Benjamin Farjeon - Basil and Annette

Why did he write to his poor mother, for whom he had not the least affection, and what did he mean by expecting her to have any good news to communicate to him? The last time he saw her, was she not begging in the streets? Well, there was a clear reason; he seldom did anything without one; and be sure that the kernel of that reason was Self. His father, from the wreck of his fortune, had managed to preserve a number of shares in some companies which had failed, among them two mining companies which had come to grief. Now, it had happened before and might happen again, that companies which were valueless one day had leaped into favour the next, that shares which yesterday could have been purchased for a song, to-morrow would be worth thousands of pounds. Suppose that this happened to the companies, or to one of them, in which his pauper father held shares. He was his father's only child, and his mother would see that he was not disinherited. Chaytor was a man who never threw away a chance, and he would not throw away this, remote as it was. Hence his determination to adhere at all hazards to his proper name. The perilous excitements of the last two or three years had driven Basil Whittingham out of his mind, but having more leisure and less to occupy his thoughts in the colonies, he thought of him now and then, and wondered whether the old uncle had relented and had taken his nephew again into his favour. "Lucky young beggar," he thought. "I wish I stood in his shoes, and he in mine. I would soon work the old codger into a proper mood." His colonial career was neither profitable nor creditable, and he had degenerated into what he was when he and Basil came face to face in Gum Flat, an unadulterated gambler and loafer. The strange encounter awoke within him forces which had long lain dormant. He recognised a possible chance which might be worked to his benefit, and he fastened to it like a limpet. When he said to Basil that he was in luck be really meant it.

A word as to his false beard and whiskers. In London he had had a behind-the-scenes acquaintance, and in a private theatrical performance in which he played a part he had worn these identical appendages as an adjunct to the character he represented. He had brought them out with him, thinking they might be serviceable one day. Before he came to Gum Flat he had got into a scrape on another township, and when he left it, had assumed the false hair as a kind of disguise. Making his appearance on Gum Flat thus disguised, he deemed it prudent to retain it, and when he came into association with Basil he thanked his stars that he had done so; otherwise he might have drawn upon himself from the man he called his double a closer attention than he desired.

In the middle of the night Basil awoke. He had had a tiring day, but when he had slept off the first effects of the fatigue he had undergone, the exciting events of the last two days became again the dominant power. He dreamt of all that had occurred from the interview between himself and Anthony Bidaud, in which he had accepted the guardianship of Annette, to the moment of his arrival on Gum Flat. Of Newman Chaytor he dreamt not at all; this new acquaintance had produced no abiding impression upon him.

He lay awake for some five minutes or so in that condition of quiescent wonder which often falls upon men when they are sleeping for the first time in a strange bed and in a place with which they are not familiar. Where was he? What was the position of the bed? Where was the door situated: at the foot, or the head, or the side of the bed? Was there a window in the apartment, and if so, where was it? Then came the mental question what had aroused him?

It was so unusual for him to wake in the middle of the night that he dwelt upon this question. Something must have disturbed him. What?

Was it fancy that just at the moment of his awakening he had heard a movement in the room, that he had felt a hand upon him, that he had heard a man's breathing? It must have been, all was so quiet and still. Suddenly he sat straight up on the stretcher. He remembered that he was in the township of Gum Flat, sleeping in a strange apartment, and that men with whom he had not been favourably impressed must be lying near him. This did not apply to Newman Chaytor, who had been kind and attentive, and whom he now thought of with gratitude. There was nothing to fear from him, but the other three had gazed at him furtively and with no friendly feelings. He had exchanged but a few words with these men, and those had been words of suspicion. When he entered the store, after attending to his horse, they had not addressed a word to him. It was Chaytor, and Chaytor alone, who had shown kindness and evinced a kindly feeling. And now he was certain that someone had been in the room while he slept, and had laid hands on him. For what purpose?

He slid from the stretcher, and standing upright stretched out his hands in the darkness. Where was the door?

Outside the canvas building stood Chaytor's three mates, wide awake, with their heads close together, as they had been inside on the return of Basil and Chaytor from the stable. They were conversing in whispers.

"Did he hear you?"

"No. If he had moved I would have knocked him on the head."

"Have you got it?"

"Yes, it is all right."

"Pass it round."

"No; I will keep it till it's sold; then we'll divide equally."

"What do you think it's worth?"

"Twenty pounds, I should say."

"Little enough."

"Hush!"

The sound of Basil moving about his room, groping for the door, had reached them.

"If he comes out, Jim, you tackle him."

"Leave him to me. Don't waste any more time. Get the horse from the stable."

Basil, unable to find the door, stumbled against the calico portion which divided his room from that in which Chaytor slept.

"Who's there?" cried Chaytor, jumping up.

"Oh, it's you," said Basil, recognising the voice. "Have you got a light?"

"Wait a moment."

But half dressed he represented himself to Basil, with a lighted candle in his hand.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I don't know," replied Basil, "but I am not easy in my mind. Perhaps it is only my fancy, but I have an idea that someone has been in my room."

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