Turning his face towards the railway station after quitting the Maze, with the view of making some enquiries, as to what passengers had alighted there the previous day and had gone back again--not that he believed one syllable of the tale told him--Mr. Strange encountered the gig of Dr. Cavendish bowling down. The physician recognised him and pulled up.

"What\'s this I hear, sir, about my patient\'s having gone off again?" cried the doctor in a sharp tone.

"I have heard the same," replied Mr. Strange. "But I don\'t believe it."

"Oh then--you are not privy to it? You did not send him?"

"Not I, Dr. Cavendish. I went to the Maze betimes this morning to--to pay him a visit; and I was met with a tale that the bird had flown."

"I can tell you, sir, that he was in a most unfit state to travel," said the doctor with angry emphasis. "I don\'t know what the consequences will be."

"Ay, if he had gone. But it\'s all moonshine."

"What do you mean by \'moonshine?\' Has he gone, or has he not?"

"They say at the Maze he has; but I am sure he has not," was the answer. "There was a motive for his being denied to me, Dr. Cavendish; and so--and so--when I went in this morning they concocted an impromptu tale of his departure. That\'s what I think."

"They must have concocted it last night then," said the doctor. "The letter, informing me of the circumstance, was posted last night at Foxwood--and therefore must have been written last night."

"Did they write to tell you he had gone?" asked the detective, after a slight pause.

"Mrs. Grey wrote. I got it by the post this morning. She would not trouble me to come over again, she said, as Illy patient had found himself obliged to leave last night. But I have troubled myself to come," added the doctor, wrathfully, "and to see about it; for, of all mad acts, that man\'s getting up from his bed yesterday, and starting off by a shaking railway train was the maddest. Drive on, James."

The groom touched the horse at the short command, and the animal sprang forward. Mr. Strange thought he would let the station alone for a bit, and loiter about where he was. This letter, written last night, to tell of the departure, somewhat complicated matters.

A very short while, and the doctor came out again. Mr. Strange accosted him as he was about to step into his gig.

"Well, Dr. Cavendish, have you seen your patient?"

"No, I have not seen him," was the reply. "It is quite true that he is gone. I find he is embarking on a sea voyage, going off somewhere to the other end of the world, and he had to go up, or forfeit his passage-money."

"They told you, then, what they told me. As, of course, they would," he added inwardly.

"But there\'s something in it I don\'t altogether understand," resumed the doctor. "Not a syllable was spoken by the patient yesterday to denote that he was on the move, or that he had been on the move, even only to journey down from London. On the contrary, I gathered, or fancied I gathered, from the tenor of his remarks that he had been for some time stationary, and would be stationary for an indefinite period to come. It was when I spoke to him about the necessity of keeping himself quiet and free from exertion. What I don\'t understand is why he should not candidly have told me that he had this voyage before him."

Mr. Strange did not answer. Various doubts were crowding upon him. Had the man got away? in disguise, say? But no, he did not think it.

"By the way, you did not tell me your name," said the doctor, as he took his seat in the gig.

"My name! oh, did I not? My name is Tatton."

Dr. Cavendish bent down his head and spoke in a low tone. His groom was adjusting the apron.

"You hinted last night at some great trouble that this gentleman was in, Mr. Tatton. I have been wondering whether that has to do with this sudden departure--whether he had reasons for being afraid to stay?"

"Just the question that has occurred to me, Dr. Cavendish," confessed the detective. "If he has gone away, it is fear that has driven him."

The gig bowled onwards. Mr. Strange stood still as he looked after it: and had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Philip Smith smoking his long pipe at his own window, and regarding the landscape with equanimity. He went on the other way.

"Good morning, Mr. Tatton."

Mr. Tatton turned on his heel and saluted Sir Karl Andinnian, who had followed him up. There was a degree of suppressed indignation in Karl\'s face rarely seen.

"Is this true that I have just heard, Mr. Tatton," he began, calling the man by his true name--"that you have been again searching the Maze? My butler informs me that he saw you and two policemen quit it but now."

"It is true enough, Sir Karl. Salter is there. At least, he was there yesterday. There cannot be the slightest doubt that the sick man to whom Dr. Cavendish was called was Salter. I obtained a description of him from the doctor, and should have recognized it anywhere."

What was Karl to say? He could not attempt to deny that a sick man had been there. It was an unfortunate circumstance that Sir Adam, in regard to height and colour of hair, somewhat answered to the description of Philip Salter.

"Sir Karl, you must yourself see that there\'s a mystery somewhere," resumed the detective, who (having taken his clue from Superintendent Game) honestly believed that the baronet of Foxwood Court cared not a rap for Salter, and had no covert interest in the matter, beyond that of protecting his tenant at the Maze. "Some one, who is never seen by the public, is living at the Maze, that\'s certain; or, at any rate, dodging us there. Remember the gentleman in evening attire seen by the surgeon and nurse; and now there\'s this gentleman sick abed yesterday. These men could not be myths, Sir Karl. Who, then, are they?"

From sheer inability to advance any theory upon the point, lest he should do mischief, Karl was silent. These repeated trials, these shocks of renewed dread, were getting more than he knew how to bear. Had they come upon Adam this morning? He did not dare to ask.

"As to the tale told me by the woman servant and Mrs. Grey--that the sick gentleman was a relative who had come down by train and left again, it will not hold water," contemptuously resumed the detective. "Men don\'t go out for a day\'s journey when they are as ill as he is--no, nor take long sea voyages. Why, if what Dr. Cavendish fears is correct, there cannot be many weeks of life left in the man he saw yesterday; neither, if it be so, can the man himself be unconscious of it."

Karl\'s heart stood still with its shock of pain.

"Did Dr. Cavendish tell you that, Mr. Tatton?"

"Yes. Well, now, Sir Karl, that man is at the Maze still--I am convinced of it; and that man is Salter."

"What did you find this morning?"

"Nothing. Nothing more than I found before. When I spoke of the sick man, and asked where he was, this cock-and-bull tale was told me, which, of course, they had got up among themselves."

"As I said before, Mr. Tatton, I feel certain--I am certain--that you will never find Salter at the Maze; from the simple fact that he is not there to find--I am sure of it. I must most earnestly protest against these repeated annoyances to my tenant, Mrs. Grey; and if you do not leave her alone for the future, I shall see whether the law will not compel you. I do not--pray understand--I do not speak this in enmity to you, but simply to protect her."

"Of course I understand that, Sir Karl," was the ready answer. "There\'s no offence meant, and none taken. But if you could put yourself in my place, you\'d see my difficulty. Upon my word, I never was so mystified before. There Salter is. Other people can see him, and have seen him; and yet, when I search I find no traces of him. A thought actually crossed my mind just now, whether there could be a subterranean passage from the Maze to Clematis Cottage, and that Salter makes his escape there to his cousin on occasion. I should like to search it."

"Come and do so at once," said Karl, half laughing. "Nothing convinces like ocular demonstration. I give you full permission, as owner of the cottage; I doubt not Smith will, as its tenant. Come and ask him."

The detective was in earnest, and they crossed over. Seeing them making for the gate, Mr. Smith came out of his house, pipe in hand. It was one of those long churchwardens. Karl spoke a few words of explanation. Mr. Detective Tatton suspected there might be secret rooms, or doors, or fugitives hidden in Clematis Cottage, and would like to search it. After the first momentary look of surprise, the agent remained unruffled.

"Pass on, sir," said he, extending the thin end of his pipe to indicate the way. "You are welcome. Go where you please: search into every nook and corner; up the spouts and down the drains. If you surprise old Betty, tell her you\'re the plumber."

Mr. Strange took him at his word. Karl and the agent waited in the sitting-room together.

"Is it after Sir Adam, sir?" breathed the agent.

"No. No suspicion of him. It\'s after the other I told you of. Hush! Better be silent."

The agent put his pipe away. Karl stood at the open window. Old Betty, the ancient servant, came in with a scared face. She was a little deaf, but not with a deafness like Hopley\'s over the way.

"It\'s all right, Betty," called out her master. "Only looking to the drains and spouts."

Satisfied in one sense of the word--for in truth it was readily seen by the most unprofessional eye that there were no means afforded for concealment in the shallow-built cottage--the officer soon joined them again. He had not had really a suspicion of the cottage, he said by way of apology: it was merely a tho............