Basil and Annette. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

could find repose and solitude. The walls of course were of calico, and for complete privacy darkness was necessary.

      Chaytor and the three gamblers who were bending over their cards in the dim light of the larger space without, each occupied one of these sleeping compartments. Two remained vacant, and into one of these Chaytor led Basil.

      There was a stretcher in the room, a piece of strong canvas nailed upon four pieces of batten driven into the ground. The canvas was bare; there were no bedclothes.

      "I have two blankets," said Chaytor, "I can spare you one."

      Basil was too tired to protest. Dressed as he was he threw himself upon the stretcher, drew the blanket over him, and bidding his hospitable friend good-night, and thanking him again, was fast asleep almost as the words passed his lips.

      Newman Chaytor stood for a moment or two gazing upon the sleeping man. "I can't be dreaming," he thought; "he is here before me, and I am wide awake. I drink to the future." He held no glass, but he went through the pantomime of drinking out of one.

      Taking the lighted candle with him he joined his mates, and left Basil sleeping calmly in darkness. They were no longer playing cards, but with heads close together were debating in whispers. Upon Chaytor's entrance they shifted their positions and ceased talking.

      "Have you put your gentleman to bed?" asked Jim the Hatter, in a sneering tone in which a sinister ring might have been detected.

      "Much obliged to you for the inquiry," replied Chaytor, prepared to fence; "he is sound asleep."

      "Interesting child! A case of love at first sight, mates."

      Nonentities Numbers One and Two nodded, with dark looks at Chaytor, who smiled genially at them and commenced to smoke.

      "Or," said Jim the Hatter, "perhaps an old acquaintance."

      "Take your choice," observed Chaytor, who, in finesse and coolness, was a match for the three.

      "Doesn't it strike you, Newman, that it's taking a liberty with us to feed and bolster him up, and stand drinks as well, without asking whether we was agreeable?"

      "Not at all. The sardines were mine, the biscuits were mine, the grog was mine. If you want to quarrel, say so."

      "I'm for peace and quietness," said Jim the Hatter, threateningly. "I was only expressing my opinion."

      "And I mine. Look here, mates, I don't want to behave shabbily, so I'll tell you what is in my mind."

      "Ah, do," said Jim the Hatter, with a secret sign to the Nonentities which Chaytor did not see; "then we shall know where we are."

      "I'll tell you where we are, literally, mates. We're in a heaven-forsaken township, running fast to bone, which leads to skeleton. Now I'm not prepared for that positive eventuality just yet. This world is good enough for me at present, and I mean to do my best to enjoy it."

      "Can't you enjoy it in our company?" asked Jim the Hatter.

      "I think not," said Chaytor, with cool insolence. "The best of friends must part."

      "Oh, that's your little game, is it?"

      "That is my little game. I am growing grey. If I don't look out I shall be white before I am thirty. Really I think it must be the effect of the company I have kept."

      "We're not good enough for you, I suppose?"

      "If you ask for my deliberate opinion I answer, most distinctly not. No, mates, not by a long way good enough."

      "Don't be stuck up, mate. Better men than you have had to eat humble pie."

      "Any sort of pie," said Chaytor, philosophically, "is better than no pie at all. Take my advice. Bid good-bye to Gum Flat, gigantic fraud that it is, and go in search of big nuggets. That is what I am going to do."

      "With your gentleman friend?"

      "With my gentleman friend. We may as well part civilly, but if you choose the other thing I am agreeable." The three men rose with the intention of retiring. They did not respond to his invitation to part friends. "Well, good-night, and good luck to you." They nodded surlily and entered their sleeping apartments, after exchanging a few words quietly between themselves.

      Newman Chaytor helped himself to brandy from his flask then filled his pipe, and began to smoke.

      That he had something serious to think of was evident, and that he was puzzled what use to make of it was quite as clear. An enterprise was before him, and he was disposed to pledge himself to it; but he was in the dark as to what end it would lead him. In the dark, also, how it could be so conducted as to result in profit to himself. He was in desperately low water, and had lost confidence in himself. His ship was drifting anchorless on a waste of waters; suddenly an anchor had presented itself, which, while it would afford him peace and safety for a time, might show him a way to a golden harbour. An ugly smile wreathed his lips, the sinister aspect of which was hidden by his abundant hair: but it was there, and remained for many musing moments. He took from his pocket a common memorandum book, and on a few blank pages he wrote the names, Newman Chaytor and Basil Whittingham, several times and in several different styles of handwriting. Then he wrote upon one, in the form of a check, "Pay to Newman Chaytor, Esq., the sum of forty thousand pounds. Basil Whittingham." He contemplated this valueless draft for a long time before destroying it at the candle's light, as he destroyed the other sheets of paper upon which he had written the signatures.

      "All the pleasures of existence," he mused, "all the light, everything in the world worth having, are on the other side of the water. Was I born to grind out my days in a prison like this? No, and I will not. Here is the chance of escape" – he turned his head to the room in which Basil was sleeping-"with possibilities which may give me all I desire. It would be flying in the face of Providence to neglect it. The first law of nature is Self. I should be a born fool not to obey the first law of nature."

      In these reflections he passed an hour, when he determined to go to bed.

      All was still. He stepped on tip toe to each of the four compartments occupied by Basil, Jim the Hatter, and the Nonentities, and listened at the doors to assure himself that he was the only wakeful person in the store. Deeming himself safe he entered his own room, and taking a small round mirror in a zinc frame from the top of a packing case which served as washstand and dressing-table, gazed at his face with strange intentness. Putting the hand mirror down he cast wary looks around. Yes, he was alone; there were no witnesses. Then he did a curious thing. He took off his beard and whiskers.

      In the room on his right lay Basil asleep; in the room on his left was Jim the Hatter, whom he supposed to be. But in this he reckoned without his host, as many another sharp rogue has done in his time. Jim the Hatter, despite his deep breathing, which had deceived Newman Chaytor, was wide awake. The moment Chaytor entered his room Jim the Hatter had slipped noiselessly from his stretcher, and his face was now glued to the wall of calico through which the light of Chaytor's candle was shining. There was a small slit in the calico, which enabled Jim the Hatter to see what was passing in Chaytor's room. Chaytor's back, however, was towards the wall through which he was peeping. The watcher was puzzled; he could not exactly discover what it was Chaytor had done.

      Upon Chaytor's face, now beardless and whiskerless, there was a natural growth of hair in the shape of a moustache. This moustache was the precise colour of that which Basil grew and cherished. It was not so long, but a few week's growth would make the resemblance perfect, if such was Chaytor's wish. In other respects the resemblance between him and Basil was remarkable. Height, figure, complexion-even the colour of the eyes-all tallied.

      In his anxiety to discover exactly what was going on, Jim the Hatter made a slight movement, which was heard by Chaytor. He turned suddenly, and the astonished watcher beheld the counterpart of Basil.

      "By Jove!" he said inly; "twins!"

      Then, warned by Chaytor's attitude that he was in danger of himself being discovered, he slipped between his blankets as noiselessly as he had slipped out of them. Waiting only to resume his disguise of beard and whiskers, Chaytor, candle in hand, went quietly and swiftly into the adjoining room and looked down upon the recumbent form of Jim the Hatter. Undoubtedly asleep, and sleeping like a top. Chaytor