"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 Pa.s.sero 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 ident.i.ty 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Sta.s.sart, 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 Pa.s.sero. 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 Rans...o...b..by special messenger. When?"

"When you are in Malines."

"But all this is very strange. Will the mysterious messenger call upon Miss Rans...o...b..in London?"

"Of course. Il Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Rans...o...b.."

"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 Ca.n.a.l 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 a.s.sured 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 Pa.s.sero, 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 Pa.s.sero 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 Pa.s.sero, whom I do not know, should take all this interest in me, I cannot imagine."

"Il Pa.s.sero very often a.s.sists 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?"