And with the thought there rushed in upon him the whole memory of that evening. How excited, how restless the boy had been, how impossible he had found it to work, how wildly he had talked about the coming race, and how he had set his mind on the schoolhouse boat winning. Riddell remembered every word of it now, and how Wyndham’s excitement had baulked him of his desire for a serious talk that evening. And then he remembered how abruptly the boy had left him, returning hurriedly a moment after for his knife—this very knife which less than two hours afterwards had been dropped on the boat-house floor in the culprit’s hurried retreat by the window!
Riddell felt literally sick as it all rushed through his mind at the sight of the knife in Tom’s hand.
“Have you seen it enough?” demanded the youth, still eyeing the half-crown.
“Yes,” murmured Riddell. And surely he never uttered a truer word.
Tom, startled by his voice, looked up.
“Hullo,” said he, “what’s up? One would think you’d never saw a knife afore!”
Riddell tried feebly to smile and recover himself.
“Tell you what,” said Tom, struck with a brilliant idea—“tell you what, governor. You lay another two bob on the top of that there half-a-crown and it’s your’s. Come!”
Riddell mechanically took out his purse and produced the florin. It was almost the last coin that remained of his pocket-money for that term, but he was too miserable even to think of that.
Tom grabbed at the money eagerly, and deposited the knife in Riddell’s hand in exchange.