free," said Basil; "but instead of eating you may be eaten."
He pointed downwards, and leaning forward the stranger beheld a huge alligator lurking beneath a thin thicket of reeds. The brute was perfectly motionless, but all its voracious senses were on the alert.
"Ugh!" cried the stranger, beginning to dress hurriedly. "That would be a bad commencement of my business."
He did not say "thank you," nor make the slightest acknowledgment of the service Basil had rendered him. This jarred upon the young man, who stood watching him get into his clothes. They were ragged and travel-stained, and the stranger's physical condition was evidently none of the best; but his eyes were keen, and all his intellectual forces were awake. In this respect Basil found an odd resemblance in him to the alligator waiting for prey in the waving reeds beneath, and also a less odd resemblance to the woman he had left lying in the shadow of the gum-trees.
"You have business here, then?" asked the young man.
"I have-important business. Understand that I answer simply to prove that I am not an intruder."
"I understand. Is the woman I met on my way a relative of yours?"
"What woman?" cried the stranger, in sharp accents. "Like you in face, and bearing about her signs of hard travel."
"Did she speak to you? Why do you question me about her? By what right?"
"There is no particular right in question that I can see?" said Basil. "I spoke to her as I am speaking to you, and asked if I could serve her."
"And she!"
"Was as uncivil as yourself, and declined my offer of assistance."
"She acted well. We are not beggars. For my incivility, that is how you take it. You misconstrue me."
"I am glad to hear it. You seem tired."
"I have been walking all day and all night, and all day and all night again, for more days and nights than I care to count I have done nothing but walk, walk, walk, since my arrival at this world's end."
"Have you but just arrived?"
"Yes, but just arrived, wearied and worn out with nothing but walking, walking, walking. Is that what this world's end was made for?"
If the stranger had not Stated that he had important business to transact, and had there not been something superior in his speech and deportment to the ordinary tramp with whom every man in the Australian colonies is familiar, Basil would have set him down as a member of that delectable fraternity. Notwithstanding this favourable opinion, however, Basil took an instinctive dislike to the man. He had seen in him an odd likeness to the alligator, and brief as had been their interview up to this point, he had gone the length of mentally comparing him now to a fox, now to a jackal-to any member of the brute species indeed whose nature was distinguished by the elements of rapacity and cunning.
"Have you far to go?" he asked.
"No farther," replied the stranger, with an upward glance at Anthony Bidaud's house, one end of which was visible from the spot upon which they were conversing.
"Is that your destination?" inquired Basil, observing the upward glance.
"That," said the stranger, with a light laugh, "is my destination, if I have not been misinformed."
The laugh intensified Basil's dislike; there was a mocking sinister ring in it, but he nevertheless continued the conversation.
"Misinformed in what respect?"
"That is M. Bidaud's house?"
"It is M. Bidaud's house."
"M. Anthony Bidaud?"
"Yes."
"Originally from Switzerland."
Basil's hazard of the stranger's precise nationality now took definite form.
"As you are," he said.
"As I am," said the stranger, "and as Anthony Bidaud is."
"You are right in your surmise. He is from Switzerland."
"My surmise? Ah? He has a fine estate here."
"He has."
"But his wife-she is dead."
"That is so, unhappily."
"What is one man's meat is another man's poison-a proverb that may be reversed." His small eyes glittered, and his thin pointed features seemed all to converge to one point. ("Fox, decidedly," thought Basil.) The stranger continued. "His health, is it good?"
In the light of Anthony Bidaud's revelation on the previous evening this was a startling question, and Basil answered:
"It is an inquiry you had best make of himself if you are likely to see him."
"It is more than likely that I shall see him," said the stranger, "and he will tell me. He has but one child."
"You are well informed. He has but one."
"Whose name is Annette."
"Whose name," said Basil, wondering from what source the stranger had obtained his information, "is Annette."
"Charming, charming, charming," said the stranger. "Everything is charming, except" – with a loathing gesture at the alligator, which lay still as a log, waiting for prey-"that monster; except also that I am dead with fatigue. I came here for a bath to refresh myself after much travelling. Is there any part of this treacherous river in which a man may bathe in safety?"
"I will show you a place."
"No tricks, young sir, said the stranger, suspicion in his voice.
"Why should I play you tricks? If you do not care to trust me, seek a secure spot yourself."
"No, I will accompany you, who must know the river well. You do, eh?"
"I am thoroughly acquainted with it."
"You guessed my nation; shall I guess yours? Australian."
"I am an Englishman."
"A great nation; a great people. Is this the spot?"
They had arrived at a smooth piece of water, semi-circularly protected by rocks from the invasion of alligators.
"This is the spot," said Basil, "you will be perfectly safe here."
The water was so clear that they could see to the bottom. Black and silver bream, perch, mullet, and barramundi were swimming in its translucent depths. The stranger peered carefully among the rocks to make sure that they were free from foes, and then, without thanking Basil, began to strip off his clothes.
"And you-where will you bathe?"
"A little farther up stream. Good morning."
"Ah, good morning; but I may see you again if you are living near."
"I live," said Basil, "in the house yonder."
CHAPTER
