Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo

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It was evident that The Sparrow, who was her friend and Hugh's, was a
most elusive person.

She recollected the White Cavalier at the ball at Nice, and how she had
never suspected him to be the deputy of the King of the Underworld--the
man whose one hand was gloved.

Within half an hour of the departure of her visitor from Scotland Yard,
the maid announced Mr. Sherrard.

Dorise, with a frown, arose from her chair, and a few seconds later
faced the man who was her mother's intimate friend, and who daily forced
his unwelcome attentions upon her.

"Your mother told me you would be alone, Dorise," he said in his forced
manner of affected elegance. "So I just dropped in. I hope I'm not
worrying you."

"Oh! not at all," replied the girl, sealing a letter which she had just
written. "Mother has gone to Warwickshire, and I'm going out to lunch
with May Petheridge, an old schoolfellow of mine."

"Oh! Then I won't keep you," said the smug lover of Lady Ranscomb's
choice. He was one of those over-dressed fops who haunted the lounges of
the Ritz and the Carlton, and who scraped acquaintance with anybody with
a title. At tea parties he would refer to Lord This and Lady That as
intimate friends, whereas he had only been introduced to them by some
fat wife of a fatter profiteer.

Sherrard saw that Dorise's attitude was one of hostility, but with his
superior overbearing manner he pretended not to notice it.

"You were not at Lady Oundle's the night before last," he remarked, for
want of something better to say. "I went there specially to meet you,
Dorise."

"I hate Lady Oundle's dances," was the girl's reply. "Such a lot of
fearful old fogies go there."

"True, but a lot of your mother's friends are in her set."

"I know. But mother always avoids going to her dances if she possibly
can. We had a good excuse to be away, as mother was packing."

"Elise was there," he remarked.

"And you danced with her, of course. She's such a ripping dancer."

"Twice. When I found you were not there I went on to the club," he
replied, with his usual air of boredom. "When do you expect your mother
back?"

"Next Tuesday. I'm going down to Huntingdon to-morrow to stay with the
Fishers."

"Oh! by the way," he remarked suddenly. "Tubby Hall, who is just back
from Madrid, told me in the club last night that he'd seen your friend
Henfrey in a restaurant there with a pretty French girl."

"In Madrid!" echoed Dorise, for she had no idea of her lover's
whereabouts. "He must have been mistaken surely."

"No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey's. He says that he and the girl
seemed to be particularly good friends."

Dorise hesitated.

"You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!" she exclaimed.

"Not at all. I've only told you what Tubby said."

"Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?"

"I think not. But I really didn't inquire," Sherrard replied, not
failing, however, to note how puzzled she was.

Lady Ranscomb was already assuring him that the girl's affection for the
absconding Henfrey would, sooner or later, fade out. More than once he
and she had held consultation concerning the proposed marriage, and more
than once Sherrard had been on the point of withdrawing from the contest
for the young girl's heart. But her mother was never tired of bidding
him be patient, and saying that in the end he would obtain his desire.

Sherrard, however, little dreamed how great was Dorise's love for
Hugh, and how deeply she regretted having written that hasty letter to
Shapley.

Yet one of Hugh's friends had met him in Madrid in company with what was
described as a pretty young French girl!

What was the secret of it all? Was Hugh really guilty of the attempt
upon the notorious Mademoiselle? If not, why did he not face the charge
like a man?

Such were her thoughts when, an hour later, her mother's car took her
out to Kensington to lunch with her old school friend who was on the
point of being married to a man who had won great distinction in the Air
Force, and whose portrait was almost daily in the papers.

Would she ever marry Hugh, she wondered, as she sat gazing blankly out
upon the London traffic. She would write to him, but, alas! she knew
neither the name under which he was going, nor his address.

And a telephone message to Mr. Peters's house had been answered to the
effect that the man whose hand was gloved was abroad, and the date of
his return uncertain.

TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER

THE SPARROW'S NEST

Mademoiselle Lisette met her two guests at Vian's small but exclusive
restaurant in the Rue Daunou, and all three had a merry meal together.
Afterwards The Sparrow smoked a good cigar and became amused at the
young girl's chatter.

She was a sprightly little person, and had effectively brought off
several highly successful coups. Before leaving his cosy flat in the Rue
des Petits Champs, The Sparrow had sat for an hour calmly reviewing
the situation in the light of what Lisette had told him and of Hugh's
exciting adventure on the Arles road.

That he had successfully escaped from a very clever trap was plain, but
who was the traitor? Who, indeed, had fired that shot which, failing to
kill Yvonne, had unbalanced her brain so that no attention could be paid
to her wandering remarks?

He had that morning been on the point of trying to get into touch with
his friend Howell, but after Lisette's disclosures, he was very glad
that he had not done so. His master-mind worked quickly. He could sum up
a situation and act almost instantly where other men would be inclined
to waver. But when The Sparrow arrived at a decision it was unalterable.
All his associates knew that too well. Some of them called him stubborn,
but they had to agree that he was invariably right in his suspicions and
conclusions.

He had debated whether he should tell Hugh what Lisette had alleged
concerning the forgery of his father's will, but had decided to keep the
matter to himself and see what further proof he could obtain. Therefore
he had forbidden the girl to tell Henfrey anything, for, after all, it
was quite likely that her statements could not be substantiated.

After their coffee all three returned to the Rue des Petits Champs where
Lisette, merry and full of vivacity, joined them in a cigarette.

The Sparrow had been preoccupied and thoughtful the whole evening. But
at last, as they sat together, he said:

"We shall all three go south to-morrow--to Nice direct."

"To Nice!" exclaimed Lisette. "It is hardly safe--is it?"

"Yes. You will leave by the midday train from the Gare de Lyon--and go
to Madame Odette's in the boulevard Gambetta. I may want you. We shall
follow by the _train-de-luxe_. It is best that Mr. Henfrey is out of
Paris. The Surete will certainly be searching for him."

Then, turning to Hugh, he told him that he had better remain his guest
that night, and in the morning he would buy him another suit, hat and
coat.

"There will not be so much risk in Nice as here in Paris," he added.
"After all, we ought not to have ventured out to Vian's."

Later he sat down, and after referring to a pocket-book containing
certain entries, he scribbled four cryptic telegrams which were,
apparently, Bourse quotations, but when read by their addressees were of
quite a different character.

He went out and himself dispatched these from the office of the Grand
Hotel. He never entrusted his telegrams of instructions to others.

When he returned ten minutes later he took up _Le Soir_, and searching
it eagerly, suddenly exclaimed:

"Ah! Here it is! Manfield has been successful and got away all right
with the German countess's trinkets!"

And with a laugh he handed the paper to Lisette, who read aloud an
account of a daring robbery in one of the best hotels in Cologne--jewels
valued at a hundred thousand marks having mysteriously disappeared.
International thieves were suspected, but the Cologne police had no
clue.

"M'sieur Manfield is always extremely shrewd. He is such a real ladies'
man," laughed Lisette, using some of the _argot_ of the Montmartre.

"Yes. Do you recollect that American, Lindsay--with whom you had
something to do?"

"Oh, yes, I remember. I was in London and we went out to dinner together
quite a lot. Manfield was with me and we got from his dispatch-box the
papers concerning that oil well at Baku. The company was started later
on in Chicago, and only two months ago I received my dividend."

"Teddy Manfield is a very good friend," declared the man with the gloved
hand. "Birth and education always count, even in these days. To any
ex-service man I hold out my hand as the unit who saved us from becoming
a German colony. But do others? I make war upon those who have profited
by war. I have never attacked those who have remained honest during the
great struggle. In the case of dog-eat-dog I place myself on the side of
the worker and the misled patriot--not only in Britain, but in all
the countries of the Allies. If members of the Allied Governments are
profiteers what can the man-in-the-street expect of the poor little
scraping-up tradesman oppressed by taxation and bewildered by waste? But
there!" he added, "I am no politician! My only object is to solve the
mystery of who shot poor Mademoiselle Yvonne."

The pretty decoy of the great association of _escrocs_ smoked another
cigarette, and gazed into the young man's face. Sometimes she shuddered
when she reflected upon all she knew concerning his father's unfortunate
end, and of the cleverly concocted will by which he was to marry Louise
Lambert, and afterwards enjoy but a short career.

Fate had made Lisette what she was--a child of fortune. Her own life
would, if written, form a strange and sensational narrative. For she had
been implicated in a number of great robberies which had startled the
world.

She knew much of the truth of the Henfrey affair, and she had now
decided to assist Hugh to vanquish those whose intentions were
distinctly evil.

At last she rose and wished them _bon soir_.

"I shall leave the Gare de Lyon at eleven fifty-eight to-morrow, and go
direct to Madame Odette's in Nice," she said.

"Yes. Remain there. If I want you I will let you know," answered The
Sparrow.

And then she descended the stairs and walked to her hotel.

Next evening Hugh and The Sparrow, both dressed quite differently, left
by the Riviera _train-de-luxe_. As The Sparrow lay that night in the
_wagon-lit_ he tried to sleep, but the roar and rattle of the train
prevented it. Therefore he calmly thought out a complete and deliberate
plan.

From one of his friends in London he had had secret warning that the
police, on the day he left Charing Cross, had descended upon Shapley
Manor and had arrested Mrs. Bond under a warrant applied for by the
French police, and he also knew that her extradition for trial in Paris
had been granted.

That there was a traitor in the camp was proved, but happily Hugh
Henfrey had escaped just in time.

For himself The Sparrow cared little. He seemed to be immune from
arrest, so cleverly did he disguise his true identity; yet now that
some person had revealed his secrets, what more likely than the person,
whoever it was, would also give him away for the sake of the big reward
which he knew was offered for his apprehension.

Before leaving Paris that evening he had dispatched a telegram, a reply
to which was handed him in the train when it stopped at Lyons early next
morning.

This decided him. He sent another telegram and then returned to where
Hugh was lying half awake. When they stopped at Marseilles, both men
were careful not to leave the train, but continued in it, arriving at
the great station of Nice in the early afternoon.

They left their bags at a small hotel just outside the station, and
taking a cab, they drove away into the old town. Afterwards they
proceeded on foot to the Rue Rossetti, where they climbed to the flat
occupied by old Giulio Cataldi.

The old fellow was out, but the elderly Italian woman who kept house
for him said she expected him back at any moment. He was due to come off
duty at the cafe where he was employed.

So Hugh and his companion waited, examining the poorly-furnished little
room.

Now The Sparrow entertained a strong suspicion that Cataldi knew more
of the tragedy at the Villa Amette than anyone else. Indeed, of late, it
had more than once crossed his mind that he might be the actual culprit.

At last the door opened and the old man entered, surprised to find
himself in the presence of the master criminal, The Sparrow, whom he had
only met once before.

He greeted his visitors rather timidly.

After a short chat The Sparrow, who had offered the old man a cigarette
from a cheap plated case much worn, began to make certain inquiries.

"This is a very serious and confidential affair, Cataldi," he said. "I
want to know the absolute truth--and I must have it."

"I know it is serious, signore," replied the old man, much perturbed by
the unexpected visit of the king of the underworld, the elusive Sparrow
of whom everyone spoke in awe. "But I only know one or two facts. I
recognize Signor Henfrey."

"Ah! Then you know me!" exclaimed Hugh. "You recognized me on that night
at the Villa Amette, when you opened the door to me."

"I do, signore. I recollect everything. It is all photographed upon my
memory. Poor Mademoiselle! You questioned her--as a gentleman
would--and you demanded to know about your father's death. She
prevaricated--and----"

"Then you overheard it?" said Hugh.

"Yes, I listened. Was I not Mademoiselle's servant? On that night she
had won quite a large sum at the Rooms, and she had given me--ah! she
was always most generous--five hundred francs--twenty pounds in your
English money. And they were acceptable in these days of high prices.
I heard much. I was interested. Mademoiselle was my mistress whom I had
served faithfully."

"You wondered why this young Englishman should call upon her at that
hour?" said The Sparrow.

"I did. She never received visitors after her five o'clock tea. It was
the habit at the Villa Amette to lunch at one o'clock, English tea at
five o'clock, and dinner at eight--when the Rooms were slack save for
the tourists from seven till ten. Strange! The tourists always think
they can win while the gambling world has gone to its meals! They get
seats, it is true, but they always lose."

"Yes," replied The Sparrow. "It is a strange fact that the greatest
losses are sustained by the players when the Rooms are most empty.
Nobody has yet ever been able to account for it."

"And yet it is so," declared old Cataldi. "I have watched it day by day.
But poor Mademoiselle! What can we do to solve the mystery?"

"Were you not with Mademoiselle and Mr. Benton when you both brought off
that great coup in the Avenue Louise, in Brussels?" asked The Sparrow.

"Yes, signore," said the old man. "But I do not wish to speak of it
now."

"Quite naturally. I quite appreciate it. Since
Mademoiselle's--er--accident you have, I suppose, been leading an honest
life?"

"Yes. I have tried to do so. At present I am a cafe waiter."

"And you can tell me nothing further regarding the affair at the Villa
Amette?" asked The Sparrow, eyeing him narrowly.

"I regret, signore, I can tell you nothing further," replied the staid,
rather sad-looking old man; "nothing." And he sighed.

"Why?" asked the man whose tentacles were, like an octopus, upon a
hundred schemes, and as many criminal coups in Europe. He sought a
solution of the problem, but nothing appeared forthcoming.

He had strained every effort, but he could ascertain nothing.

That Cataldi knew the key to the whole problem The Sparrow felt assured.
Yet why did not the old fellow tell the truth?

At last The Sparrow rose and left, and Hugh followed him. Both were
bitterly disappointed. The old man refused to say more than that he was
ignorant of the whole affair.

Cataldi's attitude annoyed the master criminal.

For three days he remained in Nice with Hugh, at great risk of
recognition and arrest.

On the fourth day they went together in a hired car along the winding
road across the Var to Cannes.

At a big white villa a little distance outside the pretty winter town of
flowers and palms, they halted. The house, which was on the Frejus road,
was once the residence of a Russian prince.

With The Sparrow Hugh was ushered into a big, sunny room overlooking the
beautiful garden where climbing geraniums ran riot with carnations and
violets, and for some minutes they waited. From the windows spread a
wide view of the calm sapphire sea.

Then suddenly the door opened.

TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER

THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE

Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of a
beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man.

For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she
turned her gaze upon Hugh.

Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain,
and placing both hands to her head, gasped:

_"Dieu!"_

It was Yvonne Ferad. And the cry was one of recognition.

Hugh dashed forward with the doctor, for she was on the point of
collapse at recognizing them. But in a few seconds she recovered
herself, though she was deathly pale and much agitated.

"Yvonne!" exclaimed The Sparrow in a low, kindly voice. "Then you know
who we really are? Your reason has returned?"

"Yes," she answered in French. "I remember who you are. Ah! But--but
it is all so strange!" she cried wildly. "I--I--I can't think! At last!
Yes. I know. I recollect! You!" And she stared at Hugh. "You--you are
_Monsieur Henfrey_!"

"That is so, mademoiselle."

"Ah, messieurs," remarked the elderly doctor, who was standing behind
his patient. "She recognized you both--after all! The sudden shock at
seeing you has accomplished what we have failed all these months to
accomplish. It is efficacious only in some few cases. In this it
is successful. But be careful. I beg of you not to overtax poor
mademoiselle's brain with many questions. I will leave you."

And he withdrew, closing the door softly after him.

For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo about
general things.

"I have been very ill," she said in a low, tremulous voice. "I could
think of nothing since my accident, until now--and now"--and she gazed
around her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance--"and now I
remember!--but it all seems too hazy and indistinct."

"You recollect things--eh?" asked The Sparrow in a kindly voice, placing
his hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.

"Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seems
ages and ages since I last met you, Mr.--Mr. Peters," and she laughed
lightly. "Peters--that is the name?"

"It is, mademoiselle," he laughed. "And it is a happy event that, by
seeing us unexpectedly, your memory has returned. But the reason Mr.
Henfrey is here is to resume that conversation which was so suddenly
interrupted at the Villa Amette."

Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for she
was gazing out of the window to the distant sea.

"Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the--the secret of his
father's death?" she asked of The Sparrow.

"Certainly. You were about to do so when--when the accident happened."

"Yes. But--but, oh!--how can I tell him the actual truth when--when,
alas! I am so guilty?" cried the woman, much distressed.

"No, no, mademoiselle," said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly upon her
shoulder. "Calm yourself. You did not kill my father. Of that I am quite
convinced. Do not distress yourself, but tell me all that you know."

"Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe," she said slowly.
"But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted by Benton." Then,
turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her natural tone, though
slightly high-pitched and nervous:

"Benton, the blackguard, was your father's friend at Woodthorpe. With
a man named Howell, known also as Shaw, he prepared a will which your
father signed unconsciously, and which provided that in the event of
his death you should be cut off from almost every benefit if you did not
marry Louise Lambert, Benton's adopted daughter."

"But who is Louise actually?" asked Hugh interrupting.

"The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her. Of
course Louise is unaware of that fact," Yvonne replied.

Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bond
was so solicitous of the poor girl's welfare.

"Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father's visits to
town, Benton, his friend, introduced us. Naturally I had no knowledge of
the plot which Benton and Howell had formed, and finding your father
a very agreeable gentleman, I invited him to the furnished flat I had
taken at Queen's Gate. I went to the theatre with him on two occasions,
Benton accompanying us, and then your father returned to the country.
One day, about two months later Howell happened to be in London, and
presumably they decided that the plot was ripe for execution, for they
asked me to write to Mr. Henfrey at Woodthorpe, and suggest that he
should come to London, have an early supper with us, and go to a big
charity ball at the Albert Hall. In due course I received a wire from
Mr. Henfrey, who came to London, had supper with me, Benton and Howell
being also present, while Howell's small closed car, which he always
drove himself, was waiting outside to take us to the ball."

Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection of
that night horrified her--as indeed it did.

"After supper I rose and left the room to speak to my servant for a
moment, when, just as I re-entered, I saw Howell, who was standing
behind Mr. Henfrey's chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm around
your father's neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of the
neck just above his collar. 'Here!' your father cried out, thinking it
was a joke, 'what's the game?' But the last word was scarcely audible,
for he collapsed across the table. I stood there aghast. Howell,
suddenly noticing me, told me roughly to clear out, as I was not wanted.
I demanded to know what had happened, but I was told that it did not
concern me. My idea was that Mr. Henfrey had been drugged, for he was
still alive and apparently dazed. I afterwards heard, however, that
Howell had pressed the needle of a hypodermic syringe containing a newly
discovered and untraceable poison which he had obtained in secret from a
certain chemist in Frankfort, who makes a speciality of such things."

"And what happened then?" asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at the story.

"Benton and Howell sent me out of the room. They waited for over an
hour. Then Howell went down to the car. Afterwards, when all was clear,
they half carried poor Mr. Henfrey downstairs, placed him in the car,
and drove away. Next day I heard that my guest had been found by a
constable in a doorway in Albemarle Street. The officer, who first
thought he was intoxicated, later took him to St. George's Hospital,
where he died. Afterwards a scratch was found on the palm of his hand,
and the doctors believed it had been caused by a pin infected with some
poison. The truth was, however, that his hand was scratched in opening
a bottle of champagne at supper. The doctors never suspected the tiny
puncture in the hair at the nape of the neck, and they never discovered
it."

"I knew nothing of the affair," declared The Sparrow, his face clouded
by anger. "Then Howell was the actual murderer?"

"He was," Yvonne replied. "I saw him press the needle into Mr. Henfrey's
neck, while Benton stood by, ready to seize the victim if he resisted.
Benton and Howell had agreed to kill Mr. Henfrey, compel his son to
marry Louise, and then get Hugh out of the world by one or other of
their devilish schemes. Ah!" she sighed, looking sadly before her. "I
see it all now--everything."

"Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also meet
with an unexpected end?"

"Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and your
own friends--an end probably like your father's. A secret visit to
London, and a mysterious death," Mademoiselle replied.

She spoke quite calmly and rationally. The shock of suddenly
encountering the two persons who had been uppermost in her thoughts
before those terrible injuries to her brain had balanced it again.
Though the pains in her head were excruciating, as she explained, yet
she could now think, and she remembered all the bitterness of the past.

"You, M'sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have been the
victim of a great and dastardly conspiracy," she said. "But I ask your
forgiveness, for I assure you that when I invited your father up from
Woodthorpe I had no idea whatever of what those assassins intended."

"Benton is already under arrest for another affair," broke in The
Sparrow quietly. "I heard so from London yesterday."

"Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime," the
handsome woman cried. "Though I have been a thief, a swindler, and a
decoy--ah! yes, I admit it all--I have never committed the crime of
murder. I know, messieurs," she went on--"I know that I am a social
outcast, the mysterious Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, they call me! But
I have suffered. I have indeed in these past months paid my debt to
Society, and of you, Mr. Henfrey, I beg forgiveness."

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