Talbot Reed - The Willoughby Captains

“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—”

“Do you hear what I say?”

“I’d never ask you for the money you borrowed,” said the boy quickly.

Silk laughed as he turned once more on his victim, and said, “Wouldn’t you really? How awfully considerate! Upon my word, the generosity of some people is quite touching. Let’s see, how much was it?”

“Thirty shillings,” said Wyndham, “and the change out of the post-office order, two pounds.”

“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 amusement 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, passionately.