“To prevent you from learning the truth.”
“She was on the point of telling me what I wanted
to know.”
“Exactly. And what more likely than someone
outside, realizing that Mademoiselle was about to
make a disclosure, fired at you.”
“But you said that Mademoiselle had enemies.”
“So she has. But I think my theory is the
correct one,” replied the girl. “What
was it that you asked her to reveal to you?”
“Well,” he replied, after a brief hesitation,
“my father died mysteriously in London some
time ago, and I have reason to believe that she knows
the truth concerning the sad affair.”
“Where did it happen?”
“My father was found in the early morning lying
in a doorway in Albemarle Street, close to Piccadilly.
The only wound found was a slight scratch in the palm
of the hand. The police constable at first thought
he was intoxicated, but the doctor, on being called,
declared that my father was suffering from poison.
He was at once taken to St. George’s Hospital,
but an hour later he died without recovering consciousness.”
“And what was your father’s name?”
asked Lisette in a strangely altered voice.
“Henfrey.”
“Henfrey!” gasped the girl, starting up
at mention of the name. “Henfrey!
And—and are—you—his
son?”
“Yes,” replied Hugh. “Why?
You know about the affair, mademoiselle! Tell
me all you know,” he cried. “I—the
son of the dead man—have a right to demand
the truth.”
“Henfrey!” repeated the girl hoarsely
in a state of intense agitation. “Monsieur
Henfrey! And—and to think that I am
here—with you—his son!
Ah! forgive me!” she gasped. “I—I——Let
us return.”
“But you shall tell me the truth!” cried
Hugh excitedly. “You know it! You
cannot deny that you know it!”
All, however, he could get from her were the words:
“You—Monsieur Henfrey’s son!
Surely Il Passero does not know this!”
MORE ABOUT THE SPARROW
A month of weary anxiety and nervous tension had gone
by.
Yvonne Ferad had slowly struggled back to health,
but the injury to the brain had, alas! seriously upset
the balance of her mind. Three of the greatest
French specialists upon mental diseases had seen her
and expressed little hope of her ever regaining her
reason.
It was a sad affair which the police of Monaco had,
by dint of much bribery and the telling of many untruths,
successfully kept out of the newspapers.
The evening after Hugh’s disappearance, Monsieur
Ogier had called upon Dorise Ranscomb—her
mother happily being away at the Rooms at the time.
In one of the sitting-rooms of the hotel the official
of police closely questioned the girl, but she, of
course made pretense of complete ignorance. Naturally
Ogier was annoyed at being unable to obtain the slightest
information, and after being very rude, he told the
girl the charge against her lover and then left the
hotel in undisguised anger.
