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Updated: June 16, 2025
I still believe he is the notorious and defiant criminal 'Il Passero' the most daring and ingenious thief of the present century." "But he is evidently your friend." "Yes. That is the great mystery of it all. I cannot discern his motive." "Is it a sinister one, do you think?" "No. I do not believe so.
But at Marseilles they are even more shrewd than in Paris. Maillot, the chef de la Surete at Marseilles, is a really capable official. I know him well. A year ago he dined with me at the Palais de la Bouillabaisse. I pretended that I had been the victim of a great theft, and he accepted my invitation. He little dreamed that I was Il Passero, for whom he had been spreading the net for years!"
"Must we again be parted?" "Yes. It seems so, according to our mysterious friend, whom I believe most firmly to be the notorious thief known by the Italian sobriquet of Il Passero The Sparrow." "Do you think he is a thief?" asked the girl. "Yes.
Hugh stood before an old coloured print representing the hobby-horse school the days of the "bone-shakers" and studied it. He awaited Il Passero and the advice which he had promised to give. His ears were strained. That house was curiously quiet and forbidding. The White Cavalier, whom he had believed to be the notorious Sparrow, had been proved to be one of his assistants.
A sudden thought flitted through Hugh's mind. "I suppose he is a friend of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?" "Ah, signore, I do not know. Il Passero had many friends. He is rich, prosperous, well-dressed, and has influential friends in France, in Italy and in England who never suspect him to be the notorious king of the thieves." "Now, tell me," urged young Henfrey.
"Someone is coming here to meet Monsieur Henfrey," Vervoort said. "Who is it?" "I don't know. I only received word of it the day before yesterday. A messenger from London, I believe." "Well, each day I become more and more mystified," Hugh declared. "Why Il Passero, whom I do not know, should take all this interest in me, I cannot imagine."
"But the famous Passero The Sparrow is my unknown friend," he said, "and I have a suspicion that you and he are identical!" "I have a motive in not disclosing my identity," was the man's reply in a curious tone. "Get to Mrs. Mason's as quickly as you can. Perhaps one day soon we may meet again. Till then, I wish both of you the best of luck. Au revoir!"
I have, however, only seen him once. About eighteen months ago he was hard pressed by the police and took refuge here for two nights, till Paolo called for him in his fine car and he passed out of Italy as a Swiss hotel-proprietor." "Then he is head of a gang is he?" "Yes," was the man's reply. "He is marvellous, and has indeed well earned his sobriquet 'Il Passero."
I hope that before dawn the jewels will be no longer at Szombat, for the Count is an old scoundrel who cornered the people's food in Austria just before the Armistice and is directly responsible for an enormous amount of suffering. The Countess was a cafe singer in Budapest. Her name was Anna Torna." Mr. Howell sat open-mouthed. He was a crook and the bosom friend of the great Passero.
You can't stay here it's impossible." The name of The Sparrow was upon Hugh's lips, and he was about to tell Benton of that mysterious person's efforts on his behalf, but, on reflection, he saw that he had no right to expose The Sparrow's existence to others. The very house in which they were was one of the bolt-holes of the wonderfully organized gang of crooks which Il Passero controlled.
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