“Oh, he says he’s not sure, or something like that. But I dare say he’ll tell you all about it this evening. You’re to be sure and turn up, he says, at preparation time.”
And off went this vivacious messenger, leaving Wyndham in a considerable state of astonishment and perturbation.
What did Riddell want him for? He had not seen him since that evening, a week ago, when he had so nearly confessed to him about Beamish’s. He hardly liked not to go now, although he knew it would be hard to avoid letting out the wretched secret which he had promised Gilks and Silk to keep.
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?”