"Bless me, no. Religion? The girls may give it that name; and perhaps one or two among them may be earnest enough in thinking it so; the rest are only after Cattacomb." "There's another one now, I hear. One Puff." "And a fine puff of wind _he_ is. Got no more brains than a gander. I'll see Truefit and inquire what agreement it was he made with them, if you like, Sir Karl; but I should certainly recommend you to leave the matter alone a little longer." Sir Karl thought he would accept the advice; and got up to leave. He often saw Truefit about the land, and could take an opportunity of questioning him himself. As he stood for a moment at the window, there passed down the middle of the street a stranger, walking slowly; that is, a stranger to Karl. It was Mr. Strange. Now it happened that Karl had never yet seen this man--at least, he had never noticed him. For the detective, being warned by Grimley that Sir Karl had, or seemed to have, some reason for screening Salter--had kept out of Sir Karl's way. He thought it would not conduce at all to his success to let Sir Karl know he was down there on the scent. Therefore, whenever he had observed Sir Karl coming along--and he had kept his eyes sharply open--he had popped into a shop, or drawn behind a hedge, or got over a style into another field. And Karl, in his mind's abstraction--for it nearly always was abstracted, lost in its own fear and pain--had not thought of looking out gratuitously for strangers. But, standing up at the lawyer's window, the street close before him, he could not fail to observe those who passed up and down: and his attention was at once drawn to this man. "Who is that?" he asked. "That! oh, that's a Mr. Strange," said the lawyer, laughing again--and in his laugh this time there was something significant. "At least, that's his name _here_." "And not elsewhere?" "I fancy not." "Is he staying at Foxwood? What is he doing here?" "He is certainly staying at Foxwood. As to his business, I conclude it is something in the private detective line, Sir Karl." Mr. Strange, whose attention in passing had been directed to some matter on the other side of the way and not to the lawyer's window, consequently he did not know that he was being watched, had halted a little lower down to speak to the landlord of the Red Lion. All in a moment, as Karl looked at him, the notion flashed into his mind that this man bore a strong resemblance to the description given by Ann Hopley of the man who had invaded the Maze. The notion came to him in the self-same moment that the words of the lawyer fell on his ears--"His business, I conclude, is something in the private detective line." What with the notion, and what with the words, Karl Andinnian fell into a confused inward tumult, that caused his heart's blood to stop, and then course wildly on. Business at Foxwood, connected with detectives, must have reference to his brother, and to him alone.