But he would be strictly just, as far as he could. What money he used should be used to one end, and to one end only; unless, indeed (and a strange smile wreathed his lips as this view presented itself) collateral disclosures were revealed to him of Newman Chaytor's home life of villainy and treachery which pleaded for some kind of compensation. Then would he use some of Chaytor's money to repair the wrong. A devious road to justice, but a justifiable one. Having thus determined, sleep descended upon him.
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
Early the next morning he awoke. The sun was shining into the room, and he was alone. There was some kind of stir in the house for which he could not account, and the cause of which he was curious to ascertain. Feeling that his strength had returned to him he rose from the bed, and although a natural weakness was upon him, he succeeded in partially dressing himself. While thus employed the door was opened and the doctor entered the room.
"Ah," said the doctor, "as I expected. You are yourself again." He was a young man, and had a cheery voice and manner, which, used with discretion, and not allowed to become too bluff, are invaluable aids to a medical practitioner.
"I am almost well, I think," said Basil.
"But we must be careful," said the doctor, "we must husband our strength. You have a good constitution, and that has served you." Although his voice was cheerful, he spoke with a certain reserve.
"Are you not here very early?" asked Basil.
"I am," replied the doctor, "much earlier than usual. The fact is I was called in."
"They are too anxious about me."
"Well, yes, but I was not called in to see you. Your parents required me?"