“Why?” asked Hugh.  “Is there danger in that quarter?”

“Yes, Monsieur Henfrey.  The French police have, by some unknown means, discovered that you were coming here, and a strict watch is being kept for anyone calling for letters addressed to Godfrey Brown.”

“But how could they know?” asked Hugh.

“Ah!  That is the mystery!  Perhaps your lady friend has been indiscreet.  She was told in strict confidence, and was warned that your safety was in her hands.”

“Surely, Dorise would be most careful not to betray me!” cried the young Englishman.

“Well, somebody undoubtedly has.”

“I presume you are one of Il Passero’s friends?” Hugh said with a smile.

“Yes.  Hence I am your friend,” was the reply.

“Have you heard of late how Mademoiselle Yvonne is progressing?”

The man, who told his visitor his name was Jules Vervoort, shook his head.

“She is no better.  I heard last week that the doctors have said that she will never recover her mental balance.”

“What!  Is she demented?”

“Yes.  The report I had was that she recognized nobody, except at intervals she knows her Italian manservant and calls him by name.  I was ordered to tell you this.”

“Ordered by Il Passero—­eh?”

The man Vervoort nodded in the affirmative.  Then he went on to warn his visitor that the Brussels police were on the eager watch for his arrival.  “It is fortunate that you were not recognized when you came this morning,” he said.  “I had secret warning and was at the station, but I dared not approach you.  You passed under the very nose of two detectives, but luckily for you, their attention had been diverted to a woman who is a well-known pickpocket.  I followed you to your hotel and then waited for you to go to the Poste Restante.”

“But I want my letters,” said Hugh.

“Naturally, but it is far too dangerous to go near there.  You, of course, want news of your lady friend.  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.  “She was with me in Genoa.”

“Yes.  We have met.  A very clever little person.  Il Passero thinks very highly of her.  She has been educated in the higher schools, and is perhaps one of our cleverest decoys.”

Hugh Henfrey paused.

“Now look here, Monsieur Vervoort,” he exclaimed at last, “I’m very much in the dark about all this curious business.  Lisette knows a lot concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne.”

“Admitted.  She acted once as her maid, I believe, in some big affair.  But I don’t know much about it.”