"Certainly not--on my word of honour as a gentleman," was the reply. "I feel sure you are mistaken; I know you are. Mrs. Grey lives alone at the Maze, save for her servants: two old people who are man and wife." "I am aware the general belief is that she lives alone. It's not true, though, for all that, Sir Karl." "Indeed it is true," returned Karl, calmly as before, for he did not dare to show too much zeal in Mrs. Grey's cause. "I have been over there pretty often on one matter or another--the house is an old one, and no end of repairs seem to be wanted to it--and I am absolutely sure that no inmate whatever is there, save the three I have mentioned: the lady, and the man and woman. I do not count the infant." "Ay; there; the infant. What does that prove?" "Nothing--as to your argument. Mrs. Grey only came to the place some five or six months ago. Not yet six, I think." "Rely upon it, Sir Karl, the lady has contrived to blind you, in spite of your visits, just as she has blinded the outside world. Some one is there, concealed; and I shall be very much surprised if it does not turn out to be Salter. As to the two old servants, they are bound to her interests; are of course as much in the plot as she is." "I know you are mistaken. I could stake my life that no one else is there. Surely you are not going to act in any way on this idea!" "I don't know," replied Mr. Tatton, with inward craft. "Time enough. Perhaps I may get some other information before long. Should I require a search-warrant to examine the house, I shall apply to you, Sir Karl. You are in the commission of peace, I believe." Sir Karl nodded. "If you must have one, I shall be happy to afford it," he said, remembering that if it came to this pass, his being able to avert the Maze privately beforehand, would be a boon. And with that they separated: the detective continuing to pace onwards towards Paradise Row, Sir Karl turning back to his own house. But the events, of the evening, as concerning the Maze interests, were not altogether at an end. Miss Blake was the last to come out of the confessional, for the rest had taken their turn before her. It was tolerably late then; quite dark; and both Aunt Diana and Tom Pepp were rampant at being kept so long. They all turned out of St. Jerome's together, including Mr. Cattacomb; and all, save Miss Blake and the boy, went in the direction of the village. Tom Pepp, having locked up and doffed his bell-ringing garments, proceeded the other way, accompanied by Miss Blake. She was going to visit a sick woman who lived next door to Tom's mother. Miss Blake had her good points, though she was harsh of judgment. This poor woman, Dame Bell, was dying of consumption; the end was drawing near, and Miss Blake often went to sit by and read to her. The boy had told her at vespers that night that it was thought she could hardly live till morning: hence the late visit. She found her very ill, and stayed to do what she could.