Karl strolled on in silence, wondering how all this would end and whether this dangerous man--dangerous to him and his interests--was satisfied, and would betake himself to town again. A question interrupted him.
"Do you know much of a place here called the Maze, Sir Karl?"
"The Maze is my property. Why?"
"Yes, I am aware of that. What I meant to ask was, whether you knew much of its inmates."
"It is let to a lady named Grey. Her husband is abroad."
"That's what she tells you, is it? Her husband is there, Sir Karl, if he be her husband. That is where we must look for Philip Salter."
Something born of emotion, of sudden fear, seemed to flash across Karl's eyes and momentarily blind him. A wild prayer went up for guidance, for help to confront this evil.
"Why do you say this?" he asked, his voice controlled to a calm indifference.
"I have information that some gentleman is living at the Maze in concealment, and I make no doubt it is Salter. The description of his person, so far as I have it, answers to him. Until to-night, Sir Karl, I have believed that it was to the Maze your own suspicions of Salter were directed."
"Certainly not--on my word of honour as a gentleman," was the reply. "I feel sure you are mistaken; I know you are. Mrs. Grey lives alone at the Maze, save for her servants: two old people who are man and wife."