oncealed from anyone passing along the road.

Then, descending and ascertaining that the driver was sleeping
comfortably from the effects of the strong narcotic, he took his bag and
walked into the town.

At the railway station he found the through express from
Ventimiglia--the Italian frontier--to Paris would be due in twenty
minutes, therefore he purchased a first-class ticket for Paris, and in
a short time was taking his morning coffee in the _wagon-restaurant_ on
his way to the French capital.

TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER

THE MAN CATALDI

On the day that Hugh was travelling in hot haste to Paris, Charles
Benton arrived in Nice early in the afternoon.

Leaving the station it was apparent he knew his way about the town,
for passing down the Avenue de la Gare, with its row of high eucalyptus
trees, to the Place Massena, he plunged into the narrow, rather
evil-smelling streets of the old quarter.

Before a house in the Rue Rossette he paused, and ascending to a flat
on the third floor, rang the bell. The door was slowly opened by an
elderly, rather shabbily-attired Italian.

It was Yvonne's late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi.

The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor.

"Well, Cataldi!" exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer cheerily. "I'm
quite a stranger--am I not? I was in Nice, and I could not leave without
calling to see you."

The old man, with ill-grace scarcely concealed, invited him into his
shabby room, saying:

"Well, Signor Benton, I never thought to see you again."

"Perhaps you didn't want to--eh? After that little affair in Brussels.
But I assure you it was not my fault. Mademoiselle Yvonne made the
blunder."

"And nearly let us all into the hands of the police--including The
Sparrow himself!" growled the old fellow.

"Ah! But all that has long blown over. Now," he went on, after he had
offered the old man a cigar. "Now the real reason I've called is to ask
you about this nasty affair concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne. You were
there that night. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing," the old fellow declared promptly. "Since that night I've
earned an honest living. I'm a waiter in a cafe in the Avenue de la
Gare."

"A most excellent decision," laughed the well-dressed man. "It is not
everyone who can afford to be honest in these hard times. I wish I could
be, but I find it impossible. Now, tell me, Giulio, what do you know
about the affair at the Villa Amette? The b