“Gilks came and said you wanted me; that’s why I came,” said Wyndham.
“Awfully good of you,” said Silk. “Of course I wanted you. The fact is, young un,” said he, becoming a little mysterious, “there’s rather an awkward thing turned up. I hope it won’t come to anything, I’m sure, but it doesn’t do to be too sure.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Wyndham, looking alarmed. “I mean,” said Silk, slowly, “that last time you took Gilks and me down to Beamish’s—”
“I took you!” exclaimed Wyndham. “You took me — you made me go.”
Silk laughed.
“Well, the last time we three went to Beamish’s, if you like — the Saturday before the race; last Saturday, in fact — somebody saw us, or rather saw you.”
“What!” cried Wyndham, turning pale. “Who was it?”
“It wouldn’t do you any good to know,” said Silk, “but it seems to be a fact.”
“Who was it? a master or a monitor, or who?” asked the boy, anxiously.
“Neither. I don’t fancy you know the fellow at all; I do, though.”
Silk, as he concocted this lie, would probably have been as astonished as any one to discover that the escapade in question had really been witnessed by two boys from the box of the doctor’s own fly!
“You know him?” said Wyndham. “Will he let out, do you think?”
“I can’t say. I think I could prevent him,” said Silk.
“Oh, please do,” said the troubled boy, full of exaggerated terror at the consequences of detection.
“I’ll see,” said Silk, not very assuringly.
“What!” cried Wyndham. “You surely won’t leave me in the lurch, Silk?”
Silk looked benevolently at his young friend.
“It depends,” said he, coolly.
“Depends! On what? Oh, Silk, what do you mean?”
“Don’t alarm yourself,” said Silk, smiling. Then he added, confidentially, “The fact is, young un, I’m hard-up. I lost a lot of money on the race, owing to that — that is, because Parrett’s lost. The thing is, can you lend me a couple of sovereigns, Wyndham?”
Wyndham’s face clouded for a moment, but he replied quickly, “Yes, I can, Silk, if you’ll promise to see it doesn’t get out about last Saturday.”
“Of course I will. You don’t suppose I’m such a cad as all that.”
“Oh, no,” said Wyndham, looking more cheerful, and taking out his purse.
He drew from it a post-office order.
“It’s for three pounds,” he said. “I was going to change it to-morrow.”
“Oh, I’ll do that,” said Silk. “I’m going into town early. You have signed it, I see. There’ll be a sov. to give you out of it, won’t there?”
“Yes, please; and the two pounds, and the ten shillings the other day,” faltered the boy.
“You shall have them back, never fear,” said Silk, pocketing the order.
Wyndham, in spite of this assurance, did fear considerably, as he returned with empty purse to his house.
Chapter Eighteen
The new Captain turned Welcher
Riddell, who probably felt the sting of the boat-race mishap more sensitively than any boy in Willoughby, was pacing the playground in a dispirited mood a morning or two after, when Dr Patrick suddenly confronted him.
“Ah, Riddell,” said the latter, cheerily, “I’m glad I have met you. I want to have a talk. Let me see,” said he, pulling out his watch, “there’s hardly time now, though. Will you come and have tea with me this evening?”
Riddell turned pale at the bare suggestion, and would probably have invented some wild excuse to get off the dreaded honour had not the doctor continued, “I’m sorry Mrs Patrick and her sister are from home; they take a great interest in you, I can assure you.”
“Oh, not at all,” cried Riddell, whom the bare mention of those ladies’ names was sufficient to confuse hopelessly.
“Come at seven o’clock, will you?” said the doctor, pleasantly, not noticing his head boy’s perturbation.
Riddell continued his walk in a state of considerable perplexity. For some moments he could not get beyond the fact that Mrs Patrick and Miss Stringer were from home, and the relief of that reflection was unspeakable. But what could the doctor want him for? Was it to tell him he did not consider him equal to the duties of captain, and to relieve him of his office? Riddell devoutly wished it might be so. And yet he hardly fancied from the head master’s manner this was to be the subject of their interview.
Perhaps it was to cross-examine him as to the boat-race. That wretched boat-race! Riddell had hardly had a minute’s peace since that afternoon. The burden of the whole affair seemed to rest upon him. The taunts of the disappointed Parretts, which glanced harmless off minds like Fairbairn’s and Porter’s, wounded him to the quick, and, until the mystery should be solved, Riddell felt almost like a guilty party himself. He rather hoped the doctor did want to talk about this. It would be a relief to unburden his mind, at any rate. But even these troubles were slight compared with Riddell’s concern about his old friend’s brother. In spite of all his efforts young Wyndham was going wrong. He was getting more irregular in his visits to Riddell’s study, and when he did come he was more reserved and secret, and less inclined to confide in his friend than before. It was easy to guess the reason, and Riddell felt baffled and dispirited as he thought about it. To save young Wyndham from his bad friends would be worth to him more even than to secure the order of Willoughby, or to discover the perpetrator of the boat-race outrage.
In this troubled state of mind Riddell passed the day till the time arrived for him to present himself at the doctor’s.
He entered warily and suspiciously, as though not quite sure whether, after all, the two ladies might be lying in ambush somewhere for him. But no, there was no deception, only the doctor was there, and he, unrestrained by the presence of his usual bodyguard, was most friendly and cordial.
“Ah, Riddell, glad to see you. Sit down. You find me a bachelor, you see, for once in a way.”
Riddell was soon at his ease. The doctor chatted pleasantly over their tea about various Willoughby topics, giving his opinion on some and asking the captain’s opinion on others, and so delicately showing his sympathy for the boy in his difficulties and his approval of his efforts for the good of the school, that Riddell was quite won over, and prepared for the serious matter which the doctor presently broached. “Yes,” said the latter, in reply to some reference by Riddell to the Welchers. “Yes, I am a good deal concerned about Welch’s house, Riddell. I dare say you can understand why.”
“I think so, sir. They don’t seem to pull together there somehow, or have the sympathy with the good of the school.”
“Precisely. That’s just what it is,” said the doctor, delighted to find his head boy so exactly understanding the nature of the house over which he was to be installed. “They seem to be ‘each man for himself, and none for the State,’ I fear.”
“I think so,” said Riddell. “They hold aloof from most of the school doings, unless there’s a chance of a row. They had no boat on the river this year, and I don’t think they will have a man in the eleven against Rockshire. And they seem to have no ambition to work for the school.”
The doctor mused a bit, and then said, with a half-sigh, as if to himself, “And I wish that were the worst of it.” Then turning to Riddell, he said, “I am glad to hear your opinion of Welch’s house, Riddell, and to find that you seem to understand what is wrong there. What should you say to taking charge of that house in future?”