Basil and Annette: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"See now. I have won from you an average of one hundred pounds a day. All we have to do at Monte Carlo is to increase the stakes, and we can win as much as we please. Say, to be moderate, three thousand pounds a day. Fifty days, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Seventy five thousand each."

Chaytor was eager to begin, but there was first a bargain to be struck. In return for the fortune they were to win, and of which Chaytor was to have an equal share, Gilbert Bidaud stipulated that his partner should provide the funds for the venture. At first Chaytor refused, but when Gilbert said, "Very well, there is an end of the matter," he implored to be admitted upon the stipulated terms.

"We commence with a bank of five thousand pounds," said Gilbert.

Chaytor drew a long face at mention of this sum, but he was in the toils and avarice compelled compliance. On the morning of their departure he handed over the amount in Bank of England notes, it being another of Gilbert's conditions that he should be the treasurer. Now, on the previous day, after Chaytor had consented to provide the five thousand pounds, Gilbert had resolved to ascertain where he was in the habit of concealing his treasure. It was easy enough to carry out this resolve. The Villa Bidaud was an old house, with the peculiarities of which Gilbert had made himself familiar at the time he purchased it. In one part of the room in which Chaytor slept, the wall was double, an outer panel admitting of the entrance of any person who wished to play the spy. All he had to do was to ascend three steps, when an artfully concealed peep-hole enabled him to see all the movements of the occupant of the inner room. From that point of observation Gilbert watched Chaytor's proceedings; saw him carefully lock the door and mask the keyhole, so that no one could see into the room through it; saw him as carefully cover the windows and render himself safe in that direction; saw him take his hoard of banknotes from the artfully-contrived pockets in his clothes, count them over, place a small pile aside, and return the balance to its hiding-place. Gilbert saw something more. He beheld Chaytor suddenly pause and look before him, while upon his features gathered a convulsed and horror-stricken expression, as though he was gazing on some appalling phantom. It was at such a moment that the character of Chaytor's face became entirely changed, all likeness to Basil being completely obliterated. Chaytor's arms were stretched out in the act of repelling a presence visible only to himself; his limbs trembled, a cold sweat bathed his countenance, and he exhibited all the symptoms of a man in the throes of a mortal agony.

Slowly and thoughtfully Gilbert left his post and returned to his own apartment. His suspicions were absolutely confirmed, so far as the evidence he had obtained could confirm them. On the following morning he and Chaytor took their departure.

"They part from us without regret," he observed as they rode away. "Who are they?" asked Chaytor, in a morose tone. He knew to whom his companion referred. Annette had exhibited no concern when he informed her that business compelled a separation of a couple of weeks. She had received this intimation in silence, and when he kissed her good bye had not returned his kiss. He inwardly resolved that when he and Annette were married she should pay for her growing coldness towards him.

"I was thinking of my niece," replied Gilbert. "She displayed but small grief at the departure of her lover. And such a lover!"

Chaytor looked sharply at him, for there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice, but Gilbert's countenance was expressionless.

"Women are queer cattle," he said roughly.

"True, true," assented Gilbert, "and cattle must be taught to know who are their masters. Bah! We will not talk of them. Let us rather talk of the fortune we are pursuing and shall overtake."