He felt rather grateful to him than otherwise for having asked it, just as one is occasionally grateful to the thunder-clap for clearing the air.
The first thing without doubt was to find Wyndham, and come to a clear understanding as to whether or not he was the culprit; and the captain lost no time in attempting to put this resolve into practice.
It would not do, he knew, immediately after the scene in the Parliament, when everybody would be on the tip-toe of curiosity, to be seen holding a secret interview with any particular boy. He therefore decided wisely to wait till the usual time when Wyndham was in the habit of coming to his study to do his lessons. Meanwhile, to make sure of his coming, he sent him a message by Cusack to tell him to be sure and turn up.
Cusack, little suspecting the importance of this simple message, delivered it glibly, and being of course brimful of the excitement of the hour, he remained a little to regale Wyndham with a history of the afternoon’s events.
“Oh, I say,” said he, “you weren’t at Parliament this afternoon. There was no end of a shine on.”
“Was there?” asked Wyndham.
“Rather. What do you think, those young Parrett’s cads came down in a body and kicked up the biggest row you ever saw — said they were a club, and made no end of beasts of themselves, and got kicked out at last, and serve them right too.”
“They’re always fooling about at something,” said Wyndham.
“That they are. They want a good taking down, and we mean to do it next week in the junior house match.”
“Ah,” said Wyndham, who amid all his recent troubles could never forget that he was a second-eleven man. “Ah, I heard the juniors’ match was to come off. What day is it to be?”
“Thursday.”
“Oh, I must come and have a look at you. Is Welch’s going to win?”
“Going to try, and I fancy we’re pretty fair. They’ve been lazy, you know, in Parrett’s, and so we get a pull there. Oh, but I was saving that row with the kids wasn’t all this afternoon. Just at the end that cad Wibberly got up and asked Riddell some more about the boat-race — they’re always hammering away at that, and what do you think Riddell said — guess!”
“I can’t,” said Wyndham.
“Why he said he knew who the chap was who had cut the strings, or fancied he did!”
“Who is it?” exclaimed Wyndham, excitedly.
“That’s what he won’t say. And of course there’s an awful row on. They say they’ll make him tell, or kick him out of the school or something. They’re in no end of a rage.”
“Why doesn’t he tell who it is?” asked Wyndham.
“Oh, he says he’s not sure, or something like that. But I dare say he’ll tell you all about it this evening. You’re to be sure and turn up, he says, at preparation time.”
And off went this vivacious messenger, leaving Wyndham in a considerable state of astonishment and perturbation.
What did Riddell want him for? He had not seen him since that evening, a week ago, when he had so nearly confessed to him about Beamish’s. He hardly liked not to go now, although he knew it would be hard to avoid letting out the wretched secret which he had promised Gilks and Silk to keep.
Besides, uneasy as he was about this, he could not help feeling excited about what Cusack had just told him of the boat-race affair. And most likely, when he came to consider, Riddell would be so full of that that he might perhaps not say any more about Beamish’s. So Wyndham decided to go, and in due time presented himself with his books at the captain’s study.
He could see at once that Riddell was in one of his serious moods, and his heart sank, for he had no doubt what was coming, and felt that, unless he were to break his promise, matters were sure to be made worse.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” said Riddell; “you went off so suddenly the other evening.”
“Yes,” said Wyndham; “the lock-up bell rang, and I was bound to be in my house before it stopped.”
“You know what I want to see you about now, Wyndham?” said the captain, nervously.
“Yes,” replied the boy, doggedly; “I suppose I do.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause, at the end of which Riddell said, “Surely, Wyndham, you are not going to leave it to me to clear up this matter?”
“What do you mean?” asked the boy, burying his face in his hands, and utterly unnerved by the tones of his friend’s voice.
“I mean this,” said Riddell, as firmly as he could, “that there are only two courses open. Either you must confess what you have done, of your own accord, or it will be my duty to do it for you.”
“I don’t see how it’s your duty to tell everybody,” said the boy. “I should get expelled to a dead certainty!”
“It must either be one or the other,” said the captain.
“Oh, Riddell!” exclaimed the boy, springing to his feet, “don’t say that! I know I’ve been a cad, and let myself be led into it; but surely it’s not so bad as all that! You’ve always been a brick to me, I know, and I’ve not been half grateful enough. But do let us off this time! please do! I can’t tell you anything; I would gladly, only I’ve promised. You wouldn’t have me break my promise? If you tell of me I shall be expelled I know I shall! Do help me out this time!”
“Poor fellow!” said Riddell, who was not proof against this sort of appeal from any one, least of all from one he loved.
The boy was quick in the energy of his despair to follow up his advantage.
“I’d make it good any other way — any way you like — but don’t have me expelled, Riddell. Think of them all at home, what a state they would be in! I know I deserve it; but can’t you get me out of it?”
“If you were to go to the doctor and tell him everything—” began Riddell.
“Oh, that’s just what I can’t do!” exclaimed Wyndham. “I’d do it like a shot if it was only myself in it. I don’t know how you found it all out, I’m sure; but I can’t go and tell the doctor, even if it was to get me off being expelled.”
It was no use going on like this. Riddell was getting unmanned every moment, and Wyndham by these wild appeals was only prolonging the agony.
“Wyndham, old fellow,” said the captain, in tones full of sympathy and pity, “if I had dreamt all this was to happen I would never have come to Willoughby at all. I know what troubles you have had this term, and how bravely you have been trying to turn over a new leaf. I’d give anything to be able to help you out of this, but I tell you plainly I don’t see how to do it. If you like, I’ll go with you to the doctor, and—”
“No, no!” exclaimed Wyndham, wildly, “I can’t do that! I can’t do that!”
“Then,” said Riddell, gravely, “I must go to him by myself.”
Wyndham looked up and tried to speak, and then fairly broke down.
“If the honour of the whole school were not involved—”
Wyndham looked up in a startled way. “The honour of the school? What has it got to do with my going to—”
What strange fatality was there about Riddell’s study-door that it always opened at the most inopportune times?
Just as Wyndham began to speak it opened again, and Bloomfield, of all persons, appeared.
“I want to speak to you, Riddell,” he said.
The words were uttered before he had noticed that the captain was not alone, or that his visitor was young Wyndham, in a state of great distress — hardly greater than that of Riddell himself.
As soon as he did perceive it he drew back, and said, “I beg your pardon; I didn’t know any one was here.”