"I have heard many strange things concerning you from those who have never met you," Hugh said frankly. "But nothing to your detriment.
Everyone speaks of you, sir, as a gallant sportsman, possessed of an almost uncanny cleverness in outwitting the authorities."
"Oh, well!" laughed the shrewd old man. "By the exercise of a little wit, and the possession of a little knowledge of the _personnel_ of the police, one can usually outwit them. Curious as you may think it, a very high official at Scotland Yard dined with me here only last night. As I am known as a student of criminology, and reputed to be the author of a book upon that subject, he discussed with me the latest crime problem with which he had been called upon to deal--the mysterious murder of a young girl upon the beach on the north-east coast. His frankness rather amused me. It was, indeed, a quaint situation," he laughed.
"But does he not recognize you, or suspect?" asked Hugh.
"Why should he? I have never been through the hands of the police in my life. Hence I have never been photographed, nor have my finger prints been taken. I merely organize--that is all."
"Your organization is most wonderful, Mr.--er--Mr. Peters," declared the young man. "Since my flight I have had opportunity of learning something concerning it. And frankly, I am utterly astounded."
The old man"s face again relaxed into a sphinx-like smile.
"When I order, I am obeyed," he said in a curious tone. "I ordered your rescue from that ugly situation in Monte Carlo. You and Miss Rans...o...b..no doubt believed the tall man who went to the ball at Nice as a cavalier to be myself. He did not tell you anything to the contrary, because I only reveal my ident.i.ty to persons whom I can trust, and then only in cases of extreme necessity."
"Then I take it, sir, that you trust me, and that my case is one of extreme necessity?"
"It is," was The Sparrow"s reply. "At present I can see no solution of the problem. It will be best, perhaps, for you to remain where you are for the present," he added. He did not tell the young man of his knowledge of Benton and his hostess.
"But I am very desirous of seeing Miss Rans...o...b.." Hugh said. "Is there any way possible by which I can meet her without running too great a risk?"
The Sparrow reflected in silence for some moments.
"To-day is Wednesday," he remarked slowly at last. "Miss Rans...o...b..is in London. That I happen to know. Well, go to the Bush Hotel, in Farnham, on Friday afternoon and have tea. She will probably motor there and take tea with you."
"Will she?" cried Hugh eagerly. "Will you arrange it? You are, indeed, a good Samaritan!"
The little old man smiled.
"I quite understand that this enforced parting under such circ.u.mstances is most unfortunate for you both," he said. "But I have done, and will continue to do, all I can in your interest."
"I can"t quite make you out, Mr. Peters," said the young man. "Why should you evince such a paternal interest in me?"
The Sparrow did not at once reply. A strange expression played about his lips.
"Have I not already answered that question twice?" he asked. "Rest a.s.sured, Mr. Henfrey, that I have your interests very much at heart."
"You have some reason for that, I"m sure."
"Well--yes, I have a reason--a reason which is my own affair." And he rose to wish his visitor "good-night."
"I"ll not forget to let Miss Rans...o...b..know that you will be at Farnham.
She will, no doubt, manage to get her mother"s car for the afternoon,"
he said. "Good-night!" and with his gloved fingers he took the young man"s outstretched hand.
The instant he heard the front door close he crossed to the telephone, and asking for a number, told the person who answered it to come round and see him without a moment"s delay.
Thus, while Hugh Henfrey was seated beside Mead as Mrs. Bond"s car went swiftly towards Kensington, a thin, rather wiry-looking man of middle age entered The Sparrow"s room.
The latter sprang to his feet quickly at sight of his visitor.
"Ah! Howell! I"m glad you"ve come. Benton and Molly Maxwell are deceiving us. They mean mischief!"
The man he addressed as Howell looked aghast.
"Mischief?" he echoed. "In what way?"
"I"ve not yet arrived at a full conclusion. But we must be on the alert and ready to act whenever the time is ripe. You know what they did over that little affair in Ma.r.s.eilles not so very long ago? They"ll repeat, if we"re not very careful. That girl of Benton"s they are using as a decoy--and she"s a dangerous one."
"For whom?"
"For old Henfrey"s son."
The Sparrow"s visitor gave vent to a low whistle.
"They intend to get old Henfrey"s money?"
"Yes--and they will if we are not very wary," declared the little, bristly-haired old gentleman known as The Sparrow. "The boy has been entirely entrapped. They made one _faux pas_, and it is upon that we may--if we are careful--get the better of them. I don"t like the situation at all. They have a distinctly evil design against the boy."
"Benton and Molly are a combination pretty hard to beat," remarked Mr.
Howell. "But I thought they were friends of ours."
"True. They were. But after the little affair in Ma.r.s.eilles I don"t trust them," replied The Sparrow. "When anyone makes a slip, either by design or sheer carelessness, or perhaps by reason of inordinate avarice, then I always have to safeguard myself. I suspect--and my suspicion usually proves correct."
His midnight visitor drew a long breath.
"What we all say of you is that The Sparrow is gifted with an extra sense," he said.
The little old man with the gloved hand smiled contentedly.
"I really don"t know why," he said. "But I scent danger long before others have any suspicion of it. If I did not, you would, many of you who are my friends, have been in prison long ago."
"But you have such a marvellous memory."
"Memory!" he echoed. "Quite wrong. I keep everything filed. I work yonder at my desk all day. See this old wardrobe," and he crossed to a long, genuine Jacobean wardrobe which stood in a corner and, unlocking it, opened the carved doors. "There you see all my plans arranged and docketed. I can tell you what has been attempted to-night. Whether the coup is successful I do not yet know."
Within were shelves containing many bundles of papers, each tied with pink tape in legal fashion. He took out a small, black-covered index book and, after consulting it, drew out a file of papers from the second shelf.
These he brought to his table, and opened.
"Ah, yes!" he said, knitting his brows as he read a doc.u.ment beneath the green-shaded electric lamp. "You know Franklyn, don"t you?"
"Harold Franklyn?"
"Yes. Well, he"s in the Tatra, in Hungary. He and Matthews are with three Austrian friends of ours, and to-night they are at the Castle of s...o...b..t, belonging to Count Zsolcza, the millionaire banker of Vienna.
The Countess has some very valuable jewels, which were indicated to me several months ago by her discharged lady"s maid--through another channel, of course. I hope that before dawn the jewels will be no longer at s...o...b..t, for the Count is an old scoundrel who cornered the people"s food in Austria just before the Armistice and is directly responsible for an enormous amount of suffering. The Countess was a cafe singer in Budapest. Her name was Anna Torna."
Mr. Howell sat open-mouthed. He was a crook and the bosom friend of the great Pa.s.sero. Like all others who knew him, he held the master criminal in awe and admiration. The Sparrow, whatever he was, never did a mean action and never took advantage of youth or inexperience. To his finger-tips he was a sportsman, whose chief delight in life was to outwit and puzzle the police of Europe. In the underworld he was believed to be fabulously wealthy, as no doubt he was. To the outside world he was a very rich old gentleman, who contributed generously to charities, kept two fine cars, and, as well as his town house, had a pretty place down in Gloucestershire, and usually rented a grouse moor in Scotland, where he entertained Mr. Howell and several other of his intimate friends who were in the same profitable profession as himself, and in whose "business" he held a controlling interest.