Hugh sat in wonder. It was certainly a strange experience to be on a moonlight ramble with a girl thief who had, according to her own confession, been born in Paris the daughter of a man who was still one of Il Passero’s clever and desperate band.
“Yes, m’sieur,” she said a few moments later. “They are all dangerous. They do not fear to use the knife or automatic pistol when cornered. For myself, I simply move about Europe and make discoveries as to where little affairs can be negotiated. I tell Il Passero, and he then works out the plans. Dieu! But I had a narrow escape the other day in Orleans!”
“Do tell me about Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. I beg of you to tell me something, Mademoiselle Lisette,” Hugh urged, turning to the girl of many adventures who was seated at his side upon the big rock overlooking the ravine down which the bright moon was shining.
“I would if I were permitted,” she replied. “Mademoiselle Yvonne is charming. You know her, so I need say nothing, but——”
“Well—what?”
“She is clever—very clever,” said the girl. “As Il Passero is clever, so is she.”
“Then she is actively associated with him—eh?”
“Yes. She is cognizant of all his movements, and of all his plans. While she moves in one sphere—often in a lower sphere, like myself—yet in society she moves in the higher sphere, and she ‘indicates,’ just as I do.”
“So she is one of The Sparrow’s associates?” Hugh said.
“Yes,” was the reply. “From what you have told me I gather that Il Passero knew by one of his many secret sources of information that you were in danger of arrest, and sent Paolo to rescue you—which he did.”