rew, closing the door softly after him.

For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo about
general things.

"I have been very ill," she said in a low, tremulous voice. "I could
think of nothing since my accident, until now--and now"--and she gazed
around her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance--"and now I
remember!--but it all seems too hazy and indistinct."

"You recollect things--eh?" asked The Sparrow in a kindly voice, placing
his hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.

"Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seems
ages and ages since I last met you, Mr.--Mr. Peters," and she laughed
lightly. "Peters--that is the name?"

"It is, mademoiselle," he laughed. "And it is a happy event that, by
seeing us unexpectedly, your memory has returned. But the reason Mr.
Henfrey is here is to resume that conversation which was so suddenly
interrupted at the Villa Amette."

Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for she
was gazing out of the window to the distant sea.

"Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the--the secret of his
father's death?" she asked of The Sparrow.

"Certainly. You were about to do so when--when the accident happened."

"Yes. But--but, oh!--how can I tell him the actual truth when--when,
alas! I am so guilty?" cried the woman, much distressed.

"No, no, mademoiselle," said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly upon her
shoulder. "Calm yourself. You did not kill my father. Of that I am quite
convinced. Do not distress yourself, but tell me all that you know."

"Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe," she said slowly.
"But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted by Benton." Then,
turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her natural tone, though
slightly high-pitched and nervous:

"Benton, the blackguard, was your father's friend at Woodthorpe. With
a man named Howell, known also as Shaw, he prepared a will which your
father signed unconsciously, and which provided that in the event of
his death you should be cut off from almost every benefit if you did not
marry Louise Lambert, Benton's adopted daughter."

"But who is Louise actually?" asked Hugh interrupting.

"The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her. Of
course Louise is unaware of that fact," Yvonne replied.

Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bond
was so