Riddell, too, was embarrassed, for the last time they met they had parted on anything but cordial terms. However, that had nothing to do with his duty now.
“Good-morning,” he said, in reply to Bloomfield’s nod. “Do you mind taking a turn? I want to tell you something.”
Bloomfield obeyed, and that morning any one who looked out might have witnessed the unusual spectacle of the Willoughby captains walking together round the quadrangle in eager conversation.
“You heard of the fight?” said Riddell.
“Yes; what about it?” inquired Bloomfield.
“I’ve reported it. And last night Silk came to me and asked me to get back the names.”
“You won’t do it, will you?” asked Bloomfield.
“No. But the reason why Silk wanted it was because he was afraid of something else coming out. He says it was Gilks who cut the rudder-lines.”
“What! Gilks?” exclaimed Bloomfield, standing still in astonishment. “It can’t be! Gilks was one of us. He backed our boat all along!”
“That’s just what I can’t make out,” said the captain; “and I wanted to see what you think had better be done.”