“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!"
“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.
