The Willoughby Captains Part 66

"Which makes," said Silk, putting the figures down on his paper, "three pounds ten, doesn't it? and you think what you ask is worth three pounds ten, do you?"

"It's worth far more to me," said the boy, "because it's the only thing can save me from being expelled."

Silk mused a bit over his figures, and then replied, "And what would happen if I didn't pay you back?"

"I wouldn't say a word about it," cried the boy, eagerly, "if only you'd let me off the promise!"

"And suppose I told you I consider the promise worth just double what you do?"

Wyndham's face fell for a moment; he had not dared to write home about the loss of his last pocket-money, and saw very little chance of raising the wind for so large an amount again. Yet it seemed his only hope.

"Would that make it all right?" he asked.

"I might think about it," said Silk, with a sweet smile--"under conditions."

"I don't know how I can manage it," said Wyndham; "but I'll try. And you won't mind, then, my going to the doctor?"

"What! do you suppose I'm fool enough to let you do it before I have the money?" exclaimed Silk. "You must have a nice opinion of me!"

It was no use urging further; Wyndham saw he had got all he could hope for. It was little better than nothing, for before he could get the money--if he got it at all--the explosion might have come, and he would be expelled. If only Riddell, now, would wait a little longer!

As the thought crossed his mind he became aware that the captain was slowly approaching the bench on which he and Silk were sitting. It was anything but pleasant for the boy, after all that had happened, to be discovered thus, in close companionship with the very fellow he had promised to avoid, and whom he had all along acknowledged to be the cause of his troubles.

His instinct was to spring from his place and either escape or meet Riddell. But Silk saw the intention in time and forbade it.

"No," said he, with a laugh; "don't run away as if you were ashamed of it. Stay where you are; let him see you keep good company now and then."

"Oh, I must go!" exclaimed the boy; "he'll think all sorts of things.

He'll think I'm such a hypocrite after what I promised him. Oh, do let me go!"

His agitation only increased the amus.e.m.e.nt of his tormentor, who, with a view to give the captain as vivid an impression as possible, laid his hand affectionately on the boy's arm and beamed most benignantly upon him. It was no use for Wyndham to resist. After all, suspicious as it might appear, he was doing nothing wrong.

And yet, what _would_ Riddell think?

The captain was pacing the Big in a moody, abstracted manner, and at first appeared not to notice either the bench or its occupants.

Wyndham, as he sat and trembled in Silk's clutches, wildly hoped something might cause him to turn aside or back. But no, he came straight on, and in doing so suddenly caught sight of the two boys.

He started and flushed quickly, and for a moment it looked as if he were inclined to make a wild dash to rescue the younger boy from the companionship in which he found him. But another glance changed that intention, if intention it had been.

His face fell, and he walked past with averted eyes, apparently recognising neither boy, and paying no heed to Wyndham's feebly attempted salute.

Before he was out of hearing Silk broke into a loud laugh. "Upon my word, it's as good as a play!" cried he. "You did it splendidly, young 'un! Looked as guilty as a dog, every bit! He'll give you up for lost now, with a vengeance!"

Wyndham's misery would have moved the pity of any one but Silk. The new hopes which had risen within him had been cruelly dashed by this unhappy accident, and he felt no further care as to what happened to him.

Riddell would have lost all faith in him now; he would appear little better than an ungrateful hypocrite and impostor. The last motive for sparing him would be swept away, and--so the boy thought--the duty of reporting him would now become a satisfaction.

He tore himself from the seat, and exclaimed, "Let me go, you brute!"

Silk looked at him in astonishment; then, relapsing into a smile, said, "Oh, indeed! a brute, am I?"

"Yes, you are!"

"And, let's see; I forget what the little favour was you wanted the brute to do for you?"

"I want you to do _no_ favour!" cried Wyndham, pa.s.sionately.

"No? Not even to allow you to go to the doctor and tell him about Beamish's?"

"No; not even that! I wouldn't do it now. He may now find out what he likes."

"It might interest him if I went and told him a few things about you?"

said Silk.

"Go! as soon as you like--and tell him anything you like," cried Wyndham. "I don't care."

"You wouldn't even care to have back your three pound ten?"

"No," said the boy, "not even if you ever thought of paying it back."

Silk all this time had been growing furious. The last thing he had expected was that this boy, whom he supposed to be utterly in his power, should thus rise in revolt and shake off every shred of his old allegiance. But he found he had gone too far for once, and this last defiant taunt of his late victim cut him to the quick.

He sprang from the seat and made a wild dash at the boy, but Wyndham was too quick for him, and escaped, leaving his adversary baffled as he had never been before, and almost doubting whether he had not been and still was dreaming.

Wyndham ran as fast as he could in the direction of the school, and would have probably gone _on_ running till he reached his own study, had not the sight of Riddell slowly going the same way ahead of him suddenly checked his progress.

As it was, he almost ran over him before he perceived who it was. For Riddell just at that moment had halted in his walk, and stooped to pick up a book that lay on the path.

However, when Wyndham saw who it was, he swerved hurriedly in another direction, and got to his destination by a roundabout way, feeling as he reached it about as miserable and hopeless as it was possible for a boy to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A SELECT PARTY AT THE DOCTOR'S.

Young Wyndham, had he only known what was in the captain's mind as he walked that afternoon across the Big, would probably have thought twice before he went such a long way round to avoid him.

Silk's little piece of pantomime had not had the effect the author intended. In the quick glance which Riddell had given towards the bench and its occupants he had taken in pretty accurately the real state of the case.

"Poor fellow!" said he to himself; "he's surely in trouble enough without being laid hold of by that cad. Silk thinks I shall fancy he has captured my old favourite. Let him! But if he has captured him he doesn't seem very sure of him, or he wouldn't hold him down on the seat like that. I wonder what brings them together here? and I wonder if I had better go and interfere? No, I think I won't just now."

And so he walked on, troubled enough to be sure, but not concluding quite as much from what he saw as Wyndham feared or Silk hoped.

As he walked on fellows glared at him from a distance, and others pa.s.sing closer cut him dead. A few of the most ardent Parrett's juniors took the liberty of hissing him and one ventured to call out, pointedly, "Who cut the rudder-lines?"

Riddell, however, though he winced under these insults, took little notice of them. He was as determined as ever to wait the confirmation of his suspicions before he unmasked the culprit, and equally convinced that duty and honour both demanded that he should lose not a moment in coming to a conclusion.

It was in the midst of these reflections that the small book which Wyndham had seen him pick up caught his eye. He picked it up mechanically, and after noticing that it appeared to be a notebook, and had no owner's name in the beginning, carried it with him, and forgot all about it till he reached his study.