Mr. Howell sat open-mouthed. He was a crook and the bosom friend of the great Passero. Like all others who knew him, he held the master criminal in awe and admiration. The Sparrow, whatever he was, never did a mean action and never took advantage of youth or inexperience. To his finger-tips he was a sportsman, whose chief delight in life was to outwit and puzzle the police of Europe. In the underworld he was believed to be fabulously wealthy, as no doubt he was. To the outside world he was a very rich old gentleman, who contributed generously to charities, kept two fine cars, and, as well as his town house, had a pretty place down in Gloucestershire, and usually rented a grouse moor in Scotland, where he entertained Mr. Howell and several other of his intimate friends who were in the same profitable profession as himself, and in whose "business" he held a controlling interest.
In Paris, Rome, Madrid, or Brussels, he was well known as an idler who stayed at the best hotels and patronized the most expensive restaurants, while his villa on the Riviera he had purchased from a Roumanian prince who had ruined himself by gambling. His gloved hand--gloved because of a natural deformity--was the hand which controlled most of the greater robberies, for his war upon society was constantly far-reaching.
"Is Franklyn coming straight back?" asked Howell.
"That is the plan. He should leave Vienna to-morrow night," said The Sparrow, again consulting the papers. "And he comes home with all speed. But first he travels to Brussels, and afterwards to The Hague, where he will hand over Anna Torna's jewels to old Van Ort, and they'll be cut out of all recognition by the following day. Franklyn will then cross from the Hook to Harwich. He will wire me his departure from Vienna. He's bought a car for the job, and will have to abandon it somewhere outside of Vienna, for, as in most of our games, time is the essence of the contract," and the old fellow laughed oddly.
"I thought Franklyn worked with Molly," said Mr. Howell.
"So he does. I want him back, for I've a delicate mission for him," replied the sphinx-like man known as The Sparrow.
Mr. Howell, at the invitation of the arch-criminal, helped himself to a drink. Then The Sparrow said: "You are due to leave London the day after to-morrow on that little business in Madrid. You must remain in town. I may want you."
"Very well. But Tresham is already there. I had a letter from him from the Palace Hotel yesterday."
"I will recall him by wire to-morrow. Our plans are complete. The Marquis's picture will still hang in his house until we are ready for it. It is the best specimen of Antonio del Rincon, and will fetch a big price in New York--when we have time to go and get it," he laughed.