"I suppose the officer cannot be looking after him," jested Sir Karl. "St. Jerome's is the least sound thing we know at Foxwood."
The lawyer laughed a hearty laugh as he attended Sir Karl to the door; at which Mr. St. Henry's gig was now waiting to take him into Basham.
It was not a hot morning, but Karl Andinnian took off his hat repeatedly on the way home to wipe his brow. The dreadful catastrophe he had been fearing for his unfortunate brother seemed to be drawing ominously near.
"But for that confounded Smith, Adam might have been away before," he groaned. "I know he might. Smith----"
And there Karl stopped; stopped as though his speech had been suddenly cut off. For a new idea had darted into his mind, and he stayed to ponder it.
Was this detective officer down here to look after Philip Salter?--and not after Adam at all?
A conviction, that it must be so, took possession of him; and in the first flush of it the relief was inexpressibly great. But he remembered again the midnight watcher of the Maze and the morning visit following it; and his hopes fell back to zero. That this was the same man who had watched there could remain no doubt whatever.
Passing into his own room, Karl sat down and strove to think the matter out. He could arrive at no certain conclusion. One minute he felt sure the object was his brother; the next, that it was only Salter.
But, in any case, allowing that it was Salter, there must be danger to Adam. If this cunning London detective were to get into the Maze premises again and see the prisoner there, all would be over. The probability was, that he was personally acquainted with the noted criminal Adam Andinnian: and it might be, that he had gained a suspicion that Adam Andinnian was alive.
One thing Karl could not conceal from himself--and it brought to him a rush of remorse. If the detective had come down after Salter, he--he, Karl--must have been the means of bringing him there.