“Riddell!” cried Gilks, scornfully; “who cares for him?”
“Oh, but,” continued Wyndham, tremulously, “he means to report me for it.”
“What? report you? I thought you and he were such dear pious friends,” sneered Gilks.
“We are friends; but he says it is his duty to do it.”
Gilks laughed scornfully.
“Of course, it is! It only needs for a thing to be mean and low, and it will always be his duty to do it. Bah! the hypocrite!”
Wyndham was proof against this invective. Nay, bitterly as the captain’s sense of duty affected him, he could not help a passing feeling of indignation on his friend’s behalf at Gilk’s words.
But he was prudent enough to keep his feelings to himself.
“Of course,” said he, “if he does report me for it, I shall be expelled.”
“You may be sure of that,” replied Gilks, “but what’s all this got to do with me?”
Wyndham looked up in surprise.
“Why,” said he rather nervously. “Of course you know, we, that is you and I and Silk, are all sort of in the same boat over this affair. That is, if it all came out. But I fancy Riddell only suspects me.”
“Well, if he does,” said Gilks, “it’s all the less any concern of mine.”
“I promised, you know,” said Wyndham, “to you and Silk to say nothing about it.”
“Of course you did,” said Gilks, “and you’d better stick to it, or it’ll be the worse for you!”
“I think,” continued the boy, “and Riddell says so — if I were to go and tell the Doctor about it, only about myself, you know, he might perhaps not expel me.”
“Well?” said Gilks.
“Well,” said Wyndham, “of course I couldn’t do it after promising you and Silk. But I thought if I promised not to say anything about you and make out that it was all my fault, you wouldn’t mind my telling Paddy.”
Gilks looked at the boy in perplexity. This was a code of morality decidedly beyond him, and for a moment he looked as if he half doubted whether it was not a jest.
“What on earth do you mean, you young muff?” he exclaimed. “I mean, may I go and tell him that I went those two times to Beamish’s? I promise to say nothing about you.” Gilks laughed once more.
“What do I care what you go and tell him?” he said. “If you want to get expelled as badly as all that I don’t want to prevent you, I’m sure.”
“Then I really may?” exclaimed poor Wyndham, scarcely believing his own ears.
“Of course, if you keep me out of it, what on earth do I care what you tell him? You may tell him you murdered somebody there for all I care.”
“Oh, thanks, thanks,” cried Wyndham with a positively beaming face. “I give you my word I won’t even mention you or Silk.”
“As long as you don’t mention me, that’s all I care for,” said Gilks; “and upon my word,” added he, with a sigh half to himself, “I don’t much care whether you do or not!”
Wyndham was too delighted and relieved to pay any heed to this last dreary remark, and gratefully took his leave, feeling that though the battle was anything but won yet he was at least a good deal nearer hope than he had been an hour ago.
But he very soon checked the reviving flow of his spirits as the prospect of an interview with Silk began to loom out ahead.
He had not seen Silk since the evening of the Rockshire match, when, as the reader will remember the meeting was anything but a pleasant one, and, but for the timely arrival of a third party, might have ended severely for the younger boy.
The recollection of this did not certainly add to the hopefulness of his present undertaking; but young Wyndham was a boy of such a sanguine temper, and such elastic spirits, that he could not help hoping something would turn up in his favour even now. He had got on far better than he had dared to hope with Gilks, why not also with Silk?
Besides, when all was said, it was his only chance, and therefore, whether he hoped anything or nothing, he must try it.
He wandered about during the hour between first and second school with the idea of coming across his man in the quadrangle or the playground. He could not make up his mind to beard the lion in his den; indeed at present he had every reason to fight shy of Welch’s.
Second and third school passed before he was able to renew his search, and this time he was successful.
Just as he was beginning to give up hope, and was meditating a show-up for appearance’s sake at the cricket practice, he caught sight of Silk lolling on a bench in a distant corner of the Big.
His heart sunk as he made the discovery, but it was no time for consulting his inclinations.
He moved timidly over in the direction of the bench, taking care to approach it from behind, so as to be spared the discomfort of a long inspection on the way.
Silk blissfully unconscious of the visit in store, was peacefully performing a few simple addition sums on the back of an envelope, and calculating how with six shillings he should be able to pay debts amounting to twenty-six, when Wyndham’s shadow suddenly presented itself between him and his figures and gave him quite a start.
“Ah!” said he, in his usual friendly style, and to all appearances quite forgetful of the incidents of his last interview with this visitor. “Ah, Wyndham, so you’ve come back?”
“I wanted to see you very particularly,” said the boy.
“Plenty of room on the seat,” said Silk.
Wyndham, feeling far more uncomfortable at this civility than he had done at Gilk’s roughness, sat down.
“Nice weather,” said Silk, mockingly, after the pause had lasted some little time.
“I want to ask you a favour — a great favour,” said Wyndham, feeling that a beginning must be made.
“Very kind of you,” replied Silk, going on with his sums, and whistling softly to himself.
Wyndham did not feel encouraged. He had half a mind to back out of the venture even now, but desperation urged him on.
“You know I promised you never to say a word about Beamish’s,” he faltered, at length.
“So you did,” replied Silk, drily.
“Would you mind letting me off that promise?”
“What?” exclaimed Silk, putting down his paper and pencil and staring at the boy.
“I mean only as far as I’m concerned,” said Wyndham, hurriedly, trying to avert a storm.
“As far as you are concerned! What on earth are you talking about?” exclaimed the other.
“I want to confess to the doctor that I went those two times,” said the boy. “I wouldn’t mention your name or Gilk’s. I only want to tell him about myself.”
“Have you gone mad, or what?” cried Silk, utterly perplexed, as Gilks had been, to understand the boy’s meaning.
Wyndham explained to him as best he could how the matter stood. How Riddell appeared to have discovered his delinquencies, and was resolved to report him. Of the certain result of such an exposure, and of the one hope he had, by voluntarily confessing all to the doctor, of averting his expulsion.
Silk listened to it all with a sneer, and when it was done, replied, “And you mean to say you’ve got the impudence to come to me to help to get you out of a scrape?”
“Please, Silk,” said the boy, “I would be so grateful.”
“Bah!” snarled Silk, “have you forgotten, then, the nice row you kicked up in my study a week ago? and the way you’ve treated me all this term? because if you have, I haven’t.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” pleaded the boy.
“It’s a precious lot too much,” said Silk; “and no one who hadn’t got your cheek would do it!”
And he took up his paper and pencil again, and turned his back on the boy.
“Won’t you do it, then?” once more urged Wyndham.
“Not likely!” rejoined Silk. “If you want favours you’d better go to your precious friend Riddell; and you can go as soon as you like. I don’t want you here!”
“If you’d only do it,” said Wyndham, “I’d—”