The captain’s face changed colour rapidly, and Bloomfield was quick enough to see it.
“It’s hardly what fellows had been led to expect of you,” said he, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Anyhow it knocks on the head any idea of our pulling together as I had hoped. I certainly shall do nothing towards it as long as this ugly business is going on.”
“Bloomfield, I’ve told you—” began Riddell.
“You’ve told me a great deal,” said Bloomfield, “but you can’t deny that you are sheltering the cad, whoever he is, under the pretext of not being quite sure.”
Riddell said nothing, and Bloomfield, seeing nothing could come of this altercation, left the room.
At the door, however, a thought struck him. Could that agitated scene between Riddell and young Wyndham, which he had interrupted by his arrival, have had anything to do with this mystery?
He recollected now what a state of distress both had been in; and, now he thought of it, surely he had heard Wyndham’s voice saying something in tones of very eager appeal at the moment the door was open. Besides Wyndham had been very “down” for a week past. Bloomfield had noticed it at the cricket practices; and more than one fellow had spoken of it in his hearing. He knew too how thick the boy was with the captain, and with what almost brotherly concern Riddell watched over all his interests; every one in Willoughby knew it.
Bloomfield was only a moderately clever youth, but he knew enough to put two and two together; and, as he stood there at the door, the state of the case flashed across his mind. He might get at the secret after all!
“You forget that other people can suspect besides you, Riddell,” he said, turning back. “Suppose I was to suspect that precious young friend of yours who stood blubbering here just now?”
It was well for the captain that his back was turned as Bloomfield said this, otherwise the least doubt as to the correctness of his guess would have been instantly dispelled.