"You actually know this?"
"Howell told me so with his own lips."
"Then why is young Henfrey being made the victim?" asked The Sparrow shrewdly. "Why, indeed, have you not revealed this to me before?"
"Because I had no proof before that Howell is our enemy. He has now given us away. He has some motive. What is it?"
The bristly-haired little man of twenty names and as many individualities pondered for a moment. It was evident that he was both apprehensive and amazed at the suggestion the pretty young French girl had placed before him.
When one finds a betrayer, then in order to fix his guilt it becomes necessary to discover the motive.
The Sparrow was in a quandary. Seldom was he in such a perturbed state of mind. He and his accomplices could always defy the police. It was not the first time in his career, however, that he had found a traitor in his camp. If Howell was really a traitor, then he would pay dearly for it. Three times within the last ten years there had been traitors in the great criminal organization. One was a Dutchman; the second was a Greek; and the third a Swiss. Each died--for dead men tell no tales.
The Sparrow ordered some cafe noir from his housekeeper and produced a particularly seductive brand of liqueur, which mademoiselle took--together with a cigarette.
Then she left, he giving her the parting injunction: "It is probable that you will go to Marseilles and meet young Henfrey. I will think it all over. You will have a note from me at the Grand Hotel before noon to-morrow."