Sir Karl locked the gate safely, wound himself through the maze of trees, and soon reached the open- space before the house. Part of the grass-plat was steeped in light, and he saw Mrs. Grey walking there. He crossed it to accost her.

"Did you get back yesterday, Rose?" he inquired, after shaking hands.

"No, not until this afternoon. Rennet kept me. I saw him when I drove there yesterday: but he was then preparing to go out of town for the rest of the day on business, and it was impossible for him to do what was wanted before this morning. So I had to wait in town."

"I wonder we did not chance to travel down together, then!" observed Karl. "I did not return until this afternoon. Would you like to take my arm, Rose, while you walk?"

"Thank you," she answered, and took it. She had on the black dress she had worn in London, and her golden hair gleamed with all its beauty in the moonlight. Karl remarked that she leaned upon him somewhat heavily.

"You are tired, Rose!"

"I felt very tired when I got home. But Ann Hopley preaches to me so much about the necessity of taking exercise, that I thought I would walk about here for half-an-hour. I have had scarcely any walking
to-day; I was so fatigued with the journey and with the shopping yesterday that I had to keep as still as I could this morning. But there was a good deal to do; what with Rennet and some errands I had left."

"Where\'s Adam?"

"In-doors. He is complaining of that sensation of pain again. I do not like it at all, Karl."

"And while he is lying concealed here he cannot have medical advice. At least I don\'t see how it would be possible."

"It would not be possible," said Rose, decisively. "Oh, but I
forgot--I have to tell you something, Karl. Whom do you think I travelled with from Basham to Foxwood?"

"I don\'t know."

"Your wife."

"My wife!"

"It is true. I was in the ladies\' carriage alone all the way from London. At Basham a young and elegant lady in pearl-grey silk and white bonnet, with the daintiest parasol I ever saw was put in. An old gentleman--she called him \'General\'--and some ladies were with her on the platform. We were alone in the carriage, she and I; and I think we looked at each other a good deal. What she thought of me I don\'t know; but I thought that she had one of the sweetest and gentlest faces my eyes ever rested on. She had a sweet voice, too, for we spoke a little just as we got to Foxwood."

"But did you know her?--did she know you?" interrupted Karl.

"No, no. I should have had no idea who she was, but that there arose some question about the one fly waiting there, and some one said it had been brought for Lady Andinnian. Karl, if ever I felt startled in my life, it was then."

"Why were you startled?"

"Don\'t you see? \'Lady Andinnian!\' I took it at the moment to mean myself, and I felt my face turn white at the danger. Fear is quiet; and I am living in it always, Karl. What I thought was, that Adam had sent that fly for me, supposing I might come by that train; and that, in his incaution, or perhaps out of bravado, he had given my true name. Of course nothing could have been more absurd than this fancy of mine--but it was what arose to me. Almost at once I recognized my mistake, and saw how it was--that she was the Lady Andinnian meant, Sir Karl\'s wife. I think I said something to her, but I was so confused I hardly know. I only have wondered since that I did not guess who she was at first, from her attire and her beauty."

"Lucy did not tell me of this."

"Oh dear no, she would not be likely to recall it, or to know me from any other stranger one may meet in travelling. Adam says you love her to excess: I am sure, Karl, I don\'t wonder at it."

He made no answer. Yes, he loved his wife with a wondrous love: but just now she was trying that love sharply.

"And about the matter you went up upon?" resumed Mrs. Grey. "Did you succeed in learning anything of Philip Salter?"

"Not much. I joined you on the grass here to tell you what I did learn, before going in to Adam. Salter has never been retaken: and the police have an idea that he is still in concealment in England. There\'s a reward of five hundred pounds out against him."

"Why do they think he is in England?" asked Rose, quickly.

"I don\'t know. They would not tell me."

"You communicated with the police, then, Karl. You were not afraid?"

"Not with the police as a body, but with one of their private detectives: a Mr. Burtenshaw. Plunkett and Plunkett gave me a note to him. It was he who said he believed Salter to be still in the country: but the reason for believing it he would not give me."

"And did you get him described?"

"Yes, by the very man who let him escape: a policeman named Grimley: Burtenshaw sent for him. In nearly every particular his description tallies with Smith."

"Oh, Karl! he is certainly Salter."

"Does Smith wear his own hair?"

"Yes. At least," she added, less decisively, "if it were false I think I should not have failed to notice it. It is very dark; his whiskers are nearly black and his hair is only a shade lighter."

"Just so. But--I should say Smith was forty."

"About that."

"Well, Salter, they say, would be now only five-and-thirty. I don\'t attach much importance to the disparity!" added Karl: "Salter\'s trouble may have prematurely aged him."

"What shall you do in it?" she resumed after a pause. "It seems to me that if we could get Smith removed so as to leave Adam, in that sense, free, the half of our dreadful trouble would be over."

"I don\'t know what I shall do," replied Karl. "It will not do to stir an inch, as to the bringing it home to Smith, unless I am sure and certain. At present, Rose, it seems to be for me only another care added to the rest."

"Karlo, old fellow, is that you?" interrupted a voice from the passage window over the porch. "What on earth do you stay chattering to the wife for? I want you."

Karl looked up, nodded to his brother, and went in. Adam was in his customary evening attire, and just as gay as usual. He waited for Karl at the head of the stairs and they went together into the sitting-room that was always used at night. This sitting-room had a second door; one in the paneling, not visible to a casual observer. It communicated with a passage that nothing else communicated with; the passage communicated with a spiral staircase, and that with nobody knew what or where. Had Adam Andinnian been surprised in his retreat by his enemies, it was by that private door he would have made his escape, or tried to do it.

"Rose says you are not very well, Adam: that you are feeling the pain again," began Karl. "What do you think it is?"

"Goodness knows: I don\'t," returned Adam. "My opinion is, that I must in some way have given my inside a deuce of a wrench. I don\'t tell Rose that: she\'d set on and worry herself."

"I hope it is nothing serious--that it will soon pass off. You see, Adam, the cruel difficulty we should be in, if you were to require medical advice."

"Oh, bother!" cried Adam.

"Why do you say \'bother?\'"

"Because it is bother, and nothing else. When did I ever want medical advice? In general health, I\'m as strong as a horse."

"When we were young men at home, they used to say I had twice the constitution that you had, Adam, in spite of your strong looks."

"Home fallacy!" said Ada............