A long, uncomfortable pause followed, during which no one spoke or stirred. At length the silence was broken by a knock on the door, and Silk entered.
He glanced hurriedly round, and seemed to take in the position of affairs with moderate readiness, though he was evidently not quite sure whether Gilks or the captain was his accuser.
The doctor, however, soon made that clear.
“Silk,” he said, “Gilks accuses you of being a party to the cutting of the rudder-links of one of the boats in the race last May. Repeat your story, Gilks.”
“He needn’t do it,” said Silk, “I’ve heard it already.”
“He says you suggested it,” said the doctor.
“That’s a lie,” said Silk sullenly; “I never heard of it till afterwards.”
“You know you did,” said Gilks. “When I was turned out of the boat, and couldn’t baulk the race that way, it was you suggested cutting the lines, and I was glad enough to do it.”
“So you were,” snarled Silk, incautiously—“precious glad.”
“Then you did suggest it?” said the doctor, sharply.