“Ah! I know. But at present you must allow her to think ill of you. You must not court arrest. We now know that you have enemies who intend you to be the victim, while they reap the profit,” said The Sparrow kindly. “Leave matters to me and act at my suggestion.”
“That I certainly will,” Hugh replied. “You have never yet advised me wrongly.”
“Ah! I am not infallible,” laughed the master criminal.
Then he rose, and crossing to the telephone, he inquired for the Grand Hotel. After a few minutes he spoke to Mademoiselle Lisette, telling her that she need not go to Marseilles, and asking her to call upon him again at nine o’clock that night.
“Monsieur Hugh has returned from the south,” he added. “He is anxious to see you again.”
“Tres bien, m’sieur,” answered the smart Parisienne. “I will be there. But will you not dine with me—eh? At Vian’s at seven. You know the place.”
“Mademoiselle Lisette asks us to dine with her at Vian’s,” The Sparrow said, turning to Hugh.
“Yes, I shall be delighted,” replied the young man.
So The Sparrow accepted the girl’s invitation.
On that same morning, Dorise Ranscomb had, after breakfast, settled herself to write some letters. Her mother had gone to Warwickshire for the week-end, and she was alone with the maids.