"It is coming back to me little by little," said Basil presently. "I arrived here late at night and found the township deserted by all but four men, three of them scoundrels, the fourth a noble fellow whose name was--was--what has happened to me that my memory plays me tricks? I have it now--whose name was Newman Chaytor."
"A true bill. He stands before you."
"You are the man. What occurred next? He found a stable for Old Corrie's mare, gave me food and a bed, while the three scoundrels looked on frowning. I slept like an unfaithful steward; the mare being Corrie's and not mine, and I doubtful of the character and intentions of the scoundrels, I should have kept watch over property that did not belong to me. Instead of doing that I consulted my own ease and pleasure."
"You could not help it; you were tired out."
"No excuse. I made no attempt to guard Old Corrie's mare. If I had watched and fallen asleep from weariness at my post it might have been another matter. When I present myself to Old Corrie, that is if I am ever able to stand upon my legs again I shall put no gloss upon my conduct. He shall hear the plain unvarnished truth from the unfaithful steward's own lips. I am unworthy of confidence or friendship; I warn you, Newman Chaytor, put no trust in me."
"I would trust you," said Chaytor, with well-simulated candour, "with my life."
"The more fool you. Where was I? Oh, asleep in the comfortable bed you gave me while these scoundrels were planning robbery. In the middle of the night I woke up--pitch dark it was----forgive me for speaking ungratefully to you. My heart is overflowing with gratitude, but I am at the same time filled with remorse."
"Don't trouble about that, Basil," said Chaytor. "You can't hurt yourself in my esteem. Go on with your reminiscence; it is a healthy exercise; it will strengthen your wandering memory."
"Pitch dark it was. I was not sure then, but I am now, that thieves had been in my room. Have I been lying here long, Chaytor?"
"Two weeks and more."