decreed that if he married Louise he would acquire his
father's fortune.

Louise was certainly very good-looking, and quite charming. He admitted
that as he gazed across at her fresh figure on the opposite side of the
table. He, of course, was in ignorance of the fact that Benton, who had
adopted her, was a clever and unscrupulous adventurer, whose accomplice
was the handsome woman who was his hostess.

Naturally, he never dreamed that that quiet and respectable house, high
on the beautiful Surrey hills, was the abode of a woman for whom the
police of Europe were everywhere searching.

His thoughts all through breakfast were of The Sparrow--the great
criminal, who was his friend. Hence, after they rose, he strolled into
the morning-room with his hostess, and said:

"I'll have to go to town again this morning. I have an urgent letter.
Can Mead take me?"

"Certainly," was the woman's reply. "I have to make a call at Worplesdon
this afternoon, and Louise is going with me. But Mead can be back before
then to take us."

So half an hour later Hugh was driving up the steep High Street of
Guildford on his way to London.

He alighted in Piccadilly, at the end of Half Moon Street, soon after
eleven, and, dismissing Mead, made his way to Ellerston Street to the
house of Mr. George Peters.

He rang the bell at the old-fashioned mansion, and a few moments later
the door was opened by the manservant he had previously seen.

In an instant the servant recognized the visitor.

"Mr. Peters will not be in for a quarter of an hour," he said. "Would
you care to wait, sir?"

"Yes," Hugh replied. "I want to see him very urgently."

"Will you come in? Mr. Peters has left instructions that you might
probably call; Mr. Henfrey, is it not?"

"Yes," replied Hugh. The man seemed to possess a memory like that of a
club hall-porter.

Young Henfrey was ushered into a small but cosy little room, which, in
the light of day, he saw was well-furnished and upholstered. The door
closed, and he waited.

A few moments after he distinctly heard a man's voice, which he at once
recognized as that of The Sparrow.

The servant had told him that Mr. Peters was absent, yet he recognized
his voice--a rather high-pitched, musical one.

"Mr. Henfrey is waiting," he heard the servant say.

"Right! I hope you told him I was out," The Sparrow replied.

Then there was silence.

Hugh stood there very much puzzled. The room was cosy and
well-furni