrey of Woodthorpe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the true facts are that within three days of Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;that of jewel robbery&mdash;was, however, proved
+      against her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise, about six weeks after Mademoiselle Yvonne&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, indeed, he did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s wealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+
+Author: William Le Queux
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2006 [EBook #4694]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dagny; John Bickers
+
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
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diff --git a/4694.zip b/4694.zip
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #4694 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4694)
diff --git a/old/4694-h.htm.2019-05-04 b/old/4694-h.htm.2019-05-04
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+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, by William Le Queux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+
+Author: William Le Queux
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2006 [EBook #4694]
+Last Updated: November 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By William Le Queux <br /> <br /> 1921
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+    </p>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3">
+      <tr>
+        <td></td>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO</b></big>
+          </a>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> FIRST CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SUICIDE’S CHAIR
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> SECOND CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CONCERNS A GUILTY SECRET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THIRD CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          IN THE NIGHT
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> FOURTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          WHAT THE DOSSIER CONTAINED
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> FIFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          ON THE HOG’S BACK
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SIXTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FACING THE UNKNOWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> SEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FROM DARK TO DAWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> EIGHTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE WHITE CAVALIER
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> NINTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CONCERNS THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> TENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          A LESSON IN ARGOT
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ELEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> TWELFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE STRANGER IN BOND STREET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THIRTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          POISONED LIPS
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> FOURTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          RED DAWN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> FIFTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE NAMELESS MAN
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> SIXTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE ESCROCS OF LONDON
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          ON THE SURREY HILLS
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVE
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> NINETEENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SPARROW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> TWENTIETH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WHO KNEW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          CLOSING THE NET
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          WHAT LISETTE KNEW
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          FRIEND OR ENEMY?
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE MAN CATALDI
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          LISETTE’S DISCLOSURES
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE INQUISITIVE MR. SHRIMPTON
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE SPARROW’S NEST
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER </a>
+        </td>
+        <td>
+          THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION </a>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIRST CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SUICIDE&rsquo;S CHAIR
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes! I&rsquo;m not mistaken at all! <i>It&rsquo;s the same woman!</i>&rdquo;
+      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&mdash;that one known to habitual gamblers as &ldquo;The
+      Suicide&rsquo;s Table.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you quite certain?&rdquo; asked his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Positive. I should know her again anywhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s very handsome. And look, too, by Jove!&mdash;how she is
+      winning!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But let&rsquo;s get away. She might recognize me,&rdquo;
+      exclaimed the younger man anxiously. &ldquo;Ah! If I could only induce her
+      to disclose what she knows about my poor father&rsquo;s mysterious end
+      then we might clear up the mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid, if all we hear is true about her, Mademoiselle of
+      Monte Carlo will never do that,&rdquo; was the other&rsquo;s reply as they
+      moved away together down the long saloon towards the trente-et-quarante
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux</i>,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Into that stifling atmosphere&mdash;for the Administration of the Bains de
+      Mer of Monaco seem as afraid of fresh air as of purity propaganda&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those who know Monte Carlo, those who have been habitues for twenty years&mdash;as
+      the present writer has been&mdash;know too well, and have seen too often,
+      the deadly influence of the tables upon the lighter side of woman&rsquo;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 &ldquo;loan&rdquo;
+      from somebody. What matter? When one is at &ldquo;Monty&rdquo; 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-&ldquo;countesses&rdquo; at which
+      they have held up their hands in horror when they have seen them pictured
+      in the papers wearing those latest &ldquo;creations&rdquo; of the Place
+      Vendome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes. It is a hypocritical world, and nowhere is canting hypocrisy more
+      apparent than inside the Casino at Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the two Englishmen were strolling over the polished parquet of the
+      elegant world-famous <i>salles-de-jeu</i> &ldquo;Mademoiselle of Monte
+      Carlo&rdquo; was experiencing quite an extraordinary run of luck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But &ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;the Suicide&rsquo;s Chair,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s Cemetery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;and
+      won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, that afternoon she was winning&mdash;and very considerably too.
+      She had won four maximums <i>en plein</i> within the last half-hour, and
+      the crowd around the table noting her good fortune were now following her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether she won or lost, or whether she did not risk a stake, she simply
+      smiled and elevated her shoulders, muttering something to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole Cote d&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the two Englishmen slipped past the end table unseen on their way out
+      into the big atrium with its many columns&mdash;the hall in which players
+      go out to cool themselves, or collect their determination for a final
+      flutter&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Zero-trois!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!</i>&rdquo; came the strident cry
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a few seconds later the croupier cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Rien ne vas plus!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The red and black wheel was already spinning, and the little ivory ball
+      sent by the croupier&rsquo;s hand in the opposite direction was clicking
+      quickly over the numbered spaces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Zer-r-o!</i>&rdquo; cried the croupier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a moment later Mademoiselle had pushed before her at the end of the
+      croupier&rsquo;s rake another pile of counters, while all those who had
+      followed the remarkable woman&rsquo;s play were also paid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle is in good form to-day,&rdquo; 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&mdash;two or three louis&mdash;perhaps&mdash;and then at
+      once go to their ease in their own obscure abode.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed a man who overheard her. &ldquo;Mademoiselle
+      has wonderful luck! She won seventy-five thousand francs at the <i>Cercle
+      Prive</i> last night. She won <i>en plein</i> five times running. <i>Dieu!</i>
+      Such luck! And it never causes her the slightest excitement.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady must be very rich!&rdquo; remarked an American woman
+      sitting next to the old Frenchwoman, and who knew French well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rich! Of course! She must have won several million francs from the
+      Administration. They don&rsquo;t like to see her here. But I suppose her
+      success attracts others to play. The gambling fever is as infectious as
+      the influenza,&rdquo; declared the old Frenchwoman. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; she went on in a whisper. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she makes money at the tables,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money!&rdquo; exclaimed the old woman. &ldquo;Money! <i>Dieu!</i>
+      She has losses, it is true, but oh!&mdash;what she wins! I only wish I had
+      ten per cent of it. I should then be rich. Mine is a poor game, madame&mdash;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&mdash;and that is how I live.
+      Ah! madame, life is a great game here in the Principality.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the cosmopolitans of
+      the world: politicians, financiers, merchants, princes, authors, and
+      artists&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sit down,&rdquo; suggested Hugh wearily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      sure that she&rsquo;s the same woman&mdash;absolutely certain!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite confident you have made no mistake&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite, my dear Walter. I&rsquo;d know that woman among ten
+      thousand. I only know that her surname is Ferad. Her Christian name I do
+      not know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you suspect that she knows the secret of your father&rsquo;s
+      death?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m confident that she does,&rdquo; replied the good-looking
+      young Englishman. &ldquo;But it is a secret she will, I fear, never
+      reveal, unless&mdash;unless I compel her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how can you compel her?&rdquo; asked the elder of the two men,
+      whose dark hair was slightly tinged with grey. &ldquo;It is difficult to
+      compel a woman to do anything,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to know the truth!&rdquo; cried Hugh Henfrey fiercely, a
+      look of determination in his eyes. &ldquo;That woman knows the true story
+      of my father&rsquo;s death, and I&rsquo;ll make her reveal it. By gad&mdash;I
+      will! I mean it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be rash, Hugh,&rdquo; urged the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rash!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;It&rsquo;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&mdash;provided
+      I married Louise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, why not marry her?&rdquo; queried Brock lazily. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+      always so mysterious, my dear Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why!&mdash;because I love Dorise Ranscomb. But Louise interests me,
+      and I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s Mansions, Westminster. After that
+      she has travelled about with friends and has, I believe, been abroad quite
+      a lot. I&rsquo;ve nothing against Louise, except&mdash;well, except for
+      the strange uncanny influence which that man Benton has over her. I hate
+      the fellow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see! And as you cannot yet reach Woodthorpe and your father&rsquo;s
+      fortune, except by marrying Louise&mdash;which you don&rsquo;t intend to
+      do&mdash;what are you going to do now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, I intend that this woman they call &lsquo;Mademoiselle of
+      Monte Carlo,&rsquo; the lucky woman who is a decoy of the Administration
+      of the Bains de Mer, shall tell me the true circumstance of my father&rsquo;s
+      death. If I know them&mdash;then my hand will be strengthened.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meanwhile you love Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s daughter, you say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I love Dorise with all my heart. She, of course, knows nothing
+      of the conditions of the will.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence of some moments, interrupted only by the pop-pop of
+      the pigeon-shots below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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&rsquo;Azur to Covent
+      Garden, and to the florists&rsquo; shops in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve never told me the exact circumstances of your father&rsquo;s
+      death, Hugh,&rdquo; remarked Brock at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exact circumstances? Ah! That&rsquo;s what I want to know. Only
+      that woman knows the secret,&rdquo; answered the young man. &ldquo;All I
+      know is that the poor old guv&rsquo;-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&mdash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your father was murdered&mdash;eh?&rdquo; exclaimed the elder
+      man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most certainly he was. And that woman is aware of the whole
+      circumstances and of the identity of the assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a letter I afterwards opened&mdash;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 &lsquo;beware of that woman
+      you know&mdash;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.&rsquo; It bore the French
+      stamp and the postmark of Tours.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never knew all this,&rdquo; Brock said. &ldquo;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&mdash;who is
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SECOND CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CONCERNS A GUILTY SECRET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Just after seven o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Palmiers was a place where one met a merry cosmopolitan crowd, but
+      where the cocotte in her bright plumage was absent&mdash;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
+      &ldquo;a little loan.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hugh as his friend came down from his room to the
+      lounge, &ldquo;I suppose we ought to be going&mdash;eh? Dorise said
+      half-past seven, and we&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s to the Metropole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;smart.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mother and daughter greeted the two men enthusiastically, and at Lady
+      Ranscomb&rsquo;s orders the waiter brought them small glasses of an
+      aperitif.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been all day motoring up to the Col di Tenda. Sospel is
+      lovely!&rdquo; declared Dorise&rsquo;s mother. &ldquo;Have you ever been
+      there?&rdquo; she asked of Brock, who was an habitue of the Riviera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once and only once. I motored from Nice across to Turin,&rdquo; was
+      his reply. &ldquo;Yes. It is truly a lovely run there. The Alps are
+      gorgeous. I like San Dalmazzo and the chestnut groves there,&rdquo; he
+      added. &ldquo;But the frontiers are annoying. All those restrictions.
+      Nevertheless, the run to Turin is one of the finest I know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they rose, and all four walked into the crowded <i>salle-a-manger</i>,
+      where the chatter was in every European language, and the gay crowd were
+      gossiping mostly of their luck or their bad fortune at the <i>tapis vert</i>.
+      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 <i>en plein</i>
+      on thirty-six.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To those who visit &ldquo;Charley&rsquo;s Mount&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;records&rdquo;&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quartette enjoyed a costly but exquisite dinner, chatting and laughing
+      the while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men were friends of Lady Ranscomb and frequent visitors to her fine
+      house in Mount Street. Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s,
+      or the Embassy. Lady Ranscomb was Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had about six hundred a year&mdash;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&mdash;in order to get back what
+      was surely by right his inheritance?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, after all, as he again met Dorise&rsquo;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&mdash;and
+      especially young, good-looking widows with daughters &ldquo;on their hands&rdquo;&mdash;are
+      too prone to try and get rid of them &ldquo;because my daughter makes me
+      look so old,&rdquo; as they whisper to their intimates of their own age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner all four strolled across to the Casino, presenting their
+      yellow cards of admission&mdash;the monthly cards granted to those who are
+      approved by the smug-looking, black-coated committee of inspection, who
+      judge by one&rsquo;s appearance whether one had money to lose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise soon detached herself from her mother and strolled up the Rooms
+      with Hugh, Lady Ranscomb and Brock following.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Dorise exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look over there&mdash;at that table in the corner. There&rsquo;s
+      that remarkable woman they call &lsquo;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo&rsquo;!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>rapide</i> 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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I warned him to return to Paris. The fool! It is only what I
+      expected.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know of her?&rdquo; he asked in a casual way when they
+      were on the other side of the great saloon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, a Frenchman I met in the hotel the day before yesterday told
+      me all sorts of queer stories about her,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;She&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I noticed her playing this afternoon,&rdquo; Hugh said a moment
+      later in a quiet reflective tone. &ldquo;What do the gossips really say
+      about her, Dorise? All this is interesting. But there are so many
+      interesting people here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why dangerous?&rdquo; inquired Hugh in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That I don&rsquo;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&mdash;well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; added the
+      girl with a laugh, &ldquo;I suppose people gossip about everyone in this
+      place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was your informant?&rdquo; asked her lover, much interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then he probably knew more about her than he told you, I
+      expect.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt, for he warned my mother and myself against making her
+      acquaintance,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;He said she was a most
+      undesirable person.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Lady Ranscomb and Walter Brock joined them, whereupon the
+      former exclaimed to her daughter:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see that woman over there?&mdash;still playing&mdash;the
+      woman in black and the jade beads, against whom Monsieur Courtin warned
+      us?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mother, I noticed her. I&rsquo;ve just been telling Hugh about
+      her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A mysterious person&mdash;eh?&rdquo; laughed Hugh with
+      well-affected indifference. &ldquo;But one never knows who&rsquo;s who in
+      Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mademoiselle is apparently something of a mystery,&rdquo;
+      remarked Brock. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And one of the wealthiest&mdash;if report be true,&rdquo; said Lady
+      Ranscomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She fascinates me,&rdquo; Dorise declared. &ldquo;If Monsieur
+      Courtin had not warned us I should most probably have spoken to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear, you must do no such thing!&rdquo; cried her mother,
+      horrified. &ldquo;It was extremely kind of monsieur to give us the hint.
+      He has probably seen how unconventional you are, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, as they strolled on into the farther room, the conversation
+      dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So they&rsquo;ve heard about Mademoiselle, it seems!&rdquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; growled the other. &ldquo;I wish we could get hold of
+      that Monsieur Courtin. He might tell us a bit about her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt if he would. These French officials are always close as
+      oysters.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, I will try and make his acquaintance at the Metropole
+      to-morrow,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no harm in trying.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock
+      on the previous night by the <i>rapide</i> for Paris. He had been recalled
+      urgently, and a special <i>coupe-lit</i> had been reserved for him from
+      Ventimiglia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s, in Bucharest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! If she would only tell!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he kept on repeating to himself. &ldquo;If she would
+      only tell the truth&mdash;if she would only tell!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s death&mdash;and more, the reason of that
+      strange incomprehensible will which was intended to wed him to Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At four o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gad! She shall tell me! She shall! I&rsquo;ll compel her to speak&mdash;to
+      tell me the truth&mdash;or&mdash;or&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>terrasse</i> smoking and
+      listening to the weird music of the red-coated orchestra of Roumanian
+      gipsies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the evening, indeed, he idled, chatting with men and women he knew. <i>Carmen</i>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At eleven o&rsquo;clock he returned to the cafe and took a seat on the <i>terrasse</i>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His ring at the door was answered by a staid elderly Italian manservant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe Mademoiselle is at home,&rdquo; Hugh said in French.
+      &ldquo;I desire to see her, and also to apologize for the lateness of the
+      hour. My visit is one of urgency.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle sees nobody except by appointment,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s
+      polite but firm reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think she will see me if you give her this card,&rdquo; answered
+      Hugh in a strained, unusual voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some moments the servant did not reappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, standing there, entertained just a faint suspicion that he heard a
+      woman&rsquo;s shrill exclamation of surprise. And that sound emboldened
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, after an age it seemed, the man returned, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle will see you, Monsieur. Please come this way.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir? Pray what do you mean by resorting to this ruse in order
+      to see me? Who are you?&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was silent for a moment. Then in a hard voice he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The handsome woman smiled sarcastically and shrugged her half-bare
+      shoulders, her fingers trembling with her jade beads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Your father is dead&mdash;is he?&rdquo; she asked with an air
+      of indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. <i>He is dead</i>,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;I happen to be aware
+      that you knew my father, and&mdash;that you are cognizant of certain facts
+      concerning his mysterious end.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I!&rdquo; she cried, raising her voice in sudden indignation.
+      &ldquo;What on earth do you mean?&rdquo; She spoke in perfect English,
+      though he had hitherto spoken in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, Mademoiselle, that I intend to know the truth,&rdquo; said
+      Hugh, fixing his eyes determinedly upon hers. &ldquo;I am here to learn it
+      from your lips.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be mad!&rdquo; cried the woman. &ldquo;I know nothing of
+      the affair. You are mistaken!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you, then, deny that you have ever met a man named Charles
+      Benton?&rdquo; demanded the young fellow, raising his voice. &ldquo;Perhaps,
+      however, that is a bitter memory, Mademoiselle&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s son had utterly unnerved her.
+      What could he know concerning Charles Benton? How much of the affair did
+      he suspect?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met many people, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; she
+      replied quietly at last. &ldquo;I may have met somebody named Benton.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I see,&rdquo; the young man said. &ldquo;It is a memory that
+      you do not wish to recall any more than that of my dead father.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father was a good man. Benton was not.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you admit knowing both of them, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; cried
+      Hugh quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I&mdash;well&mdash;I may as well admit it! Why, indeed, should
+      I seek to hide the truth&mdash;<i>from you</i>,&rdquo; she said in a
+      changed voice. &ldquo;Pardon me. I was very upset at receiving the card.
+      Pardon me&mdash;will you not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not, unless you tell me the truth concerning my father&rsquo;s
+      death and his iniquitous will left concerning myself. I am here to
+      ascertain that, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I tell you&mdash;what then?&rdquo; she asked with knit
+      brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you tell me, then I am prepared to promise you on oath secrecy
+      concerning yourself&mdash;provided you allow me to punish those who are
+      responsible. Remember, my father died by foul means. <i>And you know it!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman faced him boldly, but she was very pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that is a promise?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You will protect me&mdash;you
+      will be silent regarding me&mdash;you swear to be so&mdash;if&mdash;if I
+      tell you something. I repeat that your father was a good man. I held him
+      in the highest esteem, and&mdash;and&mdash;after all&mdash;it is but right
+      that you, his son, should know the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you Mademoiselle. I will protect you if you will only reveal
+      to me the devilish plot which resulted in his untimely end,&rdquo; Hugh
+      assured her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she knit her brows and reflected for a few moments. Then in a low,
+      intense, unnatural voice she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Mr. Henfrey. I feel that, after all, my conscience would be
+      relieved if I revealed to you the truth. First&mdash;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&mdash;how&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that instant Hugh was startled by a bright flash outside the half-open
+      window, a loud report, followed by a woman&rsquo;s shrill shriek of pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THIRD CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      IN THE NIGHT
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey, startled by the sudden shot, shouted for assistance, and
+      then threw himself upon his knees beside the prostrate woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From a bullet wound over the right ear blood was slowly oozing and
+      trickling over her white cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Help! Help!&rdquo; he shouted loudly. &ldquo;Mademoiselle has been
+      shot from outside! <i>Help!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few seconds the elderly manservant burst into the room in a state of
+      intense excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick!&rdquo; cried Hugh. &ldquo;Telephone for a doctor at once. I
+      fear your mistress is dying!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey had placed his hand upon Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was every apparent sign that the small blue wound had proved fatal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Inform the police also!&rdquo; Hugh shouted to the elderly Italian
+      who was at the telephone in the adjoining room. &ldquo;The murderer must
+      be found!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time four female servants had entered the room where their
+      mistress was lying huddled and motionless. All of them were in <i>deshabille</i>.
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But why had Mademoiselle been shot just at the moment when she was about
+      to reveal the secret of his lamented father&rsquo;s death?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He descended to the garden, where he examined the bushes which cast their
+      dark shadows. But all was silence. The assassin had escaped!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having ordered everyone out of the room except Henfrey, he bent and made
+      an examination of the prostrate woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the unfortunate lady has
+      certainly been shot at close quarters. The wound is, I tell you at once,
+      extremely dangerous,&rdquo; he added, after a searching investigation.
+      &ldquo;But she is still alive,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;she is
+      still breathing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still alive!&rdquo; gasped Henfrey. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s excellent!
+      I&mdash;I feared that she was dead!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. She still breathes,&rdquo; the doctor replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will she recover, doctor?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly in French.
+      &ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little man became serious and shook his head gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur, that I cannot say,&rdquo; was his reply. &ldquo;She
+      is in a very grave state&mdash;very! And the brain may be affected.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh held his breath. <i>Surely Yvonne Ferad was not to die with the
+      secret upon her lips!</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the doctor&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; cried the elder, who was the one in authority, a tall,
+      lantern-jawed man with a dark brown beard and yellow teeth. &ldquo;Do not
+      touch that lady! What has happened here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh came forward, and in his best French explained the circumstances of
+      the tragedy&mdash;how Mademoiselle had been shot in his presence by an
+      unknown hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The assassin, whoever he was, stood out yonder&mdash;upon the
+      veranda&mdash;but I never saw him,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;It was all over
+      in a second&mdash;and he has escaped!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray who are you?&rdquo; demanded the police officer bluntly.
+      &ldquo;Please explain.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, I called upon Mademoiselle because I wished to obtain
+      some important information from her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What information? Rather late for a call, surely?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman hesitated. Then, with true British grit, he assumed
+      an attitude of boldness, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I compelled to answer that question?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Charles Ogier, chief inspector of the Surete of Monaco, and I
+      press for a reply,&rdquo; answered the other firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I, Hugh Henfrey, a British subject, at present decline to
+      satisfy you,&rdquo; was the young man&rsquo;s bold response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the lady still alive?&rdquo; inquired the inspector of Doctor
+      Leneveu.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I have ordered her to be taken up to her room&mdash;of course,
+      when m&rsquo;sieur the inspector gives permission.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the police officer; &ldquo;they had better take
+      her upstairs. We will remain here and make inquiries. This is a very queer
+      affair&mdash;to say the least,&rdquo; he added, glancing suspiciously at
+      Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Inspector Ogier was closely questioning the young
+      Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you knew the lady?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s mysterious death had been filched from
+      him by the hand of some unknown assassin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I did not know her personally,&rdquo; Henfrey replied somewhat
+      lamely. &ldquo;I came to call upon her, and she received me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you call at this hour? Could you not have called in the
+      daytime?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle was in the Rooms until late,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you followed her home&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The police officer pursed his lips and raised his eyes significantly at
+      his colleague.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was actually happening when the shot was fired? Describe
+      it to me, please,&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was standing just here&rdquo;&mdash;and he crossed the room and
+      stood upon the spot where he had been&mdash;&ldquo;Mademoiselle was over
+      there beside the window. I had my back to the window. She was about to
+      tell me something&mdash;to answer a question I had put to her&mdash;when
+      someone from outside shot her through the open glass door.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you did not see her assailant?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw nothing. The shot startled me, and, seeing her staggering, I
+      rushed to her. In the meantime the assailant&mdash;whoever he was&mdash;disappeared!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After all it was a very lame one. He would not fully admit the reason of
+      his visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; exclaimed the police officer.
+      &ldquo;It seems extraordinary that any person should creep along this
+      veranda.&rdquo; And he walked out and looked about in the moonlight.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree, monsieur,&rdquo; replied the Englishman. &ldquo;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&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite possibly,&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s assailant was outside&mdash;and
+      not inside?&rdquo; he asked, with a queer expression upon his aquiline
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh saw that he was hinting at his suspicion that he himself had shot
+      her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite certain,&rdquo; he assured him. &ldquo;Why do you ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have my own reasons,&rdquo; replied the police officer with a
+      hard laugh. &ldquo;Now, tell me what do you know about Mademoiselle Ferad?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Practically nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did you call upon her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unknown&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unknown to me. It might be known to Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was this information you so urgently desired?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some important information. I travelled from London to Monte Carlo
+      in order to obtain it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you had a motive in coming here&mdash;some strong motive,
+      I take it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. A very strong motive. I wanted her to clear up certain
+      mysterious happenings in England.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ogier was instantly alert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What happenings?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was silent for a few moments. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happenings in London that&mdash;well, that I do not wish to recall.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ogier again looked him straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suggest, M&rsquo;sieur Henfrey&rdquo;&mdash;for Hugh had given
+      him his name&mdash;&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, m&rsquo;sieur. She keeps herself apart. She is a mysterious
+      person&mdash;the most remarkable in all the Principality. We, at the
+      Bureau, have heard all sorts of curious stories concerning her&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so am I,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;I have a strong reason to be.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you tell me that reason?&rdquo; inquired the officer of the
+      Surete, still looking at him very shrewdly. &ldquo;Why fence with me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey hesitated. Then he replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a purely personal matter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet, you have said that you were not acquainted with
+      Mademoiselle!&rdquo; remarked Ogier suspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your theory is that while you stood in conversation with her
+      somebody crept along the veranda and shot her&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s service a little over five years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever seen this Englishman before?&rdquo; Ogier asked,
+      indicating Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, until to-night, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;He
+      called about twenty minutes after Mademoiselle&rsquo;s return from the
+      Rooms.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Mademoiselle quarrelled with anybody of late?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to my knowledge, m&rsquo;sieur. She is of a very quiet and even
+      disposition.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there anyone you know who might possess a motive to shoot her?&rdquo;
+      asked Ogier. &ldquo;The crime has not been committed with a motive of
+      robbery, but either out of jealousy or revenge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know of nobody,&rdquo; declared the highly respectable Italian,
+      whose moustache was tinged with grey. He shrugged his shoulders and showed
+      his palms as he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle arrived here two months ago, I believe?&rdquo; queried
+      the police official.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she ever live in London?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly,
+      interrupting Ogier&rsquo;s interrogation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;once. She had a furnished house on the Cromwell Road for
+      about six months.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long ago?&rdquo; asked Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please allow me to make my inquiries, monsieur!&rdquo; exclaimed
+      the detective angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the question I ask is of greatest importance to me in my own
+      inquiries,&rdquo; Hugh persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am here to discover the identity of Mademoiselle&rsquo;s
+      assailant,&rdquo; Ogier asserted. &ldquo;And I will not brook your
+      interference.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle has been shot, and it is for you to discover who fired
+      at her,&rdquo; snapped the young Englishman. &ldquo;I consider that I have
+      just as much right to put a question to this man as you have, that is&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      added with sarcasm&mdash;&ldquo;that is, of course, if you don&rsquo;t
+      suspect him of shooting his mistress.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I certainly do not suspect that,&rdquo; the Frenchman said.
+      &ldquo;But, to tell you candidly, your story of the affair strikes me as a
+      very improbable one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; laughed Hugh, &ldquo;I thought so! You suspect me&mdash;eh?
+      Very well. Where is the weapon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you have hidden it,&rdquo; suggested the other meaningly.
+      &ldquo;We shall, no doubt, find it somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will, and that will lead to the arrest of the guilty
+      person,&rdquo; Hugh laughed. Then he was about to put further questions to
+      the man Cataldi when Doctor Leneveu entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is she?&rdquo; demanded Hugh breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countenance of the fussy little doctor fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; he said in a low earnest voice, &ldquo;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!&rdquo; Then turning to Ogier, the doctor exclaimed:
+      &ldquo;This is an amazing affair&mdash;especially in face of what is
+      whispered concerning the unfortunate lady. What do you make of it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer of the Surete knit his brows, and with frankness replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I am entirely mystified&mdash;entirely mystified!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOURTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      WHAT THE DOSSIER CONTAINED
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Walter Brock was awakened at four o&rsquo;clock that morning by Hugh
+      touching him upon the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started up in bed and staring at his friend&rsquo;s pale, haggard face
+      exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&mdash;why, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo has been shot!&rdquo; the other replied
+      in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shot!&rdquo; gasped Brock, startled. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Briefly Hugh who had only just entered the hotel, explained the curious
+      circumstances&mdash;how, just at the moment she had been about to reveal
+      the secret of his father&rsquo;s death she was shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most extraordinary!&rdquo; declared his friend. &ldquo;Surely, we
+      have not been followed here by someone who is determined to prevent you
+      from knowing the truth!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems much like it, Walter,&rdquo; replied the younger man very
+      seriously. &ldquo;There must be some strong motive or no person would dare
+      to shoot her right before my eyes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed. Somebody who is concerned in your father&rsquo;s death has
+      adopted this desperate measure in order to prevent Mademoiselle from
+      telling you the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do the police say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do not appear to trouble to track Mademoiselle&rsquo;s
+      assailant. They say they will wait until daylight before searching for
+      footprints on the gravel outside.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! They are not very fond of making arrests within the
+      Principality. It&rsquo;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,&rdquo; Brock said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police, I believe, suspect me of shooting her,&rdquo; said Hugh
+      bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very awkward. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;they don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brock, who was still sitting up in bed in his pale blue silk pyjamas,
+      reflected a few moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Hugh,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;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&rsquo;s mysterious death, and in a frenzy of anger
+      you shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh drew a long breath, and his eyebrows narrowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! I had never regarded it in that light before!&rdquo; he
+      gasped. &ldquo;But what about the weapon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s a pity, old man, that you didn&rsquo;t
+      make a clean breast of the motive of your visit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I now see my horrible mistake,&rdquo; Henfrey admitted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which renders the situation only worse,&rdquo; Brock said. Then,
+      after a pause, he added: &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I intend to pursue that course. But the worst of it is, Walter,
+      that the doctors hold out no hope of Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;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&mdash;the dozens upon dozens of poor ruined
+      gamesters who are yearly laid to rest in the Suicides&rsquo; Cemetery&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sincerely hope they won&rsquo;t, otherwise it will go very hard
+      with me,&rdquo; Hugh said in a low, intense voice. &ldquo;Ah! What a night
+      it has been for me!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s death,&rdquo; remarked the elder man,
+      running his fingers through his hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is the position of this moment. But further, I am
+      suspected of the crime!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, the situation was most serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! m&rsquo;sieur, Mademoiselle is just the same,&rdquo; he
+      replied in response to Hugh&rsquo;s eager inquiry. &ldquo;The police have
+      gone, but Doctor Leneveu is still upstairs.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have the police searched the garden?&rdquo; inquired Hugh eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur. They made a thorough examination, but have
+      discovered no marks of footprints except those of yourself, myself, and a
+      tradesman&rsquo;s lad who brought up a parcel late last night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then they found no weapon?&rdquo; asked the young Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, m&rsquo;sieur. There is no clue whatever to the assailant.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curious that there should be no footmarks,&rdquo; remarked Brock.
+      &ldquo;Yet they found yours, Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. The man must surely have left some trace outside!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One would certainly have thought so,&rdquo; Brock said. &ldquo;I
+      wonder if we may go into the room where the tragedy happened?&rdquo; he
+      asked of the servant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the courteous reply, and he
+      conducted them both into the apartment wherein Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
+      had been shot down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you accompany Mademoiselle when she went to London, Giulio?&rdquo;
+      asked young Henfrey of the old Italian, after he had described to Brock
+      exactly what had occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When in London you knew some of Mademoiselle&rsquo;s friends, I
+      suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few&mdash;only a few,&rdquo; was the Italian&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever know a certain Mr. Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old fellow shook his head blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to my knowledge, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember an elderly gentleman named Henfrey calling?&rdquo;
+      asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Cataldi reflected for a moment, and then answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The name sounds familiar to me, m&rsquo;sieur, but in what
+      connexion I cannot recollect. That is your name, is it not?&rdquo; he
+      asked, remembering the card he had taken to his mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I have reason to believe that my
+      late father was acquainted with your mistress, and that he called upon her
+      in London.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      the servant said. &ldquo;But whether he actually called, or whether
+      someone at table mentioned his name I really cannot recollect.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That&rsquo;s a pity,&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh with a sigh. &ldquo;As
+      a matter of fact it was in order to make certain inquiries regarding my
+      late father that I called upon Mademoiselle last night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Giulio Cataldi turned in pretence of rearranging a chair, but in reality
+      to avert his face from the young man&rsquo;s gaze&mdash;a fact which Hugh
+      did not fail to notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had he really told the truth when he declared that he could not recollect
+      his father calling?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long were you in London with Mademoiselle?&rdquo; asked
+      Henfrey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About six weeks&mdash;not longer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it because of some untoward occurrence that the old Italian did not
+      like London, Hugh wondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are quite sure that you do not recollect my father calling
+      upon your mistress?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have said, m&rsquo;sieur, I do not remember. Yet I recall the
+      name, as it is a rather unusual one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have never heard of Mr. Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cataldi shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; Hugh went on, &ldquo;tell me whether you entertain any
+      suspicions of anyone who might be tempted to kill your mistress.
+      Mademoiselle has enemies, has she not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows?&rdquo; exclaimed the man with the grey moustache and
+      small, black furtive eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone has enemies of one sort or another,&rdquo; Walter
+      remarked. &ldquo;And no doubt Mademoiselle has. It is for us to discover
+      the enemy who shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, it is, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; exclaimed the servant.
+      &ldquo;The poor Signorina! I do hope that the police will discover who
+      tried to kill her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For aught we know the attempt upon the lady&rsquo;s life may prove
+      successful after all,&rdquo; said Hugh despairingly. &ldquo;The doctors
+      hold out no hope of her recovery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None. A third doctor has been in consultation&mdash;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&mdash;<i>povera Signorina</i>! She was always so kind and considerate
+      to us all.&rdquo; And the old man&rsquo;s voice trembled with emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True, the story of the death of Hugh&rsquo;s father was an unusually
+      strange one, curious in every particular&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they walked back to the town Hugh&rsquo;s heart sank within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will die,&rdquo; he muttered bitterly to himself. &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll
+      die, and I shall never learn the truth of the poor guv&rsquo;nor&rsquo;s
+      sad end, or the reason why I am being forced to marry Louise Lambert.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an iniquitous will, Hugh!&rdquo; declared his friend.
+      &ldquo;And it&rsquo;s infernally hard on you that just at the very moment
+      when you could have learnt the truth that shot was fired.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think the woman had any hand in my father&rsquo;s death?&rdquo;
+      Hugh asked. &ldquo;Do you think that she had repented, and was about to
+      try and atone for what she had done by confessing the whole affair?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is just the view I take,&rdquo; answered Brock. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, then, it seems more than likely that I&rsquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so. There is a monetary motive behind your
+      marriage with Louise. If you died, your enemy would gain nothing. That
+      seems clear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who can be my secret enemy?&rdquo; asked the young man in
+      dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle alone knows that, and it was undoubtedly her intention
+      to warn you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But if she dies I shall remain in ignorance,&rdquo; he
+      declared in a hard voice. &ldquo;The whole affair is so tangled that I can
+      see nothing clearly&mdash;only that my refusal to marry Louise will mean
+      ruin to me&mdash;and I shall lose Dorise in the bargain!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s bullet was, they declared, most dangerous. Indeed,
+      the three medical men marvelled that she still lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Phare du Littoral.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before noon Hugh went to the telephone in the hotel and inquired of
+      Cataldi the progress of his mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is just the same, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; came the voice in
+      broken English. &ldquo;<i>Santa Madonna!</i> How terrible it all is!
+      Doctor Leneveu has left, and Doctor Duponteil is now here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have the police been again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, m&rsquo;sieur. Nobody has been,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh rang off and crossed the hall, little dreaming that the
+      well-dressed Frenchman had been highly interested in his questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later he went along to the Metropole, where he had an
+      engagement to lunch with Dorise and her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they met, however, Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Hugh, you look very pale. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; he laughed forcedly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not very
+      bright to-day. I think it was the sirocco of yesterday that has upset me a
+      little, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, while they were seated at table, Dorise suddenly exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! do you know, mother, that young French lady over yonder, Madame
+      Jacomet, has just told me something. There&rsquo;s a whisper that the
+      mysterious woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, was shot during the night
+      by a discarded lover!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shot!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady Ranscomb. &ldquo;Dear me! How very
+      dreadful. What really happened?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. Madame Jacomet was told by her husband, who
+      heard it in Ciro&rsquo;s this morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How terrible!&rdquo; remarked Hugh, striving to remain calm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But women of her class invariably come to a bad end,&rdquo;
+      remarked the widow. &ldquo;How pleased I am, Dorise, that you never spoke
+      to her. She&rsquo;s a most dreadful person, they say.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she evidently knows how to win money at the tables, mother,&rdquo;
+      said the girl, lifting her clear blue eyes to those of her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I wonder what the scandal is all about?&rdquo; said the
+      widow of the great engineer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! don&rsquo;t trouble to inquire Lady Ranscomb,&rdquo; Hugh
+      hastened to remark. &ldquo;One hears scandal on every hand in Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I suppose so,&rdquo; replied the elder woman, and then the
+      subject was dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between his thin lips was a long, thin, Swiss cigar&mdash;his favorite
+      smoke&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the pale yellow paper were many lines of typewriting in French&mdash;a
+      carbon copy evidently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was headed: &ldquo;Republique Francaise. Department of Herault.
+      Prefecture of Police. Bureau of the Director of Police. Reference Number
+      20197.B.,&rdquo; and was dated nearly a year before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It commenced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Copy of an &lsquo;information&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Extracts of reports concerning Marie Leullier, alias Yvonne Ferad,
+      are herewith appended:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London&mdash;to
+      the Prefecture of Police, Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Information from the Borough Police Office, Worthing, to the
+      Prefecture of Police, Department of Herault.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Charles Ogier, inspector of the detective police of Monaco, smiled,
+      laid down his cigar, and took up another and even more interesting
+      document.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ON THE HOG&rsquo;S BACK
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shapley, sir? Why, take the road there yonder up the hill till you
+      get to the main road which runs along the Hog&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll find the Manor on the left in among a
+      big clump of trees.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How far?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About a mile, sir.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger, the only passenger who had alighted, slipped sixpence into
+      the man&rsquo;s hand, buttoned his coat, and started out to walk in the
+      direction indicated, breasting the keen east wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;so I can
+      ring up for a car to fetch me&mdash;which is a consolation, after all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! good,&rdquo; said the caller. &ldquo;Just tell her I&rsquo;m
+      here.&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Manor was a spacious, well-furnished place, full of good pictures and
+      much old oak furniture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant passed along the corridor, and entering the drawing-room,
+      announced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton is here, ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Mr. Benton! Show him in,&rdquo; cried his mistress
+      enthusiastically. &ldquo;Show him in at once!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Charles? So you&rsquo;ve discovered me here, eh?&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, jumping up and taking his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Molly. And you seem to have very comfortable quarters,&rdquo;
+      laughed Benton as he threw himself unceremoniously into a chintz-covered
+      armchair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are, I assure you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I suppose you&rsquo;re quite a great lady in these parts&mdash;eh?&mdash;now
+      that you live at Shapley Manor. Where&rsquo;s Louise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went up to town this morning. She won&rsquo;t be back till
+      after dinner. She&rsquo;s with her old school-fellow&mdash;that girl
+      Bertha Trench.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good. Then we can have a chat. I&rsquo;ve several things to consult
+      you about and ask your opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have some tea first,&rdquo; urged his good-looking hostess, pouring
+      him some into a Crown Derby cup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he commenced. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve done quite
+      well to take this place, as you&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure of that, Charles?&rdquo; she asked, fixing her big
+      grey eyes upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certain. It was the wisest course to get back here to England,
+      although you had to take a very round-about journey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the girl believed it, of course,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. She believes anything I tell her,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      present surroundings from that stuffy little flat <i>au troisieme</i> in
+      the Rue Racine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You had a very narrow escape, Molly. I
+      dared not come near you, but I knew that you&rsquo;d look after the girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I always look after her as though she were my own child.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton&rsquo;s lip curled as he sipped his China tea, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because so much depends upon her&mdash;eh? I&rsquo;m glad you view
+      the situation from a fair and proper stand-point. We&rsquo;re now out for
+      a big thing, therefore we must not allow any little hitch to prevent us
+      from bringing it off successfully.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite agree, Charles. Our great asset is Louise. But she must be
+      innocent of it all. She must know absolutely nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True. If she had an inkling that we were forcing her to marry Hugh
+      she would fiercely resent it. She&rsquo;s a girl of spirit, after all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Charles, I know that,&rdquo; laughed the woman. &ldquo;Ever
+      since she came home from school I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not overlooked that,&rdquo; the man said. &ldquo;But of late
+      I&rsquo;ve come to fear that we are treading upon thin ice. I don&rsquo;t
+      like the look of affairs at the present moment. Young Henfrey is head over
+      ears in love with that girl Dorise Ranscomb, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! It&rsquo;s only a flirtation, my dear Charles,&rdquo; laughed
+      the woman. &ldquo;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&rsquo;ll
+      fall into Louise&rsquo;s arms. She&rsquo;s really very fond of him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She may be, but he takes no notice of her. She told me so the other
+      day. He&rsquo;s gone to the Riviera&mdash;followed Dorise, I suppose,&rdquo;
+      Benton said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne wrote me a few days ago to say that he was there with a
+      friend of his named Walter Brock. Who&rsquo;s he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are both out at Monte Carlo, Yvonne says. And Henfrey is with
+      Dorise daily,&rdquo; remarked the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne is always apprehensive lest young Henfrey should learn the
+      secret of the old fellow&rsquo;s end,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t
+      see how the truth of the&mdash;well, rather ugly affair can ever come out,
+      except by an indiscretion by one or other of us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is scarcely likely, Charles, is it?&rdquo; his hostess
+      laughed as she pushed across to him a big silver box of cigarettes and
+      then reclined lazily among her cushions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It would certainly be a very sensational affair if the
+      newspapers got hold of the facts, my dear Molly. But don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall have to exercise a good deal of discretion and caution in
+      regard to Louise,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;The affair is not at all so
+      plain sailing as I at first believed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It is a serious contretemps that you had to leave Paris, Molly,&rdquo;
+      agreed her well-dressed visitor. &ldquo;The young American was a fool, of
+      course, but I think&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne is evidently keeping a good watch upon young Hugh,&rdquo;
+      remarked Benton presently, as he blew a ring of cigarette smoke towards
+      the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the scene of so many unseemly wrangles among the
+      robed and cocked-hatted borough councillors who are, <i>par excellence</i>,
+      outstanding illustrations of the provincial petty jealousies of bumbledom&mdash;Mrs.
+      Bond was welcomed by the trades-people who vied with each other to &ldquo;serve
+      her.&rdquo; 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 <i>Surrey Advertiser</i>. He had
+      been in the Queen&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mead, who went on his &ldquo;push-bike&rdquo; every evening along the Hog&rsquo;s
+      Back to Guildford, was never tired of singing the praises of his generous
+      mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s a real good sort,&rdquo; he would tell his friends in
+      the bar of the Lion or the Angel. &ldquo;She knows how to treat a man. She&rsquo;s
+      a widow, and good-looking. I suppose she&rsquo;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&rsquo;t to be sneezed at, I can tell you. It&rsquo;s
+      better than driving a lorry outside Ypres!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know, Charles,&rdquo; she said presently, &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s what we must prevent, my dear Molly!&rdquo; exclaimed
+      the lady&rsquo;s visitor. &ldquo;Think of all it means to us. You are
+      quite safe here&mdash;as safe as I am to-day. But we can&rsquo;t last out
+      without money&mdash;either of us. We must have cash-money&mdash;and
+      cash-money always.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That&rsquo;s so. But Yvonne is wonderful&mdash;amazing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t the same stake in the affair as we have.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked the woman for whom the European police were
+      in search.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because she is rich&mdash;she&rsquo;s won pots of money at
+      the tables&mdash;and we&mdash;well, both of us have only limited means.
+      Yours, Molly, are larger than mine&mdash;thanks to Frank. But I must have
+      money soon. My expenses in town are mounting up daily.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your rooms don&rsquo;t cost you very much! Old Mrs. Evans looks
+      after things as she has always done.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      he added with a light laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll stay and have dinner, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; urged
+      his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I do Louise may return, and just now I don&rsquo;t want to meet
+      her. It is better not.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she won&rsquo;t be back till the last train to Guildford. Mead
+      is meeting her. Yes&mdash;stay.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must get a car to take me back to town. I have to go to Glasgow
+      by the early train in the morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;re order one from one of the garages in Guildford.
+      You really must stay, Charles. There&rsquo;s lots we have to talk over&mdash;a
+      lot of things that are of vital consequence to us both.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment there came a rap at the door and the young manservant
+      entered, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re wanted on the telephone, ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bond rose from the settee and went to the telephone in the library,
+      where she heard the voice of a female telephone operator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that Shapley Manor?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I have a telegram
+      for Mrs. Bond. Handed in at Nice at two twenty-five, received here at four
+      twenty-eight. &lsquo;To Bond, Shapley Manor, near Guildford. Yvonne shot
+      by some unknown person while with Hugh. In grave danger.&mdash;S.&rsquo;
+      That is the message. Have you got it please?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bond held her breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Anything else?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, madam,&rdquo; replied the telephone operator at the Guildford
+      Post Office. &ldquo;Nothing else. I will forward the duplicate by post.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she switched off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SIXTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FACING THE UNKNOWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      That the police were convinced that Hugh Henfrey had shot Mademoiselle was
+      plain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wherever he went an agent of detective police followed him. At the Cafe de
+      Paris as he took his aperitif on the <i>terrasse</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after luncheon he met Dorise and her mother in the Rooms. With them
+      were the Comte d&rsquo;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 <i>en plein</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Hugh succeeded in getting Dorise alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s awfully stuffy here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s
+      go outside&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;Azur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They turned the corner by the Palais des Beaux Arts into the Boulevard
+      Peirara.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s walk out of the town,&rdquo; he suggested to the girl.
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m tired of the place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I, Hugh,&rdquo; Dorise admitted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s womenfolk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the pair went along in the welcome shadows, for the sun fell strong
+      upon the tumbling stream, Hugh was remarking upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been at Monte Carlo with his father before the war, and realized
+      the change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish mother would move on,&rdquo; Dorise exclaimed as they
+      strolled slowly together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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
+      <i>couturiere</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you also are tired of the place?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;Mother promised to spend Easter
+      in Florence. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Somebody in the hotel has put her off. An old Englishwoman who
+      lives in Florence told her that there&rsquo;s nothing to see beyond the
+      Galleries, and that the place is very catty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh laughed and replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you must persuade your mother to take you,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be easily persuaded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. She doesn&rsquo;t like travelling in Italy. She
+      once had her dressing-case stolen from the train between Milan and Genoa,
+      so she&rsquo;s always horribly bitter against all Italians.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are thieves also on English railways, Dorise,&rdquo; Hugh
+      remarked. &ldquo;People are far too prone to exaggerate the shortcomings
+      of foreigners, and close their eyes to the faults of the British.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But everybody is not so cosmopolitan as you are, Hugh,&rdquo; the
+      girl laughed, raising her eyes to those of her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you sigh?&rdquo; asked the girl, having noticed a change in
+      her companion ever since they had met in the Rooms. He seemed strangely
+      thoughtful and preoccupied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; he asked, suddenly pulling himself together. &ldquo;I
+      didn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he added with a forced laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t look yourself to-day, Hugh,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been told that once before,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;The
+      weather&mdash;I think! Are you going over to the <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice
+      to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And you are coming also. Hasn&rsquo;t mother asked you?&rdquo;
+      she inquired in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How silly! She must have forgotten. She told me she intended to ask
+      you to have a seat in the car. The Comte d&rsquo;Autun is coming with us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He admires you, Dorise, hence I don&rsquo;t like him,&rdquo;
+      Hugh blurted forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, surely, you&rsquo;re not jealous, you dear old thing!&rdquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like him because he seems to live by gambling,&rdquo;
+      Hugh declared. &ldquo;I know your mother likes him very much&mdash;of
+      course!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she likes you, too, dear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She may like me, but I fear she begins to suspect that we love each
+      other, dearest,&rdquo; he said in a hard tone. &ldquo;If she does, she
+      will take care in future to keep us apart, and I&mdash;I shall lose you,
+      Dorise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;no, you won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Hugh, you are awfully pessimistic to-day,&rdquo; the girl
+      cried. &ldquo;What is up with you? Have you lost heavily at the tables&mdash;or
+      what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I have been thinking of the future,&rdquo; he said in a hard
+      voice so very unusual to him. &ldquo;I am thinking of your mother&rsquo;s
+      choice of a husband for you&mdash;George Sherrard.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate him&mdash;the egotistical puppy!&rdquo; exclaimed the girl,
+      her fine eyes flashing with anger. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never marry him&mdash;<i>never</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hugh Henfrey made no reply, and they went on together in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you trust me, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl at last in a low
+      earnest tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s a rich man, and your
+      mother adores the Golden Calf.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know she does. If people have money she wants to know them. Her
+      first inquiry is whether they have money.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on the tip of Hugh&rsquo;s tongue to remark with sarcasm that such
+      ideals might well be expected of the wife of a jerry-builder in Golder&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Your mother has not asked me over to
+      Nice to-night because she believes you and I have been too much together
+      of late.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; declared Dorise. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s not
+      that, Hugh&mdash;I&rsquo;m quite sure! It&rsquo;s simply an oversight. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t mention it to her on any account, Dorise,&rdquo;
+      Hugh urged. &ldquo;If you did it would at once show her that you preferred
+      my company to that of the Count. Go with him. I shan&rsquo;t be jealous!
+      Besides, in view of my financial circumstances, what right have I to be
+      jealous? You can&rsquo;t marry a fellow like myself, Dorise. It wouldn&rsquo;t
+      be fair to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl halted. In her eyes shone the light of unshed tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh! What do you mean? What are you saying?&rdquo; she asked in a
+      low, faltering voice. &ldquo;Have I not told you that whatever happens I
+      shall never love another man but yourself?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my darling,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Thank you for
+      those words. They put into me a fresh hope, a fresh determination, and a
+      fearlessness&mdash;oh! you&mdash;you don&rsquo;t know!&rdquo; he added in
+      a low, earnest voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I know, Hugh, is that you love me,&rdquo; was the simple
+      response as she reciprocated his fierce caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love you, darling!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Yes. You are mine&mdash;mine!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, Hugh. I love no other man. I hate that tailor&rsquo;s dummy,
+      George Sherrard, and as for the Count&mdash;well, he&rsquo;s an idiotic
+      Frenchman&mdash;the &lsquo;hardy annual of Monte Carlo&rsquo; I heard him
+      called the other day. No, Hugh, I assure you that you have no cause for
+      jealousy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she smiled sweetly into his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it, darling! I know it,&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Hugh,&rdquo; exclaimed the girl, still clasped in her
+      lover&rsquo;s arms. &ldquo;But somehow you don&rsquo;t seem your old self
+      to-day. What is the matter? Can&rsquo;t you tell me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, darling. Excuse me. I&mdash;I&rsquo;m a bit upset that&rsquo;s
+      all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m upset because for the last day or two I have begun to
+      realize that our secret must very soon come out, and then&mdash;well, your
+      mother will forbid me the house because I have no money. You know that she
+      worships Mammon always&mdash;just as your father did&mdash;forgive me for
+      my words.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do forgive you because you speak the truth,&rdquo; Dorise
+      replied. &ldquo;I know that mother wants me to marry a rich man, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she will compel you to do so, darling. I am convinced of that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won&rsquo;t!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;I will never marry a
+      man I do not love!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother, if she doesn&rsquo;t suspect our compact, will soon do
+      so,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s a clever woman. She is on the
+      alert, because she intends you to marry soon, and to marry a rich man.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she looked straight into his eyes as she broke off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;because&mdash;because I love
+      you, Hugh!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling! You have never been so frank with me before,&rdquo; he
+      said softly. &ldquo;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!&rdquo; and clasping her again tightly in
+      his arms he pressed his lips fondly to hers in a long passionate embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;indeed, a double secret&mdash;that of his revered
+      father&rsquo;s mysterious end and the inexplicable attack upon Yvonne
+      Ferad at the very moment when he had been about to learn the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise little dreamed that if her lover married her he would inherit the
+      remainder of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do come over to the ball at Nice to-night,&rdquo; the girl urged
+      presently as they stood with hands clasped gazing into each other&rsquo;s
+      eyes. &ldquo;It will be nothing without you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling, that&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate him!&rdquo; Dorise declared. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s all elegance,
+      bows and flattery. He bores me to death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. He gave us an awfully good time in Paris last season&mdash;took
+      us to Longchamps, and we afterwards went to Deauville with him. He wins
+      and loses big sums on the turf.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A born gambler. Everyone knows that. I heard a lot about him in the
+      Travellers&rsquo; Club, in Paris.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if mother telephones to you, you&rsquo;ll come with us&mdash;won&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo; entreated the girl again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man hesitated. His mind was full of the tragic affair of the
+      previous night. He was wondering whether the end had come&mdash;whether
+      Mademoiselle&rsquo;s lips were already sealed by Death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave an evasive reply, whereupon Dorise, taking his hand in hers, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your objection to going out with us to-night, Hugh? Do tell
+      me. If you don&rsquo;t wish me to go, I&rsquo;ll make an excuse to mother
+      and she can take the Count.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not the slightest objection,&rdquo; he declared at once.
+      &ldquo;Go, dearest&mdash;only leave me out of it. The <i>bal blanc</i> is
+      always good fun.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not go if you refuse to go,&rdquo; she said with a pout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore in order to please her he consented&mdash;providing Lady
+      Ranscomb invited him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle is still unconscious, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the
+      servant&rsquo;s reply to his eager inquiry. &ldquo;The doctors have been
+      several times this afternoon, but they hold out no hope.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if I can be of any assistance?&rdquo; Hugh asked in
+      French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not, m&rsquo;sieur. What assistance can any of us give poor
+      Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, what indeed, Hugh thought as he put down the receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His marriage with Dorise, indeed his whole future, depended upon the
+      disclosure of the clever plot whereby Louise Lambert was to become his
+      wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dressed slowly, and having done so, descended to the <i>salle a manger</i>.
+      The big white room was filled with a gay, reckless cosmopolitan crowd&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brock was not there, and he seated himself alone at their table near the
+      long-curtained window. He was surprised at his friend&rsquo;s absence.
+      Perhaps, however, he had met friends and gone over to Beaulieu, Nice, or
+      Mentone with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that recklessness jarred upon the young man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had brushed his hair and rearranged his tie, and was about to put on
+      the pierrot&rsquo;s costume of white satin with big buttons of black
+      velvet which he had worn at the <i>bal blanc</i> at Mentone about a week
+      before, when the page handed him another note.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Written in a distinctly foreign hand, it read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s delay is dangerous to you. Do not trouble to
+      find out who sends you this warning! <i>Bon voyage!</i>&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But who was his unknown friend?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick, signore!&rdquo; he whispered excitedly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s be off and trust to our good fortune in getting away. I will
+      tell the officers of the <i>dogana</i> at Ventimiglia a good story&mdash;trust
+      me! I haven&rsquo;t been smuggling backwards and forwards for ten years
+      without knowing the ropes!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where are we going?&rdquo; asked Hugh bewildered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, signore, are going to prison if we fail on this venture, I
+      fear,&rdquo; was the rough-looking driver&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was going forth to face the unknown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FROM DARK TO DAWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      road over the yellow rocks which Napoleon made into Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had arrived at the frontier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>dogana</i>
+      he was reclining upon a cushion presenting quite a pathetic figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But who had made all these preparations for his flight?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Buona sera, signore</i>!&rdquo; cried the chauffeur merrily, as
+      a Customs officer in uniform came forward. &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s my driving
+      licence and papers for the car. And our two passports.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you anything to declare?&rdquo; he added in Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half a dozen very bad cigarettes,&rdquo; replied the other,
+      laughing. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re French! And also I&rsquo;ve got a very bad
+      cold! No duty on that, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chauffeur realized that the moment was a critical one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was rolling a cigarette unconcernedly, but bending to the Customs
+      officer, he said in a low voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My <i>padrone</i> is an <i>Americano</i>. 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&rsquo;ve got to take
+      him to Professor Landrini, in Turin. He&rsquo;s pretty bad. We&rsquo;ve
+      come from Hyeres. His doctor ordered me to take him to Turin at once. We
+      don&rsquo;t want any delay. He told me to give you this,&rdquo; and he
+      slipped a note for a hundred lire into the man&rsquo;s hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer expressed surprise, but the merry chauffeur of the rich
+      American exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry. The <i>Americano</i> is very rich; I only wish
+      there were more of his sort about. He&rsquo;s the great Headon, the
+      meat-canner of Chicago. You see his name on the tins.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man recognized the name, and at once desisted in his examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then to the two police officers who came to his side, he explained:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was a well-known American&mdash;the Customs officer had mentioned the
+      name of Headon, which both police officers recognized&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides, the chauffeur, in full view of the two police agents, slipped a
+      second note into the hand of the Customs officer, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So all is well, isn&rsquo;t it, signori? Just visa my papers, and
+      we&rsquo;ll get along. It looks as though we&rsquo;re to have a bad
+      thunderstorm, and, if so, we shall catch it up on the Col di Tenda!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was being watched with breathless anxiety by the supposed invalid
+      reclining against the cushion with his crutches at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the mysterious chauffeur reappeared, and with him the French police
+      officer in plain clothes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are keeping watch for a young Englishman from Monte Carlo who
+      has shot a woman,&rdquo; remarked the latter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! But they arrested him to-night in Mentone,&rdquo; replied the
+      driver. &ldquo;I heard it half an hour ago as I came through.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they told me so at the Garage Grimaldi. He shot a woman known
+      as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo&mdash;didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s the man! But they have not informed us yet. I&rsquo;ll
+      telephone to Mentone.&rdquo; Then he added: &ldquo;As a formality I&rsquo;ll
+      just have a peep at your master.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chauffeur held his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s pretty bad, I think. I hope we shall be in Turin early
+      in the morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Advancing to the car, the police officer opened the door and flashed his
+      torch upon the occupant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we?&rdquo; he asked faintly in English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the Italian <i>douane</i>, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the police
+      officer&rsquo;s reply, as for a few seconds he gazed upon the invalid&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the door remained open there was danger. At last, however, the man
+      reclosed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh&rsquo;s heart gave a great bound. The chauffeur had restarted the
+      engine, and mounting to the wheel shouted a merry:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Buona notte, signori</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the car moved away along the winding road and Hugh knew that he was
+      on Italian soil&mdash;that he had happily escaped from France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was the mystery of it all? Ay, what indeed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So far Dorise knew nothing of Hugh&rsquo;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 <i>escrocs</i> of Europe gather at the <i>tapis
+      vert</i> in winter and spring, it is not surprising that they close their
+      eyes to such minor crimes as theft, blackmail and false pretences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late, and few people were about in the narrow, ill-lit streets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, a couple of Italian carabineers stopped the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh&rsquo;s heart beat quickly. Had they at the <i>dogana</i> discovered
+      the trick and telephoned from the frontier?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another lamp was flashed upon his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carabineer asked in Italian:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your name, signore?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hugh, pretending that he did not understand the language, asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? What?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here are our papers, signore,&rdquo; interrupted the ever-ready
+      chauffeur, and he produced the papers for the officer&rsquo;s inspection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at them, bending to read them by the light of the torch which
+      his companion held.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after an officious gesture, he handed them back, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Benissimo</i>! You may pass!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh realised that his guide&rsquo;s intention was to go in the direction
+      of Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh got out and said in French:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, so far we&rsquo;ve been successful. I admire your ingenuity
+      and your pluck.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man laughed and thanked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done what I was told to do,&rdquo; he replied simply.
+      &ldquo;Monsieur is, I understand, in a bit of a scrape, and it is for all
+      of us to assist each other&mdash;is it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. But who told you to do all this?&rdquo; Hugh inquired,
+      standing in the dark road beside the car. The pair could not see each
+      other&rsquo;s faces, though the big head-lamps glared far ahead over the
+      white road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;a friend of yours, m&rsquo;sieur.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is his name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon, I am not allowed to say.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is so very strange&mdash;so utterly mysterious!&rdquo;
+      cried Hugh. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; was the fellow&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;At the <i>dogana</i>, 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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Again I admire your perfect nonchalance and ingenuity,&rdquo; Hugh
+      said. &ldquo;I owe my liberty entirely to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not liberty, m&rsquo;sieur. We are not yet what you say in English
+      &lsquo;out of the wood.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we going now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Genoa. We ought to be there by early morning,&rdquo; was the
+      reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what shall we do in Genoa?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us get there first&mdash;and see.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I wish you would tell me who you are&mdash;and why you take
+      such a keen interest in my welfare,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man gave vent to an irritating laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not permitted to disclose the identity of your friend,&rdquo;
+      he answered. &ldquo;All I know is that you are innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then perhaps you know the guilty person?&rdquo; Hugh suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Let us talk of something else, signore,&rdquo; was the
+      mysterious chauffeur&rsquo;s reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I confess to you that I am bent upon solving the mystery of
+      Mademoiselle&rsquo;s assailant. It means a very great deal to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;If the culprit is found, then there
+      would no longer be any suspicion against myself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably he never will be found,&rdquo; the man said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, how did you know about the affair, and why are you
+      risking arrest by driving me to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have reasons,&rdquo; was all he would say. &ldquo;I obey the
+      demands of those who are your friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They desire to conceal their identity. There is a strong reason why
+      this should be done.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they not protecting one who is suspected of a serious crime? If
+      discovered they would be punished,&rdquo; was the quiet response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! There is some hidden motive behind all this!&rdquo; declared
+      the young Englishman. &ldquo;I rather regret that I did not remain and
+      face the music.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have been far too dangerous, signore. Your enemies would
+      have contrived to convict you of the crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My enemies&mdash;but who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that, signore, I am ignorant. Only I have been told that you
+      have enemies, and very bitter ones.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have committed no crime, and yet I am a fugitive from
+      justice!&rdquo; Hugh cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You escaped in the very nick of time,&rdquo; the man replied.
+      &ldquo;But had we not better be moving again? We must be in Genoa by
+      daybreak.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do, I beg of you, tell me more,&rdquo; the young man implored.
+      &ldquo;To whom do I owe my liberty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have already told you, signore, you owe it to those who intend
+      to protect you from a false charge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But there is a lady in the case,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;I
+      fear that if she hears that I am a fugitive she will misjudge me and
+      believe me to be guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably so. That is, I admit, unfortunate&mdash;but, alas! it
+      cannot be avoided. It was, however, better for you to get out of France.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you think I am safe in Italy?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, not by any means. You are not an Italian subject. No, you
+      must not be very long in Italy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what am I to do when we get to Genoa?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signore had better wait until we arrive there,&rdquo; was the
+      driver&rsquo;s enigmatical reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What could it all mean? What, indeed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EIGHTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE WHITE CAVALIER
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The great <i>bal blanc</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what prevented Hugh from coming with us, mother?&rdquo;
+      the girl remarked as she sat with Lady Ranscomb watching the merriment and
+      the throwing of serpentines and confetti.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. He certainly ought to have let me know, and not
+      have kept me waiting nearly half an hour, as he did,&rdquo; her mother
+      snapped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not reply. The truth was that while her mother and the Count
+      had been waiting for Hugh&rsquo;s appearance, she had gone to the
+      telephone and inquired for Mr. Henfrey. Walter Brock had spoken to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m awfully sorry, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he had replied.
+      &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know where Hugh can be. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very curious, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Dorise remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very. I can&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he promised to go with us to the ball at Nice to-night!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Ranscomb, all I can think is that something&mdash;something
+      very important must have detained him somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Walter knew that his friend was suspected by the police, but dared not
+      tell her the truth. Hugh&rsquo;s disappearance had caused him considerable
+      anxiety because, for aught he knew, he might already be arrested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are few merrier gatherings in all Europe than the <i>bal blanc</i>.
+      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&mdash;the two shades of
+      colour chosen yearly by the International Fetes Committee&mdash;are
+      abandoned, and only white is worn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh must have been detained by something very unexpected, mother,&rdquo;
+      Dorise said. &ldquo;He never disappoints us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he does. One night we were going to the Embassy Club&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+      you recollect it&mdash;and he never turned up.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may have been indisposed, mother,&rdquo; Dorise said. &ldquo;Really
+      I think you judge him just a little too harshly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;s fatal!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I believe it&mdash;I firmly believe it,&rdquo; declared Lady
+      Ranscomb. &ldquo;Your poor father pointed it out to me long ago, and I
+      find that what he said is too true.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we can&rsquo;t all be lucky, mother,&rdquo; said the girl,
+      watching the revelry before her blankly as she reflected upon the mystery
+      of Hugh&rsquo;s absence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. But we can, nevertheless, be rich, if we look always to the
+      main chance and make the best of our opportunities,&rdquo; her mother said
+      meaningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the Count d&rsquo;Autun approached them. He was dressed as
+      a pierrot, but being masked was only recognizable by the fine ruby ring
+      upon his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will mademoiselle do me the honour?&rdquo; he said in French,
+      bowing elegantly. &ldquo;They are dancing in the theatre. Will you come,
+      Mademoiselle Dorise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delighted,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To lift one&rsquo;s <i>loup</i> 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, <i>escrocs</i>, and the most
+      notorious adventurers and adventuresses in all Europe. Truly, it was a
+      never-to-be-forgotten scene of cosmopolitan fun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Count, who was a bad dancer, collided with a slim, well-dressed French
+      girl, but did not apologize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! la la!&rdquo; cried the girl to her partner, a stout figure in
+      Mephistophelian garb. &ldquo;An exquisitely polite gentleman that, mon
+      cher Alphonse! I believe he must really be the Pork King from Chicago&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Count heard it, and was furious. Dorise, however, said nothing. She
+      was thinking of Hugh&rsquo;s strange disappearance, and how he had broken
+      his word to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Lady Ranscomb, secretly very glad that Hugh had been prevented
+      from accompanying them, and centring all her hopes upon her daughter&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s absence.
+      She was devoted to Hugh. He was all in all to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About half-past one o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he muttered in English beneath his breath. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+      she&mdash;without a doubt!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;Autun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier pretended to take no interest in them, but was,
+      nevertheless, watching intently. At last he saw the girl&rsquo;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&rsquo;s side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please do not betray surprise, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he said in a
+      low, refined voice. &ldquo;We may be watched. But I have a message for
+      you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me?&rdquo; she asked, peering through her mask at the man in
+      the plumed hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I cannot speak to you here. It is too public. Besides,
+      your mother yonder may notice us.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked the girl, naturally curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not let us talk here. See, right over yonder in the corner
+      behind where they are dancing in a ring&mdash;under the balcony. Let us
+      meet there at once. <i>Au revoir</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, who are you?&rdquo; Dorise inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m Mr. X,&rdquo; was his reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. X? Who&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Myself. But my name matters nothing, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I have come here to give you a confidential message.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why confidential&mdash;and from whom?&rdquo; she asked, standing
+      against the wall and surveying the mysterious masker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From a gentleman friend of yours&mdash;Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From Hugh?&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Do you know him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expected him to come with us to-night, but he has vanished from
+      his hotel.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. That is why I am here,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a note in the stranger&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said you had a message for me,&rdquo; she remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I am here to tell you that a serious
+      contretemps has occurred, and that Mr. Henfrey has escaped from France.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Escaped!&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because the police suspect him of a crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crime! What crime? Surely he is innocent?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will he write to me?&rdquo; she asked in despair. &ldquo;Surely
+      he will not keep me in suspense?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+      Then, lowering his voice, he urged her to move away, as he thought that an
+      idling masker was trying to overhear their conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he went on a few moments later, &ldquo;it might be
+      dangerous if he were to write to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was thinking of what her mother would say when the truth reached
+      her ears. Hugh was a <i>fugitive</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what crime is he suspected?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, I don&rsquo;t exactly know,&rdquo; was the stranger&rsquo;s
+      faltering response. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know where he is now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least. All I know is that he is safely across the
+      frontier into Italy,&rdquo; was the reply of the tall white cavalier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could see your face,&rdquo; declared Dorise frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that a message from Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;not exactly. It is a message from one who is his friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very mysterious,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;If you do not
+      know where he is at the moment, perhaps you know where we can find him
+      later.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But do let me know your name,&rdquo;
+      she implored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any old name is good enough for me,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Call
+      me Mr. X.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t mystify me further, please.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, call me Smith, Jones, Robinson&mdash;whatever you like.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you refuse to satisfy my curiosity&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret that I am compelled to do so&mdash;for certain reasons.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a detective?&rdquo; Dorise suddenly inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were a police officer I should scarcely act as an intermediary
+      between Mr. Henfrey and yourself, Miss Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo; she asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I repeat that he is entirely innocent,&rdquo; was the earnest
+      response. &ldquo;But I would advise you to affect ignorance. The police
+      may question you. If they do, you know nothing, remember&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how long will it be before I can see him again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That I cannot tell. There is a mystery underlying it all that
+      even I cannot fathom, Miss Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of mystery?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white cavalier shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am bewildered!&rdquo; the girl declared. &ldquo;It is all so very
+      mysterious&mdash;Hugh a fugitive from justice! I&mdash;I really cannot
+      believe it! What can the mystery be?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the masked man said
+      very politely. &ldquo;And now I think we must part. Perhaps if ever we
+      meet again&mdash;which is scarcely probable&mdash;you will recognize my
+      voice. And always recollect that should you or Mr. Henfrey ever receive a
+      message from &lsquo;Silverado&rsquo; it will be from myself.&rdquo; And he
+      spelt the name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silverado. Yes, I shall not forget you, my mysterious friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo; he said as, bowing gracefully, he turned
+      and left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not sleep before she had sent him a reassuring message.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly noon next day before she left her room, yet almost as soon
+      as she had descended in the lift the head <i>femme de chambre</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NINTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CONCERNS THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Hugh got out, the mysterious man, whose face was more forbidding in
+      the light of day, exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, all this is very strange!&rdquo; remarked Hugh, utterly
+      bewildered as he glanced at the forbidding-looking chauffeur and the
+      dust-covered car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree, signore,&rdquo; the man laughed. &ldquo;But get in again
+      and I will drive to the Via della Maddalena.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the third flight Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as she saw the chauffeur she welcomed him, addressing him as
+      Paolo, and invited them in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the English signore,&rdquo; explained the man. &ldquo;He
+      has come to stay with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signore is welcome,&rdquo; replied the old woman as she
+      clattered into the narrow, cheaply furnished little sitting-room, which
+      was in half darkness owing to the <i>persiennes</i> being closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, it was an uninviting place, which smelt of garlic and of the
+      paraffin oil with which the tiled floors had been rubbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will require another certificate of identity, signore,&rdquo;
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where on earth did you get this from?&rdquo; asked Hugh, noticing
+      that it was a replica of the United States consular seal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man smiled, replying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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!&rdquo; And he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh took the passport and the disc, adding:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How am I to repay you for all this?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed the old woman. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I recollect it,
+      signora. But the Signore Inglese must be very careful&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall, no doubt, pass the time very pleasantly,&rdquo; laughed
+      Hugh, speaking in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the old crone left them and returned with two cups of excellent <i>cafe
+      nero</i>, that coffee which, roasted at home one can get only in Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was indeed refreshing after that long night drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh stood there without luggage, and with only about thirty pounds in his
+      pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the man who had driven him looked him curiously in the face, and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who has told her? Surely she knows nothing of the affair at the
+      Villa Amette?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why have all these elaborate arrangements been made for my
+      security?&rdquo; Hugh demanded, more than ever nonplussed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is useless to take one precaution unless the whole are taken,&rdquo;
+      laughed the sphinx-like fellow whose cheerful banter had so successfully
+      passed them through the customs barrier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, swallowing his coffee, he wished Hugh, &ldquo;buon viaggio&rdquo;
+      and was about to depart, when Hugh said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of hers and of yourself,&rdquo; was the chauffeur&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;No, please do not question me, signore,&rdquo; he added.
+      &ldquo;I have done my best for you. And now my journey is at an end, while
+      yours is only beginning. Pardon me&mdash;but you have money with you, I
+      suppose? If you have not, these good people here will trust you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is this house?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man laughed. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh realized that he was in a hiding-place used by thieves. A little
+      later he knew that the ugly old woman&rsquo;s husband paid toll to a
+      certain <i>delegato</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;addio&rdquo;
+      left and descended the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A quarter of an hour later he made the acquaintance of the woman&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We only had word of your coming late last night,&rdquo; the man
+      said. &ldquo;You had already started from Monte Carlo, and we wondered if
+      you would get past the frontier all right.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh, sipping the wine out of courtesy. &ldquo;We
+      got out of France quite safely. But tell me, who made all these
+      arrangements for me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Il Passero, of course,&rdquo; replied the man, whose wife
+      addressed him affectionately as Beppo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Il Passero, pray?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know him surely. Il Passero, or The Sparrow. We call him
+      so because he is always flitting about Europe, and always elusive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police want him, I suppose.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is this mysterious and unknown friend of mine?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero is the chief of the most daring of all the gangs of
+      international thieves. We all work at his direction.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did he know of my danger?&rdquo; asked Hugh, mystified and
+      dismayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero knows many strange things,&rdquo; he replied with a
+      grin. &ldquo;It is his business to know them. And besides, he has some
+      friends in the police&mdash;persons who never suspect him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nationality is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man Beppo shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not Italian,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Yet he speaks the <i>lingua
+      Toscano</i> perfectly and French and English and <i>Tedesco</i>. He might
+      be Belgian or German, or even English. Nobody knows his true nationality.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the man who brought me here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that was Paolo, Il Passero&rsquo;s chauffeur&mdash;a merry
+      fellow&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remarkable,&rdquo; laughed Hugh. &ldquo;But I cannot see why The
+      Sparrow has taken such a paternal interest in me,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He no doubt has, for he has, apparently, arranged for your safe
+      return to England.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know him, of course. What manner of man is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A signore&mdash;a great signore,&rdquo; replied Beppo. &ldquo;He is
+      rich, and is often on the Riviera in winter. He&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no idea where he lives in London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was once told that he had a big house somewhere in what you call
+      the West End&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is head of a gang&mdash;is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;He is marvellous, and
+      has indeed well earned his sobriquet &lsquo;Il Passero.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden thought flitted through Hugh&rsquo;s mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose he is a friend of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, tell me,&rdquo; urged young Henfrey. &ldquo;What do you know
+      concerning Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian looked at him strangely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he replied, still speaking bad French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not speaking the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I tell it to you? I do not know you!&rdquo; was the
+      quick retort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are harbouring me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the orders of Il Passero.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surely can tell me what you know of Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh
+      persisted after a brief pause. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They say that you shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;you know that I did not,&rdquo; Henfrey said. &ldquo;Have
+      you yourself ever met Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a friend of Il Passero?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s famous Madonna.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      wife became installed there as his fellow-guest. He did not know her name
+      and she did not tell him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A LESSON IN ARGOT
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; whispered the girl in French, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s a
+      <i>pince sans rire</i>! Be careful!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now tell me something concerning yourself, mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+      Hugh urged presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Myself! Oh! la la!&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;What is there to
+      tell? I am just of <i>la haute pegre&mdash;a truqueuse</i>. Ah! you will
+      not know the expression. Well&mdash;I am a thief in high society. I give
+      indications where we can make a coup, and afterwards <i>bruler le pegriot</i>&mdash;efface
+      the trace of the affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why are you here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Malheureusement</i>! I was in Orleans and a <i>friquet</i>
+      nearly captured me. So Il Passero sent me here for a while.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You help Il Passero&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Very often. Ah! m&rsquo;sieur, he is a most wonderful man&mdash;English,
+      I think. <i>Girofle</i> (genteel and amiable), like yourself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh protested, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I mean it. Il Passero is a real gentleman&mdash;but&mdash;<i>maquiller
+      son truc</i>, and he is marvellous. When he exercises his wonderful talent
+      and forms a plan it is always flawless.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone seems to hold him in high esteem. I have never met him,&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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
+      <i>ecrache-tarte</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, pray?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo;
+      she added, &ldquo;you are not of our world. You are in just a little
+      temporary trouble. Over what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In reply he was perfectly frank with her. He told her of the suspicion
+      against him because of the affair of the Villa Amette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she replied, her manner changing, &ldquo;I have heard
+      that Mademoiselle was shot, but I had no idea that you had any connexion
+      with that ugly business.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unfortunately I have. Do you happen to know Yvonne Ferad?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Everyone knows her. She is very charming. Nobody knows
+      the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What truth?&rdquo; inquired Hugh quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;that she is a <i>marque de ce</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A <i>marque de ce</i>&mdash;what is that?&rdquo; asked Hugh
+      eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! <i>non</i>, m&rsquo;sieur. I must not tell you anything against
+      her. You are her friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am endeavouring to find out something about her. To me she is
+      a mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. She is to everybody.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you mean by that expression?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I told you I should offend Il Passero,&rdquo; replied the girl
+      simply. &ldquo;It is evident that he wishes you should remain in
+      ignorance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, you can tell me in confidence? I will divulge nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered the girl, whose face he could not see in the
+      shadow. &ldquo;I am sorry, M&rsquo;sieur Brown&rdquo;&mdash;she had not
+      been told his Christian name&mdash;&ldquo;but I am not permitted to tell
+      you anything concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a very remarkable person&mdash;eh?&rdquo; said Henfrey,
+      again defeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remarkable! Oh, yes. She is of the <i>grande monde</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that still your argot?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The latter is true, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not. She has <i>le clou</i> for the <i>eponge d&rsquo;or</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not follow that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;she has the attraction for those
+      who hold the golden sponge&mdash;the Ministers of State. Our argot is
+      difficult for you, m&rsquo;sieur&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see! Your expressions are a kind of cipher, unintelligible to the
+      ordinary person&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. If I exclaim, <i>par exemple, tarte</i>, it means
+      false; if I say <i>gilet de flanelle</i>, it is lemonade; if I say <i>frise</i>,
+      it means a Jew; or <i>casserole</i>, which is in our own tongue a police
+      officer. So you see it is a little difficult&mdash;is it not? To us <i>tire-jus</i>
+      is a handkerchief, and we call the ville de Paris <i>Pantruche</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s clever and desperate band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; she said a few moments later. &ldquo;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. <i>Dieu</i>! But I had a narrow escape the other
+      day in Orleans!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell me about Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. I beg of you to tell
+      me something, Mademoiselle Lisette,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would if I were permitted,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Mademoiselle
+      Yvonne is charming. You know her, so I need say nothing, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is clever&mdash;very clever,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;As Il
+      Passero is clever, so is she.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she is actively associated with him&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She is cognizant of all his movements, and of all his plans.
+      While she moves in one sphere&mdash;often in a lower sphere, like myself&mdash;yet
+      in society she moves in the higher sphere, and she &lsquo;indicates,&rsquo;
+      just as I do.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she is one of The Sparrow&rsquo;s associates?&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;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&mdash;which he did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt that is so. But why should he take all this interest in
+      me? I don&rsquo;t know and have never even met him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard that he has a house in London,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+      &ldquo;Do you know where it is situated?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What names?&rdquo; asked Hugh, highly interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! a number. They are always being changed,&rdquo; the French girl
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where do you write when you want to communicate with him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Generally to the Poste Restante in the Avenue de l&rsquo;Opera, in
+      Paris. Letters received there are collected for him and forwarded every
+      day.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so clever is he that nobody suspects him&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly, m&rsquo;sieur. His policy is always &lsquo;<i>Rengraciez</i>!&rsquo;
+      and he cares not a single <i>rotin</i> for <i>La Reniffe</i>,&rdquo; she
+      replied, dropping again into the slang of French thieves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he is on friendly terms with Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked. &ldquo;He may have been at Monte Carlo on the night of the
+      tragic affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, he at least knows that I am innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And he probably knows the guilty person. That would account
+      for the interest he takes in you, though you do not know him,&rdquo; said
+      Lisette. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, in my case he has, no doubt, done me signal service,&rdquo;
+      young Henfrey replied. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;why cannot you
+      tell me something more concerning Mademoiselle? What did you mean by
+      saying that she was a <i>marque de ce</i>? I know it is your slang, but
+      won&rsquo;t you explain what it means? You have explained most of your
+      other expressions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the girl thief was obdurate. She was certainly a <i>chic</i> 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 &ldquo;indicating&rdquo; where coups could be
+      made, she had been taken into his employment as a decoy, frequently
+      travelling on the international <i>wagon-lits</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh pressed her many times to tell him something concerning the
+      mysterious Mademoiselle, but he failed to elicit any further information
+      of interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her fortune at the Rooms is wonderful, they say,&rdquo; Lisette
+      said. &ldquo;She must be very rich.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she is one of Il Passero&rsquo;s assistants&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl laughed lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; was her enigmatical reply. &ldquo;Who knows? It is,
+      however, evident that Il Passero is seriously concerned at the tragic
+      affair at the Villa Amette.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever been there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated a few moments, then said: &ldquo;Yes, once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you know the old Italian servant Cataldi?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She replied in the affirmative. Then she added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know him, but I do not like him. She trusts him, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not. I should be afraid, for to my knowledge he is a <i>saigneur
+      a musique</i>.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Henfrey. &ldquo;Is he guilty of murder&mdash;and
+      Mademoiselle knows it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle may not know about it. She is probably in ignorance,
+      or she would not employ him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her remark was of considerable interest, inasmuch as old Cataldi had
+      seemed to be most devoted to his mistress, and entirely trusted by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know the circumstances?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But it is not our habit to speak of another&rsquo;s&mdash;well,
+      shortcomings,&rdquo; was her reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely, Mademoiselle should have been told the truth! Does not Il
+      Passero know?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s chauffeur had impressed upon him the serious danger he
+      would be running if he wrote to her while she was at Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I question whether he does know. But if he does he would say
+      nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; sighed Hugh. &ldquo;Yours is indeed a queer world,
+      mademoiselle. And not without interest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is full of adventure and excitement, of ups and downs, of
+      constant travel and change, and of eternal apprehension of arrest,&rdquo;
+      replied the girl, with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would tell me something about Yvonne Ferad,&rdquo; he
+      repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! m&rsquo;sieur, I am not permitted,&rdquo; was her obdurate
+      reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who could have fired the shot, do you think?&rdquo; Henfrey asked.
+      &ldquo;You know her friends. Perhaps you know her enemies?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Lisette was silent for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied reflectively. &ldquo;She has enemies, I
+      know. But who has not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any person who, to your knowledge, would have any motive
+      to kill her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are several people who hate her. One of them might have done
+      it out of revenge. You say you saw nobody?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you go and see her at that hour?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I wanted her to tell me something&mdash;something of
+      greatest importance to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she refused, of course? She keeps her own secrets.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. On the other hand, she was about to disclose to me the
+      information I sought when someone fired through the open window.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The shot might have been intended for you&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It certainly might,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;But with what
+      motive?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To prevent you from learning the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was on the point of telling me what I wanted to know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. And what more likely than someone outside, realizing that
+      Mademoiselle was about to make a disclosure, fired at you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you said that Mademoiselle had enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she has. But I think my theory is the correct one,&rdquo;
+      replied the girl. &ldquo;What was it that you asked her to reveal to you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he replied, after a brief hesitation, &ldquo;my father
+      died mysteriously in London some time ago, and I have reason to believe
+      that she knows the truth concerning the sad affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did it happen?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s
+      Hospital, but an hour later he died without recovering consciousness.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was your father&rsquo;s name?&rdquo; asked Lisette in a
+      strangely altered voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey!&rdquo; gasped the girl, starting up at mention of the
+      name. &ldquo;<i>Henfrey</i>! And&mdash;and are&mdash;you&mdash;<i>his son</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh. &ldquo;Why? You know about the affair,
+      mademoiselle! Tell me all you know,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I&mdash;the
+      son of the dead man&mdash;have a right to demand the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey!&rdquo; repeated the girl hoarsely in a state of intense
+      agitation. &ldquo;Monsieur Henfrey! And&mdash;and to think that I am here&mdash;with
+      you&mdash;<i>his son</i>! Ah! forgive me!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;Let
+      us return.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you shall tell me the truth!&rdquo; cried Hugh excitedly.
+      &ldquo;You know it! You cannot deny that you know it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All, however, he could get from her were the words:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;Monsieur Henfrey&rsquo;s son! <i>Surely Il Passero does
+      not know this</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      ELEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      A month of weary anxiety and nervous tension had gone by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening after Hugh&rsquo;s disappearance, Monsieur Ogier had called
+      upon Dorise Ranscomb&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was very much mystified at Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this state of keen anxiety and overstrung nerves she was compelled to
+      meet almost daily, and be civil to, her mother&rsquo;s friend, the odious
+      George Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was for ever singing the man&rsquo;s praises, and never
+      weary of expressing her surprise at Hugh&rsquo;s unforgivable behaviour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He simply disappeared, and nobody has heard a word of him since!&rdquo;
+      she remarked one day as they sat at breakfast. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite
+      certain he&rsquo;s done something wrong. I&rsquo;ve never liked him,
+      Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like him, mother, because he hasn&rsquo;t money,&rdquo;
+      remarked the girl bitterly. &ldquo;If he were rich and entertained you,
+      you would call him a delightful man!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dorise! What are you saying? What&rsquo;s the good of life without
+      money?&rdquo; queried the widow of the great contractor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everyone can&rsquo;t be rich,&rdquo; the girl averred simply.
+      &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s positively hateful to judge people by their
+      pockets.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, has Hugh written to you?&rdquo; snapped her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise replied in the negative, stifling a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he isn&rsquo;t likely to. He&rsquo;s probably hiding somewhere.
+      I wonder what he&rsquo;s done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. I&rsquo;m sure of that!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not so sure,&rdquo; was her mother&rsquo;s
+      response. &ldquo;I was chatting about it to Mr. Sherrard last night, and
+      he&rsquo;s promised to make inquiry.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let Mr. Sherrard inquire as much as he likes,&rdquo; cried the girl
+      angrily. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll find nothing against Hugh, except that he&rsquo;s
+      poor.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! And he&rsquo;s been far too much in your company of
+      late, Dorise. People were beginning to talk at Monte Carlo.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Let them talk, mother! I don&rsquo;t care a scrap. I&rsquo;m my
+      own mistress!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I tell you frankly that I&rsquo;m very glad that we&rsquo;ve
+      seen the last of the fellow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother! You are really horrid!&rdquo; cried the girl, rising
+      abruptly and leaving the table. When out of the room she burst into tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor girl, her heart was indeed full.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Lisette he had failed to elicit any further facts concerning his
+      father&rsquo;s death, though it was apparent that she knew something about
+      it&mdash;something she dared not tell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;at orders of The
+      Sparrow, she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Hugh left Ravecca had given him eighty pounds in English notes,
+      saying that he acted at Il Passero&rsquo;s orders, for Hugh would no doubt
+      need the money, and it would be most dangerous for him to write to his
+      bankers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first Henfrey protested, but, as his funds were nearly exhausted, he
+      had accepted the money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>consigne</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man, noticing the effect his words had upon him, smiled reassuringly,
+      and said in broken English: &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the man walked on, leaving Hugh alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Much surprised, Hugh did as he was bid, and a few minutes later the
+      Belgian met him again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very dangerous for us to be seen together,&rdquo; he said
+      quickly, scarcely pausing as he walked. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s long looked for letter. Indeed, he had been
+      hastening his footsteps full of keen apprehension when the stranger had
+      accosted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in accordance with the man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;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.&rdquo; He spoke in French, and had shown his visitor
+      into a small but well furnished room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh. &ldquo;Is there danger in that quarter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how could they know?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely, Dorise would be most careful not to betray me!&rdquo; cried
+      the young Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, somebody undoubtedly has.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume you are one of Il Passero&rsquo;s friends?&rdquo; Hugh
+      said with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Hence I am your friend,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard of late how Mademoiselle Yvonne is progressing?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man, who told his visitor his name was Jules Vervoort, shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is no better. I heard last week that the doctors have said that
+      she will never recover her mental balance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Is she demented?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ordered by Il Passero&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+      &ldquo;It is fortunate that you were not recognized when you came this
+      morning,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I want my letters,&rdquo; said Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why are all these precautions being taken to prevent my arrest?&rdquo;
+      Hugh asked. &ldquo;I confess I don&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I. But when Il Passero commands we all obey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are, I presume, his agent in Brussels?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His friend&mdash;not his agent,&rdquo; Vervoort replied with a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know Mademoiselle Lisette?&rdquo; Hugh asked. &ldquo;She was
+      with me in Genoa.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now look here, Monsieur Vervoort,&rdquo; he exclaimed at last,
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much in the dark about all this curious business.
+      Lisette knows a lot concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admitted. She acted once as her maid, I believe, in some big
+      affair. But I don&rsquo;t know much about it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;the
+      lady they call Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall I go?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow seems to be ubiquitous,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is. No really great robbery can be accomplished unless he plans
+      and finances it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot think why he takes so keen an interest in me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He often does in persons who are quite ignorant of his existence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my own case. I never heard of him until I was in Genoa, a
+      fugitive,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;But you told me I shall receive a
+      message from Miss Ranscomb by special messenger. When?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you are in Malines.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is very strange. Will the mysterious messenger call
+      upon Miss Ranscomb in London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and a very clever one indeed,&rdquo; he added with a
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I had better get away to Malines without delay?&rdquo;
+      Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; replied Hugh. &ldquo;I have enough for the present.
+      My only desire is to be back again in London.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am afraid that is not possible for some time to come.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I shall hear from Miss Ranscomb?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. The messenger will come to you in Malines.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the messenger?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that I have no knowledge,&rdquo; was Vervoort&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore, in accordance with the Belgian&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope monsieur will make himself quite comfortable,&rdquo; madame
+      said, a broad smile of welcome upon her round face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be comfortable enough under madame&rsquo;s care,&rdquo;
+      Vervoort assured him. &ldquo;She has had some well-known guests before
+      now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, monsieur. More than one of them have been world-famous and&mdash;well&mdash;believed
+      to be perfectly honest and upright.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed Vervoort. &ldquo;Do you remember the English
+      ex-member of Parliament?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;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&mdash;in
+      return for certain facilities regarding the English police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of the English police, madame?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+      The fat woman grinned expressively and shrugged her broad shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Someone is coming here to meet Monsieur Henfrey,&rdquo; Vervoort
+      said. &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I only received word of it the day before
+      yesterday. A messenger from London, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, each day I become more and more mystified,&rdquo; Hugh
+      declared. &ldquo;Why Il Passero, whom I do not know, should take all this
+      interest in me, I cannot imagine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il Passero very often assists those against whom a false charge is
+      laid,&rdquo; the woman remarked. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWELFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE STRANGER IN BOND STREET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      As Dorise walked up Bond Street, smartly dressed, next afternoon, on her
+      way to her dressmaker&rsquo;s, she was followed by a well-dressed young
+      girl in black, dark-eyed, with well-cut, refined features, and apparently
+      a lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Piccadilly the stranger had followed Dorise unseen, until at the
+      corner of Maddox Street she overtook her, and smiling, uttered her name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; responded Doris in surprise. &ldquo;But I regret&mdash;you
+      have the advantage of me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably,&rdquo; replied the stranger. &ldquo;Do you recollect the
+      <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice and a certain white cavalier? I have a message
+      from him to give you in secret.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why in secret?&rdquo; Dorise asked rather defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;for certain reasons which I think you can guess,&rdquo;
+      answered the girl in black, as she strolled at Dorise&rsquo;s side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did not you call on me at home?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because of your mother. She would probably have been a little
+      inquisitive. Let us go into some place&mdash;a tea-room&mdash;where we can
+      talk,&rdquo; she suggested. &ldquo;I have come to see you concerning Mr.
+      Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo; asked Dorise, in an instant anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite safe. He arrived in Malines yesterday&mdash;and is with
+      friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he had my letters?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately, no. But do not let us talk here. Let&rsquo;s go in
+      yonder,&rdquo; and she indicated the Laurel Tea Rooms, which, the hour
+      being early, they found, to their satisfaction, practically deserted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a table in the far corner they resumed their conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why has he not received my letters?&rdquo; asked Dorise. &ldquo;It
+      is nearly a month ago since I first wrote.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By some mysterious means the police got to know of your friend&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who sent you to me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s awfully good of you,&rdquo; Dorise
+      replied. &ldquo;Does he know you are here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I have not met him. I am simply a messenger. In fact, I
+      travel far and wide for those who employ me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who are they?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret, but they must remain nameless,&rdquo; said the girl, with
+      a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was puzzled as to how the French police could have gained any
+      knowledge of Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had, she remembered, addressed the envelope to Mr. Godfrey Brown, at
+      the Poste Restante in Brussels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s waste-paper basket
+      from time to time, hence the knowledge he had gained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you actually going to Malines?&rdquo; asked Dorise of the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. As your messenger,&rdquo; the other replied with a smile.
+      &ldquo;I am leaving to-night. If you care to write him a letter, I will
+      deliver it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come with me over to the Empress Club, and I will write
+      the letter there?&rdquo; Dorise suggested, still entirely mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this the stranger agreed, and they left the tea-shop and walked
+      together to the well-known ladies&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had finished it, she placed it in an envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not address it,&rdquo; remarked the other girl. &ldquo;It
+      will be safer blank, for I shall give it into his hand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And ten minute later the mysterious girl departed, leaving Dorise to
+      reflect over the curious encounter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh was in Malines. She went to the telephone, rang up Walter Brock,
+      and told him the reassuring news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Malines?&rdquo; he cried over the wire. &ldquo;I wonder if I
+      dare go there to see him? What a dead-alive hole!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not until then did Dorise recollect that the girl had not given her Hugh&rsquo;s
+      address. She had, perhaps, purposely withheld it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This fact she told Hugh&rsquo;s friend, who replied over the wire:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is highly satisfactory news, in any case. We can only
+      wait, Miss Ranscomb. But this must relieve your mind, I feel sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it does,&rdquo; admitted Dorise, and a few moments later she
+      rang off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Il Passero&rsquo;s <i>chic</i> messenger crossed from Dover
+      to Ostend, and next morning she called at Madame Maupoil&rsquo;s, in
+      Malines, where she delivered Dorise&rsquo;s note into Hugh&rsquo;s own
+      hand. She was an expert and hardened traveller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh thanked her cordially, and while she sat chatting with Madame
+      Maupoil, sipping her <i>cafe au lait</i>, he sat down and wrote a long
+      letter to the girl he loved so deeply&mdash;a letter which reached its
+      destination four days later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      back, was surely one of the finest within a couple of hundred miles of
+      London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s arrival there she had had many callers among the
+      <i>nouveau riche</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The display of wealth had always been one of Molly Maxwell&rsquo;s games.
+      It always paid. She knew that to succeed one must spend, and now, with her
+      recently acquired &ldquo;fortune,&rdquo; she spent to a very considerable
+      tune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish you&rsquo;d go in the car to Guildford and exchange those
+      library books, Louise,&rdquo; exclaimed the handsome woman, suddenly
+      looking up from her paper. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got those horrid Brailsfords
+      coming to lunch. I was bound to ask them back.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you come, too?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I expect Mr. Benton this morning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know he was back from Paris. I&rsquo;m so glad he&rsquo;s
+      coming,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll stay all the
+      afternoon, of course?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so. Go at once and get back as soon as you can, dear. Choose
+      me some nice new books, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louise Lambert, Benton&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking of Hugh Henfrey,&rdquo; the woman remarked
+      suddenly. &ldquo;I wonder why he never writes to you?&rdquo; she added,
+      watching the girl&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louise&rsquo;s cheeks reddened slightly, as she replied with affected
+      carelessness:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he doesn&rsquo;t care to write, I shall trouble no longer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s still abroad, is he not? The last I heard of him was
+      that he was at Monte Carlo with that Ranscomb girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mention of Dorise Ranscomb caused the girl&rsquo;s cheeks to colour more
+      deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I heard that also.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t seem to care very much, Louise,&rdquo; remarked the
+      woman. &ldquo;And yet, he&rsquo;s such an awfully nice young fellow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve said that dozens of times before,&rdquo; was Louise&rsquo;s
+      abrupt reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you suggest that?&rdquo; asked the girl resentfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;because, my dear, I know that you are very fond of him,&rdquo;
+      the woman laughed. &ldquo;Now, you can&rsquo;t deny it&mdash;can you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;a fact of which
+      both Benton and his female accomplice were well aware.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t reply,&rdquo; laughed the woman for whom the Paris
+      Surete was searching everywhere; &ldquo;but your face betrays the truth,
+      my dear. Don&rsquo;t worry,&rdquo; she added in a tone of sympathy.
+      &ldquo;No doubt he&rsquo;ll write as soon as he is back in England.
+      Personally, I don&rsquo;t believe he really cares a rap for the Ranscomb
+      girl. It&rsquo;s only a matter of money&mdash;and Dorise has plenty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wish to hear anything about Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s love
+      affairs!&rdquo; cried the girl petulantly. &ldquo;I tell you that they do
+      not interest me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are piqued that he does not write, child. Ah, dear, I
+      know!&rdquo; she laughed, as the girl left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A quarter of an hour later Louise was seated in the car, while Mead drove
+      her along the broad highway over the Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was in complete ignorance of the truth. She never dreamed that
+      the source of the woman&rsquo;s wealth was highly suspicious, or that the
+      constant travelling was in order to evade the police.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she had heard of Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the conditions of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;The Humbert Millions,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Uncle,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car at last ran into the station yard at Guildford, and at the
+      bookstall Louise exchanged her books with the courteous manager.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was passing through the booking-office back to the car, when a voice
+      behind her called:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Louise!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning, she found her &ldquo;uncle,&rdquo; Charles Benton, who, wearing a
+      light overcoat and grey velour hat, grasped her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dear,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;This is fortunate. Mead is
+      here, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, uncle,&rdquo; replied the girl, much gratified at meeting him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was about to engage a taxi to take me up to the Manor, but now
+      you can take me there,&rdquo; said the rather handsome man. &ldquo;How is
+      Mrs. Bond?&rdquo; he asked, calling her by her new name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite well. She&rsquo;s expecting you to lunch. But she has some
+      impossible people there to-day&mdash;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&rsquo;re
+      rolling in money, but can&rsquo;t keep servants.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear, it&rsquo;s the same everywhere,&rdquo; said Benton as
+      he entered the car after her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drove over the railway bridge and up the steep hill out of Guildford
+      seated side by side. Benton had been her &ldquo;uncle&rdquo; ever since
+      her childhood days, and a most kind and considerate one he had always
+      proved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;uncle,&rdquo; she looked upon
+      Benton as her father and obeyed all his commands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see Mrs. Bond at once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, turning to Louise, he exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see Molly privately. I have some urgent business to
+      discuss with her before your profiteer friends arrive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; replied the girl cheerily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+      leave you alone,&rdquo; and she ascended the broad oak staircase, the
+      steps of which were worn thin by the tramp of many generations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments later Charles Benton stood in the morning-room, where Mrs.
+      Bond still sat before the welcome log fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back again, Charles!&rdquo; she exclaimed, rising to greet him.
+      &ldquo;Well, how goes it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not too well,&rdquo; was his reply as he closed the door. &ldquo;I
+      only got back last night. Five days ago I saw The Sparrow at the Palace
+      Hotel in Madrid. He&rsquo;s doing all he can in young Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      interests, but he is not too hopeful.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t make out,&rdquo; said the man, apparently much
+      perturbed. &ldquo;He wired me to go to Madrid, and I went. But it seems
+      that I&rsquo;ve been on a fool&rsquo;s errand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s very unsatisfactory,&rdquo; said the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, my dear Molly! From his attitude it seemed to me that he is
+      protecting Henfrey from some secret motive of his own&mdash;one that is
+      not at all in accordance with our plans.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is surely acting in our interests!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I&rsquo;m not so sure about that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surprise me. He knows our intentions and approved of them!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His approval has, I think, been upset by the murderous attack upon
+      Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he surely will not act against us! If he does&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he does&mdash;then we may as well throw up the sponge, Molly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We could give it all away to the police,&rdquo; remarked the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And by so doing give ourselves away!&rdquo; answered Benton.
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow has many friends in the police, recollect. Abroad, he
+      distributes a quantity of annual <i>douceurs</i>, and hence he is
+      practically immune from arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish we were,&rdquo; laughed the handsome adventuress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. We have only to dance to his tune,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;And
+      the tune just now is not one which is pleasing to us&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem strangely apprehensive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am. I believe that The Sparrow, while making pretence of
+      supporting our little affair, is in favour of Hugh&rsquo;s marriage with
+      Dorise Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman looked him straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He could never go back on his word!&rdquo; she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow is a curious combination of the crook&mdash;chivalrous
+      and philanthropic&mdash;as you already know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, he wouldn&rsquo;t let us down?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton paused. He was thinking deeply. A certain fact had suddenly
+      occurred to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excellent!&rdquo; exclaimed Molly. &ldquo;If we fail we can, after
+      all, have our revenge. But,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;would not he suspect
+      us both, and, in turn, give us away?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He will never suspect, my dear Molly. Leave it to me. Are we
+      not his dearest and most trusted friends?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THIRTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      POISONED LIPS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Week after week passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;that which looked far down the glen to the blue distant
+      mountains&mdash;had been modernised; yet that, in itself, was sufficiently
+      spacious for the entertainment of large house-parties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning, early in June, Dorise, in a rough tweed suit and a pearl-grey
+      suede tam-o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The spate is excellent for us,&rdquo; exclaimed George Sherrard.
+      &ldquo;We ought to kill a salmon to-day, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sincerely hope so,&rdquo; replied the girl; &ldquo;but somehow I
+      never have any luck in these days.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you really don&rsquo;t! But Marjorie killed a twelve-pounder
+      last week, your mother tells me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After fixing the rods and baiting them, the head keeper discreetly
+      withdrew, leaving the pair alone. In the servants&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a lovely day&mdash;and what a silent, delightful spot,&rdquo;
+      Sherrard remarked, as he filled his pipe preparatory to walking up-stream,
+      while the girl remained beside the dark pool where sport seemed likely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, inwardly wishing to get rid of her
+      companion so as to be left alone with her own thoughts. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+      remain here for a little and then go down-stream to the end of our water.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right oh!&rdquo; he replied cheerily as he moved away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise breathed more freely when he had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Sherrard had arrived from London quite unexpectedly at nine o&rsquo;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 &ldquo;run up for a few
+      days&rsquo; fishing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s scheme was to throw the pair into each other&rsquo;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 &ldquo;off her hands.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the contrary, the girl&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, within her blouse she carried his last letter which she had
+      received three weeks before when in London&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That, in itself, showed her that the police were bent on discovering and
+      arresting Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Dorise!&rdquo; cried a voice. &ldquo;No luck, eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard had returned and had witnessed her outbreak of impatience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None!&rdquo; she snapped, for the loss of her fly annoyed her. She
+      knew that she had been careless, because under old Murray&rsquo;s careful
+      tuition she had become quite expert with the rod, both with trout and
+      salmon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had similar luck. I&rsquo;ve
+      just got hooked up in a root and lost a fly. Let&rsquo;s have lunch&mdash;shall
+      we?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother&rsquo;s visitor, but,
+      nevertheless, was compelled to be polite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I say!&rdquo; exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been
+      gossiping for some time. &ldquo;Have you heard from your friend Henfrey
+      lately?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not lately,&rdquo; replied the girl, a trifle resentful that he
+      should obtrude upon her private affairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only ask because&mdash;well, because there are some jolly queer
+      stories going about town of him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Queer stories!&rdquo; she echoed quickly. &ldquo;What are they?
+      What do people say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! They say lots of extraordinary things. I think your mother has
+      done very well to drop him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has mother dropped him?&rdquo; asked the girl in pretence of
+      ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told me so last night, and I was extremely glad to hear it&mdash;though
+      he is your friend. It seems that he&rsquo;s hardly the kind of fellow you
+      should know, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you say that?&rdquo; his companion asked, her eyes flashing
+      instantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Haven&rsquo;t you heard?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heard what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The story that&rsquo;s going round the clubs. He&rsquo;s missing,
+      and has been so for quite a long time. You haven&rsquo;t seen him&mdash;have
+      you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was compelled to reply in the negative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what do they say against him?&rdquo; she demanded breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a lot of funny stories,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;They say he&rsquo;s hiding from the police because he
+      attempted to murder a notorious woman called Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+      Do you know about it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a wicked lie!&rdquo; blurted forth the girl. &ldquo;Hugh
+      never attempted to kill the woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard looked straight into her blue eyes, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you it&rsquo;s an abominable lie! Hugh is not an assassin!&rdquo;
+      cried the girl fiercely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I merely repeat what I have heard on very good authority,&rdquo;
+      replied the smug-faced man with the thick red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have of course told my mother that&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think it was any secret,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Indeed,
+      I think it most fortunate we all know the truth. The police must get him
+      one day&mdash;before long.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few moments Dorise remained silent, her eyes fixed across the broad
+      river to the opposite bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if they do, he will most certainly clear himself, Mr. Sherrard,&rdquo;
+      she said coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! You still have great faith in him,&rdquo; he laughed airily.
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;we shall see,&rdquo; and he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Sherrard. I still have faith in Mr. Henfrey. I know him
+      well enough to be certain that he is no assassin.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I ask you, Dorise, why is he hiding?&rdquo; said her
+      companion. &ldquo;If he is innocent, what can he fear?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know he is innocent.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. You must remain in that belief until he is found guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You already condemn him!&rdquo; the girl cried in anger. &ldquo;By
+      what right do you do this, I ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, common sense shows that he is in fear lest the truth should
+      come to light,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s lame reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the woman is still alive, is she not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She&rsquo;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&rsquo;s there
+      in close confinement.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rose abruptly, and looking very straight into the man&rsquo;s
+      eyes, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I merely tell you of the report from France to Scotland Yard,&rdquo;
+      said Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You tell me this in order to prejudice me against Hugh&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hugh! Whom you love&mdash;eh?&rdquo; sneered Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I <i>do</i> love him,&rdquo; the girl blurted forth. &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is to be regretted, Dorise, that you have fallen in love with a
+      fellow who is wanted by the police,&rdquo; he remarked with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, I love a genuine man,&rdquo; she retorted with bitter
+      sarcasm. &ldquo;I know my mother&rsquo;s intention is that I shall marry
+      you. But I tell you here frankly&mdash;as I stand here&mdash;I would
+      rather kill myself first!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Sherrard with his dark bushy brows and thick lips only laughed at
+      her indignation. This incensed her the more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But really, Dorise&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo; he cried, advancing
+      towards her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean exactly what I say. Let me get back. When I go fishing I
+      prefer to go alone,&rdquo; the girl said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what am I to say to Lady Ranscomb?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her that I love Hugh,&rdquo; laughed the girl defiantly.
+      &ldquo;Tell her that I intend to defeat all her clever intrigues and sly
+      devices!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no knowledge of any intrigue, Dorise,&rdquo; 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&mdash;well, as she has already bluntly told him, she
+      would die rather than become Mrs. George Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Intrigue!&rdquo; the girl retorted. &ldquo;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 &lsquo;bomber&rsquo; over the enemy&rsquo;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&rsquo;s why I
+      despise you!&rdquo; and the girl&rsquo;s pale face showed two pink spots
+      in the centre of her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really,&rdquo; he said in that same superior tone which he so
+      constantly assumed. &ldquo;I must say that you are the reverse of polite,
+      Miss Dorise,&rdquo; and his colour heightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am! And I intend to be so!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;Go back to my mother,&rdquo;
+      she went on. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&mdash;and to a
+      purpose when their mistresses will it so.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Dorise&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;The night train from Perth to London
+      leaves at nine-forty to-night,&rdquo; she said with biting sarcasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; he growled beneath his breath. &ldquo;We shall
+      see!&mdash;yes, we shall see!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      RED DAWN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you?&rdquo; she asked the man who was odious to her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      so sorry I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She called on me last week,&rdquo; said Lady Ranscomb. &ldquo;Newte
+      told her I was not at home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old-fashioned butler, John Newte, a white-haired, rosy-faced man, who
+      had seen forty years&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;awful hard luck,&rdquo; as he
+      had been looking forward to a week&rsquo;s good sport on the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do come back, George,&rdquo; Lady Ranscomb urged. &ldquo;Get your
+      business over and get back here for the weekend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try,&rdquo; was Sherrard&rsquo;s half-hearted response,
+      whereat Newte entered to announce that the car was ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he bade mother and daughter adieu, and went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise could see that her mother was considerably annoyed at her plans
+      being so abruptly frustrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must ask somebody else,&rdquo; she said, as they lingered over
+      the dessert. &ldquo;Whom shall we ask?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t care in the least, mother. I&rsquo;m quite
+      happy here alone. It is a rest. We shall have to be back in town in a
+      fortnight, I suppose.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George could quite well have waited for a day or two,&rdquo; Lady
+      Ranscomb declared. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An appointment with a lady, perhaps,&rdquo; laughed Dorise
+      mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What next, my dear! You know he is over head and ears in love with
+      you!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That&rsquo;s quite enough, mother. You&rsquo;ve told me that
+      lots of times before. But I tell you quite frankly his love leaves me
+      quite cold.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! dear. That reply is, after all, but natural. You, of course,
+      won&rsquo;t confess the truth,&rdquo; her mother laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, mother. I&rsquo;m heartily glad the fellow has gone. I hate
+      his supercilious manner, his superior tone, and his unctuous bearing. He&rsquo;s
+      simply odious! That&rsquo;s my opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mother looked at her severely across the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please remember, Dorise, that George is my friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never forget that,&rdquo; said the girl meaningly, as she rose
+      and left the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later, when she entered her bedroom, she found Duncan, her
+      maid, awaiting her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I&rsquo;ve been waiting to see you this half hour, miss,&rdquo;
+      she said. &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t get you alone. Just before eight o&rsquo;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.&rdquo; And the prim lady&rsquo;s
+      maid handed her young mistress a small white envelope upon which her name
+      was written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening it, she found a plain visiting card which bore the words in a man&rsquo;s
+      handwriting:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&mdash;SILVERADO.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise held her breath. It was a message from the mysterious white
+      cavalier who had sought her out at the <i>bal blanc</i> at Nice, and told
+      her of Hugh&rsquo;s peril!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise stood before the long cheval glass, the card still in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have to go into Edinburgh to-morrow morning,&rdquo; her mother
+      remarked. &ldquo;So we should start pretty early. I&rsquo;ve ordered the
+      car for nine o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, mother. Good-night,&rdquo; said the girl as she closed
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she was about to pass through the small swing gate, she heard a voice
+      which she recognized exclaim:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Ranscomb! I have to apologize!&rdquo; And from the dark shadow
+      a rather tall man emerged and barred her path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay you will think this all very mysterious,&rdquo; he went
+      on, laughing lightly. &ldquo;But I do hope I have not inconvenienced you.
+      If so, pray accept my deepest apologies. Will you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are still Mr. X&mdash;eh?&rdquo; asked the girl, who had
+      halted, and was gazing upon his rather striking face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still the same,&rdquo; he said, smiling. &ldquo;Or you may call me
+      Brown, Jones, or Robinson&mdash;or any of the other saints&rsquo; names if
+      you prefer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been very kind to me. Surely I may know your real name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Ranscomb. For certain very important reasons I do not wish
+      to disclose it. Pardon me&mdash;will you not? I ask that favour of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But will you not satisfy my curiosity?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At my personal risk? No. I do not think you would wish me to do
+      that&mdash;eh?&rdquo; he asked in a tone of mild reproof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On behalf of Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He is still in hiding. It has been impossible&mdash;through
+      force of circumstances&mdash;for him to send you further messages.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he? I want to see him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have patience, Miss Ranscomb, and I will arrange a meeting between
+      you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why do the police still search for him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and they are determined upon his arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do you think he is guilty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But shall we ever be in a position to prove that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so. We must have patience&mdash;and still more patience,&rdquo;
+      urged the mysterious man as he stood in the full light of the brilliant
+      moon. &ldquo;I have here a letter for you which Mr. Henfrey wrote a week
+      ago. It only came into my hands yesterday.&rdquo; And he gave her an
+      envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me something about this woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+      Who is she?&rdquo; asked Dorise excitedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;she is a person who was notorious at the Rooms, as you
+      yourself know. You have seen her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And tell me, why do you take such an interest in Hugh?&rdquo;
+      inquired the girl, not without a note of suspicion in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For reasons best known to myself, Miss Ranscomb. Reasons which are
+      personal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s hardly a satisfactory reply.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I can give few satisfactory replies until we succeed in
+      ascertaining the truth of what occurred at the Villa Amette,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;I must urge you, Miss Ranscomb, to remain patient, and&mdash;and
+      not to lose faith in the man who is wrongfully accused.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when can I see him?&rdquo; asked Dorise eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon. But you must be discreet&mdash;and you must ask no questions.
+      Just place yourself in my hands&mdash;that is, if you can trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, even though I am ignorant of your name.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is best that you remain in ignorance,&rdquo; was his reply.
+      &ldquo;Otherwise perhaps you would hesitate to trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the tall, good-looking man only laughed, and then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name really doesn&rsquo;t matter at present. Later, Miss
+      Ranscomb, you will no doubt know it. I am only acting in the interests of
+      Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you mistrust me,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;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&mdash;well&mdash;I tell you in confidence that I dare
+      not!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dare not! Of what are you afraid?&rdquo; inquired Dorise. The man
+      she had met under such romantic circumstances interested her keenly. He
+      was Hugh&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid of several things,&rdquo; replied the white
+      cavalier. &ldquo;The greatest fear I have is that you may not believe in
+      me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do believe in you,&rdquo; declared the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excellent!&rdquo; he replied enthusiastically. &ldquo;Then let us
+      get to business&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what character?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;that I am acting in the interests of the man
+      with&mdash;the man who is, I believe, your greatest and most intimate
+      friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understood that when we met in Nice.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Now I understand that your mother, Lady Ranscomb, is much
+      against your marriage with Hugh Henfrey. She has other views.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really! Who told you that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have ascertained it in the course of my inquiry.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise paused, and then looking the man of mystery straight in the face,
+      asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you really know about me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he laughed lightly. &ldquo;A good deal. Now tell me
+      when could you be free to get away from your mother for a whole day?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to know. Just tell me the date. When are you returning to
+      London?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On Saturday week. I could get away&mdash;say&mdash;on Tuesday week.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good. You would have to leave London by an early train in the
+      morning&mdash;if I fail to send a car for you, which I hope to do. And be
+      back again late at night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Because I have a reason.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you will take me to meet Hugh&mdash;eh? Ah! How good you
+      are!&rdquo; cried the girl in deep emotion. &ldquo;I shall never be able
+      to thank you sufficiently for all you are doing. I&mdash;I have been
+      longing all these weeks to see him again&mdash;to hear his explanation why
+      he went to the woman&rsquo;s house at that hour&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will tell you everything, no doubt,&rdquo; said her mysterious
+      visitor. &ldquo;He will tell you everything except one fact.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo; she asked breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why should you?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You are, after all, a
+      stranger.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s Cross station at ten o&rsquo;clock
+      on the morning of Tuesday week? If so, I will meet you there.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But where are we going?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I have no idea. When one is escaping from the police one&rsquo;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,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish you would tell me the motive of your extreme kindness
+      towards us both,&rdquo; Dorise urged. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t make it out at
+      all. I am bewildered.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;so am I, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; replied the tall, elegant
+      man who spoke with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. &ldquo;There
+      are certain facts&mdash;facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at
+      the Villa Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand,&rdquo;
+      she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and
+      distinct motive to call that night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the adventuress, Miss Ranscomb, often has, deep in her soul,
+      the heart of a pure woman,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall&mdash;and before long, too,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he ever told you anything concerning her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing much. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has never told you the conditions of his father&rsquo;s will?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never&mdash;except that he has been left very poorly off, though
+      his father died in affluent circumstances. What are the conditions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mysterious stranger paused for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you, of late, formed an acquaintance of a certain Mrs. Bond, a
+      widow?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I met her recently in South Kensington, at the house of a friend of
+      my mother, Mrs. Binyon. Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How many times have you met her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two&mdash;or I think three. She came to tea with us the day before
+      we came up here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! Your mother seems rather prone to make easy
+      acquaintanceships&mdash;eh? The Hardcastles were distinctly undesirable,
+      were they not?&mdash;and the Jameses also?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what do you know about them?&rdquo; asked the girl, much
+      surprised, as they were two families who had been discovered to be not
+      what they represented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;I happen to be aware of your mother&rsquo;s
+      charm&mdash;that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to know quite a bit about us,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;How
+      is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have made it my business to know, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo;
+      he replied. &ldquo;Further, I would urge upon you to have nothing to do
+      with Mrs. Bond.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know all about that,&rdquo; he answered in a curious tone.
+      &ldquo;But I repeat my warning that Mrs. Bond is by no means a desirable
+      acquaintance. I tell you so for your own benefit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I want you to please
+      make me a promise&mdash;namely, that you will say nothing to a single soul
+      of what I have said this evening&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand. But you really mystify me. I know you are my friend,&rdquo;
+      she said, &ldquo;but why are you doing all this for our benefit?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In order that Hugh Henfrey may return to your side, and that hand
+      in hand you may be able to defeat your enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My enemies! Who are they?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 <i>Times</i> newspaper at any
+      time for an appointment with &lsquo;Silverado.&rsquo; Give me seven days,
+      and I will keep it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But do tell me your name!&rdquo; she urged, as they moved together
+      from the pathway along the road in the direction of Perth. &ldquo;I beg of
+      you to do so.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already begged a favour of you, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; he
+      answered in a soft, refined voice. &ldquo;I ask you not to press your
+      question. Suffice it that I am your sincere friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when shall I see Hugh?&rdquo; she cried, again halting. &ldquo;I
+      cannot bear this terrible suspense any longer&mdash;indeed I can&rsquo;t!
+      Can I go to him soon?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; cried a voice from the shadow of a bush close beside
+      them as a dark alert figure sprang forth into the light. &ldquo;It is
+      needless. I am here, dearest!&mdash;<i>at last</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And next second she found herself clasped in her lover&rsquo;s strong
+      embrace, while the stranger, utterly taken aback, stood looking on,
+      absolutely mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE NAMELESS MAN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this gentleman, Dorise?&rdquo; asked Hugh, when a moment
+      later the girl and her companion had recovered from their surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot introduce you,&rdquo; was her reply. &ldquo;He refuses to
+      give his name.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tall man laughed, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already told you that my name is X.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh regarded the stranger with distinct suspicion. It was curious that he
+      should discover them together, yet he made but little comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were just speaking about you, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; the tall man
+      went on. &ldquo;I believed that you were still in Belgium.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know I was there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&mdash;well, information concerning your hiding-place reached
+      me,&rdquo; was his enigmatical reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to know a good deal concerning me,&rdquo; Hugh remarked
+      resentfully, looking at the stern, rather handsome face in the moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the girl declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, Miss Ranscomb, I require no thanks,&rdquo; the polite
+      stranger assured her. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who are you?&rdquo; demanded Hugh, filled with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That matters not, now that you are back in England. Only I beseech
+      of you to be very careful,&rdquo; said the tall man. Then he added:
+      &ldquo;There are pitfalls into which you may very easily fall&mdash;traps
+      set by your enemies.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, I thank you sincerely for what you have done for Miss
+      Ranscomb during my absence,&rdquo; said the young man, much mystified at
+      finding Dorise strolling at that hour with a man of whose name even she
+      was ignorant. &ldquo;I know I have enemies, and I shall certainly heed
+      your warning.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your enemies must not know you are in England. If they do, they
+      will most certainly inform the police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall take care of that,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I
+      shall be compelled to go into hiding again&mdash;but where, I do not know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you must certainly continue to lie low for a time,&rdquo; the
+      man urged. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I know of what you are accused, Hugh!&rdquo; cried the girl.
+      &ldquo;And I also know you are innocent!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Henfrey is innocent,&rdquo; said the tall stranger. &ldquo;But
+      there must be no publicity, hence his only chance of safety lies in strict
+      concealment.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is difficult to conceal oneself in England,&rdquo; replied Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed, as he slowly answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are certain places where no questions are asked&mdash;if you
+      know where to look for them. But first, I am very interested to know how
+      you got over here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and here
+      I am. But I assure you it was an adventurous crossing, for the weather was
+      terrible&mdash;a gale blew nearly the whole time.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are here, it is true, Mr. Henfrey. But you mustn&rsquo;t remain
+      here,&rdquo; the stranger declared. &ldquo;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 &lsquo;Heathcote,&rsquo; 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&mdash;shall I
+      write it down?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks very much indeed,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I shall
+      remember it. Mrs. Mason, &lsquo;Heathcote,&rsquo; Abingdon Road,
+      Kensington.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s it. Get there as soon as ever you can,&rdquo; urged
+      the stranger. &ldquo;Recollect that your enemies are still in active
+      search of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh looked his mysterious friend full in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; he said, in a firm, hard voice. &ldquo;Are you
+      known as Il Passero?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; answered the stranger. &ldquo;I refuse to satisfy
+      your curiosity as to who I may be. I am your friend&mdash;that is all that
+      concerns you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the famous Passero&mdash;The Sparrow&mdash;is my unknown
+      friend,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I have a suspicion that you and he are
+      identical!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a motive in not disclosing my identity,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s
+      reply in a curious tone. &ldquo;Get to Mrs. Mason&rsquo;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. <i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, raising his hat, he turned abruptly, and, leaving them, set off up
+      the high road which led to Perth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, listen, sir&mdash;one moment!&rdquo; cried Hugh, as he turned
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless the stranger heeded not, and a few seconds later his figure
+      was lost in the shadow of the high hedgerow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hugh, a few moments later, &ldquo;all this is
+      most amazing. I feel certain that he is either the mysterious Sparrow
+      himself, or one of his chief accomplices.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow? Who is he&mdash;dear?&rdquo; asked Dorise, her hand
+      upon her lover&rsquo;s shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sit down somewhere, and I will tell you,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very remarkable!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;I wonder if
+      he really is the notorious Sparrow?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel convinced he is,&rdquo; declared Hugh. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He certainly was quite as surprised as myself,&rdquo; the girl
+      replied, happy beyond expression that her lover was once again at her
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his strong arms he held her in a long, tight embrace, kissing her upon
+      the lips in a frenzy of satisfaction&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he put a question to her:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really believe I am innocent of the charge against me,
+      darling?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, Hugh,&rdquo; she answered frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Thank you for those words,&rdquo; he said, in a broken voice.
+      &ldquo;I feared that you might think because of my flight that I was
+      guilty.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are not. Mother, of course, says all sorts of nasty
+      things&mdash;that you must have done something very wrong&mdash;and all
+      that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you go there at all, dear?&rdquo; the girl asked.
+      &ldquo;You surely knew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it quite well,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I expected to meet an
+      adventuress&mdash;but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand you, Hugh,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, darling. You, of course, cannot understand!&rdquo; he
+      exclaimed. &ldquo;I admit that I followed her home, and I demanded an
+      interview.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her
+      own.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What secret?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One that concerns my whole future.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot you tell me what it is?&rdquo; she asked, looking into his
+      face, which in the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was
+      unusually pale and haggard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well&mdash;at the present moment I am myself mystified,
+      darling. Hence I cannot explain the truth,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;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&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yet&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew a deep breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For nearly two hours the pair remained together. Often she was locked in
+      her lover&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      hands, and their lips met time after time in ecstasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He inquired about George Sherrard, but she said little. She hesitated to
+      tell him of the incident while fishing that morning, but merely said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to
+      London on business. And I was very glad.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed the girl. &ldquo;But she will continue to
+      press. She&rsquo;s constantly singing his praises until I&rsquo;m utterly
+      sick of hearing of all his good qualities.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh sighed, and replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added, in a changed voice, &ldquo;you have not
+      forgotten what you told me at Monte Carlo&mdash;that you love me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat it, Hugh!&rdquo; declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her
+      hand stealing into his. &ldquo;I love only you!&mdash;<i>you</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then again he took her in his arms, and imprinted a fierce, passionate
+      kiss upon her ready lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose we must part again,&rdquo; he sighed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! do be careful, Hugh, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ll get away into the wilds of Kensington&mdash;to
+      Abingdon Road. One is safer in a London suburb than in a desert, no doubt.
+      West London is a good hiding-place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Recollect the name. Mason, wasn&rsquo;t it? And she lives at
+      &lsquo;Heathcote.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was it. But do not communicate with me, otherwise my place of
+      concealment will most certainly be discovered.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But can&rsquo;t I see you, Hugh?&rdquo; implored the girl. &ldquo;Must
+      we again be parted?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think he is a thief?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him further details of their first meeting at Nice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. That is one of his methods&mdash;secrecy and generosity
+      are his two traits. He and his accomplices rob the wealthy, and assist
+      those wrongly accused. It must be he&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He recollected at that moment the girl who had been his fellow-guest in
+      Genoa&mdash;the dainty mademoiselle who evidently had some secret
+      knowledge of his father&rsquo;s death, and yet refused to divulge a single
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      tragic end, and thus defeat the clever plot of those whose intention it,
+      apparently, was to marry him to Louise Lambert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On every hand there was mystification. The one woman&mdash;notorious as
+      she was&mdash;who knew the truth had been rendered mentally incompetent by
+      an assassin&rsquo;s bullet, while he, himself, was accused of the crime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey would have long ago confessed to Dorise the whole facts
+      concerning his father&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the face of it, his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was early morning, after they had rambled for several hours in the
+      moonlight, when Hugh bade his well-beloved farewell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had returned through the park and were at a gate quite close to the
+      castle when they halted. It had crossed Hugh&rsquo;s mind that they might
+      be seen by one of the keepers, and he had mentioned this to Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What matter?&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;They do not know you, and
+      probably will not recognize me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So after promising Hugh to remain discreet, she told him they were
+      returning to London in a few days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; he said suddenly. &ldquo;We must meet again very
+      soon, darling. I daresay I may venture out at night, therefore why not let
+      us make an appointment&mdash;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&mdash;about a year
+      ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I know the spot,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;I remember
+      what a cold, wet night it was, too!&rdquo; and she laughed at the
+      recollection. &ldquo;Very well. I will contrive to be there. That night we
+      are due at a dance at the Gordons&rsquo; in Grosvenor Gardens. But I&rsquo;ll
+      manage to be there somehow&mdash;if only for five minutes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; he exclaimed, again kissing her fondly. &ldquo;Now I
+      must make all speed to Kensington and there go once more into hiding. When&mdash;oh,
+      when will this wearying life be over!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a friend, as I have, in the mysterious white cavalier,&rdquo;
+      she said. &ldquo;I wonder who he really is?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sparrow&mdash;without a doubt&mdash;the famous &lsquo;Il
+      Passero&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s a strange world in which I find myself,
+      Dorise, I assure you! Good-bye, darling&mdash;good-bye!&rdquo; and he took
+      her in a final embrace. &ldquo;Good-bye&mdash;till Tuesday week.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then stepping on to the grass, where his feet fell noiselessly, he
+      disappeared in the dark shadow of the great avenue of beeches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SIXTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE ESCROCS OF LONDON
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; sanctuary in the shadow of
+      the cathedral at Malines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the Tuesday night Hugh had had a frugal and badly-cooked meal with
+      three mysterious men who had arrived as Mrs. Mason&rsquo;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 &ldquo;deal&rdquo; in diamonds in which they had been interested.
+      The &ldquo;deal&rdquo; in question had been reported in the newspapers on
+      the previous morning, namely, how a Dutch diamond dealer&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry Austen has gone down to Surrey to stay with Molly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Molly? Why, I thought she was in Paris!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was&mdash;but she went to America for a trip and she finds it
+      more pleasant to live down in Surrey just now,&rdquo; replied the other
+      with a grin. &ldquo;She has Charlie&rsquo;s girl living with her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; grunted the third man. &ldquo;Not quite the sort
+      of companion Charlie might choose for his daughter&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock, when he put on his hat and went forth into the
+      dark, deserted street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Welcome at last, darling!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I was wondering
+      if you could get away, after all!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had a little difficulty,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m at
+      a dance at the Gordons&rsquo; in Grosvenor Gardens, but I managed to slip
+      out, find a taxi, and run along here. I fear I can&rsquo;t stay long, or
+      they will miss me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even five minutes with you is bliss to me, darling,&rdquo; he said,
+      grasping her ungloved hand and raising it to his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Hugh. If you could only return to us, instead of living under
+      this awful cloud of suspicion!&rdquo; the girl cried. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s Court Road, quite close to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! life is a bit dull, certainly,&rdquo; he replied cheerfully.
+      &ldquo;But I have papers and books&mdash;and I can look out of the window
+      on to the houses opposite.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you go out for a ramble at night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Last night I set out at one o&rsquo;clock
+      and walked up to Hampstead Heath, as far as Jack Straw&rsquo;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&mdash;just beyond Scotland Yard. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when will all this end?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will only end when I am able to discover the truth,&rdquo; he
+      said vaguely. &ldquo;Meanwhile I am not disheartened, darling, because&mdash;because
+      I know that you believe in me&mdash;that you still trust me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man whom I saw in Nice dressed as a cavalier, and who again
+      came to me in Scotland, is a mystery,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do you
+      really believe he is the person you suspect?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. I still believe he is the notorious and defiant criminal
+      &lsquo;Il Passero&rsquo;&mdash;the most daring and ingenious thief of the
+      present century.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is evidently your friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is the great mystery of it all. I cannot discern his
+      motive.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a sinister one, do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I do not believe so. I have heard of The Sparrow&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Hugh, I wish you would be more frank with me,&rdquo; the girl
+      said. &ldquo;There are several things you are hiding from me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I admit it, darling,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To many men the temptation would have proved too great. The inheritance of
+      his father&rsquo;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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;rag&rdquo; in the Gladstonian days, and of
+      his life since as a fairly well-off bachelor with rooms in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus a close intimacy had sprung up between them, and Hugh had naturally
+      regarded his father&rsquo;s friend with entire confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You admit that you are not telling me the whole truth, Hugh,&rdquo;
+      remarked the girl after a long pause. &ldquo;It is hardly fair of you, is
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! darling, you do not know my position,&rdquo; he hastened to
+      explain as he gripped her little hand more tightly in his own. &ldquo;I
+      only wish I could learn the truth myself so as to make complete
+      explanation. But at present all is doubt and uncertainty. Won&rsquo;t you
+      trust me, Dorise?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust you!&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;Why, of course I will! You
+      surely know that, Hugh.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man was again silent for some moments. Then he exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet, after all, I can see no ray of hope.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hope of our marriage, Dorise,&rdquo; he said hoarsely. &ldquo;How
+      can I, without money, ever hope to make you my wife?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will have your father&rsquo;s estate in due course, won&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo; she asked quite innocently. &ldquo;You always plead poverty.
+      You are so like a man.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Dorise, I am really poor. You don&rsquo;t understand&mdash;<i>you
+      can&rsquo;t</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You may have debts. Every man has
+      them&mdash;tailor&rsquo;s bills, restaurant bills, betting debts,
+      jewellery debts. Oh! I know. I&rsquo;ve heard all about these things from
+      another. Well, if you have them, you&rsquo;ll be able to settle them out
+      of your father&rsquo;s estate all in due course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he has left me nothing?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing!&rdquo; exclaimed the handsome girl at his side. &ldquo;What
+      do you mean?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he said very slowly. &ldquo;At present I
+      have nothing&mdash;that&rsquo;s all. That is why at Monte Carlo I
+      suggested that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not conclude the sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember. You said that I had better marry George Sherrard&mdash;that
+      thick-lipped ass. You said that because you are hard-up?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The notorious thief?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh nodded, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you go to her home that night, Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have already told you, I went to demand a reply to a single
+      question I put to her,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But please do no let us
+      discuss the affair further. The whole circumstances are painful to me&mdash;more
+      painful than you can possibly imagine. One day&mdash;and I hope it will be
+      soon&mdash;you will fully realize what all this has cost me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, Hugh,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I know, dear&mdash;and I do
+      trust you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They halted, and he bent and impressed upon her lips a fierce caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Engaged.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can I say to you in reply to your words of hope, darling?&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Hugh as he walked beside her. &ldquo;I know full well how much
+      all this must puzzle you. Have you seen Brock?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s much worried about you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he, dear old chap? I only wish I dared write to him, and give
+      him my address.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him that you were back in London. But I did not give him
+      your address. You told me to disclose nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right, Dorise,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An empty seat was near, and with one accord the lovers sank upon it, Hugh
+      still holding the girl&rsquo;s soft hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must really go,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Mother will miss me, no
+      doubt.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And George Sherrard, too?&rdquo; asked her companion bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may, of course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then he is with you to-night?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Unfortunately, he is. Ah! Hugh! How I hate his exquisite and
+      superior manners. But he is such a close friend of mother&rsquo;s that I
+      can never escape him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he still pesters you with his attentions, of course,&rdquo;
+      remarked Hugh in a hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, he is always pretending to be in love with me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love!&rdquo; echoed Hugh. &ldquo;Can such a man ever love a woman?
+      Never, Dorise. He does not love you as I love you&mdash;with my whole
+      heart and my whole soul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course the fellow cannot,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But, for
+      mother&rsquo;s sake, I have to suffer his presence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least you are frank, darling,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and only you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he took her in his strong arms and pressed her to him, still being
+      watched by the mysterious individual who had followed Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my darling, these are, indeed, moments of supreme happiness,&rdquo;
+      Hugh exclaimed as he held her tightly in his arms. &ldquo;I wonder when we
+      dare meet again?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon, dear&mdash;very soon, I hope. Let us make another
+      appointment,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;On Friday week mother is going to
+      spend the night with Mrs. Deane down at Ascot. I shall make excuse to stay
+      at home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right. Friday week at the same place and time,&rdquo; he said
+      cheerily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go now,&rdquo; she said regretfully. &ldquo;I
+      only wish I could stay longer, but I must get back at once. If mother
+      misses me she&rsquo;ll have a fit.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, when he had pressed her hand and wished her adieu, he continued,
+      towards Notting Hill Gate, and thence returned to Kensington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ON THE SURREY HILLS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      On the following morning, about twelve o&rsquo;clock, Emily, Mrs. Mason&rsquo;s
+      stout maid-of-all-work, showed a tall, well-dressed man into Hugh&rsquo;s
+      frowsy little sitting-room where he sat reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sprang to his feet when he recognized his visitor to be Charles Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well my boy!&rdquo; cried his visitor cheerily. &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve
+      found you at last! We all thought you were on the Continent, lying low
+      somewhere.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have been,&rdquo; replied the young man faintly. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve
+      heard of that affair at Monte Carlo?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And you are suspected&mdash;wanted by the police? That&rsquo;s
+      why I&rsquo;m here,&rdquo; Benton replied. &ldquo;This place isn&rsquo;t
+      safe for you. You must get away from it at once,&rdquo; he added, lowering
+      his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why isn&rsquo;t it safe?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because at Scotland Yard they know you are somewhere in Kensington,
+      and they&rsquo;re hunting high and low for you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo; asked Hugh blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;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&mdash;a place called Shapley Manor.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She might learn the truth and give me away,&rdquo; remarked Hugh
+      dubiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won&rsquo;t. Recollect, Hugh, that I was your father&rsquo;s
+      friend, and am yours. What advice I give you is for your own good. You can&rsquo;t
+      stay here&mdash;it&rsquo;s impossible.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The name of The Sparrow was upon Hugh&rsquo;s lips, and he was about to
+      tell Benton of that mysterious person&rsquo;s efforts on his behalf, but,
+      on reflection, he saw that he had no right to expose The Sparrow&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know that I was here?&rdquo; asked Hugh suddenly in
+      curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I&rsquo;m not at liberty to say. It was not a friend of yours,
+      but rather an enemy who told me&mdash;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,&rdquo; Benton went on. &ldquo;If you agree, I&rsquo;ll
+      get a car now, without delay, and we&rsquo;ll run down into Surrey
+      together,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;and others did the dirty work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You recollect Mrs. Bond,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;But I believe
+      Maxwell, her first husband, was alive then, wasn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a faint recollection of meeting a Mrs. Maxwell in Paris&mdash;at
+      lunch at the Pre Catalan&mdash;was it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course. About six years ago. That&rsquo;s quite right!&rdquo;
+      laughed Benton. &ldquo;Well, Maxwell died and she married again&mdash;a
+      Colonel Bond. He was killed in Mesopotamia, and now she&rsquo;s living up
+      on the Hog&rsquo;s Back, beyond Guildford, on the road to Farnham.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s closest friend, warning him of
+      his peril?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter thought decided him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it&rsquo;s awfully good of Mrs. Bond whom I know so
+      slightly to invite me to stay with her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, my dear boy. She&rsquo;s a very old friend of mine. I once
+      did her a rather good turn when Maxwell was alive, and she&rsquo;s never
+      forgotten it. She&rsquo;s one of the best women in the world, I assure
+      you,&rdquo; Benton declared. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run along to a garage I
+      know in Knightsbridge and get a car to take us down to Shapley. It&rsquo;s
+      right out in the country, and as long as you keep clear of the town of
+      Guildford&mdash;where the police are unusually wary under one of the
+      shrewdest chief constables in England&mdash;then you needn&rsquo;t have
+      much fear. Pack up your traps, Hugh, and I&rsquo;ll call for you at the
+      end of the road in half an hour.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But I&rsquo;ll want a dress suit and lots of other things if I&rsquo;m
+      going to stay at a country house,&rdquo; the young man demurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rot! You can get all you want in Aldershot, Farnham or Portsmouth.
+      Come just as you are. Mrs. Bond will make all allowances.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And probably have her suspicions aroused at the same time?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she won&rsquo;t. This is a sudden trip into the country. I told
+      her you had been taken unwell&mdash;a nervous breakdown&mdash;and that the
+      doctor had ordered you complete rest at once.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had stayed in Monte Carlo and faced the charge against me,&rdquo;
+      declared Hugh fervently. &ldquo;Being hunted from pillar to post like this
+      is so absolutely nerve-racking.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you go to that woman&rsquo;s house, Hugh?&rdquo; Benton
+      asked. &ldquo;What business had you that led you to call at that hour upon
+      such a notorious person?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh remained silent. He saw that to tell Benton the truth would be to
+      reopen the whole question of the will and of Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he merely shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you tell me what really happened at the Villa Amette,
+      Hugh?&rdquo; asked the elder man persuasively. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen
+      Brock, but he apparently knows nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he does not. I was alone,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s answer.
+      &ldquo;The least said about that night of horror the better, Benton.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the car turned into the gravelled drive, and Hugh found himself
+      at Shapley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Mr. Henfrey! I&rsquo;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&mdash;both of you. It&rsquo;s very healthy up here
+      on the Surrey hills, and you&rsquo;ll soon be quite right again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure, Mrs. Bond, it is most hospitable of you,&rdquo;
+      Hugh said. &ldquo;London in these after the war days is quite impossible.
+      I always long for the country. Certainly your house is delightful,&rdquo;
+      he added, looking round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s one of the nicest houses in the whole county of Surrey,
+      my boy,&rdquo; Benton declared enthusiastically. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I really don&rsquo;t know how to thank you sufficiently, Mrs.
+      Bond,&rdquo; Hugh declared. &ldquo;It is really extremely good of you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember, Mr. Henfrey, we are not strangers,&rdquo; exclaimed the
+      handsome woman. &ldquo;Do you recollect when we met in Paris, and
+      afterwards in Biarritz, and then that night at the Carlton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recollect perfectly well. We met before the war, when one could
+      really enjoy oneself contentedly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since then I have been travelling a great deal,&rdquo; said the
+      woman. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been in Italy, the South of Spain, the Azores,
+      and over to the States. I got back only a few months ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you must make yourselves at home, both of you,&rdquo; the
+      handsome woman urged as they came down into the drawing-room after a wash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t this a charming place?&rdquo; remarked Benton as, an
+      hour later, they strolled on the long terrace smoking cigarettes before
+      dinner. &ldquo;Mrs. Bond was indeed fortunate in finding it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; declared Hugh in genuine admiration. Since that
+      memorable night in Monte Carlo he had been living in frowsy surroundings,
+      concealed in thieves&rsquo; hiding-places, eating coarse food, and hearing
+      the slang of the underworld of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had been exciting, yet he had been drawn into it against his will&mdash;just
+      because he had feared for Dorise&rsquo;s sake, to face the music after
+      that mysterious shot had been fired at the Villa Amette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be quite safe here, you know, Hugh. Don&rsquo;t worry.
+      I&rsquo;m truly sorry that you have landed yourself into this hole, but&mdash;well,
+      for the life of me I can&rsquo;t see what led you to seek out that woman,
+      Yvonne Ferad. Why ever did you go there?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I had reasons&mdash;private reasons of my own,&rdquo; he
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve been told. It is all so very sad&mdash;so horrible.
+      Though people have denounced her as an adventuress, yet I know that at
+      heart she is a real good woman.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she? How do you know?&rdquo; asked Benton quickly, for instantly
+      he was on the alert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. And that is all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, Hugh&mdash;tell me in confidence, my boy&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had my own reasons.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you tell them to me, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the tall man in
+      a strange, low voice. &ldquo;Remember, I am an old friend of your father.
+      And I am still your best friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh pursued his walk in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;I prefer not to discuss the
+      affair. That night is one full of painful memories.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; answered Benton shortly. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t
+      want to tell me, Hugh, I quite understand. That&rsquo;s enough. Have
+      another cigarette,&rdquo; and he handed the young fellow his heavy gold
+      case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Late one night as they sat together in the billiard-room after their final
+      game, Benton, removing the cigar from his lips, exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she?&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh in surprise. Only once before had
+      Benton mentioned Louise&rsquo;s name, then he had casually remarked that
+      she was on a visit to some friends in Yorkshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She&rsquo;s making her home with Mrs. Bond for the present.
+      She returns here to-morrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he said this, he watched the young man&rsquo;s face. It was
+      sphinx-like.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That&rsquo;s jolly!&rdquo; he replied, with well assumed
+      satisfaction. &ldquo;It seems such an age since we last met&mdash;nearly a
+      year before my father&rsquo;s death, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his heart he had no great liking for the girl, although she was bright,
+      vivacious and extremely good company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next afternoon the pair met in the hall after the car had brought her from
+      Guildford station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Hugh!&rdquo; she cried as she grasped his hand. &ldquo;Uncle
+      wrote and told me you were here! How jolly, isn&rsquo;t it? Why&mdash;you
+      seem to have grown older,&rdquo; she laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you younger,&rdquo; he replied, bending over her hand
+      gallantly. &ldquo;I hear you&rsquo;ve been all over the world of late!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Wasn&rsquo;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&rsquo;m often away with friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he followed her into the big morning-room where Mrs. Bond, alias Molly
+      Maxwell, was awaiting her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>nouveau riche</i> who abound in that
+      neighbourhood. But the callers had left and they were now alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      possessions. True, she was very sweet and possessed more than the ordinary
+      <i>chic</i> and good taste in dress. Yet he felt that he could never
+      fulfil his dead father&rsquo;s curious desire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could never marry her&mdash;<i>never</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVE
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hence it was on the morning following Louise&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Mr. Carlton
+      Symes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on dark-blue paper, such as is usually associated with the law or
+      officialdom. Written in a neat, educated hand, it read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MR. HENFREY,&mdash;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,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;GEORGE PETERS.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The address given was 14, Ellerston Street, Mayfair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh knew the street, which turned off Curzon Street, a short
+      thoroughfare, but very exclusive. Some smart society folk lived there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;-shanter, and carried a stout ash-plant as a
+      walking-stick. They were out together until luncheon time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Benton sat with his hostess, and had a long confidential chat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Molly,&rdquo; he said, as he smoked lazily, &ldquo;I
+      thought it an excellent plan to bring them together, and to let them have
+      an opportunity of really knowing each other. It&rsquo;s no doubt true that
+      he&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s house at night is
+      quite sufficient.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if I know anything of young men, Charles, I don&rsquo;t think
+      you&rsquo;ll ever induce that boy to marry Louise,&rdquo; remarked the
+      handsome adventuress whom nobody suspected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then if he doesn&rsquo;t, we&rsquo;ll just turn him over to
+      Scotland Yard. We haven&rsquo;t any further use for him,&rdquo; said
+      Benton savagely. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the money we want.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I fear we shall go on wanting it, my dear Charles,&rdquo;
+      declared the woman, who was so well versed in the ways of men. &ldquo;Louise
+      likes him. She has told me so. But he only tolerates her&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+      all! He&rsquo;s obsessed by the mystery of old Henfrey&rsquo;s death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if that was the reason he went that night to see Yvonne?&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Benton in a changed voice, as the idea suddenly occurred to him.
+      &ldquo;I wonder if&mdash;if he suspected something, and went boldly and
+      asked her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I wonder!&rdquo; echoed the woman. &ldquo;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&rsquo;t likely to have told the
+      old man&rsquo;s son very much.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you&rsquo;re right, Molly,&rdquo; replied the man. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+      quite right! I don&rsquo;t think we have much to fear on that score. We&rsquo;ve
+      got Hugh with us, and if he again turns antagonistic the end is quite easy&mdash;just
+      an anonymous line to the police.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t want to do that if there is any other way,&rdquo;
+      the woman said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see any other way,&rdquo; replied the adventurer.
+      &ldquo;If he won&rsquo;t marry Louise, then the money passes out of our
+      reach.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like The Sparrow taking such a deep interest in his
+      welfare,&rdquo; growled the woman beneath her breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I don&rsquo;t like the fact that Yvonne is still alive. If she
+      were dead&mdash;then we should have nothing to fear&mdash;nothing!&rdquo;
+      Benton said grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who fired the shot if Hugh didn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; asked Mrs.
+      Bond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Personally, I think he did. He discovered something&mdash;something
+      we don&rsquo;t yet know&mdash;and he went to the Villa Amette and shot her
+      in revenge for the old man&rsquo;s death. That&rsquo;s my firm belief.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why has The Sparrow taken all these elaborate precautions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he&rsquo;s afraid himself of the truth coming out,&rdquo;
+      said Benton. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may find him his enemy one day,&rdquo; laughed the woman. And
+      then they rose and strolled out into the grounds, across the lawn down to
+      the great pond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton looked up at him quickly, but said nothing before Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; Mead shall take you,&rdquo; was the woman&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When do you wish to start?&rdquo; asked his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! about nine&mdash;if I may,&rdquo; was the young man&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be back to-night?&rdquo; asked the girl who, in a pretty
+      pink dinner frock, sat opposite him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But it won&rsquo;t be till late, I expect,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember, to-morrow we are going for a run to Bournemouth and back,&rdquo;
+      said the girl. &ldquo;Mrs. Bond has kindly arranged it, and I daresay she
+      will come, too.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know yet, dear,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Bond. The truth
+      was that she intended that the young couple should spend the day alone
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton was filled with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it&rsquo;s a bit dangerous to go to town,
+      Hugh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be, but I must take the risk,&rdquo; was the other&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you going up for?&rdquo; asked Benton bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see somebody&mdash;important,&rdquo; 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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Hugh!&rdquo; cried Louise from the other end of the
+      fine old hall. And a moment later the car drove away in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s old
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;bus.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go to the Berkeley Hotel,&rdquo; he said to the man.
+      &ldquo;Drop me there, and pick me up outside there at twelve, will you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s service he had, for a month, driven a
+      lorry for a local firm of builders, and went constantly to and from
+      London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They arrived at the corner of St. James&rsquo;s Street at half-past ten.
+      Hugh gave Mead five shillings to get his evening meal, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be back here at midnight, Mead. I expect I&rsquo;ll be through my
+      business long before that. But it&rsquo;s a clear night, and we shall have
+      a splendid run home.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, sir. Thank you,&rdquo; replied his hostess&rsquo;s
+      chauffeur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;visitors,&rdquo; and a few moments later a smart
+      young footman opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. George Peters?&rdquo; inquired Hugh. &ldquo;I have an
+      appointment.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name, sir?&rdquo; the young, narrow-eyed man asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, sir! Mr. Peters is expecting you,&rdquo; he said. And at
+      once he conducted him along the narrow hall to a room beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole conception was delightful, and the girl&rsquo;s laughing face
+      was most perfect in its portraiture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! here you are, Mr. Henfrey!&rdquo; he exclaimed warmly, as he
+      offered his visitor his hand. Upon the latter was a well-worn black glove&mdash;evidently
+      to hide either some disease or deformity. &ldquo;I was wondering if you
+      received my letter safely?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh, glancing at the shrewd little man whose
+      gloved right hand attracted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down,&rdquo; the other said, as he closed the door. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+      very anxious to have a little chat with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I was surprised to learn that you had
+      left your safe asylum in Kensington. Not only was I surprised&mdash;but I
+      confess, I was alarmed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that I have to thank you for making those arrangements
+      for my escape from Monte Carlo?&rdquo; remarked Hugh, looking him straight
+      in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No thanks are needed, my dear Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied the elder
+      man. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was advised to do so by a friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not by Miss Ranscomb, I am sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, by a Mr. Benton, whom I know.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s eyebrows narrowed for a second.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton?&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Charles Benton&mdash;is he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. As he was a friend of my late father I naturally trust him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Peters paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, naturally,&rdquo; he said a second later. &ldquo;But where are
+      you living now?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You went there at Benton&rsquo;s suggestion?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled
+      himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; he said at last. &ldquo;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&mdash;remember, <i>everything</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you knew all about it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know a little&mdash;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?&rdquo; said the little man, his shrewd eyes
+      fixed upon his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other man frowned slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so you went there with the purpose of getting the truth from
+      her?&rdquo; he remarked, with a grunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh nodded in the affirmative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she tell you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. She was about to tell me something when the shot was fired
+      by someone on the veranda outside.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! Then the natural surmise would be that you, suspecting
+      that woman of causing your father&rsquo;s death, shot her because she
+      refused to tell you anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat she was about to disclose the circumstances&mdash;to
+      divulge her secret, when she was struck down.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no suspicion of anyone? You don&rsquo;t think that her
+      manservant&mdash;I forget the fellow&rsquo;s name&mdash;fired the shot?
+      Remember, he was not in the room at the time!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel confident that he did not. He was far too distressed at the
+      terrible affair,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;The outrage must have been
+      committed by someone to whom the preservation of the secret of my father&rsquo;s
+      end was of most vital importance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed,&rdquo; replied the man with the black glove. &ldquo;The
+      problem we have to solve is who was responsible for your father&rsquo;s
+      death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Hugh. &ldquo;If that shot had not been fired I
+      should have known the truth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think, then, that Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo would have told
+      you the truth?&rdquo; asked the bristly-haired man with a mysterious
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. She would.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Henfrey, I think I am not of your opinion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think possibly she would have implicated herself if she had
+      told me the truth?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because Benton suggested it. He told me that Scotland Yard knew of
+      my presence in Kensington, making further residence there dangerous.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; And the man with the black glove paused again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like Benton, do you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no real reason to dislike him. He has always been very
+      friendly towards me&mdash;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&rsquo;s will.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange clause?&rdquo; echoed the old man. &ldquo;What clause?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father, in his will, cut me off every benefit he could unless I
+      married Benton&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was Benton with him?&rdquo; asked Mr. Peters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Benton went to New York about two months before.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m! And how soon after your father&rsquo;s return did he
+      come home?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it was about three months. He was in America five months
+      altogether, I believe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, still curled in his chair, smoked his cigar in silence.
+      Apparently he was thinking deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s daughter. I
+      know her&mdash;a truly charming girl. I congratulate you,&rdquo; he added,
+      as though speaking to himself. &ldquo;But the situation is indeed a very
+      complicated one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me it is terrible. I am living under a cloud, and in constant
+      fear of arrest. What can be done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear nothing much can be done at present,&rdquo; said the old
+      man, shaking his head gravely. &ldquo;I quite realize that you are victim
+      of certain enemies who intend to get hold of your father&rsquo;s fortune.
+      It is for us to combat them&mdash;if we can.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will continue to help me?&rdquo; asked Hugh eagerly,
+      looking into the mysterious face of the old fellow who wore the black
+      glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you my aid,&rdquo; he replied, putting out his gloved
+      hand as pledge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as Hugh took it, he looked straight into those keen eyes, and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have asked me many questions, sir, and I have replied to them
+      all. May I ask one of you&mdash;my friend?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; replied the older man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then am I correct in assuming that you are actually the person of
+      whom I have heard so much up and down Europe&mdash;the man of whom certain
+      men and women speak with admiration, and with bated breath&mdash;the man
+      known in certain circles as&mdash;as <i>Il Passero</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countenance of the little man with the bristly white hair and the
+      black glove relaxed into a smile, as, still holding Hugh&rsquo;s hand in
+      friendship, he replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It is true. Some know me as &lsquo;The Sparrow!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NINETEENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SPARROW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey was at last face to face with the most notorious criminal in
+      Europe!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The black-gloved hand of the wizened, bristly-haired old man was the hand
+      that controlled a great organization spread all over Europe&mdash;an
+      organization which only knew Il Passero by repute, but had never seen him
+      in the flesh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet there he was, a discreet, rather petulant old gentleman, who lived at
+      ease in an exclusive West End street, and was entirely unsuspected!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When &ldquo;Mr. Peters&rdquo; admitted his identity, Hugh drew a long
+      breath. He was staggered. He was profuse in his thanks, but &ldquo;The
+      Sparrow&rdquo; merely smiled, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true that I and certain of my friends make war upon Society&mdash;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&mdash;as
+      you are to-day.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard many strange things concerning you from those who have
+      never met you,&rdquo; Hugh said frankly. &ldquo;But nothing to your
+      detriment. Everyone speaks of you, sir, as a gallant sportsman, possessed
+      of an almost uncanny cleverness in outwitting the authorities.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well!&rdquo; laughed the shrewd old man. &ldquo;By the exercise
+      of a little wit, and the possession of a little knowledge of the <i>personnel</i>
+      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&mdash;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,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But does he not recognize you, or suspect?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your organization is most wonderful, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Peters,&rdquo;
+      declared the young man. &ldquo;Since my flight I have had opportunity of
+      learning something concerning it. And frankly, I am utterly astounded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s face again relaxed into a sphinx-like smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I order, I am obeyed,&rdquo; he said in a curious tone.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I take it, sir, that you trust me, and that my case is one of
+      extreme necessity?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added. He did not tell the
+      young man of his knowledge of Benton and his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am very desirous of seeing Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+      &ldquo;Is there any way possible by which I can meet her without running
+      too great a risk?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow reflected in silence for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day is Wednesday,&rdquo; he remarked slowly at last. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will she?&rdquo; cried Hugh eagerly. &ldquo;Will you arrange it?
+      You are, indeed, a good Samaritan!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little old man smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite understand that this enforced parting under such
+      circumstances is most unfortunate for you both,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But
+      I have done, and will continue to do, all I can in your interest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t quite make you out, Mr. Peters,&rdquo; said the young
+      man. &ldquo;Why should you evince such a paternal interest in me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow did not at once reply. A strange expression played about his
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I not already answered that question twice?&rdquo; he asked.
+      &ldquo;Rest assured, Mr. Henfrey, that I have your interests very much at
+      heart.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have some reason for that, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;yes, I have a reason&mdash;a reason which is my own
+      affair.&rdquo; And he rose to wish his visitor &ldquo;good-night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not forget to let Miss Ranscomb know that you will be at
+      Farnham. She will, no doubt, manage to get her mother&rsquo;s car for the
+      afternoon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Good-night!&rdquo; and with his gloved
+      fingers he took the young man&rsquo;s outstretched hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, while Hugh Henfrey was seated beside Mead as Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s car
+      went swiftly towards Kensington, a thin, rather wiry-looking man of middle
+      age entered The Sparrow&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter sprang to his feet quickly at sight of his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Howell! I&rsquo;m glad you&rsquo;ve come. Benton and Molly
+      Maxwell are deceiving us. They mean mischief!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man he addressed as Howell looked aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mischief?&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll
+      repeat, if we&rsquo;re not very careful. That girl of Benton&rsquo;s they
+      are using as a decoy&mdash;and she&rsquo;s a dangerous one.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For whom?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For old Henfrey&rsquo;s son.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow&rsquo;s visitor gave vent to a low whistle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They intend to get old Henfrey&rsquo;s money?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and they will if we are not very wary,&rdquo; declared
+      the little, bristly-haired old gentleman known as The Sparrow. &ldquo;The
+      boy has been entirely entrapped. They made one <i>faux pas</i>, and it is
+      upon that we may&mdash;if we are careful&mdash;get the better of them. I
+      don&rsquo;t like the situation at all. They have a distinctly evil design
+      against the boy.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton and Molly are a combination pretty hard to beat,&rdquo;
+      remarked Mr. Howell. &ldquo;But I thought they were friends of ours.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True. They were. But after the little affair in Marseilles I don&rsquo;t
+      trust them,&rdquo; replied The Sparrow. &ldquo;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&mdash;and my
+      suspicion usually proves correct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His midnight visitor drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What we all say of you is that The Sparrow is gifted with an extra
+      sense,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little old man with the gloved hand smiled contentedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t know why,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have such a marvellous memory.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Memory!&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Quite wrong. I keep everything
+      filed. I work yonder at my desk all day. See this old wardrobe,&rdquo; and
+      he crossed to a long, genuine Jacobean wardrobe which stood in a corner
+      and, unlocking it, opened the carved doors. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These he brought to his table, and opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes!&rdquo; he said, knitting his brows as he read a document
+      beneath the green-shaded electric lamp. &ldquo;You know Franklyn, don&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harold Franklyn?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Well, he&rsquo;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&rsquo;s maid&mdash;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;business&rdquo;
+      he held a controlling interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;gloved because
+      of a natural deformity&mdash;was the hand which controlled most of the
+      greater robberies, for his war upon society was constantly far-reaching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Franklyn coming straight back?&rdquo; asked Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the plan. He should leave Vienna to-morrow night,&rdquo;
+      said The Sparrow, again consulting the papers. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s jewels to old Van Ort,
+      and they&rsquo;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&rsquo;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,&rdquo; and the old fellow laughed
+      oddly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought Franklyn worked with Molly,&rdquo; said Mr. Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he does. I want him back, for I&rsquo;ve a delicate mission for
+      him,&rdquo; replied the sphinx-like man known as The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howell, at the invitation of the arch-criminal, helped himself to a
+      drink. Then The Sparrow said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. But Tresham is already there. I had a letter from him
+      from the Palace Hotel yesterday.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will recall him by wire to-morrow. Our plans are complete. The
+      Marquis&rsquo;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&mdash;when we have time to go and get it,&rdquo; he
+      laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Franklyn to help the Maxwell woman again?&rdquo; asked Mr.
+      Howell, who was known as an expert valuer of antiques and articles of
+      worth, and who had an office in St. James&rsquo;s. He only dealt in
+      collectors&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;indicators,&rdquo;
+      both male and female, were everywhere, and cosmopolitan as he was himself,
+      and a wealthy man, he was able to direct&mdash;and finance&mdash;all sorts
+      of coups, from a barefaced jewel theft to the forgery of American
+      banknotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;they were the servants, well-paid too,
+      and he was the master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;or of a
+      baronetcy, and more than probable he would have entered Parliament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;as he did anonymously to the War
+      Office&mdash;of certain trusted persons who were, at the moment of the
+      outbreak of war, betraying Britain&rsquo;s secrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;d better be off. It&rsquo;s late!&rdquo; said Mr. Howell,
+      after they had been in close conversation for nearly half an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I suppose you must go,&rdquo; The Sparrow remarked, rising.
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;he is their victim,&rdquo; he added; &ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps Franklyn can assist us?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;a very
+      bad crowd indeed.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTIETH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WHO KNEW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Late on Thursday night Dorise and her mother were driving home from Lady
+      Strathbayne&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was tired. The dinner had been followed by a small dance, and she had
+      greatly enjoyed it. For once, George Sherrard, her mother&rsquo;s friend,
+      had not accompanied them. As a matter of fact, Lady Strathbayne disliked
+      the man, hence he had not been invited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Lady Ranscomb exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard about Hugh Henfrey this evening.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From whom?&rdquo; asked her daughter, instantly aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From that man who took me in to dinner. I think his name was
+      Bowden.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! That stout, red-faced man. I don&rsquo;t know him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I. He was, however, very pleasant, and seems to have
+      travelled a lot,&rdquo; replied her mother. &ldquo;He told me that your
+      precious friend, Henfrey, is back, and is staying down in Surrey as guest
+      of some woman named Bond.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise sat staggered. Then her lover&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did he know, I wonder?&rdquo; she asked anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I suppose he&rsquo;s heard. He seemed to know all about the
+      fellow. It appears that at last he&rsquo;s become engaged.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Engaged? Hugh engaged?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, to a girl named Louise Lambert. She&rsquo;s the adopted
+      daughter of a man named Benton, who was, by the way, a great friend of old
+      Mr. Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh engaged to Louise Lambert! Dorise sat bewildered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo; she blurted forth at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear. You mean you don&rsquo;t want to believe it&mdash;because
+      you are in love with him!&rdquo; said her mother as the car rushed
+      homeward. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb, clever woman of the world as she was, watched her daughter&rsquo;s
+      face in the fleeting lights as they sped homeward, and saw what a crushing
+      blow the announcement had dealt her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe it,&rdquo; the girl cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had received word in secret&mdash;presumably from the White Cavalier&mdash;to
+      meet Hugh at the Bush Hotel at Farnham on the following afternoon, but
+      this secret news held her in doubt and despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb dropped the subject, and began to speak of other things&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On arrival home Dorise went at once to her room, where her maid awaited
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the distracted girl had thrown off her cloak, her maid unhooked her
+      dress, whereupon Dorise dismissed her to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to read, so go to bed,&rdquo; she said in a petulant voice
+      which rather surprised the neat muslin-aproned maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, miss. Good-night,&rdquo; the latter replied meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had met Louise Lambert&mdash;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh would be awaiting her at Farnham next afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within herself arose a great struggle. Hugh was accused of a crime&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But why did he visit that notorious woman at that hour of the night? What
+      could have been the secret bond between them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Dorise spent a sleepless night. She lay awake thinking&mdash;and yet
+      thinking!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At breakfast her mother looked at her and, with satisfaction, saw that she
+      had gained a point nearer her object.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise went into Bond Street shopping at eleven o&rsquo;clock, still
+      undecided whether to face Hugh or not. The shopping was a fiasco. She
+      bought only a bunch of flowers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On returning home, her mother told her of George&rsquo;s acceptance of an
+      invitation to lunch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a matinee at the Lyric, and he&rsquo;s taking us
+      there,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;But, dear,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;you
+      look ever so pale! What is worrying you? I hope you are not fretting over
+      that good-for-nothing waster, Henfrey! Personally, I&rsquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;well, mother, I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know what to do,&rdquo;
+      the girl confessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do! Take my advice, darling. Think no more of the fellow. He&rsquo;s
+      no use to you&mdash;or to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, mother dear&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Dorise, no more need be said!&rdquo; interrupted Lady Ranscomb
+      severely. &ldquo;You surely would not be so idiotic as to throw in your
+      lot with a man who is certainly a criminal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A criminal! Why do you denounce him, mother?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;or are you
+      blind?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl remained silent. Her mother&rsquo;s argument was certainly a very
+      sound one. Had Hugh deceived her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lover&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such a compliment Hugh had never paid to her. The recollection of it stung
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On that afternoon Hugh had borrowed Mrs. Bond&rsquo;s car upon a rather
+      lame pretext, and had pulled up in the square, inartistic yard before the
+      Bush&mdash;the old coaching house, popular before the new road over the
+      Hog&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no sign of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Until six o&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you have a nice run, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl, clasping her
+      hands behind her head and looking up at him as he stood upon the pale-blue
+      hearthrug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I went around Hindhead down to
+      Frensham Ponds and back through Farnham&mdash;quite a pleasant run.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton has had to go to town,&rdquo; said his hostess. &ldquo;Almost
+      as soon as you had gone he was rung up, and he had to get a taxi out from
+      Guildford. He&rsquo;ll be back to-morrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;and, by the way, Hugh,&rdquo; exclaimed Louise,
+      &ldquo;there was a call for you about a quarter of an hour afterwards. I
+      thought nobody knew you were down here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me!&rdquo; gasped Henfrey, instantly alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I answered the &lsquo;phone. It was a girl&rsquo;s voice!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A girl! Who?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know who she was. She wouldn&rsquo;t give her name,&rdquo;
+      Louise replied. &ldquo;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&rsquo;t matter at all, and rang off.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder who she was?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is certainly rather curious,&rdquo; the woman admitted. &ldquo;Evidently
+      it is known by somebody that you are staying with me. Don&rsquo;t you
+      think it would be wiser to leave?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh hesitated. He wished to take Benton&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      proposal that Hugh should stay there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton will be back to-morrow,&rdquo; Hugh said. &ldquo;Do you
+      think it safe for me to remain here till then?&rdquo; he added anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was from Benton, who spoke from London&mdash;a few quick, cryptic, but
+      reassuring words&mdash;and when the woman left the room three minutes
+      later all her anxiety as to the police had apparently passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking over that little matter, Mr. Henfrey. I
+      really don&rsquo;t think there is much cause for alarm. Charles will be
+      back to-morrow, and we can consult him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh shrugged his shoulders. He was much puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is, Mrs. Bond, I&rsquo;m tired of being hunted like this!&rdquo;
+      he said. &ldquo;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&mdash;well, they
+      can. I&rsquo;m innocent&mdash;therefore, how can they prove me guilty?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! you mustn&rsquo;t let it obsess you,&rdquo; the woman urged.
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s dead,&rdquo; said the young man in a low, hoarse voice;
+      &ldquo;but Mademoiselle Ferad knows the secret of his death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died suddenly&mdash;did he not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He was murdered, Mrs. Bond. I&rsquo;m certain of it. My father
+      was murdered!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Murdered?&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;What did the doctors say?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They arrived at no definite conclusion,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s
+      response. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police believe that you went to the Villa Amette and murdered
+      Mademoiselle out of revenge.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let them prove it!&rdquo; said the young fellow defiantly. &ldquo;Let
+      them prove it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Prove what?&rdquo; asked Louise, as she suddenly reopened the door,
+      greatly to the woman&rsquo;s consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Only somebody&mdash;that Spicer woman over at Godalming&mdash;has
+      been saying some wicked and nasty things about Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied
+      Mrs. Bond. &ldquo;Personally, I should be annoyed. Really those gossiping
+      people are simply intolerable.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have they been saying, Hugh?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s really nothing,&rdquo; laughed Henfrey. &ldquo;I
+      apologize. I was put out a moment ago, but I now see the absurdity of it.
+      Forgive me, Louise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl looked from Mrs. Bond to her guest in amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is there to forgive?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact that I was in the very act of losing my temper. That&rsquo;s
+      all.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, when Louise was ascending the stairs with Mrs. Bond, the girl
+      asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why was Hugh so put out? What has Mrs. Spicer been saying about
+      him?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only that he was a shirker during the war. And, naturally, he is
+      highly indignant.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has a right to be. He did splendidly. His record shows that,&rdquo;
+      declared the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I urged him to take no notice of the insults. The Spicer woman has
+      a very venomous tongue, my dear! She is a vicar&rsquo;s widow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then they separated to their respective rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s orders implicitly&mdash;as so many others
+      did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning he came down to breakfast before the ladies, and beside his
+      plate he found a letter&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those lines which he read staggered him; the room seemed to revolve, and
+      he re-read them, scarce believing his own eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At the moment he had read the letter Mrs. Bond entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo! You&rsquo;re down early,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;And
+      already had your letters, I see! They don&rsquo;t generally come so early.
+      The postman has to walk over from Puttenham.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she took up her own and carelessly placed them aside. They consisted
+      mostly of circulars and the accounts of Guildford tradesmen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I was down early. Lately I&rsquo;ve
+      acquired the habit of early rising.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An excellent habit in a young man,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;All
+      men who achieve success are early risers&mdash;so a Cabinet Minister said
+      the other day. And really, I believe it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;a fact recently
+      discovered in our post-war days,&rdquo; Hugh said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;as you are doing. Hard things are being said
+      about you&mdash;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&mdash;whom I know not&mdash;knows of your
+      hiding-place, for, by a roundabout way, I heard of it, and hence, I
+      address this letter to you.&mdash;DORISE.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey stood staggered. There was no mistaking the meaning of that
+      letter now that he had read it a second time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise doubted him! And what answer could he give her? Any explanation
+      must, to her, be but a lame excuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh ate his breakfast sullenly. To Louise, who put in a late appearance,
+      and helped herself off the hot-plate, he said cheerfully:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How lazy you are!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not laziness, Hugh,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;The
+      maid was so late with my tea&mdash;and&mdash;well, to tell the truth, I
+      upset a whole new box of powder on my dressing-table and had to clean up
+      the mess.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More haste&mdash;less speed,&rdquo; laughed Hugh. &ldquo;It is
+      always the same in the morning&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s death, combined with that extraordinary will by which
+      it was decreed that if he married Louise he would acquire his father&rsquo;s
+      fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His thoughts all through breakfast were of The Sparrow&mdash;the great
+      criminal, who was his friend. Hence, after they rose, he strolled into the
+      morning-room with his hostess, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go to town again this morning. I have an urgent
+      letter. Can Mead take me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; was the woman&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So half an hour later Hugh was driving up the steep High Street of
+      Guildford on his way to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant the servant recognized the visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Peters will not be in for a quarter of an hour,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Would you care to wait, sir?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;I want to see him very urgently.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come in? Mr. Peters has left instructions that you might
+      probably call; Mr. Henfrey, is it not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hugh. The man seemed to possess a memory like
+      that of a club hall-porter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments after he distinctly heard a man&rsquo;s voice, which he at
+      once recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant had told him that Mr. Peters was absent, yet he recognized his
+      voice&mdash;a rather high-pitched, musical one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Henfrey is waiting,&rdquo; he heard the servant say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right! I hope you told him I was out,&rdquo; The Sparrow replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh stood before an old coloured print representing the hobby-horse
+      school&mdash;the days of the &ldquo;bone-shakers&rdquo;&mdash;and studied
+      it. He awaited Il Passero and the advice which he had promised to give.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;in
+      Genoa, in Brussels, in London&mdash;anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hence his peril of arrest. It was that point which he wished to discuss
+      with the great arch-criminal of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That house was one of mystery. The servant had told him that he was
+      expected. Why? What did The Sparrow suspect?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, as he stood there, he heard voices again. They were raised in
+      discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One voice he recognized as that of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I tell you my view is still the same,&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+      &ldquo;What you have told me does not alter it, however much you may
+      ridicule me!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you know the truth&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really didn&rsquo;t say so, my dear Howell. But I have my
+      suspicions&mdash;strong suspicions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which you will, in due course, impart to young Henfrey, I suppose?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do nothing of the sort,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;The lad is in serious peril. I happen to know that.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why don&rsquo;t you warn him at once?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s my affair!&rdquo; snapped the gentleman known in
+      Mayfair as Mr. Peters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;IF Henfrey is here, then I&rsquo;d like to meet him,&rdquo; Howell
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The house was, in more than one way, a curiosity. It had a secret exit
+      through a mews at the rear&mdash;now converted into a garage&mdash;and
+      several other mysterious contrivances which were unsuspected by visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would hardly do for him to know what we know, Mr. Peters&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+      Hugh heard Howell say a moment later. It was the habit of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      accomplices to address their great director&mdash;the brain of criminal
+      Europe&mdash;by the name under which they inquired for him. The Sparrow
+      had twenty names&mdash;one for every city in which he had a cosy <i>pied-a-terre</i>.
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truly, Il Passero, the cosmopolitan of many names and half a dozen
+      nationalities, had brought criminality to a fine art.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, standing there breathless, listened to every word. Who was this man
+      Howell?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; cried The Sparrow suddenly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll go and get young Henfrey. But,&rdquo;
+      he added, &ldquo;be extremely careful. Disclose nothing you know
+      concerning the affair.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be discreet, never fear,&rdquo; replied his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend, Mr. George Howell,&rdquo; said The Sparrow, introducing
+      the slim, wiry-looking, middle-aged man, who was alert and clean-shaven,
+      and plainly but well dressed&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His bearing was that of high respectability. The diamond scarf-pin was his
+      only ornament&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glad to meet you, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; he replied, with a gay,
+      rather nonchalant air. &ldquo;My friend Mr. Peters has been speaking about
+      you. Had a rather anxious time, I hear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henfrey looked at the stranger inquisitively, and then glanced at The
+      Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Howell is quite safe,&rdquo; declared the man with the gloved
+      hand. &ldquo;He is one of Us. So you may speak without fear.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied the young man, &ldquo;the fact is, I&rsquo;ve
+      had a very apprehensive time. I&rsquo;m here to seek Mr. Peters&rsquo;
+      kind advice, for without him I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;d have been arrested
+      and perhaps convicted long ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! A bit of bad luck&mdash;eh? Nearly found out, have you been?
+      Ah! All of us have our narrow escapes. I&rsquo;ve had many in my time,&rdquo;
+      and he grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So have all of us,&rdquo; laughed the bristly-haired man. &ldquo;But
+      tell me, Henfrey, why have you come to see me so quickly?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because they know where I&rsquo;m in hiding!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They know? Who knows?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Ranscomb knows my whereabouts and has written to me in my real
+      name and addressed the letter to Shapley.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what of that?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I told her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She tells me that my present hiding-place is known!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not known to the police? <i>Impossible</i>!&rdquo; gasped the
+      black-gloved man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that such is a fact.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Molly is there!&rdquo; cried the man Howell. &ldquo;If the
+      police suspect that Henfrey is at Shapley, then they&rsquo;ll visit the
+      place and have a decided haul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh in ignorance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. I never discuss other people&rsquo;s private affairs, Mr.
+      Henfrey,&rdquo; Howell answered very quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was surprised at the familiar mention of &ldquo;Molly,&rdquo; and the
+      declaration that if the Manor were searched the police would have &ldquo;a
+      decided haul.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very interesting,&rdquo; declared The Sparrow. &ldquo;What
+      did Miss Ranscomb say in her letter?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a second Hugh hesitated; then, drawing it from his pocket, he gave it
+      to the gloved man to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow&rsquo;s strongly marked face changed as he read Dorise&rsquo;s
+      angry letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus dismissed, Hugh walked along Ellerston Street into Curzon Street
+      towards Piccadilly, not knowing where to go to spend the intervening
+      hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The instant he had gone, however, The Sparrow turned to his companion, who
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if Lisette has revealed anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow, for once suddenly perturbed.
+      <i>&ldquo;I never thought of that!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CLOSING THE NET
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;recollect how much the girl knows!&rdquo; Howell
+      remarked as he stood before The Sparrow in the latter&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not forgotten,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;The whole
+      circumstances of old Henfrey&rsquo;s death are not known to me. That it
+      was an unfortunate affair has long ago been proved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne was the culprit, of course,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;That
+      was apparent from the first.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose she was,&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow reflectively.
+      &ldquo;But that attempt upon her life puzzles me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who could have greater motive in killing her out of revenge than
+      the dead man&rsquo;s son?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed. But I am convinced that the lad is innocent. Therefore I
+      gave him our protection.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very&mdash;I agree. She had done some excellent work&mdash;the
+      affair in the Rue Royale, for instance.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the clever ruse by which she got those emeralds of the
+      Roumanian princess. The Vienna police are still searching for her&mdash;after
+      three years,&rdquo; laughed the companion of the chief of the
+      international organization, whose word was law in the criminal underworld
+      of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Knowing what you did regarding the knowledge of old Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      death possessed by Lisette, I have been surprised that you placed her
+      beneath your protection.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she had been arrested she might have told some very unpleasant
+      truths, in order to save herself,&rdquo; The Sparrow remarked, &ldquo;so I
+      chose the latter evil.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Henfrey met her. I wonder whether she told him anything?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I questioned her. She was discreet, it seems. Or at least, she
+      declares that she was.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good feature. But, speaking frankly, have you any
+      idea of the identity of the person&mdash;man or woman&mdash;who attempted
+      to kill Yvonne?&rdquo; asked Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a suspicion&mdash;a pretty shrewd suspicion,&rdquo; replied
+      the little bristly-haired man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His companion was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t offer to confide in me your suspicions&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is wiser to obtain proof before making any allegations,&rdquo;
+      answered The Sparrow, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will still protect Lisette?&rdquo; Howell asked. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the moment, she&rsquo;s in Madrid,&rdquo; The Sparrow replied.
+      &ldquo;There is a little affair there&mdash;the jewels of a Belgian&rsquo;s
+      wife&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is with her?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody yet. Franklyn will go in due course.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Howell&rsquo;s thin lips relaxed into a curious smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Franklyn is in love with Lisette,&rdquo; he remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is why I am sending them together to execute the little
+      mission,&rdquo; The Sparrow said. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The game is worth the candle, I suppose&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet often at restaurants he would order champagne, choice vintage clarets,
+      and liqueurs&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the peril of drink &ldquo;Mr. Peters&rdquo; was constantly lecturing
+      the great circle of his friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each year&mdash;on the 26th of February to be exact&mdash;there was held a
+      dinner at a well-known restaurant in the West End&mdash;the annual dinner
+      of a club known as &ldquo;The Wonder Wizards.&rdquo; It was supposed to be
+      a circle of professional conjurers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The situation was indeed humorous. It was The Sparrow&rsquo;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&mdash;believed
+      by those who attended to be The Sparrow himself&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;everything save murder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the real Sparrow&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men stood discussing the young French girl, Lisette, whom Hugh had
+      met when in hiding in the Via della Maddalena in Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only hope; that she has not told young Henfrey anything,&rdquo;
+      Howell said, with distinct apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed The Sparrow. &ldquo;She came to me and told me
+      how she had met him in Genoa and discovered to her amazement that he was
+      old Henfrey&rsquo;s son.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How curious that the pair should meet by accident,&rdquo; remarked
+      Howell. &ldquo;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&mdash;or
+      something of that short. Signatures to wills have been procured under many
+      pretexts by scoundrelly relatives and unscrupulous lawyers.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. And the witnesses have placed their signatures afterward,&rdquo;
+      remarked The Sparrow thoughtfully. &ldquo;But in this case all seems above
+      board&mdash;at least so far as the will is concerned. Benton was old
+      Henfrey&rsquo;s bosom friend. Henfrey was very taken with Louise, and I
+      know that he was desirous Hugh should marry her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he did, Hugh would acquire the old man&rsquo;s fortune, and
+      Benton would step in and seize it&mdash;as is his intention.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;d be horrified if she knew that Molly was simply a
+      clever adventuress, who is very much wanted in Paris and in Brussels,&rdquo;
+      said the gloved man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A good job that she knows nothing,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;But
+      it would be a revelation to her if the police descended upon Shapley Manor&mdash;wouldn&rsquo;t
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;out of the
+      frying-pan into the fire.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, before we can go farther, it seems that we should ascertain
+      who shot Yvonne,&rdquo; Howell suggested. &ldquo;It was a most dastardly
+      thing, and whoever did it ought to be punished.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He ought. But I&rsquo;m as much in the dark as you are, Howell;
+      but, as I have already said, I entertain strong suspicions.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll suggest one name&mdash;Benton?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The manservant, Giulio Cataldi?&rdquo; Howell ventured. &ldquo;I
+      never liked that sly old Italian.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What motive could the old fellow have had?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robbery, probably. We have no idea what were Yvonne&rsquo;s
+      winnings that night&mdash;or of the money she had in her bag.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we do know,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Yvonne&rsquo;s bag?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was found where she had left it. In it were three thousand eight
+      hundred francs, all in notes.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet Franklyn told me that he had heard how Yvonne won quite a large
+      sum that night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She might have done so&mdash;and have lost the greater part of it,&rdquo;
+      The Sparrow replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the other hand, what more feasible than that the old manservant,
+      watching her place it there, abstracted the bulk of the money&mdash;a
+      large sum, no doubt&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the affair was very cleverly planned there is no doubt,&rdquo;
+      said The Sparrow. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I certainly believe the Italian robbed his mistress and afterwards
+      attempted to murder her,&rdquo; Howell insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might rob his mistress, certainly. He might even have robbed her
+      of considerable sums systematically,&rdquo; The Sparrow assented. &ldquo;The
+      maids told the police that Mademoiselle&rsquo;s habit was to leave her bag
+      with her winnings upon the dressing-table while she went downstairs and
+      took a glass of wine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He learnt that from me,&rdquo; The Sparrow said with a smile.
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he went on; &ldquo;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&rsquo;s mouth.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; replied the visitor. &ldquo;On the other
+      hand, it would be to Benton&rsquo;s advantage that the truth concerning
+      old Henfrey&rsquo;s death was suppressed. Yvonne was about to tell the
+      young man something&mdash;perhaps confess the truth, who knows?&mdash;when
+      the shot was fired.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear Howell, you have your opinion and I have mine,&rdquo;
+      laughed The Sparrow. &ldquo;The latter I shall keep to myself&mdash;until
+      my theory is disproved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon Howell took a cigar that his host offered him, and while he
+      slowly lit it, The Sparrow crossed to the telephone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He quickly found Lady Ranscomb&rsquo;s number in the directory, and a few
+      moments later was talking to the butler, of whom he inquired for Miss
+      Dorise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that a friend of Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      wishes to speak to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments The Sparrow heard the girl&rsquo;s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Who is speaking?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; was the reply of the man with the
+      gloved hand. &ldquo;You will probably guess who it is.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard a little nervous laugh, and then:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. I&mdash;I have an idea, but I can&rsquo;t talk to you over
+      the &lsquo;phone. I&rsquo;ve got somebody who&rsquo;s just called. Mother
+      is out&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Then she lowered her voice,
+      evidently not desirous of being heard in the adjoining room. &ldquo;Well,
+      I don&rsquo;t know what to do.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean? Does it concern Mr. Henfrey?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It does. There&rsquo;s a man here to see me from Scotland
+      Yard! What shall I do?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow gasped at the girl&rsquo;s announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next second he recovered himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man from Scotland Yard!&rdquo; he echoed. &ldquo;Why has he
+      called?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He knows that Mr. Henfrey is living at Shapley, in Surrey. And he
+      has been asking whether I am acquainted with you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      WHAT LISETTE KNEW
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      A fortnight had gone by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten o&rsquo;clock in the morning in the Puerta del Sol, that great plaza
+      in Madrid&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh Henfrey&mdash;a smart, lithe figure in blue serge&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Lisette, the girl whom he had met when in hiding in that back
+      street in Genoa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;So here we are! The Sparrow sent
+      me to you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I had a telegram from him four days ago ordering me to meet
+      you. Strange things are happening&mdash;it seems!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked the young Englishman, in ignorance of the great
+      conspiracy or of what was taking place. &ldquo;Since I saw you last,
+      mademoiselle, I have been moving about rapidly, and always in danger of
+      arrest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So have I. But I am here at The Sparrow&rsquo;s orders&mdash;on a
+      little business which I hope to bring off successfully on any evening. I
+      have an English friend with me&mdash;a Mr. Franklyn.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I left London suddenly. I saw The Sparrow in the evening, and next
+      morning, at eleven o&rsquo;clock, without even a bag, I left London for
+      Madrid with a very useful passport.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are here because Madrid is safer for you than London, I
+      suppose?&rdquo; said the girl in broken English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. A certain Mr. Howell, a friend of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      suggested that I should come here,&rdquo; Hugh explained. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smartly-dressed girl walked slowly at his side and, for some moments,
+      remained silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! So you have met Hamilton Shaw&mdash;alias Howell?&rdquo; she
+      remarked at last in a changed voice. &ldquo;He certainly is not your
+      friend.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not my friend! Why? I&rsquo;ve only met him lately.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say that the police knew of your hiding-place,&rdquo; said
+      mademoiselle, speaking in French, as it was easier for her. &ldquo;Would
+      you be surprised if Howell had revealed your secret?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell!&rdquo; gasped Hugh. &ldquo;Yes, I certainly would. He is a
+      close friend of The Sparrow!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be. But that does not prove that he is any friend of
+      yours. If you came here at Howell&rsquo;s suggestion&mdash;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? I don&rsquo;t understand.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can give you no explanation,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely you don&rsquo;t suspect that it was this Mr. Howell who gave
+      me away to Scotland Yard!&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh, surprised, but at the
+      same time recollecting that The Sparrow had been alarmed at the detective&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      closest friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he tried to extract from her what she knew concerning his father&rsquo;s
+      death. But she would tell him nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not permitted to say anything, Mr. Henfrey. I can only regret
+      it,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;Mr. Franklyn is at the Ritz opposite.
+      I should like you to meet him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door was closed and they were alone, mademoiselle suddenly
+      revealed to her friend what Hugh had said concerning Howell&rsquo;s
+      suggestion that he should travel to Madrid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Franklyn&rsquo;s face changed. He was instantly apprehensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;we must leave this place&mdash;all
+      three of us&mdash;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To France,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply, on the spur of the
+      moment. &ldquo;I can get to Marseilles.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Go by way of Barcelona. It is quickest,&rdquo; said the
+      Englishman. &ldquo;The express leaves just after three o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after he had thanked Hugh for his timely warning, the latter walked
+      out more than ever mystified at the attitude of The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      accomplices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s intimate friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as well that he left Madrid, for, just as Lisette and Franklyn had
+      suspected, the police called at his hotel&mdash;an obscure one near the
+      station&mdash;only two hours after his departure. Then, finding him gone,
+      they sought both mademoiselle and Franklyn, only to find that they also
+      had fled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Someone had given away their secret!</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;one of thousands one meets in the city of
+      Marseilles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken a corner seat in the window, had ordered his coffee, and was
+      glancing at the <i>Petit Parisien</i>, which he had taken from his pocket,
+      when another man entered, gazed around in search of a seat and, noticing
+      one at Hugh&rsquo;s table, crossed, lifted his hat, and took the vacant
+      chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the stranger who had followed him from the Louvre et Paix.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this seemed quite unnoticed by Hugh, immersed as he was in his
+      newspaper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside the man and woman met. They held hurried consultation. The woman
+      told him something which evidently caused him sudden surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will call on you at eleven to-morrow morning, madame,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I will meet you at the Reserve. I will lunch there at twelve.
+      You will lunch with me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;<i>Au revoir</i>,&rdquo; and
+      he returned to his seat in the cafe, while she disappeared without
+      returning to her companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mysterious watcher resumed his coffee, for he had only been absent for
+      a few moments, and the waiter had not cleared it away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh took out his cigarette-case and, suddenly finding himself without a
+      match, made the opportunity for which the mysterious stranger had been
+      waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He struck one and handed it to his <i>vis-a-vis</i>, bowing with his
+      foreign grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they naturally dropped into conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! m&rsquo;sieur is English!&rdquo; exclaimed the shrewd-eyed
+      little man. &ldquo;Here, in Marseilles, we have many English who pass to
+      and fro from the boats. I suppose, m&rsquo;sieur is going East?&rdquo; he
+      suggested affably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Hugh, speaking in French, &ldquo;I have some
+      business here&mdash;that is all.&rdquo; He was highly suspicious of all
+      strangers, and the more so of anyone who endeavoured to get into
+      conversation with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know Marseilles&mdash;of course?&rdquo; asked the stranger,
+      sharply scrutinizing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been here several times before. I find the city always gay
+      and bright.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so bright as before the war,&rdquo; declared the little man,
+      smoking at his ease. &ldquo;There have been many changes lately.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you are Mr. Henfrey&mdash;are you not?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you ask that?&rdquo; inquired Hugh, much surprised. &ldquo;My
+      name is Jordan&mdash;William Jordan.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed the man. &ldquo;That is, I know, the name you
+      have given at the hotel. But your real name is Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh started. The stranger, noticing his alarm, hastened to reassure him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      FRIEND OR ENEMY?
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not worry,&rdquo; said the stranger to Hugh. &ldquo;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,&rdquo; he went on as he strolled at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was amazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know my identity?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was instructed to watch for your arrival&mdash;and to warn you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who instructed you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of yours&mdash;and mine&mdash;The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he been here?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He spoke to me on the telephone from Paris.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What were his instructions?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you were to go at once&mdash;to-night&mdash;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&rsquo;s
+      orders. You are one of Us, I understand,&rdquo; and the man laughed
+      lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But my bag?&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does The Sparrow ever come to Marseilles?&rdquo; Hugh asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sometimes&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the words left the man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was his pretended friend an agent of the police?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;which he certainly did not appear
+      to be&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet he knew all about The Sparrow, and his attitude was not in the least
+      hostile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only that exchange of glances with the passer-by which had aroused
+      Hugh&rsquo;s suspicions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that significant look caused him to hesitate to accept the mysterious
+      stranger as his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he said, at last. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I require no thanks or reward, Mr. Henfrey,&rdquo; replied the man
+      politely. &ldquo;My one desire is to get you safely out of Marseilles.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And with that the stranger lifted his hat and left him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By some intuition&mdash;why, he knew not&mdash;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&rsquo;s gang?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If so, it was certainly a very clever and ingenious subterfuge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he muttered to himself. &ldquo;Somebody must have given
+      me away at Shapley, and now they have followed me! I will act for myself,
+      and take the risks.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Close by the <i>consigne</i> 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was she, he wondered, in league with his so-called friend? And if so, what
+      was intended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sight of that woman lounging there, however, decided him. She was, no
+      doubt, awaiting his coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does m&rsquo;sieur wish to go?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the station to fetch my coat and bag,&rdquo; replied the young
+      Englishman, peering into the driver&rsquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, m&rsquo;sieur,&rdquo; the man answered politely. And
+      Hugh having entered, he drove up the Boulevard de la Liberte to the Gare
+      St. Charles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he approached the <i>consigne</i>, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh put on his coat, and, carrying his bag, placed it in the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have your orders?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, m&rsquo;sieur. We are to go to Cette with all speed. Is not
+      that so?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was Hugh&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I will come up beside
+      you. I prefer it. We shall have a long, dark ride to-night.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but the roads are good,&rdquo; was the man&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;I came from Cette yesterday,&rdquo; he added, as he mounted to his
+      seat and the passenger got up beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh sat there very thoughtful as the car sped out of the city of noise
+      and bustle. The man&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As it was, he remained suspicious. He did not like that woman who had
+      watched so patiently his coming and going at the station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With strong headlights glaring&mdash;for the night was extremely dark and
+      a strong wind was blowing&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was midnight before they got to the village of Lancon, an obscure
+      little place in total darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Lancon,&rdquo; the driver remarked, as they sped through
+      the dark little town. &ldquo;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,&rdquo;
+      he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was undecided. Was the man who was driving him so rapidly out of the
+      danger zone his friend&mdash;or his enemy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat there for over an hour unable to decide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is an outlandish part of France,&rdquo; he remarked to the
+      driver presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But after Salon it is more desolate.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is there no railway near?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After Salon, yes. It runs parallel with the road about two miles to
+      the north&mdash;the railway between Arles and Aix-en-Provence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So if we get a breakdown, which I hope we shall not, we are not far
+      from a railway?&rdquo; Hugh remarked, as through the night the heavy car
+      tore along that open desolate road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he sat there he thought of Dorise, wondering what had happened&mdash;and
+      of Louise. If he had obeyed his father&rsquo;s wishes and married the
+      latter all the trouble would have been avoided, he thought. Yet he loved
+      Dorise&mdash;loved her with his whole soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she doubted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;how he could not explain&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why had not the police of Marseilles arrested him? There was some subtle
+      motive for sending him to Cette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s,
+      and afterwards his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is cold here on the marshes, monsieur,&rdquo; remarked the
+      driver, his cigarette between his lips. &ldquo;This mist, too, is
+      puzzling. But it is nearly always like this at night. That is why nobody
+      lives about here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it quite deserted?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, except for a few shepherds, and they live up north at the foot
+      of the hills.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some ten minutes or so they kept on, but Hugh had suddenly become very
+      watchful of the driver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the man exclaimed in French:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not feel very well!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; asked Hugh in alarm. &ldquo;You must not
+      be taken ill here&mdash;so far from anywhere!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the man was evidently unwell, for he pulled up the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! my head!&rdquo; he cried, putting both hands to his brow as the
+      cigarette dropped from his lips. &ldquo;My head! It seems as if it will
+      burst! And&mdash;and I can&rsquo;t see! Everything is going round&mdash;round!
+      Where&mdash;<i>where am I</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are all right, my friend. Get into the back of the car and
+      rest. You will be yourself very quickly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he half dragged the man from his seat and placed him in the back of
+      the car, where he fell inert and unconscious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh, having settled him in the bottom of the car, placed a rug over him.
+      Then, mounting to the driver&rsquo;s place, he turned the car and drove as
+      rapidly as he dared back over the roads to Salon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      orders. If so, then he had committed a fatal error!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      broad high road from Marseilles to Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Already he had made up his mind how to act. He would get to Avignon, and
+      thence by express to Paris. The <i>rapides</i> from Marseilles and the
+      Riviera all stopped at the ancient city of the Popes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the railway station he found the through express from Ventimiglia&mdash;the
+      Italian frontier&mdash;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 <i>wagon-restaurant</i> on his way to the
+      French capital.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE MAN CATALDI
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      On the day that Hugh was travelling in hot haste to Paris, Charles Benton
+      arrived in Nice early in the afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Yvonne&rsquo;s late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Cataldi!&rdquo; exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer
+      cheerily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite a stranger&mdash;am I not? I was in Nice,
+      and I could not leave without calling to see you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, with ill-grace scarcely concealed, invited him into his
+      shabby room, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Signor Benton, I never thought to see you again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you didn&rsquo;t want to&mdash;eh? After that little affair
+      in Brussels. But I assure you it was not my fault. Mademoiselle Yvonne
+      made the blunder.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And nearly let us all into the hands of the police&mdash;including
+      The Sparrow himself!&rdquo; growled the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But all that has long blown over. Now,&rdquo; he went on, after
+      he had offered the old man a cigar. &ldquo;Now the real reason I&rsquo;ve
+      called is to ask you about this nasty affair concerning Mademoiselle
+      Yvonne. You were there that night. What do you know about it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; the old fellow declared promptly. &ldquo;Since that
+      night I&rsquo;ve earned an honest living. I&rsquo;m a waiter in a cafe in
+      the Avenue de la Gare.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A most excellent decision,&rdquo; laughed the well-dressed man.
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and he shot her. Now, isn&rsquo;t that your
+      theory&mdash;the same as that held by the police?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man looked straight into his visitor&rsquo;s face for a few
+      moments. Then he replied quite calmly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing, Signor Benton&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t want to know
+      anything. I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think not,&rdquo; laughed Benton. &ldquo;Still, they never
+      suspected you to be the man wanted for the Morel affair&mdash;an
+      unfortunate matter that was.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed the old fellow. &ldquo;Please do not mention it,&rdquo;
+      and he turned away to the window as though to conceal his guilty
+      countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that you <i>know</i> something&mdash;but you won&rsquo;t
+      tell it!&rdquo; Benton said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing,&rdquo; was the old fellow&rsquo;s stubborn reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know that the young fellow, Henfrey, is guilty!&rdquo;
+      exclaimed Benton. &ldquo;Come! you were there at the time! You heard high
+      words between them&mdash;didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already made my statement to the police,&rdquo; declared the
+      old Italian. &ldquo;What else I know I shall keep to myself.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I&rsquo;m interested in ascertaining whether Henfrey is
+      innocent or guilty. Only two persons can tell us that&mdash;Mademoiselle,
+      who is, alas! in a hopeless mental state, and yourself. You know&mdash;but
+      you refuse to incriminate the guilty person. Why don&rsquo;t you tell the
+      truth? You know that Henfrey shot her!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you I know nothing,&rdquo; retorted the old man. &ldquo;Why
+      do you come here and disturb me?&rdquo; he added peevishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I want to know the truth,&rdquo; Benton answered. &ldquo;And
+      I mean to!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go away!&rdquo; snapped the wilful old fellow. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+      done with you all&mdash;all the crowd of you!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; laughed Benton. &ldquo;Then you forget the little matter
+      of the man Morel&mdash;eh? That is not forgotten by the police, remember!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you said a word to them, Signor Benton, then you would
+      implicate yourself,&rdquo; the old man growled. Seeing hostility in the
+      Englishman&rsquo;s attitude he instantly resented it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;or the innocence&mdash;of Hugh Henfrey,&rdquo;
+      he went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. You have reason for establishing his guilt&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Reasons for establishing his innocence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For your own ends, Signor Benton,&rdquo; was the shrewd old man&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At one time there was a suspicion that you yourself had fired at
+      Mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; gasped the old man, his countenance changing
+      instantly. &ldquo;Who says that?&rdquo; he asked angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The police were suspicious, I believe. And as far as I can gather
+      they are not yet altogether satisfied.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; growled the old Italian in a changed voice. &ldquo;They
+      will have to prove it!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they declare that the shot was fired by either one or the
+      other of you,&rdquo; Benton said, much surprised at the curious effect the
+      allegation had upon the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So they think that if the Signorino Henfrey is innocent I am guilty
+      of the murderous attack&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Benton nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they are seeking to arrest the signorino!&rdquo; remarked the
+      Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That is why I am here&mdash;to establish his innocence.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I were to tell you that he was innocent I should condemn
+      myself!&rdquo; laughed the crafty old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Giulio,&rdquo; said Benton. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+      Then, taking from his pocket-book several hundred-franc notes, he doubled
+      them up and placed them on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;I see! You want to <i>buy</i>
+      my secret! No, take your money!&rdquo; he cried, pushing it back towards
+      him contemptuously. &ldquo;I want none of it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are now earning an honest living,&rdquo; Benton
+      sneered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and Il Passero knows it!&rdquo; was Cataldi&rsquo;s bold
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you refuse to tell me anything you know concerning the events
+      of that night at the Villa Amette?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he snapped. &ldquo;Take your money, and leave me in
+      peace!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have come all the way from England to see you,&rdquo;
+      remarked the disappointed man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be extremely careful. You have enemies, so have I. They are the
+      same as those who denounced the signorino to the police&mdash;as they will
+      no doubt, before long, denounce you!&rdquo; said the old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! You always were a pessimist, Giulio,&rdquo; Benton laughed.
+      &ldquo;I do not fear any enemies&mdash;I assure you. The Sparrow takes
+      good care that we are prevented from falling into any traps the police may
+      set,&rdquo; he added after a moment&rsquo;s pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old waiter shook his head dubiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One day there may be a slip&mdash;and it will cost you all very
+      dearly,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in a bad mood, Giulio&mdash;like all those who exist by
+      being honest,&rdquo; Benton laughed, though he was extremely annoyed at
+      his failure to learn anything from the old fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it possible that the suspicions which both Molly and he had
+      entertained were true&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s sudden end and the diversion of his father&rsquo;s
+      fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole plot against old Mr. Henfrey was truly one of the most elaborate
+      and amazing ones ever conceived by criminal minds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>escroc</i> like himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 <i>train-de-luxe</i> direct for Calais, and went on to London, all
+      unconscious of the sensational events which were then happening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On arrival in London he found a telegram lying upon his table among some
+      letters. It was signed &ldquo;Shaw,&rdquo; and urged him to meet him
+      &ldquo;at the usual place&rdquo; at seven o&rsquo;clock in the evening.
+      &ldquo;I know you are away, but I&rsquo;ll look in each night at seven,&rdquo;
+      it concluded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was just six o&rsquo;clock, therefore Benton washed and changed, and
+      just before seven o&rsquo;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&mdash;Mr. Howell, The Sparrow&rsquo;s
+      friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked Howell, when a few minutes later they were
+      walking along Wardour Street together. &ldquo;How did you get on in Nice?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had my journey for nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t the old man tell anything?&rdquo; asked Howell
+      eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word,&rdquo; Benton replied. &ldquo;But my firm opinion is
+      that he himself tried to kill Yvonne&mdash;that he shot her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really agree with me?&rdquo; gasped Howell excitedly.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my belief is that young Henfrey is innocent. I never thought
+      so until now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we must prove Cataldi guilty, and Henfrey can marry Louise,&rdquo;
+      Howell said. &ldquo;But the reason I wanted to get in touch with you is
+      that the police went to Shapley.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Shapley!&rdquo; gasped Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. They went there the night you left London. Evidently somebody
+      has given you away!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Given me away! Who in the devil&rsquo;s name can it be? If I get to
+      know who the traitor is I&mdash;I&rsquo;ll&mdash;by gad, I&rsquo;ll kill
+      him. I swear I will!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows? Some secret enemy of yours&mdash;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&rsquo;ve
+      sent her up to Cambridge&mdash;to old Mrs. Curtis. I thought she&rsquo;d
+      be quite quiet and safe there for a time.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Molly arrested! What&rsquo;s the charge?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Theft. An extradition warrant from Paris. That jeweller&rsquo;s
+      affair in the Rue St. Honore, eighteen months ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hope they won&rsquo;t bring forward other charges, or it
+      will go infernally bad with her. What has The Sparrow done?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s abroad somewhere&mdash;but I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all this is very serious, my dear Howell,&rdquo; Benton
+      declared, much alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is. You can&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. That&rsquo;s what we must do. But with Molly arrested we
+      shall be compelled to be very careful,&rdquo; said Benton, as they turned
+      toward Piccadilly Circus. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;t
+      get much chance&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she goes it will be ten years, without a doubt,&rdquo; Howell
+      remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And in the meantime much can happen&mdash;eh?&rdquo; laughed
+      Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lots. But one reassuring fact is that, as far as old Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      fate is concerned, Mademoiselle&rsquo;s lips are closed. Whoever shot her
+      did us a very good turn.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not yet. Certainly not,&rdquo; exclaimed Howell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity The Sparrow does not know about the Henfrey
+      business. He might help us. Dare we tell him? What do you think?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said Howell. &ldquo;The
+      Sparrow is our master&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But in old Henfrey&rsquo;s case we acted upon our own initiative,&rdquo;
+      remarked Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Yours was a wonderfully well-conceived idea. And all worked
+      without a hitch until young Henfrey&rsquo;s visit to Monte Carlo, and his
+      affection for that girl Ranscomb.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are weaning him away from her,&rdquo; Benton said. &ldquo;At
+      last the girl&rsquo;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 &lsquo;blackmail.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Charles. You were always a philosopher,&rdquo; laughed his
+      companion&mdash;the man who was a bosom friend of The Sparrow. &ldquo;But
+      it carries us no nearer. We must, at all costs, fix the hand that shot
+      Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Giulio shot her&mdash;without a doubt!&rdquo; was Benton&rsquo;s
+      quick reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were standing together on the kerb outside the Tube station at
+      Piccadilly Circus as Benton uttered the words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear fellow, then let us prove it,&rdquo; said Howell.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo; asked his companion quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he answered, after a second&rsquo;s hesitation,
+      &ldquo;I heard so two days ago.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Howell, pleading an urgent meeting with a mutual friend, also a crook
+      like themselves, grasped the other&rsquo;s hand, and they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      LISETTE&rsquo;S DISCLOSURES
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At ten o&rsquo;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&mdash;a
+      worthy old soul from Yvetot, in the north&mdash;as Guillaume Gautier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow, sprightly and alert, stood, after taking his <i>cafe au lait</i>,
+      looking down into the courtyard. He had been reading through several
+      letters and telegrams which had caused him some perturbation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are playing me false!&rdquo; he muttered, as he gazed out of
+      the window. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m certain of it&mdash;quite certain! But, Gad!
+      If they do I&rsquo;ll be even with them! Who could have given Henfrey away
+      in London&mdash;<i>and why</i>?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paced the length of the room, his teeth hard set and his hands
+      clenched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought they were all loyal after what I have done for them&mdash;after
+      the fortunes I have put into their pockets. Fancy! One of them a
+      well-known member of Parliament&mdash;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then crossing back to the window, he said aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lisette ought to be here! She was due in from Toulouse at nine o&rsquo;clock.
+      I hope nothing further has happened. One thing is satisfactory&mdash;young
+      Henfrey is safe.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;friend
+      Hugh&rdquo; was in Marseilles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow hated trials of any sort. With him silence was golden, and
+      very wisely he would pay any sum rather than court publicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour went past, but the girl he expected did not put in an
+      appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Gautier&mdash;the man with the gloved hand&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lisette&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, just before eleven, he saw Lisette&rsquo;s smart figure in a
+      heavy travelling coat crossing the courtyard, and a few moments later she
+      was shown into his room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re late!&rdquo; the old man said, as soon as the door was
+      closed. &ldquo;I feared that something had gone wrong! Why did you leave
+      Madrid? What has happened?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happened!&rdquo; she echoed in French. &ldquo;Why, very nearly a
+      disaster! Someone has given us away&mdash;at least, Monsieur Henfrey was
+      given away to the police!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not arrested?&rdquo; he asked breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. We all three managed to get away&mdash;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&mdash;and
+      at Henfrey&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who can have done that?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow, his eyes
+      narrowing in anger, his gloved hand clenched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your enemy&mdash;and mine!&rdquo; was the girl&rsquo;s reply.
+      &ldquo;Franklyn is in Switzerland. Monsieur Henfrey is in Marseilles&mdash;at
+      the Louvre et Paix&mdash;and I am here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we have a secret enemy&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and he is not very far to seek. Monsieur Howell has done
+      this!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell! He would never do such a thing, my dear mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+      replied the gloved man, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! wouldn&rsquo;t he? I would not trust either Benton or Howell!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you are mistaken, mademoiselle. They have never shown much
+      friendship towards each other.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are close friends as far as concerns the Henfrey affair,&rdquo;
+      declared mademoiselle. &ldquo;I happen to know that it was Howell who
+      prepared the old man&rsquo;s will. It is in his handwriting, and his
+      manservant, Cooke, is one of the witnesses.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? <i>You know about that will, Lisette?</i> Tell me everything.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s wife, I forget her name&mdash;the affair
+      in Carlton House Terrace.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I recollect. A very neat piece of business.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;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&rsquo;s
+      suggestion, but the signature was to a will which Howell&rsquo;s man,
+      Cooke, and a friend of his, named Saunders, afterwards witnessed, and
+      which has now been proved&mdash;the will by which the young man is
+      compelled to marry Benton&rsquo;s adopted daughter before he inherits his
+      father&rsquo;s estates.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You actually know this?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howell told me so with his own lips.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why is young Henfrey being made the victim?&rdquo; asked The
+      Sparrow shrewdly. &ldquo;Why, indeed, have you not revealed this to me
+      before?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I had no proof before that Howell is <i>our</i> enemy. He
+      has now given us away. He has some motive. What is it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When one finds a betrayer, then in order to fix his guilt it becomes
+      necessary to discover the motive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;for dead men tell no tales.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow ordered some <i>cafe noir</i> from his housekeeper and
+      produced a particularly seductive brand of liqueur, which mademoiselle
+      took&mdash;together with a cigarette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she left, he giving her the parting injunction:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE INQUISITIVE MR. SHRIMPTON
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      An hour later Hugh stood in The Sparrow&rsquo;s room, and related his
+      exciting adventure in Marseilles and on the high road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; remarked the man with the gloved hand. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By this time the driver of the car has, of course, recovered and
+      told his story,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And by this time the police probably know that you have come to
+      Paris,&rdquo; remarked The Sparrow. &ldquo;Now, Mr. Henfrey, only an hour
+      ago I learnt something which has altered my plans entirely. There is a
+      traitor somewhere&mdash;somebody has given you away.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present I have not decided. But we must all be wary and
+      watchful,&rdquo; was The Sparrow&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;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&mdash;a
+      clever trap,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;I admire it. But at Marseilles they
+      are even more shrewd than in Paris. Maillot, the <i>chef de la Surete</i>
+      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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are really marvellous, Mr. Peters,&rdquo; remarked Hugh.
+      &ldquo;And I have to thank you for the way in which you have protected me
+      time after time. Your organization is simply wonderful.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man with the black glove laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing really wonderful,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Not a word,&rdquo; replied the young man. &ldquo;I dare not
+      write to her.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t. A man from Scotland Yard went to see her. So it is
+      best to remain apart&mdash;my dear boy&mdash;even though that unfortunate
+      misunderstanding concerning Louise Lambert has arisen between you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am anxious to put it right,&rdquo; the young fellow said.
+      &ldquo;Dorise misjudges me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; said The Sparrow
+      kindly. &ldquo;Leave matters to me and act at my suggestion.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I certainly will,&rdquo; Hugh replied. &ldquo;You have never
+      yet advised me wrongly.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am not infallible,&rdquo; laughed the master criminal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;clock that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Hugh has returned from the south,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;He
+      is anxious to see you again.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Tres bien, m&rsquo;sieur</i>,&rdquo; answered the smart
+      Parisienne. &ldquo;I will be there. But will you not dine with me&mdash;eh?
+      At Vian&rsquo;s at seven. You know the place.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Lisette asks us to dine with her at Vian&rsquo;s,&rdquo;
+      The Sparrow said, turning to Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I shall be delighted,&rdquo; replied the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So The Sparrow accepted the girl&rsquo;s invitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole matter concerning Hugh puzzled her. She could not bring herself
+      to a decision as to his innocence or his guilt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat writing in the morning-room, the maid announced that Mr.
+      Shrimpton wished to see her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started at the name. It was the detective inspector from Scotland Yard
+      who had called upon her on a previous occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments afterwards he was shown in, a tall figure in a rough tweed
+      suit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;And, Mr. Shrimpton, I
+      am growing very concerned. I really can&rsquo;t think that he tried to
+      kill the young Frenchwoman. Why should he?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because she had connived at his father&rsquo;s death. That
+      seems to be proved.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your theory is that it was an act of vengeance?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But are you certain?&rdquo; asked the girl, much distressed.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I have heard nothing.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I suppose if you did hear, you would
+      not tell me?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my own affair, Mr. Shrimpton,&rdquo; she replied
+      resentfully. &ldquo;If you desire to arrest Mr. Henfrey it is your own
+      affair. Why do you ask me to assist you?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the interests of justice,&rdquo; was the inspector&rsquo;s
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the girl, very promptly, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he must be guilty. There was the motive. He shot the woman who
+      had enticed his father to his death.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how have you ascertained that?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By logical deduction.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are trying to convict Mr. Henfrey upon circumstantial
+      evidence alone?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Others have gone to the gallows on circumstantial evidence&mdash;Crippen,
+      for instance. There was no actual witness of his crime.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I must allow you to continue your investigations, Mr.
+      Shrimpton,&rdquo; she said coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your lover has deceived you. He was staying down in Surrey with
+      the girl, Miss Lambert, as his fellow-guest.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that,&rdquo; was Dorise&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;But I have
+      since come to the conclusion that my surmise&mdash;my jealousy if you like
+      to call it so&mdash;is unfounded.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! then you refuse to assist justice?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I do not. But knowing nothing of the circumstances I do not see
+      how I can assist you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But no doubt you know that Mr. Henfrey evaded us and went away&mdash;that
+      he was assisted by a man whom we know as The Sparrow.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know where he is,&rdquo; replied the girl with truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know The Sparrow,&rdquo; said the detective. &ldquo;You
+      admitted that you had met him when I last called here.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met him,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does he live?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I refuse to give away the secrets of my friends,&rdquo; she
+      responded a trifle haughtily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you prefer to shield the master criminal of Europe?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no knowledge that The Sparrow is a criminal.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you want me to betray him!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not a member of the gang of criminals, Miss Ranscomb,&rdquo;
+      replied Shrimpton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whether I am or not, I refuse to say a word concerning anyone who
+      has been of service to me,&rdquo; was her stubborn reply. And with that
+      the man from the Criminal Investigation Department had to be content.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was evident that The Sparrow, who was her friend and Hugh&rsquo;s, was
+      a most elusive person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;the
+      man whose one hand was gloved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within half an hour of the departure of her visitor from Scotland Yard,
+      the maid announced Mr. Sherrard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise, with a frown, arose from her chair, and a few seconds later faced
+      the man who was her mother&rsquo;s intimate friend, and who daily forced
+      his unwelcome attentions upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother told me you would be alone, Dorise,&rdquo; he said in
+      his forced manner of affected elegance. &ldquo;So I just dropped in. I
+      hope I&rsquo;m not worrying you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! not at all,&rdquo; replied the girl, sealing a letter which she
+      had just written. &ldquo;Mother has gone to Warwickshire, and I&rsquo;m
+      going out to lunch with May Petheridge, an old schoolfellow of mine.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Then I won&rsquo;t keep you,&rdquo; said the smug lover of Lady
+      Ranscomb&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard saw that Dorise&rsquo;s attitude was one of hostility, but with
+      his superior overbearing manner he pretended not to notice it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were not at Lady Oundle&rsquo;s the night before last,&rdquo;
+      he remarked, for want of something better to say. &ldquo;I went there
+      specially to meet you, Dorise.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate Lady Oundle&rsquo;s dances,&rdquo; was the girl&rsquo;s
+      reply. &ldquo;Such a lot of fearful old fogies go there.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True, but a lot of your mother&rsquo;s friends are in her set.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Elise was there,&rdquo; he remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you danced with her, of course. She&rsquo;s such a ripping
+      dancer.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twice. When I found you were not there I went on to the club,&rdquo;
+      he replied, with his usual air of boredom. &ldquo;When do you expect your
+      mother back?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next Tuesday. I&rsquo;m going down to Huntingdon to-morrow to stay
+      with the Fishers.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! by the way,&rdquo; he remarked suddenly. &ldquo;Tubby Hall, who
+      is just back from Madrid, told me in the club last night that he&rsquo;d
+      seen your friend Henfrey in a restaurant there with a pretty French girl.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Madrid!&rdquo; echoed Dorise, for she had no idea of her lover&rsquo;s
+      whereabouts. &ldquo;He must have been mistaken surely.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey&rsquo;s. He says that he and
+      the girl seemed to be particularly good friends.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. I&rsquo;ve only told you what Tubby said.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not. But I really didn&rsquo;t inquire,&rdquo; Sherrard
+      replied, not failing, however, to note how puzzled she was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Ranscomb was already assuring him that the girl&rsquo;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&rsquo;s heart. But her mother was never tired of
+      bidding him be patient, and saying that in the end he would obtain his
+      desire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sherrard, however, little dreamed how great was Dorise&rsquo;s love for
+      Hugh, and how deeply she regretted having written that hasty letter to
+      Shapley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet one of Hugh&rsquo;s friends had met him in Madrid in company with what
+      was described as a pretty young French girl!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such were her thoughts when, an hour later, her mother&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a telephone message to Mr. Peters&rsquo;s house had been answered to
+      the effect that the man whose hand was gloved was abroad, and the date of
+      his return uncertain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE SPARROW&rsquo;S NEST
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Lisette met her two guests at Vian&rsquo;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&rsquo;s chatter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      exciting adventure on the Arles road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had that morning been on the point of trying to get into touch with his
+      friend Howell, but after Lisette&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had debated whether he should tell Hugh what Lisette had alleged
+      concerning the forgery of his father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After their coffee all three returned to the Rue des Petits Champs where
+      Lisette, merry and full of vivacity, joined them in a cigarette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sparrow had been preoccupied and thoughtful the whole evening. But at
+      last, as they sat together, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall all three go south to-morrow&mdash;to Nice direct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Nice!&rdquo; exclaimed Lisette. &ldquo;It is hardly safe&mdash;is
+      it?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. You will leave by the midday train from the Gare de Lyon&mdash;and
+      go to Madame Odette&rsquo;s in the boulevard Gambetta. I may want you. We
+      shall follow by the <i>train-de-luxe</i>. It is best that Mr. Henfrey is
+      out of Paris. The Surete will certainly be searching for him.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will not be so much risk in Nice as here in Paris,&rdquo; he
+      added. &ldquo;After all, we ought not to have ventured out to Vian&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out and himself dispatched these from the office of the Grand
+      Hotel. He never entrusted his telegrams of instructions to others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he returned ten minutes later he took up <i>Le Soir</i>, and
+      searching it eagerly, suddenly exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Here it is! Manfield has been successful and got away all right
+      with the German countess&rsquo;s trinkets!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;jewels
+      valued at a hundred thousand marks having mysteriously disappeared.
+      International thieves were suspected, but the Cologne police had no clue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M&rsquo;sieur Manfield is always extremely shrewd. He is such a
+      real ladies&rsquo; man,&rdquo; laughed Lisette, using some of the <i>argot</i>
+      of the Montmartre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Do you recollect that American, Lindsay&mdash;with whom you
+      had something to do?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Teddy Manfield is a very good friend,&rdquo; declared the man with
+      the gloved hand. &ldquo;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&mdash;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!&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I am no politician! My only
+      object is to solve the mystery of who shot poor Mademoiselle Yvonne.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pretty decoy of the great association of <i>escrocs</i> smoked another
+      cigarette, and gazed into the young man&rsquo;s face. Sometimes she
+      shuddered when she reflected upon all she knew concerning his father&rsquo;s
+      unfortunate end, and of the cleverly concocted will by which he was to
+      marry Louise Lambert, and afterwards enjoy but a short career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fate had made Lisette what she was&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she rose and wished them <i>bon soir</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall leave the Gare de Lyon at eleven fifty-eight to-morrow, and
+      go direct to Madame Odette&rsquo;s in Nice,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Remain there. If I want you I will let you know,&rdquo;
+      answered The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she descended the stairs and walked to her hotel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next evening Hugh and The Sparrow, both dressed quite differently, left by
+      the Riviera <i>train-de-luxe</i>. As The Sparrow lay that night in the <i>wagon-lit</i>
+      he tried to sleep, but the roar and rattle of the train prevented it.
+      Therefore he calmly thought out a complete and deliberate plan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That there was a traitor in the camp was proved, but happily Hugh Henfrey
+      had escaped just in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Hugh and his companion waited, examining the poorly-furnished little
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He greeted his visitors rather timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a very serious and confidential affair, Cataldi,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;I want to know the absolute truth&mdash;and I must have it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it is serious, signore,&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;But I only know one
+      or two facts. I recognize Signor Henfrey.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then you know me!&rdquo; exclaimed Hugh. &ldquo;You recognized
+      me on that night at the Villa Amette, when you opened the door to me.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, signore. I recollect everything. It is all photographed upon
+      my memory. Poor Mademoiselle! You questioned her&mdash;as a gentleman
+      would&mdash;and you demanded to know about your father&rsquo;s death. She
+      prevaricated&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you overheard it?&rdquo; said Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I listened. Was I not Mademoiselle&rsquo;s servant? On that
+      night she had won quite a large sum at the Rooms, and she had given me&mdash;ah!
+      she was always most generous&mdash;five hundred francs&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wondered why this young Englishman should call upon her at that
+      hour?&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did. She never received visitors after her five o&rsquo;clock
+      tea. It was the habit at the Villa Amette to lunch at one o&rsquo;clock,
+      English tea at five o&rsquo;clock, and dinner at eight&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied The Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet it is so,&rdquo; declared old Cataldi. &ldquo;I have
+      watched it day by day. But poor Mademoiselle! What can we do to solve the
+      mystery?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you not with Mademoiselle and Mr. Benton when you both brought
+      off that great coup in the Avenue Louise, in Brussels?&rdquo; asked The
+      Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, signore,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;But I do not wish to
+      speak of it now.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite naturally. I quite appreciate it. Since Mademoiselle&rsquo;s&mdash;er&mdash;accident
+      you have, I suppose, been leading an honest life?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I have tried to do so. At present I am a cafe waiter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you can tell me nothing further regarding the affair at the
+      Villa Amette?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow, eyeing him narrowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I regret, signore, I can tell you nothing further,&rdquo; replied
+      the staid, rather sad-looking old man; &ldquo;nothing.&rdquo; And he
+      sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had strained every effort, but he could ascertain nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That Cataldi knew the key to the whole problem The Sparrow felt assured.
+      Yet why did not the old fellow tell the truth?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cataldi&rsquo;s attitude annoyed the master criminal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For three days he remained in Nice with Hugh, at great risk of recognition
+      and arrest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the fourth day they went together in a hired car along the winding road
+      across the Var to Cannes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then suddenly the door opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of a
+      beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she turned
+      her gaze upon Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain, and
+      placing both hands to her head, gasped:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Dieu!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Yvonne Ferad. And the cry was one of recognition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yvonne!&rdquo; exclaimed The Sparrow in a low, kindly voice.
+      &ldquo;Then you know who we really are? Your reason has returned?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered in French. &ldquo;I remember who you are.
+      Ah! But&mdash;but it is all so strange!&rdquo; she cried wildly. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;I
+      can&rsquo;t think! At last! Yes. I know. I recollect! You!&rdquo; And she
+      stared at Hugh. &ldquo;You&mdash;you are <i>Monsieur Henfrey</i>!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so, mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, messieurs,&rdquo; remarked the elderly doctor, who was standing
+      behind his patient. &ldquo;She recognized you both&mdash;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&rsquo;s brain with many questions. I will leave you.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he withdrew, closing the door softly after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo about
+      general things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been very ill,&rdquo; she said in a low, tremulous voice.
+      &ldquo;I could think of nothing since my accident, until now&mdash;and now&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      she gazed around her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance&mdash;&ldquo;and
+      now I remember!&mdash;but it all seems too hazy and indistinct.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You recollect things&mdash;eh?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow in a kindly
+      voice, placing his hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seems
+      ages and ages since I last met you, Mr.&mdash;Mr. Peters,&rdquo; and she
+      laughed lightly. &ldquo;Peters&mdash;that is the name?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for she
+      was gazing out of the window to the distant sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the&mdash;the secret
+      of his father&rsquo;s death?&rdquo; she asked of The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. You were about to do so when&mdash;when the accident
+      happened.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But&mdash;but, oh!&mdash;how can I tell him the actual truth
+      when&mdash;when, alas! I am so guilty?&rdquo; cried the woman, much
+      distressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, mademoiselle,&rdquo; said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly
+      upon her shoulder. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe,&rdquo; she
+      said slowly. &ldquo;But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted
+      by Benton.&rdquo; Then, turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her
+      natural tone, though slightly high-pitched and nervous:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton, the blackguard, was your father&rsquo;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&rsquo;s adopted daughter.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who is Louise actually?&rdquo; asked Hugh interrupting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her.
+      Of course Louise is unaware of that fact,&rdquo; Yvonne replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bond
+      was so solicitous of the poor girl&rsquo;s welfare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s small closed car, which he always drove himself, was
+      waiting outside to take us to the ball.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that
+      night horrified her&mdash;as indeed it did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm around your
+      father&rsquo;s neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of the neck
+      just above his collar. &lsquo;Here!&rsquo; your father cried out, thinking
+      it was a joke, &lsquo;what&rsquo;s the game?&rsquo; 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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what happened then?&rdquo; asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at
+      the story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew nothing of the affair,&rdquo; declared The Sparrow, his face
+      clouded by anger. &ldquo;Then Howell was the actual murderer?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was,&rdquo; Yvonne replied. &ldquo;I saw him press the needle
+      into Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;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!&rdquo; she sighed, looking sadly
+      before her. &ldquo;I see it all now&mdash;everything.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also
+      meet with an unexpected end?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and
+      your own friends&mdash;an end probably like your father&rsquo;s. A secret
+      visit to London, and a mysterious death,&rdquo; Mademoiselle replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, M&rsquo;sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have
+      been the victim of a great and dastardly conspiracy,&rdquo; she said.
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benton is already under arrest for another affair,&rdquo; broke in
+      The Sparrow quietly. &ldquo;I heard so from London yesterday.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime,&rdquo;
+      the handsome woman cried. &ldquo;Though I have been a thief, a swindler,
+      and a decoy&mdash;ah! yes, I admit it all&mdash;I have never committed the
+      crime of murder. I know, messieurs,&rdquo; she went on&mdash;&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgive you, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh replied, grasping her
+      slim, white hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Ranscomb, Mr. Henfrey&rsquo;s
+      fiancee, and tell her the whole truth,&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I certainly will,&rdquo; Yvonne replied. &ldquo;Now that I can
+      think I shall be allowed to leave this place&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I will see after that,&rdquo; said the man known as Mr.
+      Peters. &ldquo;You must return to the Villa Amette&mdash;for you are still
+      Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, remember! Leave it all to me.&rdquo; And he
+      laughed happily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we are no nearer the solution of the mystery as to who
+      attempted to kill you, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; Hugh remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be but one person. Old Cataldi knows who it is,&rdquo;
+      she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cataldi? Then why has he not told me? I questioned him closely only
+      the other day,&rdquo; said The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For certain reasons,&rdquo; Mademoiselle replied. &ldquo;He <i>dare</i>
+      not tell the truth!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;well&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; and she turned to The
+      Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;s object was to face me and demand an explanation.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really think so?&rdquo; gasped Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that I feel positive. Only Cataldi can prove it.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why Cataldi?&rdquo; inquired Hugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See him again and tell him what I have revealed to you,&rdquo;
+      answered Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was it who warned me against you by that letter posted in
+      Tours?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was part of Howell&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then Cataldi will not speak the truth because he fears Howell?&rdquo;
+      remarked the notorious chief of Europe&rsquo;s underworld.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Now that I can think, I can piece the whole puzzle
+      together. It is all quite plain. Do you not recollect Howell&rsquo;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!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you speak of Cataldi. How can he know?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buy why should Howell have attempted to fix his guilt upon Mr.
+      Henfrey?&rdquo; asked The Sparrow. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly, m&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
+      assassination. In making the attempt he defeated his own ends&mdash;a fact
+      which he only realized when too late!&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC">
+       <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CONCLUSION
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The foregoing is perhaps one of the most remarkable stories of the
+      underworld of Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Its details are set down in full in three big portfolios in the archives
+      of the Surete in Paris&mdash;where the present writer has had access to
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In that bald official narrative which is docketed under the heading
+      &ldquo;No. 23489/263&mdash;Henfrey&rdquo; there is no mention of the love
+      affair between Dorise Ranscomb and Hugh Henfrey of Woodthorpe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the true facts are that within three days of Mademoiselle&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;that of jewel robbery&mdash;was, however, proved
+      against her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorise, about six weeks after Mademoiselle Yvonne&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, indeed, he did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s wealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
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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
+
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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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