"Yes, extending over a considerable time."
This was a fresh and startling revelation to Basil. Newman Chaytor had not only personated him in England, but had personated him at a distance, receiving letters intended for him and forging letters in reply.
"He robbed me of my papers," groaned Basil inly, "and obtained possession of the means to prove him the man he represented himself to be. The base, unutterable villain! He smiled in my face, a living lie! And I trusted in him, believed in him, laid my heart bare to him, and all the time he was planning my destruction. Just Heaven! Give me the power to bring him to the punishment he deserves!"
But did the foul plot go farther than this? Every time Chaytor returned from the colonial post-office it was with the same answer--there were no letters for Basil Whittingham. And the had received and answered them; they were on his person while he was uttering the infamous falsehood, smiling in Basil's face the while. To what depths would human cunning and duplicity go! The tale, related to Basil by one who had been wronged, would have sounded incredible. He would have asked, "Is not this man labouring under some monstrous delusion?" But the bitter experience was his, and no tale would now be too wild for disbelief. Again he asked himself, did the plot go farther than what had already come to his knowledge? Newman Chaytor, going to the post-office for letters for him, would receive all addressed to his name.
What if Annette had written? It was more than possible, it was probable; it was more than probable, it was true. At this conclusion he quickly arrived. Annette had redeemed her promise; she had written to him as she said she would, and had received Chaytor's letters in reply. This explained how it was that Chaytor had been able to find Annette and her uncle. Did Gilbert Bidaud suspect, and was he trading upon the suspicion; and were the two villains conspiring for the destruction of the poor girl's happiness? Basil looked round pitifully, despairingly, as though invoking the assistance of an unknown power.
"You seem disturbed," said Mr. Philpott, who had been attentively observing him.
"The news you have imparted," said Basil, "is terrible. Is there no way of discovering this Basil Whittingham?"
"We might advertise for him," suggested Mr. Philpott.
Basil shook his head. "If he saw the advertisement he would not answer it."
"Hallo," thought Mr. Philpott, "our absent friend has done something that would place him in the criminal dock." Professionally he was in the habit of hiding his hand, so far as the expression of original thought went. "But some one who knows him," he said, "might see the advertisement, and answer for him."