It is quite probable that when Ann Hopley and her flurried mistress decided3 to telegraph for Dr. Cavendish of Basham, they had thought, and hoped, that the doctor would come back by train, pass quietly on foot into the Maze4, so pass out again, and the public be none the wiser. Dr. Cavendish, however, who was out when the telegram arrived, drove over later in his gig; and the gig, with the groom5 in it, paced before the Maze gate while the doctor was inside, engaged with his patient.
Just then there occurred one of those unhappy chances. Mr. Moore, the surgeon, happened to walk by with his daughter, Jemima, and saw the gig--which he knew well--waiting about. It took him by surprise, as he had not heard that anyone was ill in the vicinity. The groom touched his hat, and Mr. Moore went up to him.
"Waiting for your master, James? Who is he with? Who is ill?"
"It's somebody down yonder, sir," replied the man, pointing back over his shoulder to indicate the Maze; but which action was not intelligible7 to the surgeon.
"Down where? At the Court?"
"No, sir. At the Maze."
"At the Maze! Why, who can be ill there?'" cried Mr. Moore.
"I don't know, sir. Master had a telegram, telling him to come."
At that moment Dr. Cavendish was seen to leave the gate and come towards his gig. Mr. Moore walked quickly forward to meet him, and the gig turned.
"I suppose you have been called to Mrs. Grey, doctor," observed the surgeon, as he shook hands. "Has she had a relapse? I wonder she did not send for me. I have but just given up attending her."
"Mrs. Grey!" returned the Doctor. "Oh, no. It is a gentleman I have been called to see."
"What gentleman?" asked the surgeon in surprise. "There's no gentleman at the Maze."
"One is there now. I don't know who it is. Some friend or relative of the lady's, probably. Ah, Miss Jemima! blooming as ever, I perceive," he broke off, as the young lady came slowly up. "Could you not give some of us pale, over-worked people a receipt for those roses on your cheeks?"
"What is it that's the matter with him?" interposed the surgeon, leaving his daughter to burst into her giggle8.
Dr. Cavendish put his arm within his friend's, led him beyond the hearing of Miss Jemima, and said a few words in a low tone.
"Why, the case must be a grave one!" exclaimed Mr. Moore aloud.
"I think so. I don't like the symptoms at all. From some cause or other, too, it seems he has not had advice till now, which makes it all the more dangerous."
"By the way, doctor, as you are here, I wish you would spare five minutes to see a poor woman with me," said Mr. Moore, passing from the other subject. "It won't hinder you much longer than that."
"All right, Moore. Who is it?"
"It's the widow of that poor fellow who died from sun-stroke in the summer, Whittle9. The woman has been ailing10 ever since, and very grave disease has now set in. I don't believe I shall save her; only yesterday it crossed my mind to wish you could see her. She lives just down below there; in one of the cottages beyond Foxwood Court."
They got into the gig, the physician taking the reins11, and telling his groom to follow on foot. Miss Jemima was left to make her own way home. She was rather a pretty girl, with a high colour, and a quantity of light brown curls, and her manners were straightforward12 and decisive. When the follies13 and vanities of youth should have been chased away by sound experience, allowing her naturally good sense to come to the surface, she would, in all probability, be as strong-minded as her Aunt Diana, whom she already resembled in many ways.
The autumn evening was drawing on: twilight14 had set in. Miss Jemima stood a moment, deliberating which road she should take; whether follow the gig, and go home round by the Court, or the other way. Of the two, the latter was the nearer, and the least lonely; and she might--yes, she might--encounter Mr. Cattacomb on his way to or from St. Jerome's. Clearly it was the one to choose. Turning briskly round when the decision was made, she nearly ran against Mr. Strange. That gentleman had just got back from London, sent down again by the authorities at Scotland Yard, and was on his way from the station. The Maze had become an object, of so much interest to him as to induce him to choose the long way round that would cause him to pass its gates, rather than take the direct road to the village. And here was another of those unfortunate accidents apparently15 springing out of chance; for the detective had seen the gig waiting, and halted in a bend of the hedge to watch the colloquy16 of the doctors.
"Good gracious, is it you, Mr. Strange?" cried the young lady, beginning to giggle again. "Why, Mother Jinks declared this afternoon you had gone out for the day!"
"Did she? Well, when I stroll out I never know when I may get back: the country is more tempting17 in autumn than at any other season. That was a doctor's gig, was it not, Miss Jemima?"
"Dr. Cavendish's of Basham," replied Miss Jemima, who enjoyed the honour of a tolerable intimacy18 with Mrs. Jinks's lodger--as did most of the other young ladies frequenting the parson's rooms.
"He must have come over to see some one. I wonder who is ill?"
"Papa wondered, too, when he first saw the gig. It is somebody at the Maze."
"Do you know who?"
"Well, they seemed to talk as if it were a gentleman. I did not much notice."
"A gentleman?"
"I think so. I am sure they said 'he' and 'him.' Perhaps Mrs. Grey's husband has arrived. Whoever it is he must be very ill, for I heard papa say the case must be 'grave,' and the doctor called it 'dangerous.' They have gone on together now to see poor Hannah Whittle."
Not since he had had the affair in hand had the detective's ears been regaled with so palatable19 a dish. That Philip Salter had been taken ill with some malady20 or another sufficiently21 serious to necessitate22 the summoning of a doctor, he fully23 believed. Miss Jemima resumed.
"I must say, considering that papa is the medical attendant there, Mrs. Grey might have had the good manners to consult him first."
"It may be the old gardener that's ill," observed the detective slowly, who had been turning his thoughts about.
"So it may," acquiesced24 Miss Jemima. "He's but a poor, creaky old thing by all accounts. But no--they would hardly go to the expense of telegraphing for a physician for him with papa at hand."
"Oh, they telegraphed, did they?"
"So the groom said."
"The girl is right," thought the detective. "They'd not telegraph for Hopley. It is Salter. And they have called in a stranger from a distance in preference to Mr. Moore close by. The latter might have talked to the neighbourhood. You have done me a wonderful service, young lady, if you did but know it."
Mr. Strange did not offer to attend her home, but suffered her to depart alone.
Miss Jemima, who was rather fond of a little general flirtation25, though she did perhaps favour one swain above all others, resented the slight in her heart. She consoled herself after the manner of the fox when he could not reach the grapes.
"He's nothing but a bear," said she, tossing her little vain head as she tripped away in the deepening gloom of the evening. "It is all for the best. We might have chanced to meet Mr. Cattacomb, and then he would have looked daggers26 at me. Or--my goodness me!--perhaps Aunt Diana."
Mr. Strange strolled on, revolving27 the aspect of affairs in his official mind. His next object must be to get to speak to Dr. Cavendish and learn who it really was that he had been to see. Of course it was not absolutely beyond the cards of possibility that the sick man was Hopley. It was not impossible that Mrs. Grey might have some private and personal objection to the calling in again of Mr. Moore; or that the old man had been seized with some illness so alarming as to necessitate the services of a clever physician in preference to those of a general practitioner28. He did not think any of this likely, but it might be; and only Dr. Cavendish could set it at rest.
Perhaps some slight hope animated29 him that he might obtain an immediate30 interview with Dr. Cavendish on the spot, as he returned from Mrs. Whittle's cottage. If so, he found it defeated. The gig came back with the two gentlemen in it, and it drove off direct to the village, not passing Foxwood Court at all, or the detective; but the latter was near enough to see it travel along. Mr. Moore was dropped at his own house, and the groom--who had been sent on there--taken up; and then the gig went on to Basham.
"I must see him somehow," decided the detective--"and the less time lost over it, the better. Of course a man in the dangerously sick state this one is represented to be, cannot make himself scarce as quickly as one in health could; but Salter has not played at hide-and-seek so long to expose himself unnecessarily. He would make superhuman efforts to elude31 us, and rather get away dying than wait to be taken. Better strike while the iron is hot. I must see the doctor to-night."
He turned back to the station; and was just in time to watch the train for Basham go puffing32 out.
"That train has gone on before its time!" he cried in anger.
After reference to clocks and watches, it was found that it had gone on before its time by more than a minute. The station-master apologised: said the train was up three or four minutes too early; and, as no passengers were waiting to go on by it, he had given the signal to start rather too soon. Mr. Strange gave the master in return a bit of his mind; but he could not recall the train, and had to wait for the next.
The consequence of this was, that he did not reach Basham until past nine o'clock. Enquiring33 for the residence of Dr. Cavendish, he was directed to a substantial-looking house near the market-place. A boy in buttons, who came to the door, said the Doctor was not at home.
"I particularly wish to see him," said Mr. Strange. "Will he be long?"
"Well, I don't know," replied the boy, indifferently; who, like the rest of his tribe, had no objection to indulge in semi-insolence when it might be done with safety. "Master don't never hardly see patients at this hour, None of 'em cares to come at night-time."
"I am not a patient. My business with Dr. Cavendish is private and urgent. I will wait until he comes in."
The boy, not daring to make objection to this, ushered34 the visitor into a small room that he called the study. It had one gaslight burning; just enough to illumine the book-shelves and a white bust35 or two that stood in the corners on pedestals. Here Mr. Strange was left to his reflections.
He had plenty of food for them. That Salter was at the Maze, he felt as sure of as though he had already seen him. Superintendent36 Game had informed him who Smith the agent had acknowledged himself to be--Salter's cousin--and stated his own views of the motives37 that induced his residence at Foxwood. This was an additional thread in the web of belief Mr. Strange was weaving; a confirmatory link that seemed all but conclusive38. In the short period that elapsed between his interview with Nurse Chaffen, chez elle, and his run up to London, he had seen his friend Giles, the footman, and by dint39 of helping40 that gentleman to trace days back and recall events, had arrived at a fact that could neither be disputed nor controverted--namely, that it could not have been Sir Karl Andinnian who was seen at the Maze by her and the surgeon. On that evening, Sir Karl, his wife, and Miss Blake had gone to a dinner party at a few miles distance. At the self-same minute of time that the event at the Maze took place, they were seated with the rest of the company at the dinner table, Mr. Giles himself standing41 behind in waiting. This was a fact: and had Miss Blake taken a little trouble to ascertain42 from Nurse Chaffen which evening it was the mysterious gentleman had presented himself to view, and then recalled the day of the dinner, she would have discovered the fallacy of her belief in supposing him to have been Sir Karl.
Mr. Strange had, however, discovered it, and that was unfortunately more to the purpose. Whatever might be the object of Sir Karl's private visits to the Maze--and upon that point Mr. Strange's opinion did not change, and he had laughed quietly over it with the superintendent--it was not Sir Karl who was seen that night. It was a great point to have ascertained43: and the detective thought he had rarely held stronger cards at any game of chance than were in his hands now. That Mrs. Grey would prove to be Salter's sister, he entertained no doubt of.
But the waiting was somewhat weary. Ten o'clock. Unless Dr. Cavendish made his appearance shortly, Mr. Strange would lose the last train, and have the pleasure of walking all the way from Basham. He was standing before one of the busts--the late Sir Robert Peel's--when the door opened, and there entered a quiet lady-like woman, with cordial manners and-a homely44 face. It was Mrs. Cavendish.
"I am so sorry you should have to wait so long for my husband," she said. "If I knew where he was gone, I would send to him: but he did not happen to tell me before he went out. Your business with him is of importance, I hear."
"Yes, madam: of importance to myself. Perhaps he will not be much longer now."
"I should think not. Will you allow me to send you in a glass of wine?"
He thanked her, but declined it; and she went away again. A short while, and a latch-key was heard in the house door, denoting the return of its master. Some few words were exchanged in the hall between Dr. Cavendish and his wife--and the former entered: a short, quick-speaking man, with grey whiskers.
As a matter so much of course that it hardly needs mentioning, the detective had to be no less crafty45 in conducting this interview than he was in some other matters. To have said to Dr. Cavendish, "I want from you a description of the patient you were called to see to-day, that I may ascertain whether it be indeed an escaped criminal of whom I am in search," would have been to close the doctor's mouth. It was true that he might open his cards entirely46 and say, "I am Detective Tatton from Scotland Yard, and I require you in the name of the law to give me all the information you can about the patient;" and, in that case it was possible that the doctor might deem himself obliged to give it. But he preferred to keep that master-stroke in hand, and try another way.
He possessed47 pleasant manners, and had a winning way with him--it has been already said; he spoke48 as a gentleman. Sitting down close to the doctor, he began enquiring in an earnest tone after the new patient at the Maze, and spoke so feelingly about patients in general, that he half gained the physician's heart.
"You are some close friend of the gentleman's?" observed Dr. Cavendish. And the word "gentleman" set the one great doubt at rest.
"I am most deeply interested in him," said the detective: and the unsuspicious doctor never noticed the really sophistical nature of the answer.
"Well, I am sorry to tell you that I think him very ill. I don't know what they can have been about not to call in advice before." And in a few short words he stated what disease the symptoms seemed to threaten.
It startled the detective. He was sufficiently acquainted with surgery to know that it was one of difficulty and danger.
"Surely, Dr. Cavendish, he is not threatened with that?"
"I fear he is."
"Why, it will kill him! It is not curable, is it?"
"Rarely, if ever, when once it has certainly set-in."
"And it kills soon."
"Generally."
Mr. Strange looked very blank. To hear that his prize might escape him by death--or might die close upon his capture, was eminently49 unsatisfactory. It would be a termination to the great affair he had never thought of; would tarnish50 all the laurels51 in a business point of view: and he was, besides, not a hard-hearted man.
"He is very young for that kind of thing, is he not, doctor?"
"Yes. Rather so."
"What brings it on, sir, in general?"
"Oh, various causes."
"Will trouble induce it?--I mean great trouble; anxiety; care?"
"Sometimes. Especially if there should be any hereditary52 tendency to it in the system."
"Well, I did not expect to hear this."
"Are you his brother?" asked the Doctor, seeing how cut-up the visitor looked. "Not that I detect any likeness53."
"No, I am not his brother; or any other relative. Do you consider it a hopeless case, Dr. Cavendish?"
"I have not said that. I should not be justified54 in saying it. In fact, I have not yet formed a positive opinion on the case, and cannot do so until I shall have examined further into it. All I say at present is, that I do not like the symptoms."
"And--if the symptoms turn out to be what you fear; to threaten the malady you speak of--what then?"
"Why then there will be very little hope for him."
"You are going over to him again, then?"
"Of course. To-morrow. He is not in a state to be left without medical attendance."
"How long do you think it has been coming on, doctor?"
"I cannot tell you that. Not less than a twelvemonth, if it be what I fear."
Mr. Strange played with his watch-chain. He wanted the description of the man yet--though, in fact he felt so sure as hardly to need it, only that detectives do not leave anything to chance.
"Would you mind telling me what you think of his looks, Dr. Cavendish?"
"Oh, as to his looks, they are the best part about him. His face is somewhat worn and pallid55, but it is a very handsome face. I never saw a nicer set of teeth. His hair and short beard seem to have gone grey prematurely56, for I should scarcely give him forty years."
"He is only five-and-thirty," spoke the detective, thinking of Salter. And that, as the reader may recall, was also about the age of Sir Adam.
"Only that? Then in looks he has prematurely aged6."
"In his prime, say two or three years ago, he was as good-looking a man as one would wish to see," observed the detective, preparing to give a gratuitous57 description of Salter. "A fine, tall, upright figure, strongly-built withal; and a pleasant, handsome, frank face, with fine dark eyes and hair, and a colour fresh as a rose."
"Ay," acquiesced the physician: "I only saw him in bed, and he is now much changed, but I should judge that would be just the description that once applied58 to him. You seem to hint at some great trouble or sorrow that he has gone through: he gives me just that idea. Of what nature was it?--if I may ask."
"It was trouble that was brought on by himself--and that is always the most trying to bear. As to its nature--you must pardon me for declining to particularise it, Dr. Cavendish, but I am really not at liberty to do so. Do not put the refusal down to discourtesy. It is not yet over: and the chances are that you will certainly hear all about it in a day or two."
Dr. Cavendish nodded. He assumed the words to imply that the patient himself would enlighten him. As to the detective, his mission was over; and well over. He had learnt all he wanted: what he had suspected was confirmed.
"That beautiful young woman, living alone at the Maze--what relative is she of his?" asked the doctor, as his visitor rose and took up his hat.
"His sister," was the rather hazardous59 answer.
"Oh, his sister. Mr. Moore could not make out who the patient was. He thought it might be the husband who had returned. When I asked his name, to write a prescription60 for the chemist, Mrs. Grey said I might put it in hers--Grey."
"I thank you greatly for your courtesy, Dr. Cavendish."
"You are welcome," said the doctor. "Mind, I have not expressed any certain opinion as to his non-recovery. Don't go and alarm him. What I have said to you was said in confidence."
"You may depend upon me. Good night."
Mr. Detective Strange had to walk from Basham, for the last train was gone and his return half-ticket useless. Basham police station was nearly opposite the doctor's, and he stepped in there to leave a message on his way. In the satisfaction his visit had afforded him, he did not at all mind the night-walk: on the morrow, the long-sought-for Salter, who had dodged61 them so vexatiously, would be in their hands, the prey62 would have fallen. A satisfaction, however, that was not without alloy63, in the damping circumstances that encompassed64 the man's state of health. And for that he could but feel compassion65.
Midnight was chiming from the clock at Foxwood as he reached the Maze--for he preferred to take that roundabout way. Halting at the gate, he looked about and listened for a minute or two. Then he let himself in with his master-key, and went through the labyrinth66.
The house lay in silence. All seemed still as the grave. There was no light, no sound, no token of illness inside; no, nor even of inmates67. He gently put the said key in the entrance-door to see if it would yield. No: the door was not only locked but bolted and barred. He went to the summer-house, leading up from the underground places, and found the trapdoor there also bolted and barred within. All was as secure as wary68 hands could make it.
"And it is welcome to remain so until to-morrow," breathed the detective as he turned to thread his silent steps back through the maze; "but then, Mr. Philip Salter, you are mine. Neither bolts nor bars can save you then."
And he finally let himself out again at the gate with that ingenious instrument, the key. To be polite, we will apply a French name to it, and call it a passe-partout.
But Dr. Cavendish, reflecting afterwards upon the interview, rather wondered who the stranger was, and whence he had come; and remembered then that he had totally omitted to ask his name.
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1
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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necessitate
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| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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42
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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43
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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tarnish
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| n.晦暗，污点；vt.使失去光泽；玷污 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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alloy
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| n.合金，(金属的)成色 | |
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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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