How Lucy despised him for his deceit! She felt that he must have the clue: why else need he let himself within the gate with his key--at least, with any purpose of finding his way further in after it? Miss Blake caught her eye; and Lucy turned away, sick at heart, from the compassion Miss Blake's glance wore. Sir Karl's "Don't fear" had been reassuring, and they dispersed about the Maze and lost themselves in it, very much as Miss Blake had once done. Mr. Cattacomb kept asking questions about the mistress of the Maze: why she lived there alone, where her husband was: for all of which Sir Karl could have struck him. He, Karl, would have contrived to keep them from the boundaries near the house: but they were as nine to one, and went whither they would: and, as had been Miss Blake's case, they got within view of it at last. "What a pretty place!" was the involuntary exclamation from more than one. It did look pretty: pretty and very cheerful. The windows of the house were open; the door of the porch was fastened back, as if to invite entrance. Not a sign or symptom existed of there being any cause for concealment. So far good, and Karl felt satisfied. But, as his eyes went ranging far and wide in their longed-for security, there was no doubt that he somewhere or other caught sight of his imprudent brother; for his face changed to an ashy paleness, and he groaned in spirit. "Adam is surely mad," was his mental cry. Ann Hopley, who had probably been waiting about, stepped up at this moment, and asked with much civility if they would like to walk indoors and rest. Sir Karl, looking at his friends, as if for acquiescence in his denial, declined. "We have _no right_ to intrude," he whispered: and the General said so too. "This might really do for a Rosamond's Bower!" cried Mrs. Panton. "It is a sweetly pretty place." The lawn was level as a bowling-green; the flowers and shrubs surrounding it were well-kept, fragrant, and blooming. Mounted on a ladder, nailing some branches against a wall that probably belonged to a tool-house, was the toothless old gardener, his knees swollen and bent, his white smock frock rolled up around him. "That's the gardener at his work, I suppose?" observed the General, whose eyes were dim. "Yes, that's Hopley," said Karl. "What d'ye call his name; Sir Karl?" "Hopley. He is the woman's husband." "I had a servant once of that name when I was quartered at Malta. A good servant he was, too." "That man yonder looks ill," remarked Mrs. Panton. "I fancy he is subject to rheumatism," said Sir Karl. "How is your husband?" he enquired of Ann Hopley. "Pretty middling, sir, thank you," she answered. "He is getting in years you see, gentlefolks, and is not as strong as he was." "Will you be so good as precede us through the Maze and let us out," said Karl to her. "I think it is time we went," he added to the others: "we have seen all there is to see."