“GEORGE PETERS.”

The address given was 14, Ellerston Street, Mayfair.

Hugh knew the street, which turned off Curzon Street, a short thoroughfare, but very exclusive.  Some smart society folk lived there.

But who was George Peters?  Was it not The Sparrow who had sent him the car with the facetious chauffeur to that spot in Monte Carlo?  Perhaps the writer was the White Cavalier!

During the morning Hugh strolled down the hill and through the woods with Louise.  The latter was dressed in a neat country kit, a tweed suit, a suede tam-o’-shanter, and carried a stout ash-plant as a walking-stick.  They were out together until luncheon time.

Meanwhile, Benton sat with his hostess, and had a long confidential chat.

“You see, Molly,” he said, as he smoked lazily, “I thought it an excellent plan to bring them together, and to let them have an opportunity of really knowing each other.  It’s no doubt true that he’s over head and ears in love with the Ranscomb girl, but Lady Ranscomb has set her mind on having Sherrard as her son-in-law.  She’s a clever woman, Lady Ranscomb, and of course, in her eyes, Hugh is for ever beneath a cloud.  That he went to the woman’s house at night is quite sufficient.”

“Well, if I know anything of young men, Charles, I don’t think you’ll ever induce that boy to marry Louise,” remarked the handsome adventuress whom nobody suspected.

“Then if he doesn’t, we’ll just turn him over to Scotland Yard.  We haven’t any further use for him,” said Benton savagely.  “It’s the money we want.”

“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 wonder if—­if he suspected something, and went boldly and asked her?”

“Ah!  I wonder!” echoed the woman.  “But Yvonne would surely tell him nothing.  It would implicate her far too deeply if she did.  Yvonne is a very shrewd person.  She isn’t likely to have told the old man’s son very much.”

“No, you’re right, Molly,” replied the man.  “You’re quite right!  I don’t think we have much to fear on that score.  We’ve got Hugh with us, and if he again turns antagonistic the end is quite easy—­just an anonymous line to the police.”

“We don’t want to do that if there is any other way,” the woman said.

“I don’t see any other way,” replied the adventurer.  “If he won’t marry Louise, then the money passes out of our reach.”

“I don’t like The Sparrow taking such a deep interest in his welfare,” growled the woman beneath her breath.

“And I don’t like the fact that Yvonne is still alive.  If she were dead—­then we should have nothing to fear—­nothing!” Benton said grimly.