"My friend Basil is in a delirium," said he during the intervals of Basil's muttering, "and I shall have to nurse him through a fever most likely. What with that probability, and the weight of him, I am earning my wage. No man can dispute that. He raves like a man in love about this Annette. How old is she? Is she pretty? Does she love him? Will she be rich? Is that a vein I could work to profit? I don't intend to throw away the shadow of a chance. An age seems to have passed since last night. But what," he cried suddenly, "if all my labour is being thrown away--what if I am following a will-o'-the-wisp?"
He let Basil slip purposely from his arms, and heedless of the sick man's groans, for the fall was violent, he looked down upon him as though a mortal enemy was in his path. But one of the strongest elements in greed and avarice is the hope that leads their votaries on, and this and the superstitious feeling that the meeting had been brought about by fate, and was but the beginning of a fruitful end, dispelled the doubt that had arisen. "I will work for it," he muttered; "It is my only chance. Even if nothing comes of it I shall be no worse off. But something _shall_ come of it--I swear it."
Reassured, he took up his burden, and in the course of an hour reached the dwelling they had occupied the previous night. By that time Basil was in a high fever, and Chaytor began to be disturbed by the fear that his double would die. Then, indeed, his labour would be lost and his hopes destroyed, for he had much to learn and much to do before the vague design which spurred him on could be developed and ripened.
Chaytor had a secret store of provisions which he had hoarded up unknown to Jim the Hatter and the Nonentities; some tins of preserved meat and soup, the remains of a sack of flour, two or three pounds of tea, a few bottles of spirits, and a supply of tobacco. These would have served for a longer time than Basil's sickness lasted, and Chaytor comforted himself with the reflection that he could not have carried them away with him had he been compelled to leave the deserted township. It was really Basil's stout and healthy constitution that pulled him through a fever which would have proved fatal to many men. He did not recover his senses for sixteen days, and as he had nothing to conceal he, during that time, revealed to Chaytor in his wild wandering much of his early life. When at length he opened his eyes, and they fell with dawning consciousness upon the man standing beside his bed, Chaytor was in possession of particulars innocent enough in themselves, but dangerous if intended to be used to a wily and dangerous end. During those sixteen days Chaytor had not been idle, having employed himself industriously in studying and imitating the few peculiarities in Basil's writing. To a past-master like himself this was not difficult, and he succeeded in producing an imitation so perfect as to deceive anyone familiar with Basil's style. He was careful in destroying every evidence of this vile study.