“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!”
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.
