"Neither have we," curtly rejoined Sir Karl, who would willingly have pitched Mr. Cattacomb over a mile elsewhere, but did not see an excuse for doing it. "The Maze was never constituted a show-place yet, Miss Blake. I feel anything but comfortable at intruding there to-day, I assure you. Between my wish to gratify my friends, and my fear that it may be objectionable to the occupant of the Maze, I am in a blissful state of uncertainty," he added in a laughing kind of way, for the general benefit, fearing he might have spoken too pointedly and shown that he was really ill at ease. "Sir Karl is ultra-sensitive," remarked Miss Blake--and a keen observer might have fancied there was some sarcasm in her tone. Karl rang the clanging bell--which might be heard far and wide; and Ann Hopley appeared, the key of the gate in her hand. She curtsied to the company as she admitted them. "My mistress desires me to say, Sir Karl, that she hopes the gentle-people will see all they wish to see," cried the woman aloud, addressing the rest as much as she did Sir Karl. "Mrs. Grey begs they will pardon her not appearing to welcome them, but she is not well to-day, and has to keep her room." "Mrs. Grey is very kind," returned Sir Karl. "We shall be cautious not to disturb her." They filed of their own accord into the maze. The old trees had not been so beset with gay tongues and laughter for many a day. One ran here, another there; they were like school boys and girls out for a holiday. Ann Hopley was about to follow them in when the clanging bell at the gate once more sounded, and she turned back to open it. Karl, never at rest--as who could be, knowing what he knew--looked after her while he talked with the rest; and he saw that the visitor was a policeman. His heart leaped into his mouth. Careless, in the moment's terror, of what might be thought of him, he broke off in the middle of a sentence to the General, and returned to the gate. His face was never very rosy, but every vestige of colour had forsaken it now. At a collected moment, he would have remembered that it was not in _that_ way his brother would have been sought out--in the person of one solitary unarmed policeman--but fear scares probability away: as Rose had observed to him only the previous evening. Worse than all, the rest came flocking to the gate after him. "Grey, ain't it?" the policeman was saying to Ann Hopley. He had a paper in his hand and a pencil. "Mrs. Grey," replied the servant. "Mrs. Grey. There ain't no husband, I think?" "No." "What's her Chris'en name?" A warning glance shot from Sir Karl's eyes, cautioning Ann Hopley to be on her guard. In truth it was not needed: the woman was caution itself, and had her ready wits at hand always. Karl saw what it was--some parish paper about to be left--and was recovering his inward equanimity. "My mistress's Christian name? Mary."