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, Ma.r.s.eilles, 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 Pa.s.sero, 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 pa.s.sage 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 a.s.sociated 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 Rans...o...b..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 Rans...o...b..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 a.s.sist 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 circ.u.mstances 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.