Karl looked at him for a moment steadily. "And if it were not a case of debt, but of crime, Moore? What then?" "Just the same. Betraying my fellowmen, whether smarting under the ban of perplexity or of sin, does not rest in my duty, I say. I am not a detective officer. By the way, perhaps that other detective--who turns out to be named Tatton, and to belong to Scotland Yard--may have been down here looking after the very man." Mr. Moore spoke lightly. Not a suspicion rested upon him that the sad and worn gentleman before him held any solemn or personal interest in this. Karl resumed, his voice insensibly taking a lower tone. "An individual is lying in concealment, as I have described. His offence was not against you or against me. Therefore, as you observe, and as I judge, it does not lie even in our duty to denounce him. I am helping to screen him. I want you to undertake to do the same when you shall know who he is." "I'll undertake it with all my heart, Sir Karl. You have some motive for confiding the matter to me." "The motive arises out of necessity. He is grievously ill; in urgent need of medical care. I fear his days are already numbered: and in that fact lies a greater obligation for us to obey the dictates of humanity." "I see. You want me to visit him, and to do what I can for him. I am ready and willing." "He is--mind, I shall shock you--a convicted felon." "Well?--he has a body to be tended and a soul to be saved," replied the surgeon, curiously impressed with the hush of gravity that had stolen over the interview. "I will do my best for him, Sir Karl." "And guard his secret?" "I will. Here's my hand upon it. What would my Maker say to my offences at the Last Day, I wonder, if I could usurp His functions and deliver up to vengeance my fellowman?" "I may trust you, then?" "You may. I perceive you are over anxious, Sir Karl. What more assurance can I give you? You may trust me as you trust yourself. By no incautious word or action of mine shall his peril be increased, or harm come nigh him: nay, I will avert it from him if I can. And now--who is he? The sick man at the Maze--to whom Dr. Cavendish was called? Taking one thing with another, that Maze has been a bit of a puzzle in my mind lately." "The same." "Ay. Between ourselves, I was as sure as gold that some one was there. Is it Mr. Grey? The poor young lady's husband; the dead baby's father?" "Just so. But he is not Mr. Grey." "Who is he, then?" Karl glanced around him, as though he feared the very walls might contain eaves-droppers. Mr. Moore saw his dread. "It is a most dangerous secret," whispered Karl with agitation. "You will keep it with your whole heart and life?" "Once more, I will, I will. You cannot doubt me. Who is it?" "My brother. Sir Adam Andinnian." The doctor leaped to his feet. Perhaps he had a doubt of Karl's sanity. He himself had assisted to lay Sir Adam in his grave.