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 Pa.s.sero'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 Pa.s.sero, 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 Pa.s.sero is clever, so is she."

"Then she is actively a.s.sociated 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 a.s.sociates?" Hugh said.

"Yes," was the reply. "From what you have told me I gather that Il Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero is always courteous. He a.s.sists 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 n.o.body 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero's a.s.sistants--eh?"

The girl laughed lightly.

"Perhaps," was her enigmatical reply. "Who knows? It is, however, evident that Il Pa.s.sero 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 a.s.sa.s.sin."

"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 circ.u.mstances?" 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 Pa.s.sero 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.