At that period, and for some little time before it, Philip Smith was at Portland Prison. Not as a prisoner: the man had never in his life done aught to merit incarceration: but seeking employment there, through the interest of one of the chief warders who was a friend of his--a man named O'Brian. From the date of the frauds of Philip Salter, Philip Smith had been--as he considered it--a ruined man: at any rate he was unable to obtain employment. A ruined man must not be fastidious, and Smith was willing and was anxious to become a warder if they would make him one. It was while he was waiting and hoping for the post, and employed sometimes as an assistant, and thoroughly trusted, that the attempted escape of the prisoners occurred. Smith was one of those who put off in the boat after the fugitives: the other two being Hopley and O'Brian. In the scuffle on the Weymouth shore, Sir Adam was wounded and left for dead. O'Brian saw him lying there apparently dead, and supposed him to be so. O'Brian, however, afterwards received a blow that stunned him--for the night was dark, and friends and foes fought indiscriminately--and Smith contrived to get Adam away into a place of concealment. It is very probable that Smith foresaw in that moment how valuable a prize to him the living and escaped Sir Adam might become. O'Brian really believed him to be dead, and so reported him to the authorities. A dead man is worthless: and Sir Adam was allowed to be retained by his friends for interment: the beaten and disfigured Cole, shot in the face, being looked upon as Sir Adam.
After that, the path was easy. Sir Adam, very badly injured, lay for many weeks hidden away. Smith continued at Portland Prison keeping his own counsel, and unsuspected, visiting Sir Adam cautiously at intervals. As soon as it was practicable for him to be moved, the step was ventured on. He was got away in safety to London, and lay in retirement there, in a house that had been taken by Smith: his wife (formerly Rose Turner) coming up to join him; and Ann Hopley, faithful to Sir Adam's fortunes through all, waiting on them. She had no one else left to be faithful to now, poor woman. Smith managed everything. He had withdrawn himself from Portland Island, under the plea that he could no longer, in consequence of his disabled arm, aspire to a wardership--for his arm had been damaged that fatal night, and it was thought he would never have the full use of it again. The plea was unsuspiciously recognised by the prison authorities; Smith retained his friendship with O'Brian, and occasionally corresponded with him, getting from him scraps of useful information now and then. From that time his services were devoted to Sir Adam. It was he who communicated between Sir Adam and his mother; for, letters they did not dare to transmit. It was he who first disclosed to Mrs. Andinnian the fact that Miss Rose Turner was her son's wife; it was he who made the arrangements for Sir Adam's taking up his abode at the Maze, and provided the disguise to arrive at Foxwood in, as the decrepid old husband of the servant, Ann Hopley. To do Mr. Smith justice, he had fought against the scheme of coming to the Maze; but Mrs. Andinnian and Adam were both bent upon it; and he yielded. Adam and his wife had stayed in London under the name of Mrs. Grey, and she retained it.
Amidst the injuries Sir Adam received was one to the mouth and jaw. It destroyed those beautiful front teeth of his. After his recovery he sought the services of a clever but not much known dentist named Rennet, went to the pain of having the rest of his teeth extracted, and an entire set of false ones made. Two sets, in fact. The journey Rose took to London, when Miss Blake espied her with Karl, was for the purpose of getting one of these sets of teeth repaired, Sir Adam having broken the spring the night before. The teeth had to be conveyed personally to Mr. Rennet and brought away; for they were too cautious to entrust him with their address.
And now it will be seen how Sir Adam had concealed himself at the Maze. In the daytime he was the toothless, hump-backed, infirm old Hopley, working at his garden with enlarged knees and tottering steps: as soon as dusk came on, his false padding was thrown of with his smock frock and coarse clothes, and he was the well-bred gentleman, Sir Adam Andinnian, in his evening attire and with his white and even teeth. His assumed role was maintained always during the day; his meals were taken in the kitchen to be safe in case of any possible surprise, Ann attending upon him with all respect. The delay in admitting Nurse Chaffen, kept waiting once on the wrong side of the kitchen door, was caused by "Hopley's" taking out his set of teeth and putting on his broad-brimmed hat: for it was convenient to assume the teeth during the short period devoted to dinner. The deafness was of course assumed as an additional precaution. Thus he had lived, in a state of semi-security, tending his flowers and occupied with the care of his garden generally, an employment that he loved so well. The day that General Lloyd's party went in, Karl was transfixed with apprehension and amazement to see Hopley showing himself. Adam enjoyed it: it was so like him to brave things; and he feared no danger from a pleasure party like that.
Well, I think that is all that is needed in the way of explanation; and we can go on. Karl was looking at the digging with regretful eyes.
"You ought to be glad to see me at work again, Karl, instead of groaning over it," cried Sir Adam.
"And so I should be, Adam, only that I fear you will feel its effects unpleasantly by and by."
"I asked him not to do it, but he only laughed at me," said Rose.
"Somebody must do it. I can't see the garden quite neglected. Besides, if I am well enough to work there's no reason why I should not. I am not sure, Karl, but I shall cheat you now."
"Cheat me?"