don, I suppose?"
said the girl in broken English.

"That is so. A certain Mr. Howell, a friend of The Sparrow's suggested
that I should come here," Hugh explained. "Ever since we met in Italy
I have been in close hiding until, by some means, my whereabouts became
known, and I had to fly."

The smartly-dressed girl walked slowly at his side and, for some
moments, remained silent.

"Ah! So you have met Hamilton Shaw--alias Howell?" she remarked at last
in a changed voice. "He certainly is not your friend."

"Not my friend! Why? I've only met him lately."

"You say that the police knew of your hiding-place," said mademoiselle,
speaking in French, as it was easier for her. "Would you be surprised if
Howell had revealed your secret?"

"Howell!" gasped Hugh. "Yes, I certainly would. He is a close friend of
The Sparrow!"

"That may be. But that does not prove that he is any friend of yours. If
you came here at Howell's suggestion--then, Mr. Henfrey, I should advise
you to leave Madrid at once. I say this because I have a suspicion that
he intends both of us to fall into a trap!"

"But why? I don't understand."

"I can give you no explanation," said the girl. "Now I know that
Hamilton Shaw sent you here, I can, I think, discern his motive. I
myself will see Mr. Franklyn at once, and shall leave Madrid as soon as
possible. And I advise you, Mr. Henfrey, to do the same."

"Surely you don't suspect that it was this Mr. Howell who gave me away
to Scotland Yard!" exclaimed Hugh, surprised, but at the same time
recollecting that The Sparrow had been alarmed at the detective's visit
to Dorise. He knew that Benton and Mrs. Bond had suddenly disappeared
from Shapley, but the reason he could only guess. He had, of course,
no proof that Benton and Molly were members of the great criminal
organization. He only knew that Benton had been his late father's
closest friend.

He discussed the situation with the girl jewel-thief as they walked
along the busy Carrera de San Jeronimo wherein are the best shops in
Madrid, to the great Plaza de Canovas in the leafy Prado.

Again he tried to extract from her what she knew concerning his father's
death. But she would tell him nothing.

"I am not permitted to say anything, Mr. Henfrey. I can only regret it,"
she said quietly. "Mr. Franklyn is at the Ritz opposite. I should like
you to meet him."

And she took him across to the elegant hotel opposite the Neptune
fountain, where, in a p