"I should not," admitted Karl. "My intention was to tax Smith with it privately, and--and send him about his business. Very wrong and illegal of me, no doubt: but I have suffered too severely in my own family by the criminal law of the land, to give up another man gratuitously to it." At this reference to Sir Adam Andinnian, Mr. Tatton remained silent from motives of delicacy. He could understand the objection; especially as coming from a refined, sensitive, and merciful natured man, as Sir Karl appeared to be. "Well, sir, I can only say for myself that I wish your agent had been Salter," he resumed: "my hands would have been upon him before to-night. But is it true that you have no other suspicion, Sir Karl?" "What suspicion?" "That the real Salter is in hiding at Foxwood." Karl's heart beat a shade faster. "So far from having any suspicion of that kind, I am perfectly certain, now that you have proved to me Smith is not Salter, that he is not at Foxwood. I know every soul in the place and around it." "Were you acquainted with the real Salter, Sir Karl?" "No." "You take no interest in him, I presume?" "None whatever." During the conversation they had been slowly pacing onwards, had passed the Court gates, and were now fairly on the road to Foxwood. It seemed as if Sir Karl had a mind to escort Mr. Tatton to his home. "By the way," he said, "why did you call yourself Strange down here?" "I never did," answered Tatton, laughing slightly. "The widow Jinks gave me that name: I never gave it myself. I said to her I was a stranger, and she must have misunderstood me; for I found afterwards that she was calling me Mr. Strange. It was rather convenient than otherwise, and I did not set it right." Karl strolled on in silence, wondering how all this would end and whether this dangerous man--dangerous to him and his interests--was satisfied, and would betake himself to town again. A question interrupted him. "Do you know much of a place here called the Maze, Sir Karl?" "The Maze is my property. Why?" "Yes, I am aware of that. What I meant to ask was, whether you knew much of its inmates." "It is let to a lady named Grey. Her husband is abroad." "That's what she tells you, is it? Her husband is there, Sir Karl, if he be her husband. _That_ is where we must look for Philip Salter." Something born of emotion, of sudden fear, seemed to flash across Karl's eyes and momentarily blind him. A wild prayer went up for guidance, for help to confront this evil. "Why do you say this?" he asked, his voice controlled to a calm indifference. "I have information that some gentleman is living at the Maze in concealment, and I make no doubt it is Salter. The description of his person, so far as I have it, answers to him. Until to-night, Sir Karl, I have believed that it was to the Maze your own suspicions of Salter were directed."