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"Mischief?" he echoed. "In what way?" "I've not yet arrived at a full conclusion. But we must be on the alert and ready to act whenever the time is ripe. You know what they did over that little affair in Marseilles not so very long ago? They'll repeat, if we're not very careful. That girl of Benton's they are using as a decoy and she's a dangerous one." "For whom?" "For old Henfrey's son."
"I only got back last night. Five days ago I saw The Sparrow at the Palace Hotel in Madrid. He's doing all he can in young Henfrey's interests, but he is not too hopeful." "Why?" "I can't make out," said the man, apparently much perturbed. "He wired me to go to Madrid, and I went. But it seems that I've been on a fool's errand." "That's very unsatisfactory," said the woman. "It is, my dear Molly!
"He must have been mistaken surely." "No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey's. He says that he and the girl seemed to be particularly good friends." Dorise hesitated. "You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!" she exclaimed. "Not at all. I've only told you what Tubby said." "Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?" "I think not.
"And I fear we shall go on wanting it, my dear Charles," declared the woman, who was so well versed in the ways of men. "Louise likes him. She has told me so. But he only tolerates her that's all! He's obsessed by the mystery of old Henfrey's death." "I wonder if that was the reason he went that night to see Yvonne?" exclaimed Benton in a changed voice, as the idea suddenly occurred to him.
"I forgive you, Mademoiselle," Hugh replied, grasping her slim, white hand. "Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Ranscomb, Mr. Henfrey's fiancee, and tell her the whole truth," said The Sparrow. "That I certainly will," Yvonne replied. "Now that I can think I shall be allowed to leave this place eh?" "Of course. I will see after that," said the man known as Mr. Peters.
Henfrey's gown to steady herself, thrust out her crutch toward Valentine, that he might have the privilege of again admiring it. The peculiarity of this wedding, distinguishing it from others where love is, was the measureless contentment of the future step-children. "Nothing new in this family," observed Mrs. Henfrey.
And and to think that I am here with you his son! Ah! forgive me!" she gasped. "I I Let us return." "But you shall tell me the truth!" cried Hugh excitedly. "You know it! You cannot deny that you know it!" All, however, he could get from her were the words: "You Monsieur Henfrey's son! Surely Il Passero does not know this!" A month of weary anxiety and nervous tension had gone by.
Different countries have been examined and compared with each other, and many of the differences accounted for; and in Mr Henfrey's volume we have an acceptable résumé of these various researches.
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