rivate sitting-room on the second floor, she
introduced him to a rather elderly, aristocratic-looking Englishman,
whom none would take to be one of the most expert jewel-thieves in
Europe.

When the door was closed and they were alone, mademoiselle suddenly
revealed to her friend what Hugh had said concerning Howell's suggestion
that he should travel to Madrid.

Franklyn's face changed. He was instantly apprehensive.

"Then we certainly are not safe here any longer. Howell probably intends
to play us false! We shall know from The Sparrow the reason we are
here, and, for aught we know, the police are watching and will arrest
us red-handed. No," he added, "we must leave this place--all three
of us--as soon as possible. You, Lisette, had better go to Paris and
explain matters to The Sparrow, while I shall fade away to Switzerland.
And you, Mr. Henfrey? Where will you go?"

"To France," was Hugh's reply, on the spur of the moment. "I can get to
Marseilles."

"Yes. Go by way of Barcelona. It is quickest," said the Englishman. "The
express leaves just after three o'clock."

Then, after he had thanked Hugh for his timely warning, the latter
walked out more than ever mystified at the attitude of The Sparrow's
accomplices.

It did not seem possible that Howell should have told Scotland Yard
that he was hiding at Shapley; yet it was quite evident that both
mademoiselle and her companion were equally in fear of the man Howell,
whose real name was Hamilton Shaw. The theory seemed to him a thin one,
for Howell was The Sparrow's intimate friend.

Yet, mademoiselle, while they had been discussing the situation, had
denounced him as their enemy, declaring that The Sparrow himself should
be warned of him.

That afternoon Hugh, having only been in Madrid twelve hours, left again
on the long, dusty railway journey across Spain to Zaragoza and down
the valley of the Ebro to the Mediterranean. After crossing the French
frontier, he broke the journey at the old-world town of Nimes for a
couple of days, and then went on to Marseilles, where he took up his
quarters in the big Louvre et Paix Hotel, still utterly mystified, and
still not daring to write to Dorise.

It was as well that he left Madrid, for, just as Lisette and Franklyn
had suspected, the police called at his hotel--an obscure one near the
station--only two hours after his departure. Then, finding him gone,
they sought both mademoiselle and Franklyn, only to find that