shed, but the light was somewhat dim, while the atmosphere
was decidedly murky, as it is in any house in Mayfair. One cannot obtain
brightness and light in a West End house, where one's vista is bounded
by bricks and mortar. The dukes in their great town mansions are
no better off for light and air than the hard-working and worthy
wage-earners of Walworth, Deptford, or Peckham. The air in the
working-class districts of London is not one whit worse than it is in
Mayfair or in Belgravia.

Hugh stood before an old coloured print representing the hobby-horse
school--the days of the "bone-shakers"--and studied it. He awaited Il
Passero and the advice which he had promised to give.

His ears were strained. That house was curiously quiet and forbidding.
The White Cavalier, whom he had believed to be the notorious Sparrow,
had been proved to be one of his assistants. He had now met the real,
elusive adventurer, who controlled half the criminal adventurers in
Europe, and had found in him a most genial friend. He was there to seek
his advice and to act upon it.

As he reflected, he realized that without the aid of The Sparrow he
would have long ago been in the hands of the police. So widespread was
the organization which The Sparrow controlled that it mattered not in
what capital he might be, the paternal hand of protection was placed
upon him--in Genoa, in Brussels, in London--anywhere.

It seemed that when The Sparrow protected any criminal the fugitive was
safe. He had been sent to Mrs. Mason in Kensington, and he had left her
room against The Sparrow's will.

Hence his peril of arrest. It was that point which he wished to discuss
with the great arch-criminal of Europe.

That house was one of mystery. The servant had told him that he was
expected. Why? What did The Sparrow suspect?

The whole atmosphere of that old-fashioned place was mysterious and
apprehensive. And yet its owner had succeeded in extricating him from
that very perilous position at Monte Carlo!

Suddenly, as he stood there, he heard voices again. They were raised in
discussion.

One voice he recognized as that of The Sparrow.

"Well, I tell you my view is still the same," he exclaimed. "What you
have told me does not alter it, however much you may ridicule me!"

"Then you know the truth--eh?"

"I really didn't say so, my dear Howell. But I have my
suspicions--strong suspicions."

"Which you will, in due course, impart to young Henfrey, I suppos