“Lisette ought to be here! She was due in from Toulouse at nine o’clock. I hope nothing further has happened. One thing is satisfactory—young Henfrey is safe.”
As a matter of fact, the girl had spoken to The Sparrow from her hotel in Toulouse late on the previous night, and told him that her “friend Hugh” was in Marseilles.
Even to the master criminal the whole problem was increasingly complicated. He could not prove the innocence of young Henfrey, because of the mysterious, sinister influence being brought to bear against him. He had interested himself in aiding the young fellow to evade arrest, because he had no desire that there should be a trial in which he and his associates might be implicated.
The Sparrow hated trials of any sort. With him silence was golden, and very wisely he would pay any sum rather than court publicity.
Half an hour went past, but the girl he expected did not put in an appearance.
Monsieur Gautier—the man with the gloved hand—was believed by his old housekeeper to be a rich and somewhat eccentric bachelor, who was interested in old clocks and antique silver, and who travelled extensively in order to purchase fine specimens. Indeed it was by that description he was registered in the archives of the Surete, with the observation that notwithstanding his foreign name he was an Englishman of highest standing.
It was never dreamed that the bristly-haired alert little man, who was so often seen in the salerooms of Paris when antique silver was being sold, was the notorious Sparrow.
Lisette’s failure to arrive considerably disturbed him. He hoped that nothing had happened to her. Time after time, he walked to the window and looked out eagerly for her to cross the courtyard. In those rooms he sometimes lived for weeks in safe obscurity, his neighbours regarding him as a man of the greatest integrity, though a trifle eccentric in his habits.
At last, just before eleven, he saw Lisette’s smart figure in a heavy travelling coat crossing the courtyard, and a few moments later she was shown into his room.
“You’re late!” the old man said, as soon as the door was closed. “I feared that something had gone wrong! Why did you leave Madrid? What has happened?” he asked eagerly.