Part 33 (1/2)

”Let's sit down somewhere, and I will tell you,” he said. Then, re-entering the park by the small iron gate, Dorise led him to a fallen tree where, as they sat together, he related all he had been told concerning the notorious head of a criminal gang known to his confederates, and the underworld of Europe generally, as Il Pa.s.sero, or The Sparrow.

”How very remarkable!” exclaimed Dorise, when he had finished, and she, in turn, had told him of the encounter at the White Ball at Nice, and the coming and going of the messenger from Malines. ”I wonder if he really is the notorious Sparrow?”

”I feel convinced he is,” declared Hugh. ”He sent me a message in secret to Malines a fortnight ago forbidding me to attempt to leave Belgium, because he considered the danger too great. He was, no doubt, much surprised to-night when he found me here.”

”He certainly was quite as surprised as myself,” the girl replied, happy beyond expression that her lover was once again at her side.

In his strong arms he held her in a long, tight embrace, kissing her upon the lips in a frenzy of satisfaction--long, sweet kisses which she reciprocated with a whole-heartedness that told him of her devotion.

There, in the shadow, he whispered to her his love, repeating what he had told her in London, and again in Monte Carlo.

Suddenly he put a question to her:

”Do you really believe I am innocent of the charge against me, darling?”

”I do, Hugh,” she answered frankly.

”Ah! Thank you for those words,” he said, in a broken voice. ”I feared that you might think because of my flight that I was guilty.”

”I know you are not. Mother, of course, says all sorts of nasty things--that you must have done something very wrong--and all that.”

”My escape certainly gives colour to the belief that I am in fear of arrest. And so I am. Yet I swear that I never attempted to harm the lady at the Villa Amette.”

”But why did you go there at all, dear?” the girl asked. ”You surely knew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!”

”I know it quite well,” he said. ”I expected to meet an adventuress--but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!”

”I don't understand you, Hugh,” she said.

”No, darling. You, of course, cannot understand!” he exclaimed. ”I admit that I followed her home, and I demanded an interview.”

”Why?”

”Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her own.”

”What secret?”

”One that concerns my whole future.”

”Cannot you tell me what it is?” she asked, looking into his face, which in the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was unusually pale and haggard.

”I--well--at the present moment I am myself mystified, darling. Hence I cannot explain the truth,” he replied. ”Will you trust me if I promise to tell you the whole facts as soon as I have learnt them? One day I hope I shall know all, yet----”

”Yes--yet--what?”

He drew a deep breath.

”The poor unfortunate lady has lost her reason as the result of the attempt upon her life. Therefore, after all, I may never be in a position to know the truth which died upon her lips.”

For nearly two hours the pair remained together. Often she was locked in her lover's arms, heedless of everything save her unbounded joy at his return, and of the fierce, pa.s.sionate caresses he bestowed upon her.