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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Recollect that your enemies are still in active search of you." Hugh looked his mysterious friend full in the face. "Look here!" he said, in a firm, hard voice. "Are you known as Il Passero?" "Pardon me," answered the stranger. "I refuse to satisfy your curiosity as to who I may be. I am your friend that is all that concerns you."
"The Sparrow without a doubt the famous 'Il Passero' for whom the police of Europe are ever searching, the man who at one moment lives in affluence and the highest respectability in a house somewhere near Piccadilly, and at another is tearing over the French, Spanish, or Italian roads in his powerful car directing all sorts of crooked business.
The black-gloved hand of the wizened, bristly-haired old man was the hand that controlled a great organization spread all over Europe an organization which only knew Il Passero by repute, but had never seen him in the flesh. Yet there he was, a discreet, rather petulant old gentleman, who lived at ease in an exclusive West End street, and was entirely unsuspected! When "Mr.
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.
"But what is this mysterious and unknown friend of mine?" "Il Passero is the chief of the most daring of all the gangs of international thieves. We all work at his direction." "But how did he know of my danger?" asked Hugh, mystified and dismayed. "Il Passero knows many strange things," he replied with a grin. "It is his business to know them.
He was known to Il Passero, and the latter aided him in return for certain facilities regarding the English police." "What do you think of the English police, madame?" Hugh asked. The fat woman grinned expressively and shrugged her broad shoulders. "Since the war they have been effete as regards serious crime. At least, that is what Il Passero told me when he was here a month ago."
"All I know is that Il Passero has some very keen and personal interest in the affair. He has sent further orders to you. It is imperative, he says, that you should get away from Brussels. The police are too keen here." "Where shall I go?" "I suggest that you go at once to Malines. Go to Madame Maupoil, 208 Rue de Stassart, opposite the Military Hospital.
That you will have by special messenger very soon. Therefore remain patient." "Why are all these precautions being taken to prevent my arrest?" Hugh asked. "I confess I don't understand it." "Neither do I. But when Il Passero commands we all obey." "You are, I presume, his agent in Brussels?" "His friend not his agent," Vervoort replied with a smile. "Do you know Mademoiselle Lisette?" Hugh asked.
Then, taking from his pocket-book several hundred-franc notes, he doubled them up and placed them on the table. "Ah!" said the old man. "I see! You want to buy my secret! No, take your money!" he cried, pushing it back towards him contemptuously. "I want none of it." "Because you are now earning an honest living," Benton sneered. "Yes and Il Passero knows it!" was Cataldi's bold reply.
"From what you have told me I gather that Il Passero knew by one of his many secret sources of information that you were in danger of arrest, and sent Paolo to rescue you which he did." "No doubt that is so. But why should he take all this interest in me? I don't know and have never even met him." "Il Passero is always courteous. He assists the weak against the strong.
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