Talbot Reed - The Willoughby Captains

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.”

“I’ll go,” said Wyndham, hurriedly, going to the door, and hardly lifting his eyes from the ground as he passed.

Bloomfield could hardly help noticing his strange appearance, or wondering at it.

“Anything wrong with young Wyndham?” said he, not sorry to have some way of breaking the ice.

“He’s in trouble,” said the captain. “Won’t you sit down?”

It was a very long time since the head of Parrett’s and the captain of the school had met in this polite way. But Bloomfield for some time past had shown signs of coming round to see that the position which had been forced upon him, and which he had been very ready at first to accept, was not a satisfactory one. And, greatly to the disgust of some of his fellow-monitors, he had shown this more than once by friendly advances towards his rival. But, so far, he had never got to the length of calling upon him in his study.

Riddell was scarcely surprised to see him, although he was quite unprepared for the very amicable way in which he began.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” said Bloomfield, “but I’ve been intending to come over the last day or two.”

“It’s very good of you,” said Riddell.

“The fact is,” said Bloomfield, a little nervously, “ever since that debate in Parliament some weeks ago, when you spoke about all pulling together, I’ve felt that our fellows haven’t done as much as they ought in that way — I know I haven’t.”

Riddell did not exactly know what to say. He could not say that the Parrett’s fellows had “pulled together” for the good of the school, so he said nothing.

“I’m getting rather sick of it,” continued Bloomfield, digging his hands in his pockets.

“So am I,” said the captain.

“You know,” said Bloomfield, “it was that wretched boat-race affair which made things as bad as they were. Our fellows wouldn’t have kept it up so long if that hadn’t happened.”

Riddell began to get more and more uneasy. He had expected this was coming, and there was no escaping it.

“It was an awfully ugly business, of course,” continued Bloomfield; “and though no one suspected fellows like you and Fairbairn of such a thing, our fellows, you know, were pretty sure some one was at the bottom of it.”

Riddell could not help thinking, in the midst of his uneasiness, how very sagacious the Parrett’s fellows had been to make the discovery!

“And now,” said Bloomfield, looking up, and feeling relieved to have his speech nearly done—“now that you’ve found out who it is, and it’s all going to be cleared up, I think things ought to come all right.”

It was a painful situation for the captain of Willoughby. The bribe which Bloomfield offered for his secret was what had been the wish of his heart the whole term. If he accepted it now there would be an end to all the wretched squabbles which had worked such mischief in the school the last few months, and the one object of his ambition as head of the school would be realised.

Surely, now, he could hold back no longer. His duty, his interest, the honour of the school, all demanded his secret of him; whereas if he held it back things would be worse than ever before. And yet he hesitated.

That last wild half-finished exclamation of Wyndham’s lingered in his mind and perplexed him. Suppose there should be some mistake? With that knife in his pocket, and the poor boy’s whole conduct and demeanour to corroborate its story, he could scarcely hope it. But suppose there was a doubt, or even the shadow of a doubt, what right had he to accuse him, or even to breathe his name?