“Certainly,” replied the older man.
“Then am I correct in assuming that you are actually the person of whom I have heard so much up and down Europe—the man of whom certain men and women speak with admiration, and with bated breath—the man known in certain circles as—as Il Passero?”
The countenance of the little man with the bristly white hair and the black glove relaxed into a smile, as, still holding Hugh’s hand in friendship, he replied:
“Yes. It is true. Some know me as ‘The Sparrow!’”
NINETEENTH CHAPTER
THE SPARROW
Hugh Henfrey was at last face to face with the most notorious criminal in Europe!
The black-gloved hand of the wizened, bristly-haired old man was the hand that controlled a great organization spread all over Europe—an organization which only knew Il Passero by repute, but had never seen him in the flesh.
Yet there he was, a discreet, rather petulant old gentleman, who lived at ease in an exclusive West End street, and was entirely unsuspected!