NINTH CHAPTER
CONCERNS THE SPARROW
With the rosy dawn rising behind them the big dusty car tore alongover the white road which led through Pegli and Cornigliano, with theirwealth of olives and palms, into the industrial suburbs of old-worldGenoa. Then, passing around by the port, the driver turned the car uppast Palazzo Doria and along that street of fifteenth-century palaces,the Via Garibaldi, into the little piazza in front of the AnnunziataChurch.
There he pulled up after a run of two hours from the last of the manyrailway crossings, most of which they had found closed.
When Hugh got out, the mysterious man, whose face was more forbidding inthe light of day, exclaimed:
"Here I must leave you very shortly, signore. But first I have certaininstructions to give you, namely, that you remain for the present in ahouse in the Via della Maddalena to which I shall take you. The man andthe woman there you can trust. It will be as well not to walk about inthe daytime. Remain here for a fortnight, and then by the best means,without, of course, re-entering France, you must get to Brussels. Thereyou will receive letters at the Poste Restante in the name of GodfreyBrown. That, indeed, is the name you will use here."
"Well, all this is very strange!" remarked Hugh, utterly bewildered ashe glanced at the forbidding-looking chauffeur and the dust-covered car.
"I agree, signore," the man laughed. "But get in again and I will driveto the Via della Maddalena."
Five minutes later the car pulled up at the end of a narrow stuffyancient street of high houses with closed wooden shutters. From houseto house across the road household linen was flying in the wind, for theneighbourhood was certainly a poverty-stricken one.
The place did not appeal to Hugh in the least. He, however, recollectedthat he was about to hide from the police. Italians are early risers,and though it was only just after dawn, Genoa was already agog with lifeand movement.
Leaving the car, the mysterious chauffeur conduced the young Englishmanalong the street, where women were calling to each other from thewindows of their apartments and exchanging salutations, until they cameto an entrance over which there was an old blue majolica Madonna. Thehouse had no outer door, but at the end of the passage was a flight ofstone steps leading up to the five storeys above.
At the third flight Hugh's conductor paused, and finding a piece of cordprotruding from a hole in a door, pulled it. A slight tinkle was heardwithin, and a few moments later the sound of wooden shoes was heard uponthe tiles inside.
The door opened, revealing an ugly old woman whose face was sallow andwrinkled, and who wore a red kerchief tied over her white hair.
As soon as she saw the chauffeur she welcomed him, addressing him asPaolo, and invited them in.
"This is the English signore," explained the man. "He has come to staywith you."
"The signore is welcome," replied the old woman as she clattered intothe narrow, cheaply furnished little sitting-room, which was in halfdarkness owing to the _persiennes_ being closed.
Truly, it was an uninviting place, which smelt of garlic and of theparaffin oil with which the tiled floors had been rubbed.
"You will require another certificate of identity, signore," said theman, who admitted that he had been engaged in smuggling contrabandacross the Alps. And delving into his pocket he produced an Americanpassport. It was blank, though the embossed stamp of the United StatesGovernment was upon it. The places were ready for the photograph andsignature. With it the man handed him a large metal disc, saying:
"When you have your picture taken and affixed to it, all you have to dois to damp the paper slightly and impress this stamp. It will then defydetection."
"Where on earth did you get this from?" asked Hugh, noticing that it wasa replica of the United States consular seal.
The man smiled, replying:
"They make passports of all countries in Spain. You pay for them, andyou can get them by the dozen. The embossing stamps are extra. There isa big trade in them now owing to the passport restrictions. Besides, inevery country there are passport officers who are amenable to a littlebaksheesh!" And he grinned.
What he said was true. At no period has it ever been more easy for acriminal to escape than it is to-day, providing, of course, that he is acosmopolitan and has money.
Hugh took the passport and the disc, adding:
"How am I to repay you for all this?"
"I want no payment, signore. All I ask you is to conform to thesuggestions of the worthy Signore Ravecca and his good wife here. Youare not the first guest they have had for whom the police searched invain."
"No," laughed the old woman. "Do you recollect the syndic of Porticello,how we had him here for nearly three years, and then he got safely awayto Argentina and took the money, three million lire, with him?"
"Yes," was the man's reply. "I recollect it, signora. But the SignoreInglese must be very careful--very careful. He must never go out in thedaytime. You can buy him English papers and books of Luccoli, in the ViaBosco. They will serve to while away the time."
"I shall, no doubt, pass the time very pleasantly," laughed Hugh,speaking in French.
Then the old crone left them and returned with two cups of excellent_cafe nero_, that coffee which, roasted at home one can get only inItaly.
It was indeed refreshing after that long night drive.
Hugh stood there without luggage, and with only about thirty pounds inhis pocket.
Suddenly the man who had driven him looked him curiously in the face,and said:
"Ah! I know you are wondering what your lady friend in Monte Carlowill think. Well, I can tell you this. She already knows that you haveescaped, and she had been told to write to you in secret at the PosteRestante at Brussels."
Hugh started.
"Who has told her? Surely she knows nothing of the affair at the VillaAmette?"
"She will not be told that. But she has been told that you are going toBrussels, and that in future your name is Monsieur Godfrey Brown."
"But why have all these elaborate arrangements been made for mysecurity?" Hugh demanded, more than ever nonplussed.
"It is useless to take one precaution unless the whole are taken,"laughed the sphinx-like fellow whose cheerful banter had so successfullypassed them through the customs barrier.
Then, swallowing his coffee, he wished Hugh, "buon viaggio" and wasabout to depart, when Hugh said:
"Look here. Is it quite impossible for you to give me any inklingconcerning this astounding affair? I know that some unknown friend, orfriends, are looking after my welfare. But why? To whom am I indebtedfor all this? Who has warned Miss Ranscomb and told her of my alias andmy journey to Brussels?"
"A friend of hers and of yourself," was the chauffeur's reply. "No,please do not question me, signore," he added. "I have done my best foryou. And now my journey is at an end, while yours is only beginning.Pardon me--but you have money with you, I suppose? If you have not,these good people here will trust you."
"But what is this house?"
The man laughed. Then he said:
"Well, really it is a bolt-hole used by those who wish to evade our veryastute police. If one conforms to the rules of Signora Ravecca and herhusband, then one is quite safe and most comfortable."
Hugh realized that he was in a hiding-place used by thieves. A littlelater he knew that the ugly old woman's husband paid toll to a certain_delegato_ of police, hence their house was never searched. While thecriminal was in those shabby rooms he was immune from arrest. The placewas, indeed, one of many hundreds scattered over Europe, asylums knownto the international thief as places ever open so long as they can payfor their board and lodging and their contribution towards the policebribes.
A few moments later the ugly, uncouth man who had brought him from MonteCarlo lit a cigarette, and wishing the old woman a merry "addio" leftand descended the stairs.
The signora then showed Hugh to his room, a small, dispiriting andnot overclean little chamber which looked out upon th
e backs of theadjoining houses, all of which were high and inartistic. Above, however,was a narrow strip of brilliantly blue sunlit sky.
A quarter of an hour later he made the acquaintance of the woman'shusband, a brown-faced, sinister-looking individual whose black bushyeyebrows met, and who greeted the young Englishman familiarlyin atrocious French, offering him a glass of red wine from a bigrush-covered flask.
"We only had word of your coming late last night," the man said. "Youhad already started from Monte Carlo, and we wondered if you would getpast the frontier all right."
"Yes," replied Hugh, sipping the wine out of courtesy. "We got out ofFrance quite safely. But tell me, who made all these arrangements forme?"
"Why, Il Passero, of course," replied the man, whose wife addressed himaffectionately as Beppo.
"Who is Il Passero, pray?"
"Well, you know him surely. Il Passero, or The Sparrow. We call him sobecause he is always flitting about Europe, and always elusive."
"The police want him, I suppose."
"I should rather think they do. They have been searching for him forthese past five years, but he always dodges them, first in France, thenhere, then in Spain, and then in England."
"But what is this mysterious and unknown friend of mine?"
"Il Passero is the chief of the most daring of all the gangs ofinternational thieves. We all work at his direction."
"But how did he know of my danger?" asked Hugh, mystified and dismayed.
"Il Passero knows many strange things," he replied with a grin. "Itis his business to know them. And besides, he has some friends in thepolice--persons who never suspect him."
"What nationality is he?"
The man Beppo shrugged his shoulders.
"He is not Italian," he replied. "Yet he speaks the _lingua Toscano_perfectly and French and English and _Tedesco_. He might be Belgian orGerman, or even English. Nobody knows his true nationality."
"And the man who brought me here?"
"Ah! that was Paolo, Il Passero's chauffeur--a merry fellow--eh?"
"Remarkable," laughed Hugh. "But I cannot see why The Sparrow has takensuch a paternal interest in me," he added.
"He no doubt has, for he has, apparently, arranged for your safe returnto England."
"You know him, of course. What manner of man is he?"
"A signore--a great signore," replied Beppo. "He is rich, and is oftenon the Riviera in winter. He's probably there now. Nobody suspects him.He is often in England, too. I believe he has a house in London. Duringthe war he worked for the French Secret Service under the name ofMonsieur Franqueville, and the French Government never suspected thatthey actually had in their employ the famous Passero for whom the Suretewere looking everywhere."
"You have no idea where he lives in London?"
"I was once told that he had a big house somewhere in what you callthe West End--somewhere near Piccadilly. I have, however, only seen himonce. About eighteen months ago he was hard pressed by the police andtook refuge here for two nights, till Paolo called for him in his finecar and he passed out of Italy as a Swiss hotel-proprietor."
"Then he is head of a gang--is he?"
"Yes," was the man's reply. "He is marvellous, and has indeed wellearned his sobriquet 'Il Passero.'"
A sudden thought flitted through Hugh's mind.
"I suppose he is a friend of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
"Ah, signore, I do not know. Il Passero had many friends. He is rich,prosperous, well-dressed, and has influential friends in France, inItaly and in England who never suspect him to be the notorious king ofthe thieves."
"Now, tell me," urged young Henfrey. "What do you know concerningMademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"
The Italian looked at him strangely.
"Nothing," he replied, still speaking bad French.
"You are not speaking the truth."
"Why should I tell it to you? I do not know you!" was the quick retort.
"But you are harbouring me."
"At the orders of Il Passero."
"You surely can tell me what you know of Mademoiselle," Hugh persistedafter a brief pause. "We are mutually her friends. The attempt to killher is outrageous, and I, for one, intend to do all I can to trace andpunish the culprit."
"They say that you shot her."
"Well--you know that I did not," Henfrey said. "Have you yourself evermet Mademoiselle?"
"I have seen her. She was living for a time at Santa Margherita lastyear. I had a friend of hers living here with me and I went to her witha message. She is a very charming lady."
"And a friend of Il Passero?"
The Italian shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of ignorance.
Hugh Henfrey had certainly learned much that was curious. He had neverbefore heard of the interesting cosmopolitan thief known as The Sparrow,but it seemed evident that the person in question had suddenly becomeinterested in him for some obscure and quite unaccountable reason.
As day followed day in that humble place of concealment, Beppo told himmany things concerning the famous criminal Il Passero, describing hisexploits in terms of admiration. Hugh learnt that it was The Sparrow whohad planned the great jewel robbery at Binet's, in the Rue de la Paix,when some famous diamonds belonging to the Shah of Persia, which hadbeen sent to Paris to be reset, were stolen. It was The Sparrow, too,who had planned the burglary at the art gallery of Evans and Davies inBond Street and stolen Raphael's famous Madonna.
During the daytime Hugh, anxious to get away to Brussels, but compelledto obey the order of the mysterious Passero, spent the time in smokingand reading books and newspapers with which Beppo's wife provided him,while at night he would take long walks through the silent city, withits gloomy old palaces, the courtyards of which echoed to his footsteps.At such times he was alone with his thoughts and would walk around theport and out upon the hills which surrounded the bay, and then sit downand gaze out to the twinkling lights across the sea and watch the longbeams of the great lighthouse searching in the darkness.
His host and hostess were undoubtedly criminals. Indeed, they did nothide the fact. Both were paid by The Sparrow to conceal and provide foranyone whom he sent there.
He had been there four weary, anxious days when one evening a pretty,well-dressed young French girl called, and after a short chat withBeppo's wife became installed there as his fellow-guest. He did not knowher name and she did not tell him.
She was known to them as Lisette, and Hugh found her a most vivaciousand interesting companion. Truly, he had been thrown into very queercompany, and he often wondered what his friends would say if they knewthat he was guest in a hiding-place of thieves.
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