CHAPTER XLIV
All was still in house and grounds and lodge. The dark clouds were growing black, but the storm had not yet burst. A clock in the hall struck twelve, and, as if the chimes had called them forth, Gilbert and Chaytor issued from the house, and walked to their rendezvous. Each man was occupied with his own special thoughts, and each kept a wary eye upon the other's shadowed form.
"I left the door of the lodge open," said Gilbert. "Enter."
"After you," said Chaytor.
"Pardon me," said Gilbert, "after you."
Chaytor laughed and stepped into the passage. Gilbert followed, pausing to light a small lamp he carried in his hand. Upon entering the room he lit the larger lamp on the table, on one side of which he placed himself, Chaytor being on the other.
"You seem to be afraid of me," said Chaytor.
"I do not trust you," responded Gilbert.
"There is small temptation for trustfulness between such men as we," said Chaytor. Gilbert nodded quietly. "Well, you have your game, and have won a pretty large stake. Can't you be satisfied with what you have got?"
"You know my terms; the time for discussing them has gone by."
"But there was something forgotten. You made me sign two documents, and you have spoken of forgery."
"You are correct. The production of these documents with the name of Basil Whittingham attached to them in your handwriting would be sufficient to convict you."
"For that reason I do not choose to leave them in your possession. If I pay you the five thousand pounds you are robbing me of you will have to give them up."
"They are here," said Gilbert, producing them, "and will be useless to me when you are gone. You can have them and welcome when the money is paid. You go to-night."
"I go to-night, and hope never to set eyes upon you or yours again."
"My dear friend," said Gilbert, with a courteous bow, "the hope is reciprocal. Let us not prolong this interview. Open your bank and purchase freedom."
Chaytor unbuttoned his waistcoat, and from an inner pocket extracted two bundles of bank notes. Gilbert held out his hand.
"No, no, old fox," said Chaytor. "There are three times five thousand pounds here." He looked at Gilbert savagely.
"If," said the old man, laughing lightly, "by a wish you could burn me to ashes where I stand, you would breathe that wish willingly."
"Most willingly."
"But why? I am dealing tenderly, mercifully by you. In right and justice this money belongs not to you. It belongs to Basil Whittingham. If he were here he could take possession of it, and neither you nor I would care to gainsay him. It being, therefore, as much mine as yours, I let you off lightly by demanding so small a sum. Come, let us finish the comedy; it is time the curtain fell. Count out the price of liberty, the price of my silence, and let us take an affectionate farewell of each other."
"Are you sure we are alone?"
"Do you think I would reveal our conspiracy to a third person? In my pleasant house every human being is asleep; they dream not of the grief which will fill their hearts to-morrow when they learn that you have departed."
"Give me the papers I have signed. Here is your share of the robbery. You had better count it to make sure."
As Gilbert bent over the table to count the notes, Chaytor, with a swift movement, drew a heavy life-preserver from his breast, and aimed a murderous blow at the old man's head. But Gilbert was too quick for him; he had but one eye on the money he was fingering, the other was furtively watching his companion. He darted back, and so escaped the blow; the weapon descended upon the table, and this shock and the violent movements of the men overturned the lamps, the light of which was instantly extinguished. Each man had but one hand disengaged, Chaytor holding the life-preserver and Gilbert a pistol, which he had brought with him as a protection against treachery. The moment the room was in darkness the two disengaged hands groped over the table for the money, and were fiercely clasped. And now a surprising incident occurred. Upon these two hands a third hand was laid, and before they could free themselves were handcuffed together. Simultaneously with this startling and secure manacling of their hands the pistol was knocked from Gilbert's grasp and the life-preserver from Chaytor's; and then a shrill whistle pierced the air and drove the blood from the cheeks of the conspirators. Hurried sounds of steps resounded through the passage.
"This way!" cried Mr. Philpott. "The door is open. Strike a light."
But a light came from another quarter. A vivid flash of lightning illuminated the apartment, and in that flash Newman Chaytor beheld the form of Basil Whittingham, whose death he believed he had compassed on the gold field across the seas. His face grew livid, a heavy groan escaped his lips, and his head fell forward on the table.
"See if you can relight one of the lamps," said Mr. Philpott.
Both the lamps were soon lighted, the glass of only one having been broken. Then Gilbert Bidaud, who had uttered no word during this succession of startling incidents, saw two men whose faces were strange to him, and one whose face he recognised. Manacled as he was to his insensible partner in crime, and unable to release himself, he instantly regained his self-possession.
"If I mistake not," he said, in a tone of exceeding urbanity, "Mr. Basil Whittingham, whose acquaintance I had the pleasure of making on my brother's plantation in Australia. I suspected from the first that this log lying here was an impostor. It is but a sorry welcome I am able to give you, in consequence of the unlawful proceedings of a ruffian" – he glanced at Mr. Philpott-"who shall answer for the assault in a court of law."
"Do not say one word to him, sir," interposed Mr. Philpott, seeing that Basil was about to speak; "leave him to me; I know how to deal with such cattle. I promise to tame him before I have done with him."
"It will be well for you to bear in mind," said Gilbert, still addressing Basil, "that this is my house, and that you are trespassing illegally upon my property. However, for the sake of old times, and for the sake of my niece, I am agreeable to waive that, and come to an amicable settlement with you."
"He speaks very good English for a foreigner," said Mr. Philpott, "and, I'll wager, understands the law as well as we do. I am an officer of the law" – (Mr. Philpott was satisfied that he was quite safe in indulging in this fiction) – "and I tell him plainly that he as laid himself open to a criminal action for conspiracy."
"Shall I not have the pleasure," said Gilbert to Basil, ignoring Mr. Philpott, "of hearing what you have to say in response to the flag of peace I hold out?"
"He is a shrewd customer, sir," said Mr. Philpott, "and if this flag of peace means absolute and unconditional surrender I am ready to consider it. It may interest him to learn that we are in possession of all the particulars of the interview which took place between him and the insensible party he is fastened to, and of the bargain they made to share your money. That tickles him, I see, but it is only one out of a handful of trumps we happen to hold. I will take care of these notes" – he gathered them up-"and we will go into accounts later on."
"Unless my ears deceive me," said Gilbert, "I hear the voice of my niece's maid in the passage. Doubtless my niece accompanies her. Do you think it seemly that she shall be a witness of this scene?"
"Corrie," said Basil, "take one of the lamps, and keep Miss Bidaud outside; I will come to her immediately. Allow me, Mr. Philpott; it will shorten matters if I say a word." He addressed Gilbert Bidaud. "You and your confederate have laid yourselves open to serious consequences, and if I consent to an arrangement which will keep the bad work that has been going on, and of which I was made the victim, from exposure in the public courts, it is to spare the feelings of a sweet and suffering young lady whose happiness you would have wrecked."
"My niece," said Gilbert, nodding his head. "As you say, a sweet young lady, and she has been made to suffer by this villain. We have all been made to suffer; we have all been his victims. But for your arrival he would have murdered me. He can no longer impose on me; I arrange myself on your side, against him. To my regret I perceive that he has partially recovered his senses, and, while simulating insensibility, is listening to what we are saying; his cunning is of the lowest order. It is my earnest wish to make such an arrangement as you suggest; it will be to my advantage, that is why I agree. Instruct your man to release me."
"Set him loose, Mr. Philpott," said Basil, "and see what you can do. I put the matter unreservedly into your hands. Do not allow either of them to leave the room. They will pass the night here. To-morrow, if Miss Bidaud wishes it, she will quit this prison-"
"No, no," interrupted Gilbert, good-humouredly, "not a prison-not a prison."
" – For England."
"She shall have my free consent," said Gilbert. "Take that in writing, Mr. Philpott. And there must be restitution, in some part, of the inheritance her father left her."
"In some part, that shall be done."
"If it is any punishment to the wretch," said Basil, who saw that Newman Chaytor was conscious and attentive, "who conspired against the man who trusted in him, and treacherously endeavoured to compass his death, to learn that had he followed the straight road he would have known long since that his unhappy father died wealthy, let him learn it now. You have a copy, Mr. Philpott, of the last letter written to him by his father. Give it to him, that he may read the bitter words written on the death-bed of one whom he should have loved and honoured. His good mother died with her head upon my breast, and if he escapes the punishment he deserves and has richly earned, he will owe his escape to the kind memories I have of her who rescued me from death in the London streets."
"A noble man," murmured Gilbert Bidaud as Basil left the room, "A gentleman. How is it possible that I allowed myself to be deceived for an hour by so miserable a counterfeit!"
* * * * * *
When Basil joined his friends in the passage, Old Corrie touched Emily's arm, and slight as was the action, she understood it, and following him into the room in which Mr. Philpott and the two men they had surprised were conferring, left Basil and Annette together. Old Corrie had placed the lamp on a bracket, and by its dim light our hero and heroine were enabled to see each other. Basil's eyes were fixed earnestly upon Annette, but her agitation was too profound to meet his loving gaze. His heart was filled with pity for the faithful girl who had been for years the victim of Newman Chaytor's foul plot; her drooping head, her modest attitude, her hands clasped supplicatingly before her, made his pity and his love for her almost too painful to bear.
"Annette," he said softly, "will you not look at me?"
She raised her eyes to his face, and he saw that they were filled with tears.
"Can you forgive me, Basil?" she whispered.
"Forgive you, dear Annette!" he exclaimed, taking her hands in his, "it is I who ought to ask forgiveness for believing that you could forget me."
"Never for a single day," she murmured, "have I forgotten you. Through all these years you have been to me the star of hope which made life bright for me. Oh, Basil, Basil! it seems as if you have lifted me from death to life. The world was so dark, so dark-"
"It shall be dark no more dear," he said, his voice trembling with excess of tenderness. "Until you bid me leave you I will be ever by your side. I consecrate my life to you. What man can do to compensate for the suffering you have endured, that will I do in truth, and honour, and love."
He placed his arms about her, and she laid her head upon his breast. There are joys too sacred for utterance, and such joy did Basil and Annette feel as they stood clasped in each other's arms on that dark and solemn night.
* * * * * *
What more need be told? Radiant and happy, with faith restored, they commenced their new life hand-in-hand. Those who had conspired against them, and whose evil designs had been frustrated, went out into the world unpunished by man; they and their intended victims never met again. The business matters it was necessary to arrange were settled by Basil's lawyers, who saved from the wreck a sufficient competence. All who had served him and Annette were amply rewarded. In Mr. Philpott's family their names were names to conjure with; Emily remained with them till she found a sweetheart and a home of her own; and Old Corrie was prevailed upon to live in a cottage near them, attached to which was a piece of land which afforded him profitable employment. He talked sometimes of returning to Australia, or of buying another performing bear, but he did not carry either project into execution. Often and often would the three friends talk of the old days on the plantation, and call up reminiscences of the happy and primitive life they enjoyed there; and then Old Corrie would steal away and leave the lovers together; for, though they were man and wife, they were lovers still, and lovers will remain-purified and sweetened by their trials-till they are called to their rest.