Читать книгу: «Basil and Annette», страница 27

"Why should I sign this?" asked Chaytor rebelliously.

"Because it is my wish," replied Gilbert.

"If I refuse?"

"In the first place, you will lose Annette. In the second place, something worse than that will happen to you."

"Through you?"

"Through me. I have a touch of the bloodhound in me. Take heed. Only in alliance with me are you safe."

It was a bold hazard, but it succeeded. Without another word, Chaytor signed the paper.

"Basil Whittingham," said Gilbert Bidaud, examining the signature, and uttering the name with significant emphasis. "Good."

That evening the engagement between Annette and Chaytor was ratified in the presence of Gilbert Bidaud and his sister. The old man had a long conversation with his niece before Chaytor made his appearance. He told her that Basil had formally proposed for her hand, and that knowing her heart was already given to the young man, he had accorded his consent to their union. He spoke in great praise of Basil's character, and skilfully alluded to certain matters which he knew Annette was grieving over.

"You have observed a change in Basil," he said, "so have I; but you, my dear niece, are partly responsible for it. The truth is, Basil was fearful of the manner in which you would receive his declaration. He loves you with so deep and profound a love, and he sets so high a value upon you, that he hardly dared to hope. The uncertainty of his position has made him forget himself; he has committed excesses; he has behaved as if he were not Basil, but another man. You, my dear child, with your simple heart, are ignorant of the vagaries which love's fever, and the fear of disappointment, play in a man's nature. They transform him, and only when his heart is at ease, and he is satisfied that his love is returned, does his better, his higher self return. But for this fear Basil would perhaps have unfolded his heart to you without any intervention, though he has behaved like an honourable man in speaking first to me. You will be very, very happy, my child. I bless you."

Only too ready was Annette to accept this explanation. Implicitly believing in it, and not for one moment suspecting guile or duplicity, she felt her faith and her best hopes restored. When Chaytor came to her, he was for awhile humbled by her sweetness and modesty, and what deficiencies there were in him Annette supplied them out of her faith and trust.

"There is a little formality," said Gilbert Bidaud, intruding upon the lovers. "It is a custom in our family to sign a preliminary marriage contract. Affix your signatures here-you, Basil Whittingham, you, Annette Bidaud. It is well. Before the year is out, we will have a wedding."

Within a week they were in Switzerland, settled in the Villa Bidaud.

CHAPTER XLI

Annette did not remain long in her delusion. Gradually, but surely her bright hopes faded away, to be replaced by a terrible feeling of hopeless resignation. The serpent cannot change its nature, and the worst features in Newman Chaytor's character began to assert themselves soon after the signing the document which Gilbert Bidaud had described as the preliminary marriage contract. He was sure of Annette; what need, therefore, for the wearing of an irksome mask? He threw it aside, and exhibited himself in his true colours, to the grief and despair of the girl he had successfully deceived. She heard him, in conversation with her uncle, use language and utter sentiments at which her soul revolted; she saw him frequently the worse for liquor; and often now she purposely avoided him when he sought her society. Brightness died out of the world, and she thought shudderingly of the future. The flowers in her young heart were withered. And yet she dwelt mournfully upon the image of the man she had adored, and asked herself, Can it be possible-can it be possible? The answer was there, in the same house with her, sitting by her side, pressing her hand, while he uttered coarse jokes, or gazing darkly at Gilbert Bidaud, who was ever ready to give smiles for frowns. For this was the old man's method; he was urbane and light-hearted in the family circle, and nothing that Chaytor said could disturb his equanimity. He had the traitor in his toils, and he played his game with the air of an indulgent master.

The Villa Bidaud was a great rambling house of two storeys, standing in its own grounds. It was surrounded by a high stone wall, and stood far back from the public road; when the strong iron gates were locked it resembled a prison. Annette, chilled at heart, began to feel that it was one and but for the companionship of her faithful maid Emily, her life would have been dark and gloomy indeed. It was a relief to her when her uncle announced that he and the man to whom she was betrothed were going away on business for two or three weeks.

Their mission was special and important, and has been attempted by hundreds of other gulls. Gilbert Bidaud had discovered a system by which he could break the bank at Monte Carlo. The one diversion of the two knaves at the Villa Bidaud was gambling. Never a day passed but they were closeted together in a locked room rattling the dice or shuffling the cards. It may be questioned whether the demon of play is not more potent than the demon of drink, and it is certain that it had so fastened itself upon Newman Chaytor that he could not escape from it. His losses maddened him, but his infatuation led him on to deeper and deeper losses, Gilbert Bidaud always declaring that the luck must change and that the money Chaytor lost was only money lent. Occasionally he professed indifference to the fatal pastime, and lured Chaytor on to persuasion, replying, "Well, as you insist." One day Chaytor, as usual, was savagely growling at his ill-luck, when Gilbert said carelessly: "You can get it all back, ten, twenty, a hundred-fold, if you like."

"How?" eagerly demanded Chaytor.

Then Gilbert unfolded his plan. He had made a wonderful discovery, an absolutely infallible system by which fortunes could be won at the roulette tables of Monte Carlo and elsewhere. Chaytor caught at the bait, but with smaller cunning threw doubt upon it.

"You can demonstrate it," said Gilbert. "I have here a roulette table to which I have not yet introduced you, and upon which I have proved my figures. You shall take the bank, and I will carry out my system. We will play for small stakes. What say you?"

Chaytor suggested that the stakes should be imaginary, but to this the cleverer knave would not agree.

"You insist that the bank must win," he said. "Take the bank and try."

They played for three days, during which, as luck would have it, Gilbert rose invariably a winner. At the end of the third day, he said:

"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."

So they fell to discussing this most agreeable theme, and indulging in visions of vast gains. Chaytor did not know what his companion knew-that the "system" discovered by Gilbert would have been really a certain thing but for one combination or series of figures which might not be drawn for many days together.

It was upon the chance of this series not presenting itself that Gilbert relied; if they escaped it, their purses would be filled; if it occurred, it was not his money that would be lost.

No time was wasted at Monte Carlo: within an hour of their arrival they commenced to play, and before they retired to rest they counted their winnings.

"Are you satisfied?" asked Gilbert gaily.

"No," replied Chaytor, feverishly fingering the gold and notes. "We must win more, more!"

"We will. The world is at our feet. Let us divide."

This was a part of Gilbert's plan; the winnings of each day were to be divided; thus he made sure of gain to himself, whatever might happen to his partner. For some days their operations prospered, and then came the inevitable bad experience. They sustained a loss, another, another; a large sum had to be staked to recover their losses, and that also was swept in by the croupiers, upon whose stony faces ruin and despair produced no impression. Chaytor stormed and reviled, and Gilbert listened with calmness to his reproaches. In desperation the younger man took the game in hand himself, and plunged wildly at the tables, Gilbert looking on in silence. The result was that, after a fortnight had passed, Chaytor had lost ten thousand pounds of his ill-gotten wealth.

Nearly half the fortune of which he had obtained fraudulent possession was gone. With a gloomy countenance he counted what remained; his heart was filled with bitterness towards his companion, whose design it was to lead Chaytor on step by step until his ruin was complete. For a little while Chaytor contemplated flight, but so unwearying was the watch kept on him by Gilbert, that, had he nerved himself determinedly to his design, he could not have put it in execution. Besides, the thought of Annette held him back. No, he would not fly, he would return to the Villa Bidaud, he would marry Annette, he would compel Gilbert to make restitution of his niece's fortune, and then he would bid farewell for ever to his evil genius and take Annette to America, where he would commence a new life.

"I have had enough of this," he said to Gilbert. "If I followed your counsels any longer I should land in the gutter."

"Not so, not so," responded the unruffled Gilbert; "if you were guided by me you would land in a palace. See, now, I kept a record of the numbers while you were so recklessly staking your money on this chance and that, throwing away, like a madman, the certainty I offered you. You know my system; sit down with these numbers before you, follow them, back them according to my notation, and discover how you would have got back all your losses, and been in the end a large gainer. I leave you for an hour to the lesson I set you."

Chaytor applied himself to the task, with a savage desire to prove by mathematical demonstration that his associate had robbed him, and finding that Gilbert was right and that by following the system he would have recovered his money, cursed his luck, and Gilbert, and all the world. His paroxysm of anger abated, a sense of comfort stole upon him. When he had freed himself from the shackles which Gilbert had thrown around him, when Annette was his and he and she were alone, he would come back to Monte Carlo and carry out on his sole account the system he had so foolishly abandoned. Then all the money that was won would be his own: there would be no Gilbert Bidaud to cheat him of half. "Have you verified my figures?" asked the old man, returning. "Have you established your folly?"

"No," replied Chaytor, thrusting the paper upon which he made his calculations into his pocket, "you have deceived and tricked me."

"Ah, ah," ejaculated Gilbert, in a light and pleasant tone, "I have deceived and tricked you-and you have seen through me! Clever Basil, clever Basil! I am as a child in your hands. Come, let us get back to our dear Annette. Let us fly on the wings of love."

They had not announced their intended return, and their arrival at the villa Bidaud was therefore unexpected. The gates were unlocked for them by a servant, and they entered the grounds. Gilbert took the keys from the man, and relocked the gates.

"You are precious careful," said Chaytor. "Are you frightened of thieves?"

"I am old," said Gilbert, with a smile; "I am losing my nerve. We stopped at the post-house, did we not, to inquire for letters?"

"We did."

"You heard me speak to the woman?"

"You were talking, I know, but I did not hear what passed between you."

"Your thoughts were on our sweet Annette. Why is she not here to receive us? Why does she not fly into our arms? Ah, I forgot. We did not write that we were coming. Yes, I spoke to the woman at the post-house; I asked her for the news."

"News in this den!" exclaimed Chaytor, scornfully. "One might as well be out of the world."

"Out of the world-yes, out of the world. Speak not of it; I have passed the sixties."

"I tell you what," said Chaytor, with a gloomy look around, "I don't intend to keep here much longer. It is as much like a tomb as any place I have ever seen."

"There again, there again! Out of the world, and tombs. You mock the old man. What was I saying when you interrupted me? Ah, about the woman at the post-house. I asked her for news, and she told me that three strangers had been seen this afternoon in the village."

"Rare news that. She might have saved her breath."

"Everything is news in these small villages. Now, why is it that my mind dwells upon these strangers? Such visits are common enough. Doubtless they are but passing through, and we shall hear no more of them."

"Then why keep talking about them?"

"Gently, gently. I had a bad dream last night, I saw you pursued by foes, and I hastened after you in my dreams to assist you."

"More than you would do if you were awake."

"You misjudge me. But to continue. How many foes were pursuing you? Three. How many strangers appeared in the village this afternoon? Three. See you any warning, any hidden danger in this?"

"It is a coincidence, nothing more," replied Chaytor, with an uneasy shifting of his body. "Look here-I am not going to stand this, you know."

"You are not going to stand what?"

"This infernal badgering-this attempt to make me uncomfortable. Haven't I enough to worry me as it is? What do I care about your dreams and your three strangers?"

"I want to make you comfortable-and happy; yes, very, very happy. And you will be if you do not quarrel with me."

"And if I do quarrel with you?"

Gilbert Bidaud toyed musingly with a charm on Chaytor's watch chain. "Be advised. Keep friends with me, the best of friends. Old as I am, it is not safe to quarrel with me."

"Oh, tush!" cried Chaytor, vainly endeavouring to conceal his discomposure. "Have you done with your post-woman and her three strangers?"

"Not quite. I made further inquiries about them and learnt all there was to learn. They came to the village, they inquired for the Villa Bidaud, they walked all round the walls, they lingered at the gate, they looked up at the house, which, as you know, is not to be seen from any part of the road, they talked together, they lingered still longer, and then-they went away."

"The King of France went up the hill," quoted Chaytor. "Shall I tell you what I make of all this?"

"Do."

"The dream you had was of your enemies, not mine. These three strangers are interested in you, and not, by any remote possibility, in me. They inquired for the Villa Bidaud-your villa, your name. The fact is, my friend, something you have forgotten in the past has been raked up against you, and these three strangers have come to remind you of it." He laughed in great enjoyment at this turning of the tables.

"It is an ingenious theory," said Gilbert, composedly. "Something I have forgotten in the past! But I have been so very, very careful. Is it possible that anything can have escaped me? Perhaps, perhaps? We cannot be for ever on our guard. Thank you for reminding me. You asked me if I was frightened of thieves. Friend of my soul, I am frightened of everything, of everybody. That is why I gave instructions that these gates were never to be opened to strangers unless by my orders. None can gain admittance here against my wish. It is a necessary precaution. Ah, here is my sister." He saluted her on both cheeks, and then inquired for Annette.

"She keeps her room," was the answer.

"Sick?"

"In temper only."

"She knows of our return?"

"Yes, I informed her myself."

"And her reply?"

"She will come down later."

Gilbert turned to Chaytor and said, "Our little one has a will and a temper of her own, but you will tame her; yes, you will tame her."

Chaytor said nothing; he did not like the signs, and the temptation came again upon him to fly. But still the image of Annette acted as a counterpoise-her very avoidance of him made the prize more precious.

"Why did you not come to welcome us?" he asked, when at length she made her appearance.

"I was not well," she answered, with her eyes on the ground.

"Are you better now?"

"No."

"This is a nice lover's greeting," he said.

She shivered. He gazed frowningly at her, but she did not raise her head. "I will break her spirit," he thought.

Aloud he said, "You do not seem happy, Annette."

"I am most unhappy."

"Am I the cause?" he asked, and waited for the reply which did not come. "It is clear then; do you wish to break the contract?"

"Can I?" she said, with sudden eagerness.

"No," he answered, roughly. "You are bound by the paper we signed."

This was her own belief. With a sigh she turned away, and strove to fix her mind upon a book. But the words swam before her eyes; she turned over page after page mechanically, without the least understanding of their sense. All at once her attention was arrested by mention of a name-Old Corrie. For some reason of his own, Gilbert Bidaud had directed the conversation he was holding with Chaytor to the old Australian days, and he had just inquired whether Chaytor could give him any information of Old Corrie. The old fellow's visit to Emily's mother in Bournemouth had been made about the time that Annette's feelings were undergoing a change towards the man to whom she had engaged herself, as she believed, irrevocably. This would not have been a sufficient cause for her not speaking of the visit to Chaytor, but he had latterly expressed himself sick of Australia and all allusions to it.

"Don't speak of it again to me," he had said, pettishly, "or of anybody I knew there."

She obeyed him, and thus it was that he was ignorant of particulars, the knowledge of which would have saved him from tripping on the present occasion.

"Corrie," said Chaytor, "the woodman? Oh, that old fool!" Annette started. The brutal tone in which Chaytor spoke shocked her. "He's dead; and a good riddance too." Annette covered her eyes with her hands. Old Corrie was dead; he must have died lately-since his visit to Bournemouth. How strange that the man who had just spoken had said nothing to her of the good old man's death! She held her breath, and listened in amazement to what followed.

"Dead, eh?" said Gilbert, callously. "Long since?"

"A good many years ago."

"In Australia, then?"

"Of course, in Australia." Gilbert would have dropped the subject, as being of small interest; but, observing that Annette was listening to the conversation with somewhat unusual attention, was impelled to say something more upon it.

"Did he leave any money behind him?"

"Not a shilling. Drank it all away. He died in a fit of delirium tremens."

Annette rose from her chair in horror.

"You saw him dead?" pursued Gilbert, maliciously.

"I was with him at the time. You are mighty particular with your questions."

He was not aware that Annette had slowly approached him, and was only made conscious of it by the touch of her hand on his arm.

"Well?" he said.

She looked steadily at him; every vestige of colour had fled from her face, her eyes dilated, her lips were apart; thus they gazed at each other in silence, and Gilbert, leaning back in his chair, watched them closely. There was an accusing quality in Annette's steady gaze which fascinated Chaytor, and the colour died out of his face as it had died out of hers. His eyes began to shift, his limbs to twitch.

"How is this going to end?" thought Gilbert Bidaud, his interest in the scene growing. "My niece has the upper hand here. Faith, she has the Bidaud blood in her."

His suddenly-aroused pride in her was a personal tribute to himself. For fully five minutes there was dead silence in the room; then Annette removed her hand from Chaytor's arm, and quitted the apartment.

The spell broken, Chaytor jumped up in fury, and looked after her retreating form. Turning to Gilbert, he cried:

"The girl has lost her senses. Is there insanity in your family, M. Gilbert Bidaud?"

"We were ever remarkable," replied Gilbert, in a more serious tone than that in which he generally spoke, "for well-balanced brains. It is that which has kept us always on the safe side, which has enabled us to swim while others sink. Instead of losing her senses, Annette, perhaps, has come to them. I give you my honest word, there crept into my mind, while you were playing that silent scene with her, a profound admiration for the young lady, my niece. She has qualities of the Bidaud type; I pay her tribute." He bowed towards the door, half mockingly, half admiringly.

"I don't want your honest word," cried Chaytor in wrath and fear, for it dawned upon him that the ally upon whom he reckoned might declare himself against him. "I want your plain meaning."

"You shall have it," said Gilbert; "but as walls have ears, and there may be danger-to you and not to me-in what you force me to say, I propose that we adjourn to the lodge by the gates, where we may exchange confidences in safety."

He led the way to the grounds, and Chaytor followed him, as a whipped dog follows its master.