Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo

by William Le Queux

  FIFTEENTH CHAPTER

  THE NAMELESS MAN

  "Who is this gentleman, Dorise?" asked Hugh, when a moment later thegirl and her companion had recovered from their surprise.

  "I cannot introduce you," was her reply. "He refuses to give his name."

  The tall man laughed, and said:

  "I have already told you that my name is X."

  Hugh regarded the stranger with distinct suspicion. It was curious thathe should discover them together, yet he made but little comment.

  "We were just speaking about you, Mr. Henfrey," the tall man went on. "Ibelieved that you were still in Belgium."

  "How did you know I was there?"

  "Oh!--well, information concerning your hiding-place reached me," washis enigmatical reply. "I am, however, glad you have been able to returnto England in safety. I was about to arrange a meeting between you. ButI advise you to be most careful."

  "You seem to know a good deal concerning me," Hugh remarked resentfully,looking at the stern, rather handsome face in the moonlight.

  "This is the gentleman who sought me out in Nice, and first told me ofyour peril, Hugh. I recognize his voice, and have to thank him for agood deal," the girl declared.

  "Really, Miss Ranscomb, I require no thanks," the polite strangerassured her. "If I have been able to render Mr. Henfrey a little serviceit has been a pleasure to me. And now that you are together again I willleave you."

  "But who are you?" demanded Hugh, filled with curiosity.

  "That matters not, now that you are back in England. Only I beseech ofyou to be very careful," said the tall man. Then he added: "Thereare pitfalls into which you may very easily fall--traps set by yourenemies."

  "Well, sir, I thank you sincerely for what you have done for MissRanscomb during my absence," said the young man, much mystified atfinding Dorise strolling at that hour with a man of whose name even shewas ignorant. "I know I have enemies, and I shall certainly heed yourwarning."

  "Your enemies must not know you are in England. If they do, they willmost certainly inform the police."

  "I shall take care of that," was Hugh's reply. "I shall be compelled togo into hiding again--but where, I do not know."

  "Yes, you must certainly continue to lie low for a time," the man urged."I know how very dull it must have been for you through all those weeks.But even that is better than the scandal of arrest and trial."

  "Ah! I know of what you are accused, Hugh!" cried the girl. "And I alsoknow you are innocent!"

  "Mr. Henfrey is innocent," said the tall stranger. "But there must be nopublicity, hence his only chance of safety lies in strict concealment."

  "It is difficult to conceal oneself in England," replied Hugh.

  The stranger laughed, as he slowly answered:

  "There are certain places where no questions are asked--if you knowwhere to look for them. But first, I am very interested to know how yougot over here."

  "I went to Ostend, and for twenty pounds induced a Belgian fishermanto put me ashore at night near Caister, in Norfolk. I went to London atonce, only to discover that Miss Ranscomb was at Blairglas--and here Iam. But I assure you it was an adventurous crossing, for the weather wasterrible--a gale blew nearly the whole time."

  "You are here, it is true, Mr. Henfrey. But you mustn't remain here,"the stranger declared. "Though I refuse to give you my name, I willnevertheless try to render you further assistance. Go back to London bythe next train you can get, and then call upon Mrs. Mason, who livesat a house called 'Heathcote,' in Abingdon Road, Kensington. She is afriend of mine, and I will advise her by telegram that she will havea visitor. Take apartments at her house, and remain there in strictseclusion. Will you remember the address--shall I write it down?"

  "Thanks very much indeed," Hugh replied. "I shall remember it. Mrs.Mason, 'Heathcote,' Abingdon Road, Kensington."

  "That's it. Get there as soon as ever you can," urged the stranger."Recollect that your enemies are still in active search of you."

  Hugh looked his mysterious friend full in the face.

  "Look here!" he said, in a firm, hard voice. "Are you known as IlPassero?"

  "Pardon me," answered the stranger. "I refuse to satisfy your curiosityas to who I may be. I am your friend--that is all that concerns you."

  "But the famous Passero--The Sparrow--is my unknown friend," he said,"and I have a suspicion that you and he are identical!"

  "I have a motive in not disclosing my identity," was the man's reply ina curious tone. "Get to Mrs. Mason's as quickly as you can. Perhaps oneday soon we may meet again. Till then, I wish both of you the best ofluck. _Au revoir_!"

  And, raising his hat, he turned abruptly, and, leaving them, set off upthe high road which led to Perth.

  "But, listen, sir--one moment!" cried Hugh, as he turned away.

  Nevertheless the stranger heeded not, and a few seconds later his figurewas lost in the shadow of the high hedgerow.

  "Well," said Hugh, a few moments later, "all this is most amazing. Ifeel certain that he is either the mysterious Sparrow himself, or one ofhis chief accomplices."

  "The Sparrow? Who is he--dear?" asked Dorise, her hand upon her lover'sshoulder.

  "Let's sit down somewhere, and I will tell you," he said. Then,re-entering the park by the small iron gate, Dorise led him to a fallentree where, as they sat together, he related all he had been toldconcerning the notorious head of a criminal gang known to hisconfederates, and the underworld of Europe generally, as Il Passero, orThe Sparrow.

  "How very remarkable!" exclaimed Dorise, when he had finished, and she,in turn, had told him of the encounter at the White Ball at Nice, andthe coming and going of the messenger from Malines. "I wonder if hereally is the notorious Sparrow?"

  "I feel convinced he is," declared Hugh. "He sent me a message in secretto Malines a fortnight ago forbidding me to attempt to leave Belgium,because he considered the danger too great. He was, no doubt, muchsurprised to-night when he found me here."

  "He certainly was quite as surprised as myself," the girl replied, happybeyond expression that her lover was once again at her side.

  In his strong arms he held her in a long, tight embrace, kissing herupon the lips in a frenzy of satisfaction--long, sweet kisses which shereciprocated with a whole-heartedness that told him of her devotion.There, in the shadow, he whispered to her his love, repeating what hehad told her in London, and again in Monte Carlo.

  Suddenly he put a question to her:

  "Do you really believe I am innocent of the charge against me, darling?"

  "I do, Hugh," she answered frankly.

  "Ah! Thank you for those words," he said, in a broken voice. "I fearedthat you might think because of my flight that I was guilty."

  "I know you are not. Mother, of course, says all sorts of nastythings--that you must have done something very wrong--and all that."

  "My escape certainly gives colour to the belief that I am in fear ofarrest. And so I am. Yet I swear that I never attempted to harm the ladyat the Villa Amette."

  "But why did you go there at all, dear?" the girl asked. "You surelyknew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!"

  "I know it quite well," he said. "I expected to meet anadventuress--but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!"

  "I don't understand you, Hugh," she said.

  "No, darling. You, of course, cannot understand!" he exclaimed. "I admitthat I followed her home, and I demanded an interview."

  "Why?"

  "Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her own."

  "What secret?"

  "One that concerns my whole future."

  "Cannot you tell me what it is?" she asked, looking into his face, whichin the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was unusually pale andhaggard.

  "I--well--at the present moment I am myself mystified, darling. Hence Icannot explain the truth," he replied. "Will you trust me if I promiseto tell you the whole facts as soon as I have learnt them? One d
ay Ihope I shall know all, yet----"

  "Yes--yet--what?"

  He drew a deep breath.

  "The poor unfortunate lady has lost her reason as the result of theattempt upon her life. Therefore, after all, I may never be in aposition to know the truth which died upon her lips."

  For nearly two hours the pair remained together. Often she was locked inher lover's arms, heedless of everything save her unbounded joy at hisreturn, and of the fierce, passionate caresses he bestowed upon her.Truly, that was a night of supreme delight as they held each other'shands, and their lips met time after time in ecstasy.

  He inquired about George Sherrard, but she said little. She hesitated totell him of the incident while fishing that morning, but merely said:

  "Oh! He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to Londonon business. And I was very glad."

  "Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him."

  "Yes," laughed the girl. "But she will continue to press. She'sconstantly singing his praises until I'm utterly sick of hearing of allhis good qualities."

  Hugh sighed, and replied:

  "All men who are rich are possessed of good qualities in the estimationof the world. The poor and hard-up are the despised. But, after all,Dorise," he added, in a changed voice, "you have not forgotten what youtold me at Monte Carlo--that you love me?"

  "I repeat it, Hugh!" declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her handstealing into his. "I love only you!--_you_!"

  Then again he took her in his arms, and imprinted a fierce, passionatekiss upon her ready lips.

  "I suppose we must part again," he sighed. "I am compelled to keep awayfrom you because no doubt a watch has been set upon you, and upon yourcorrespondence. Up to the present, I have been able, by the good graceof unknown friends, to slip through the meshes of the net spread for me.But how long this will continue, I know not."

  "Oh! do be careful, Hugh, won't you?" urged the girl, as they sat sideby side. The only sound was the rippling of the burn deep down in theglen, and the distant barking of a shepherd's dog.

  "Yes. I'll get away into the wilds of Kensington--to Abingdon Road. Oneis safer in a London suburb than in a desert, no doubt. West London is agood hiding-place."

  "Recollect the name. Mason, wasn't it? And she lives at 'Heathcote.'"

  "That was it. But do not communicate with me, otherwise my place ofconcealment will most certainly be discovered."

  "But can't I see you, Hugh?" implored the girl. "Must we again beparted?"

  "Yes. It seems so, according to our mysterious friend, whom I believemost firmly to be the notorious thief known by the Italian sobriquet ofIl Passero--The Sparrow."

  "Do you think he is a thief?" asked the girl.

  "Yes. I am convinced that your friend is none other than the picturesqueand romantic criminal whose octopus hand is upon almost every greattheft in Europe, and whom the police always fail to catch, so elusiveand clever is he."

  She gave him further details of their first meeting at Nice.

  "Exactly. That is one of his methods--secrecy and generosity are his twotraits. He and his accomplices rob the wealthy, and assist those wronglyaccused. It must be he--or one of his assistants. Otherwise he would notknow of the secret hiding-place for those after whom a hue-and-cry hasbeen raised."

  He recollected at that moment the girl who had been his fellow-guest inGenoa--the dainty mademoiselle who evidently had some secret knowledgeof his father's death, and yet refused to divulge a single word.

  Ever since that memorable night at the Villa Amette, he had existed ina mist of suspicion and uncertainty. Yet, after all, he cared littlefor anything so long as Dorise still believed in his innocence, and shestill loved him. His one great object was to clear up the mystery ofhis father's tragic end, and thus defeat the clever plot of those whoseintention it, apparently, was to marry him to Louise Lambert.

  On every hand there was mystification. The one woman--notorious as shewas--who knew the truth had been rendered mentally incompetent by anassassin's bullet, while he, himself, was accused of the crime.

  Hugh Henfrey would have long ago confessed to Dorise the whole factsconcerning his father's death, but his delicacy prevented him. Hehonoured his dead father, and was averse to telling the girl he lovedthat he had been found in a curious state in a West End street late atnight. He was loyal to his poor father's memory, and, until he knew theactual truth, he did not intend that Dorise should be in a position tomisconstrue the facts, or to misjudge.

  On the face of it, his father's death was exceedingly suspicious. He hadleft his home in the country and gone to town upon pretence. Why? Thata woman was connected with his journey was now apparent. Hugh hadascertained certain facts which he had resolved to withhold fromeverybody.

  But why should the notorious Sparrow, the King of the Underworld,interest himself so actively on his behalf as to travel up there toPerthshire, after making those secret, but elaborate, arrangements forsafety? The whole affair was a mystery, complete and insoluble.

  It was early morning, after they had rambled for several hours in themoonlight, when Hugh bade his well-beloved farewell.

  They had returned through the park and were at a gate quite close to thecastle when they halted. It had crossed Hugh's mind that they might beseen by one of the keepers, and he had mentioned this to Dorise.

  "What matter?" she replied. "They do not know you, and probably will notrecognize me."

  So after promising Hugh to remain discreet, she told him they werereturning to London in a few days.

  "Look here!" he said suddenly. "We must meet again very soon, darling.I daresay I may venture out at night, therefore why not let us make anappointment--say, for Tuesday week. Where shall we meet? At midnight atthe first seat on the right on entering the part at the Marble Arch? Youremember, we met there once before--about a year ago."

  "Yes. I know the spot," the girl replied. "I remember what a cold, wetnight it was, too!" and she laughed at the recollection. "Very well.I will contrive to be there. That night we are due at a dance at theGordons' in Grosvenor Gardens. But I'll manage to be there somehow--ifonly for five minutes."

  "Good," he exclaimed, again kissing her fondly. "Now I must make allspeed to Kensington and there go once more into hiding. When--oh, whenwill this wearying life be over!"

  "You have a friend, as I have, in the mysterious white cavalier," shesaid. "I wonder who he really is?"

  "The Sparrow--without a doubt--the famous 'Il Passero' for whom thepolice of Europe are ever searching, the man who at one moment livesin affluence and the highest respectability in a house somewhere nearPiccadilly, and at another is tearing over the French, Spanish, orItalian roads in his powerful car directing all sorts of crookedbusiness. It's a strange world in which I find myself, Dorise, I assureyou! Good-bye, darling--good-bye!" and he took her in a final embrace."Good-bye--till Tuesday week."

  Then stepping on to the grass, where his feet fell noiselessly, hedisappeared in the dark shadow of the great avenue of beeches.