Foxwood was going on quietly with the approach of winter. Mrs. Cleeve had gone to London with her daughter; leaving Miss Blake to keep house at the Court. Some ladies, fearing the world\'s chatter, might have objected to remain with so young and attractive a man as Sir Karl Andinnian; Miss Blake was a vast deal too strong-minded for any thought of the kind. She was busy as ever with St. Jerome\'s and its offices; but she nevertheless kept a tolerably keen look-out on the Maze and on Sir Karl\'s movements as connected with it. He went there more than he used to do: by day now as well as by night: and she wondered how long the simple neighbourhood would keep its eyes closed to facts and figures, that, to her, were so offensively plain.
There had been a sharpish frost in the night, but the glorious morning sun had chased its signs away. At midday it was shining hotly; and Karl was almost glad of the thin screen of leaves left in the labyrinth as he made his way through it. Some days had passed now since Adam had had any sharp amount of illness: he was wasting away rapidly, and that was the worst outward sign. But his will in these intervals of ease was indomitable, and it imparted to him a fictitious strength.
As Karl came in view of the lawn, he saw Rose standing by one of the distant beds, talking to Hopley. The old man was digging; and had bent himself nearly double over his work. Karl crossed over, a reprimand on his lips.
"Adam, you should not. You promised me you would not again take a spade or other gardening implement in your hand. Your strength is not equal to it, and it must do you harm."
"Just hark at him, Rose. It would not be Karlo if he did not find fault with me. What shall you do for somebody to croak at, brother mine, when I am gone?"
Was it Hopley who spoke?--or was it Sir Adam? The falling-in mouth and the speech, the crooked back, the tottering and swelling knees, the smock-frock and the red comforter and the broad straw hat, all were Hopley\'s. But the manner of speech and the eyes too, now you came to see them as he looked up at Karl, were Sir Adam\'s.
Yes. They were one and the same. Poor old Hopley the gardener was but Sir Adam in disguise. With the padded knees and the false hump he had managed to deceive the world, including Mr. Detective Tatton. He might not perhaps have so surely deceived Mr. Tatton had the latter been looking after Sir Adam Andinnian and been acquainted with his person. But the decrepid gardener bore no resemblance to Philip Salter: and, that fact ascertained, it was all that concerned Mr. Tatton.
It may be remembered that when Mrs. Andinnian was staying at Weymouth, she and her servant, Ann Hopley, were in secret communication with one of the warders of Portland Prison: in point of fact, they were negotiating with him the possibilities of Sir Adam\'s escape. This man was James Hopley; a warder--as Karl had taken him to be, and also Ann\'s husband. In the scuffle that took place the night of the escape, the man really killed was the other prisoner, Cole: and it was he who was taken to Foxwood and lay buried in its churchyard. Hopley was drowned.
At that period, and for some little time before it, Philip Smith was at Portland Prison. Not as a prisoner: the man had never in his life done aught to merit incarceration: but seeking employment there, through the interest of one of the chief warders who was a friend of his--a man named O\'Brian. From the date of the frauds of Philip Salter, Philip Smith had been--as he considered it--a ruined man: at any rate he was unable to obtain employment. A ruined man must not be fastidious, and Smith was willing and was anxious to become a warder if they would make him one. It was while he was waiting and hoping for the post, and employed sometimes as an assistant, and thoroughly trusted, that the attempted escape of the prisoners occurred. Smith was one of those who put off in the boat after the fugitives: the other two being Hopley and O\'Brian. In the scuffle on the Weymouth shore, Sir Adam was wounded and left for dead. O\'Brian saw him lying there apparently dead, and supposed him to be so. O\'Brian, however, afterwards received a blow that stunned him--for the night was dark, and friends and foes fought indiscriminately--and Smith contrived to get Adam away into a place of concealment. It is very probable that Smith foresaw in that moment how valuable a prize to him the living and escaped Sir Adam might become. O\'Brian really believed him to be dead, and so reported him to the authorities. A dead man is worthless: and Sir Adam was allowed to be retained by his friends for interment: the beaten and disfigured Cole, shot in the face, being looked upon as Sir Adam.
After that, the path was easy. Sir Adam, very badly injured, lay for many weeks hidden away. Smith continued at Portland Prison keeping his own counsel, and unsuspected, visiting Sir Adam cautiously at intervals. As soon as it was practicable for him to be moved, the step was ventured on. He was got away in safety to London, and lay in retirement there, in a house that had been taken by Smith: his wife (formerly Rose Turner) coming up to join him; and Ann Hopley, faithful to Sir Adam\'s fortunes through all, waiting on them. She had no one else left to be faithful to now, poor woman. Smith managed everything. He had withdrawn himself from Portland Island, under the plea that he could no longer, in consequence of his disabled arm, aspire to a wardership--for his arm had been damaged that fatal night, and it was thought he would never have the full use of it again. The plea was unsuspiciously recognised by the prison authorities; Smith retained his friendship with O\'Brian, and occasionally corresponded with him, getting from him scraps of useful information now and then. From that time his services were devoted to Sir Adam. It was he who communicated between Sir Adam and his mother; for, letters they did not dare to transmit. It was he who first disclosed to Mrs. Andinnian the fact that Miss Rose Turner was her son\'s wife; it was he who made the arrangements for Sir Adam\'s taking up his abode at the Maze, and provided the disguise to arrive at Foxwood in, as the decrepid old husband of the servant, Ann Hopley. To do Mr. Smith justice, he had fought against the scheme of coming to the Maze; but Mrs. Andinnian and Adam were both bent upon it; and he yielded. Adam and his wife had stayed in London under the name of Mrs. Grey, and she retained it.
Amidst the injuries Sir Adam received was one to the mouth and jaw. It destroyed those beautiful front teeth of his. After his recovery he sought the services of a clever but not much known dentist named Rennet, went to the pain of having the rest of his teeth extracted, and an entire set of false ones made. Two sets, in fact. The journey Rose took to London, when Miss Blake espied her with Karl, was for the purpose of getting one of these sets of teeth repaired, Sir Adam having broken the spring the night before. The teeth had to be conveyed personally to Mr. Rennet and brought away; for they were too cautious to entrust him with their address.
And now it will be seen how Sir Adam had concealed himself at the Maze. In the daytime he was the toothless, hump-backed, infirm old Hopley, working at his garden with enlarged knees and tottering steps: as soon as dusk came on, his false padding was thrown of with his smock frock and coarse clothes, and he was the well-bred gentleman, Sir Adam Andinnian, in his evening attire and with his white and even teeth. His assumed role was maintained always during the day; his meals were taken in the kitchen to be safe in case of any possible surprise, Ann attending upon him with all respect. The delay in admitting Nurse Chaffen, kept waiting once on the wrong side of the kitchen door, was caused by "Hopley\'s" taking out his set of teeth and putting on his broad-brimmed hat: for it was convenient to assume the teeth during the short period devoted to dinner. The deafness was of course assumed as an additional precaution. Thus he had lived, in a state of semi-security, tending his flowers and occupied with the care of his garden generally, an employment that he loved so well. The day that General Lloyd\'s party went in, Karl was transfixed with apprehension and amazement to see Hopley showing himself. Adam enjoyed it: it was so like him to brave things; and he feared no danger from a pleasure party like that.
Well, I think that is all that is needed in the way of explanation; and we can go on. Karl was looking at the digging with regretful eyes.
"You ought to be glad to see me at work again, Karl, instead of groaning over it," cried Sir Adam.
"And so I should be, Adam, only that I fear you will feel its effects unpleasantly by and by."
"I asked him not to do it, but he only laughed at me," said Rose.
"Somebody must do it. I can\'t see the garden quite neglected. Besides, if I am well enough to work there\'s no reason why I should not. I am not sure, Karl, but I shall cheat you now."
"Cheat me?"
"By getting well. What should you say to that?"
"Thank heaven for it: and do my best to get you away to a place of safety."
"By George, old fellow, I don\'t know that I shan\'t. I am feeling as blithe as a bee. Rose, take yourself a trifle further off; out of the mould."
He was throwing about the spadefuls almost as well as he had ever thrown them in his strength. Rose was cheated into something like hope, and her face for the moment lost its sadness.
"I wish to goodness I had a draught of beer," cried Adam. "Where\'s Ann, I wonder."
Karl went to fetch it. Ann Hopley shook her head at the idea of hope, when Karl spoke of it as she gave him the beer.
"You never saw any person, who was to live on, have the look in his face that he has, sir."
"He looks fairly well to-day."
"And so he will at times to the last, as it strikes me. I have had a good deal of experience in illness, sir. As to his talking about getting well--why, sir, you know what he is: saying this and that without meaning it. There\'s no doubt he feels pretty sure himself how it will be."
Karl sighed as he went back with the beer. Yes, there was no real hope.
That same night--or rather on the following morning, for the dawn was more than glimmering--Karl in his bed began to dream that he was out in a shower of hail. It seemed to be falling with great violence: so much so that a sharper crash awoke him. Lying awake for a moment and questioning where he was, he found the noise to be reality. The hail was beating on the chamber windows.
Was it hail? Scarcely. It was crashing but on one window, and only came at intervals. It sounded more like gravel. Karl rose and opened the window. Smith the agent stood underneath. A prevision of evil shook Karl as he leaned out.
"He is very ill indeed, sir," said Smith in the lowest whisper possible to be heard, and extending his finger to indicate the Maze. "Mr. Moore\'s there and thinks it will be for death. I thought you would like to know it."
"How did you hear it?" asked Karl.
"Ann Hopley ran over and knocked me up, that I might go for the doctor."
"Thank you," replied Karl. "I\'ll be there directly."
Now it so happened that for some purposes of cleaning--for the Court was not exempt from those periodical visitations any more than the humble dwelling of Mrs. Chaffen--Miss Blake\'s chamber had been temporarily changed to the one next to that recently occupied by Lady Andinnian. Miss Blake was in the habit of sleeping with her window open; and, not being asleep at the time, she had heard Mr. Smith\'s footsteps and the crashes at Sir Karl\'s window. Of course she was curious as to what could cause the noise, and at first thought of housebreakers. Had Mr. Smith chanced to turn his head in the right direction during the colloquy with Sir Karl, he might have seen an elaborately night-capped head peeping forth cautiously.
"Why, it is Mr. Smith!" thought Miss Blake, as he walked away. "What an extraordinary thing! He must have been calling up Sir Karl."
Listening inside as well as out, Miss Blake heard the bell that was in Hewitt\'s chamber ring gently; and, after a minute or two, the latter proceeding to his master\'s room. Then they both went down together, and Hewitt let Sir Karl out at the hall door, and came upstairs again. Miss Blake, after a good deal of self-puzzling, arrived at the conclusion that the affair must be in some way connected with poachers--who had been busy on the land latterly--and returned to her bed.
With death on his face, and a look of resignation than which no............