They went together to the Maze after dark, Karl letting the doctor in with his own key. The whole history had been revealed to him. Nothing was kept back, save a small matter or two connected with the means of Sir Adam's daily concealment: of those no living soul without the Maze was cognisant, save three: Karl, Hewitt, and Smith the agent. Mr. Moore was entrusted with it later, but not at first. During the lifetime of a medical man, it falls to his lot to hear some curious family secrets, as it had to Mr. Moore; but he had never met with one half so strange and romantic as this.
Sir Adam had dismissed the signs of his illness, and--it will hardly be credited--attired himself in evening dress. With the departure of Mr. Tatton, old habits resumed their sway, with all their surrounding incaution. Mr. Moore saw the same tall, fine man, with the white and even teeth, that he had caught the transient glimpse of in the uncertain twilight some weeks before. The same, but with a difference: for the face was shrunken now, little more than half the size it had been then. In the past week or two he had changed rapidly. He met them when they entered--it was in the upstairs sitting-room: standing at the door erect, his head thrown back. Mr. Moore put out his hand; but the other did not take it.
"Do you know all, sir?" he asked.
"All, Sir Adam."
"And you are not my enemy?"
"Your true friend, Sir Adam. Never a truer one shall be about you than I."
Their hands met then. "But I am not Sir Adam here, you know; I am Mr. Grey. Ah, doctor, what a life it has been!"
"A life that has done its best to kill him," thought the doctor, as he sat down. "Why did you not call me in before?" he asked.
"Well, we were afraid. You would be afraid of everybody if you were in my place and position. Besides, this disease, whatever it may turn out to be, has developed itself so rapidly that but little time seems to have been lost. I do not see how you will come in now, if it is to be a daily visit, without exciting the curiosity of the neighbourhood."
"Oh, nonsense," said the surgeon. "Mrs. Grey has a renewal of illness and I come in to see her. The curious neighbours will understand if they are exacting upon the point. Or old Hopley, your gardener--I'm sure his rheumatism must need a doctor sometimes."