"Well, I have found out that that man is a London detective," said Karl, deeming it best to tell the whole truth. "He is down here looking after an escaped fugitive. Not you, Adam: one Salter."
"One Salter?" echoed Sir Adam, testily, while Rose started slightly. "Who's he? What Salter? Is there any Salter at Foxwood?"
"It seems that the police in London have been suspecting that he was here and they sent this detective, who calls himself Strange, to look after him. Salter, however, cannot be found; there's no doubt that the suspicion was altogether a mistake; but, unfortunately, Strange has had his thoughts directed to the Maze, and is looking after it."
"After me?" cried Adam.
"No. I do not believe there exists the smallest suspicion that you are not in the family vault in Foxwood churchyard. He fancies some one is concealed here, and thinks it must be Salter."
"But why on earth should his suspicions be directed to the Maze at all?" demanded Sir Adam, with a touch of his native heat.
"Ah, why! We have to thank Moore for that, and your own incaution, Adam, when you allowed yourself to be seen the night he brought Nurse Chaffen in. It seems the woman has talked of it outside; telling people, and Strange amid the rest, that it was either a real gentleman in dinner attire, or a ghost in the semblance of one. Some have taken unhesitatingly to the ghost theory, believing it to be a remnant of the Throcton times; but detectives are wiser men."
"And so this man is looking after the Maze!"
"Just so. He is after Salter, not after you."
Sir Adam made no immediate observation. Rose, listening eagerly, was gazing at Karl.