Two months afterwards, before any answer could have reached him, Chaytor wrote a second letter, as bright and chatty as the first, brimful of anecdote and story, and this he despatched, curious as to the result of his arrows. They hit the mark right in the bull's-eye, but Chaytor was not quite aware of this. However, he was satisfied some time afterwards at receiving a brief note from a firm of lawyers--not from Messrs. Rivington, Sons and Rivington, to whom he had been articled, but from another firm, and for this he was thankful--which said that Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham had received his nephew's letter, and was glad to learn that he was in good health and spirits. That was all, but it was enough for Chaytor. In the first place it proved that his handwriting was perfect and the circumstances he spoke of correct. In the second place it proved that Basil's uncle had a soft spot left for him and that the writer had touched it. In the third place it proved that his letters were welcome, and that others would be acceptable.
"A good commencement," thought Chaytor. "I have but to play my cards boldly, and the old fool's forty thousand pounds will be mine. What a slice of luck for me that Rivington, Sons, and Rivington no longer transact his business! At a distance I could deceive them. At close quarters their suspicions might be excited, although I would chance even that, if there were no other way. I wonder how long the old miser will live. I am not anxious that he should die yet; things are not ripe; there is Basil to get rid of." He was ready and resolved for any desperate expedient to compass his ends, and he kept not only the letters he received, but copies of the letters he sent, for future guidance, if needed. Be sure that he continued to write, and that he made not the slightest reference to any hope of becoming the old gentleman's heir, or of being reinstated in his affection. It is strange how a man's intellect and intelligence are sharpened when he is following a congenial occupation. Machiavelli himself could not have excelled Newman Chaytor in the execution of the villainous scheme he was bent upon carrying out. He became even a fine judge of character, and not a word he wrote was malapropos. Let it be stated that, despite the risk he was running, he derived genuine pleasure from the plot he had devised. He thought himself, with justice, a very clever fellow; if all went on in England as he hoped it would he had no fear as to being able to silence or get rid of Basil on the Australian side of the world. He would be a dolt indeed if he could not remove a man so weak and trustful as Basil from his path. He had other letters from Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham's lawyers, and he knew, from a growing cordiality in their tone (a sentiment in which lawyers never of their own prompting indulge in their business transactions) that they were dictated by the old gentleman himself. His interpretation of Basil's uncle not writing in his own person was that he had made up his mind not to have any direct personal communication with his nephew, and that being of an obstinate disposition, he was not going to break his resolution. "For all that," thought Chaytor, "I will have his money. I'll take an even bet that he has either not destroyed his old will, or that he has made a new one, making Basil his heir. Newman Chaytor, there are not many men who can beat you."