However, there was one comfort. He might have a chance before the evening was over of telling Bloomfield that he now had every reason to believe his suspicions about the culprit had been wrong.
How thankful he was he had held out against the temptation to name poor Wyndham two days ago!
“Well, Riddell, how are you?” said the doctor, in his usual genial fashion. “I think you have met these ladies before. Mr Riddell—my dear—Miss Stringer. These gentlemen you have probably seen before also. Ha! ha!”
Riddell saluted the ladies very much as he would have saluted two mad dogs, and nodded the usual Willoughby nod to his two fellow-monitors, who having already got over the introductions had retreated to a safe distance.
A common suffering is the surest bond of sympathy, and Riddell positively beamed on his rival in recognition of his salute.
“I trust your mother,” said Mrs Patrick, “whose indisposition we were regretting on the last occasion when you were here, is now better?”
“Very well indeed, I hope,” replied the captain, hardly knowing what he said. “Thank you.”
“And I trust, Mr Riddell,” chimed in Miss Stringer, “that you were gratified by the result of the election.”
“No, thank you,” replied Riddell, beginning to shake in his shoes.
“Indeed? If I remember right you professed yourself to be a Liberal?”