Basil and Annette

"You can. I will never forget your goodness; never."

"I am going, now, to roll the tree to the shaft. Be as patient as you can."

He did not go far. The slim trunk that he spoke of lay not six or seven hundred yards off, but quite close to the shaft, and he knew that Basil in his pursuit of the robbers could not have observed it. He was master of the situation; Basil was at his mercy, and every word he had uttered was intended to bind the unsuspicious man more firmly to him. "He is a soft-hearted fool," thought Chaytor, "and I shall be able to bend him any way I please through the gratitude he feels for me. I think I spoke rather well. What is this?" He stooped and picked up a pocket-book which had slipped from Basil's pocket as he ran after the thieves.

Retreating still farther from the shaft, to make assurance doubly sure, Chaytor, with eager fingers and a greedy expectancy in his eyes opened the book and examined the contents. Intrinsically they were of no value, but in their relation to the unformed design which was prompting Chaytor's actions their value was inestimable. There were memoranda of dates, events, names and addresses, and also some old letters. Any possible use of the latter did not occur to Chaytor, but his examination of the former was almost instantly suggestive. They were in Basil's handwriting, some being dated and signed "B. W.", and would serve admirably as copies for anyone who desired to imitate the writing. Clear up and down strokes, without twists or eccentric curves, straightforward as Basil himself. "This is a find," thought Chaytor; "Providence is certainly on my side. In a week I shall be able to write so exactly like Basil that he will be ready to swear my writing is his. There is information, too, in the book which may prove serviceable. I'll stick to him while there's a chance, and contrive so that he shall stick to me. I haven't done badly up to now."

More than an hour did Chaytor employ in cunning cogitation, smoking the while in a state of comfortable haziness as to the future. Imagination gilded the prospect and clothed it with alluring fancies; and that the roads which led to it were dark and devious did not deter him from revelling in the contemplation. Time was up. Panting and blowing, he rolled the tree-trunk to the shaft.

"Below there!" he called out.

"Ah!" replied Basil; "you are back again."

"I have had a terrible job," said the hypocrite, "and almost despaired of accomplishing it, but stout heart and willing hands put strength into a fellow, and the tree is here. Look out for yourself while I roll it across the shaft. The earth may be rotten, and some bits will roll down, perhaps, though I'll do all I can to prevent it."

"Thank you, a thousand, thousand times. There's a little tunnel here; I'll get into it while you're at work above."

With loud evidences of arduous toil Chaytor placed the trunk in position, and then made the rope secure around it.

"Now," said Chaytor, "all is ready, Basil, and I'm going to lower the rope. Have you got it?"

"Yes," replied Basil, in a faint tone.

"You will have to pull yourself up by it. I will keep the rope as tight and steady as I can, and that is as much as I can do. Do you think you will be able to manage it?"

"I must try, but I feel very weak. My strength is giving way."

"Don't let it, old fellow. Pluck up courage; it's only for a few minutes, and then you will be safe at the top. Now then, with a will."

It required a will on Basil's part, he was so weak, and more than once he feared that it was all over with him; but at length the difficult feat was accomplished, and, with daylight shining once more on him, he reached the top, and was pulled from the mouth of the shaft by Chaytor's strong arms. Then, his strength quite gone, he sank lifeless to the ground.

Chaytor, gazing upon the helpless form, reflected. He had Basil's pocket-book packed safely away in an inner pocket of his waistcoat, one of those pockets which men who have anything to conceal, or who move in lawless places, have made in their garments. This book contained much that might be useful; for instance, the correct name and address of Basil's uncle in England, a statement of the debts which Basil had paid to keep his dead father's name clear from reproach, the address of the lawyers who had managed that transaction, the amount of the fortune that Basil's mother had bequeathed to him, and other such matters. Now, had Basil anything more upon his person which might be turned to account in the future? If so, this was a favourable opportunity for Chaytor to possess himself of it. There would be no difficulty in satisfactorily explaining the loss of any property which Basil had about him. In the confusion and excitement of the last few hours anything might have happened.

Having decided the point, Chaytor's unscrupulous fingers became busy, and every article in Basil's pockets passed through his hands. With the exception of a purse, he replaced everything he had taken out. This purse contained a locket with a lock of hair in it: at the back of the locket was an inscription in Basil's writing-"My dear Mother's hair," her Christian name, the date of her death, and her age. There was no money in the purse. Undoubtedly Basil, when he recovered his senses, would miss his purse, but if his pocket-book slipped out of his pocket while running, why not that? Chaytor was perfectly easy in his mind as he deposited the purse by the side of the pocket-book inside his waistcoat.

Meanwhile Basil lay motionless. "I'll carry him a little way," thought Chaytor. "Anything might drop from his clothes while he is hanging over my shoulder. I'll have as many arrows to my bow as I can manufacture. When he gets to his senses we will have a hunt for the purse and the pocket-book, and of course shall not find them." With a grim smile he raised Basil to a sitting posture, and gradually lifted him on to his shoulder. Clasping him firmly round the body, Chaytor staggered on.

Basil was no light weight, and Chaytor, while he was pursuing his dissipated life in London, had not been renowned for strength; but his colonial career had hardened his muscles, and enabled him now to perform a task which in years gone by would have been impossible. A dozen times he stopped to rest and wipe his brows. The form he carried was helpless and inert, but Basil's mind was stirred by the motion of being carried through the fresh air, and he began to babble. He thought he was upon old Corrie's mare, and he urged the animal on, muttering in disjointed and unconnected words that he must reach the township of Gum Flat that night, and be back again next day. Then he went on to babble about Annette and her father, and to a less intelligent man than Chaytor-give him credit for that-his wandering talk might have been incoherent and meaningless. But Chaytor's intellect was refined and sharpened by the possibilities of a gilded future. He listened attentively to every word that fell from Basil's fevered lips, and put meaning to them, sometimes false sometimes true.

"My friend Basil is in a delirium," said he during the intervals of Basil's muttering, "and I shall have to nurse him through a fever most likely. What with that probability, and the weight of him, I am earning my wage. No man can dispute that. He raves like a man in love about this Annette. How old is she? Is she pretty? Does she love him? Will she be rich? Is that a vein I could work to profit? I don't intend to throw away the shadow of a chance. An age seems to have passed since last night. But what," he cried suddenly, "if all my labour is being thrown away-what if I am following a will-o'-the-wisp?"

He let Basil slip purposely from his arms, and heedless of the sick man's groans, for the fall was violent, he looked down upon him as though a mortal enemy was in his path. But one of the strongest elements in greed and avarice is the hope that leads their votaries on, and this and the superstitious feeling that the meeting had been brought about by fate, and was but the beginning of a fruitful end, dispelled the doubt that had arisen. "I will work for it," he muttered; "It is my only chance. Even if nothing comes of it I shall be no worse off. But something shall come of it-I swear it."

Reassured, he took up his burden, and in the course of an hour reached the dwelling they had occupied the previous night. By that time Basil was in a high fever, and Chaytor began to be disturbed by the fear that his double would die. Then, indeed, his labour would be lost and his hopes destroyed, for he had much to learn and much to do before the vague design which spurred him on could be developed and ripened.

Chaytor had a secret store of provisions which he had hoarded up unknown to Jim the Hatter and the Nonentities; some tins of preserved meat and soup, the remains of a sack of flour, two or three pounds of tea, a few bottles of spirits, and a supply of tobacco. These would have served for a longer time than Basil's sickness lasted, and Chaytor comforted himself with the reflection that he could not have carried them away with him had he been compelled to leave the deserted township. It was really Basil's stout and healthy constitution that pulled him through a fever which would have proved fatal to many men. He did not recover his senses for sixteen days, and as he had nothing to conceal he, during that time, revealed to Chaytor in his wild wandering much of his early life. When at length he opened his eyes, and they fell with dawning consciousness upon the man standing beside his bed, Chaytor was in possession of particulars innocent enough in themselves, but dangerous if intended to be used to a wily and dangerous end. During those sixteen days Chaytor had not been idle, having employed himself industriously in studying and imitating the few peculiarities in Basil's writing. To a past-master like himself this was not difficult, and he succeeded in producing an imitation so perfect as to deceive anyone familiar with Basil's style. He was careful in destroying every evidence of this vile study.

Basil's eyes fell upon Chaytor's face, and he was silent awhile. Chaytor also. Basil closed his eyes, opened them again, and fell to once more pondering upon matters. Then Chaytor spoke.

"Do you know me at last?" he asked.

"Know you! At last!" echoed Basil. "I have seen you before-but where?"

"Here, in Gum Flat township."

"I am in Gum Flat township. Yes, I remember, I was riding that way on old Corrie's mare." He jumped up, or rather tried to do so, his weak state frustrating his intention.

"Where are the robbers?"

"That's the question," said Chaytor, "and echo answers. Not very satisfactory."

"It is coming back to me little by little," said Basil presently. "I arrived here late at night and found the township deserted by all but four men, three of them scoundrels, the fourth a noble fellow whose name was-was-what has happened to me that my memory plays me tricks? I have it now-whose name was Newman Chaytor."

"A true bill. He stands before you."

"You are the man. What occurred next? He found a stable for Old Corrie's mare, gave me food and a bed, while the three scoundrels looked on frowning. I slept like an unfaithful steward; the mare being Corrie's and not mine, and I doubtful of the character and intentions of the scoundrels, I should have kept watch over property that did not belong to me. Instead of doing that I consulted my own ease and pleasure."

"You could not help it; you were tired out."

"No excuse. I made no attempt to guard Old Corrie's mare. If I had watched and fallen asleep from weariness at my post it might have been another matter. When I present myself to Old Corrie, that is if I am ever able to stand upon my legs again I shall put no gloss upon my conduct. He shall hear the plain unvarnished truth from the unfaithful steward's own lips. I am unworthy of confidence or friendship; I warn you, Newman Chaytor, put no trust in me."

"I would trust you," said Chaytor, with well-simulated candour, "with my life."

"The more fool you. Where was I? Oh, asleep in the comfortable bed you gave me while these scoundrels were planning robbery. In the middle of the night I woke up-pitch dark it was-forgive me for speaking ungratefully to you. My heart is overflowing with gratitude, but I am at the same time filled with remorse."

"Don't trouble about that, Basil," said Chaytor. "You can't hurt yourself in my esteem. Go on with your reminiscence; it is a healthy exercise; it will strengthen your wandering memory."

"Pitch dark it was. I was not sure then, but I am now, that thieves had been in my room. Have I been lying here long, Chaytor?"

"Two weeks and more."

"And you have been nursing me all that time?"

"As well as I could. You could have found no other nurse-though easy to find a better-in Gum Flat; you and I are the only two living humans in the township."

"Why did you not leave me to die?"

"Because I am not quite a brute."

"Forgive me for provoking such a reply. But why-indeed, why have you been so good to me?"

"I will answer you honestly, Basil. Because I love you."

He lowered his voice and bent his eyes to the ground as he made the false statement; and Basil turned his head, and a little sob escaped him at the expression of devotion.

"I hope I may live to repay you," he said, holding out his hand, which Chaytor seized.

"You will. All I ask of you is not to desert me. Stick to me as a friend, as I have stuck to you; I have been so basely deceived in friendship that my faith in human goodness would be irrevocably shattered if you prove false." His voice faltered; tears came into his eyes.

"That will I never do. My life is yours."

"I want your heart."

"You have it. The world contains no nobler man than my friend, Newman Chaytor."

"I am well repaid. Now you must rest; you have talked enough."

"No, I will finish first. Hearing sounds outside the tent I called for your assistance. We went out together and were immediately attacked. Were you much hurt, Chaytor?"

"A little," replied Chaytor, modestly. "A scratch or two not worth mentioning."

"It is like you to make light of your own injuries. We pursued the scoundrels through the darkness, but they knew the ground they were travelling, we did not. An uncovered shaft lay in my way, and down I fell. That is all I remember. But I know that my bones would be bleaching there at the present moment if it had not been for you."

"Try to remember a little more," said Chaytor, anxious that not a grain of credit should be lost to him. "I came up to the shaft sorely bruised, and called out to you."

"Yes, yes, it comes back to me. You brought me some brandy-you cheered and comforted me-you rolled the trunk of a tree over the mouth of the shaft-it was half a mile away-and after hours of terrible agony I was brought into the sweet light of day. But for you I should have died. Indeed and indeed, I remember nothing more. You must tell me the rest."

This Chaytor did with an affectation of modesty, but with absolute exaggeration of the services he had rendered, and Basil lay and listened, and his heart went out to the man who had proved so devoted a friend, and had sacrificed so much for his sake.

"My gratitude is yours to my dying day," he said. "No man ever did for another what you have done for me. Give me my clothes."

"You are not strong enough yet to get up, Basil."

"I don't want to get up. I want to see what the scoundrels have left in my pockets." He felt, and cried: "Everything gone! my purse, my pocket-book, everything-even a lock of my mother's hair. They might have left me that!"

"They made a clean sweep, I suppose," said Chaytor.

He had considered this matter while Basil lay unconscious, and had come to the conclusion that it would be wiser to strip Basil's pockets bare than to make a selection of one or two things, which was scarcely what a thief in his haste would have done. Thus it was that Basil found his pockets completely empty.

"You have for a friend the neediest beggar that ever drew breath," said Basil bitterly.

"I'll put up with that," said Chaytor, with great cheerfulness. "Now, don't worry yourself about anything whatever. You shall share with me to the last pipe of tobacco, and when that's gone we will work for more."

"Ah, tobacco! Would a whiff or two do me any harm?"

"Do you good. You'll have to smoke out of my pipe; the villains have stolen yours."

He filled his pipe, and, giving it to Basil, held a lighted match to the tobacco. Basil, lying on his side, watched the curling smoke as it floated above his head. Distressed as he was, the evidences of Newman Chaytor's goodness were to some extent a compensating balance to his troubles. And now he was enjoying the soothing influence of a quiet smoke. Those persons who regard the weed as noxious and baleful have a perfect right to their opinion, but they cannot ignore the fact that to many thousands of thousands of estimable beings it serves as a comforter, frequently indeed as a healer. It was so in the present instance. As the smoke wreathed and curled above him an ineffable consolation crept into Basil's soul. Things seemed at their blackest; the peace and hope of a bright future had been destroyed; the man who had grown to honour him, and who had assured him of the future, had with awful suddenness breathed his last breath; the little child he loved, and to whom he was to have been guardian and protector, was thrust into the care of a malignant, remorseless man; suspicion of foul play had been thrown upon him; Old Corrie had lent him his mare, and he had allowed it to be stolen; he had been so near to death that but one man, and he a short time since an utter stranger, stood between him and eternity; and he was lying now on a bed of sickness an utter, utter beggar. Grim enough in all conscience, but the simple smoking of a pipe put a different and a better aspect upon it. There was hope in the future; he was young, he would get well and strong again; Anthony Bidaud was dead, but spiritual comfort died not with life; he would see Annette once more, and would take his leave of her assured of her love, so far as a child could give such an assurance, and in the hope of meeting her again in years to come; he would outlive the injurious suspicion of wrong-dealing which he did not doubt Gilbert Bidaud was spreading against him; and he would be able to vindicate himself in Old Corrie's eyes and perhaps by-and-by recompense the old fellow for the loss of the more. Much virtue in a pipe when it can so transform the prospect stretching before a man brought to such a pass as Basil had been.

"Yes," he said aloud, "all will come right in the end."

"Of course it will," said Chaytor. "What special mental question are you answering?"

"Nothing special. I was thinking in a general way of my troubles, and your pipe has put a more cheerful colour on them. Am I mistaken in thinking you told me you were a doctor?"

"No. That is why I have been able to pull you through so quickly."

"How long will it be before I am able to get about?"

"At the end of the week if you will be reasonable."

"I promise. I feel well already. The moment I am strong enough I must go to Bidaud's plantation."

"I will go with you."

"Of course. We are mates from this day forth. The end of the week? Not earlier?"

"Don't be impatient. My plan is to make a perfect cure. No patching. At present I am in command."

"I obey. But let it be as soon as possible."

Chaytor congratulated himself. However things turned out in the future, all had gone on swimmingly up to this moment. Every little move he had made had been successful. Basil had not the slightest suspicion that it was he who had stolen his pocket-book and purse, and emptied his pockets.

"If an angel from heaven," chuckled Chaytor that night, as he walked to and fro outside the store, "came and told him the truth, he would not believe it. I have him under my thumb-under my thumb. How to work his old uncle in England? How to get hold of that forty thousand pounds? It must not go out of the family; I will not submit to it. Would a letter or two from Basil, written by me in Basil's hand, do any good? I don't mind eating any amount of humble pie to accomplish my purpose. Even were it not a vicarious humiliation I am willing to do it, the money being guided into its proper channel, and Basil safely out of the way."

He paused, with a sinister look in his eyes. Had Basil seen him then he would hardly have recognised him. Dark thoughts flitted through his mind, and animated his features.

"Nothing shall stop me," he cried, "nothing!" And he raised his hands to the skies as though registering an oath. A sad cloud stole upon the moon and obscured its light. "What is life without enjoyment?" he muttered. "By fair means or foul I mean to enjoy. I should like to know what we are sent into the world for if we are deprived of a fair share of the best things?" There being no one to answer him, he presently went inside to bed.

The next day Basil was so much better that without asking permission he got up and dressed himself. Chaytor did not remonstrate with him; he knew, now that Basil was mending, that he would mend quickly. So it proved; before the week was out the two men set forth on the tramp to Bidaud's plantations.