inger in
Budapest. Her name was Anna Torna."

Mr. Howell sat open-mouthed. He was a crook and the bosom friend of the
great Passero. Like all others who knew him, he held the master criminal
in awe and admiration. The Sparrow, whatever he was, never did a
mean action and never took advantage of youth or inexperience. To his
finger-tips he was a sportsman, whose chief delight in life was to
outwit and puzzle the police of Europe. In the underworld he was
believed to be fabulously wealthy, as no doubt he was. To the outside
world he was a very rich old gentleman, who contributed generously to
charities, kept two fine cars, and, as well as his town house, had a
pretty place down in Gloucestershire, and usually rented a grouse moor
in Scotland, where he entertained Mr. Howell and several other of his
intimate friends who were in the same profitable profession as himself,
and in whose "business" he held a controlling interest.

In Paris, Rome, Madrid, or Brussels, he was well known as an idler who
stayed at the best hotels and patronized the most expensive restaurants,
while his villa on the Riviera he had purchased from a Roumanian prince
who had ruined himself by gambling. His gloved hand--gloved because of
a natural deformity--was the hand which controlled most of the greater
robberies, for his war upon society was constantly far-reaching.

"Is Franklyn coming straight back?" asked Howell.

"That is the plan. He should leave Vienna to-morrow night," said The
Sparrow, again consulting the papers. "And he comes home with all speed.
But first he travels to Brussels, and afterwards to The Hague, where he
will hand over Anna Torna's jewels to old Van Ort, and they'll be cut
out of all recognition by the following day. Franklyn will then cross
from the Hook to Harwich. He will wire me his departure from Vienna.
He's bought a car for the job, and will have to abandon it somewhere
outside of Vienna, for, as in most of our games, time is the essence of
the contract," and the old fellow laughed oddly.

"I thought Franklyn worked with Molly," said Mr. Howell.

"So he does. I want him back, for I've a delicate mission for him,"
replied the sphinx-like man known as The Sparrow.

Mr. Howell, at the invitation of the arch-criminal, helped himself to a
drink. Then The Sparrow said:

"You are due to leave London the day after to-morrow on that little
business in Madrid. You must remain in town. I may want you."

"Very well. But