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Updated: June 10, 2025
The next morning Riddell and those interested in the discipline of the school were surprised to see that the excitement was apparently abated, instead of, as might have been expected, increased. The attendance at morning chapel and call-over was most punctual, and between breakfast and first school only two boys came to him to ask for permits to go into town.
Wickham Steed, smiling sweetly and triumphantly at the Italians, going to the theatre and coming out because the jokes seemed to them dubious, Sir George Riddell and Mr. G.H. Mair desperately controlling the press, Lord Pinkerton flying to and fro, across the Channel and back again, while his bodyguard remained in Paris. There also flew to and fro Oliver Hobart, the editor of the Daily Haste.
"I don't think so." "I suppose you'd like to make out that Riddell is made captain because he's the best man for the place, and not because the doctor always favours the schoolhouse," snarled Wibberly. "He's made captain because he's head classic," replied Fairbairn; "it has nothing to do with his being a schoolhouse fellow."
"Look out there!" cried Bloomfield severely. "Well tried, sir!" cried some one, sarcastically. "Well missed, sir!" cried some one else, with painful truthfulness. Riddell saw the crisis. Another miss like that, a few more taunts like those, and he might as well retire from the field.
A parting request like Wyndham's would have been very hard for any friend to refuse; but to Riddell the promise "to look after young Wyndham" meant a great deal more than it would have done to many other fellows. It was not enough for him to make occasional inquiries as to his young protege, or even to try to shield him when he fell into scrapes.
"I don't see that you need tell everybody," said Wyndham, nettled. "I'm sorry it can't be done, Wyndham; I can't make any exceptions," said the captain, firmly. "You could well enough if you chose," said Wyndham, sorely disappointed and aggrieved. "The fact is, I don't know why, I believe you've got a spite against me of late." "You know I haven't, Wyndham," said Riddell, kindly.
Riddell had left it for her, and taking it up she climbed the stairs to her room. At last she was alone and could think! Her door was locked, her light was out that no one might know she was awake, and she was crouching at the open window, staring out at the night.
Nothing of the treaty of peace between the two captains, of the discovery of the boat-race mystery, of the double expulsion that was impending. And still less did it dream of the unwonted scene which was taking place that evening in the captain's study. Riddell and Gilks sat and talked far into the night. I am not going to describe that talk. Let the reader imagine it.
It was no use urging further; Wyndham saw he had got all he could hope for. It was little better than nothing, for before he could get the money if he got it at all the explosion might have come, and he would be expelled. If only Riddell, now, would wait a little longer!
In reply, he understood Mr Riddell had been sent to Welch's in order to study the virtues of a fellow called Tucker, who was Mr Tucker, rising: Mr Chairman, I didn't put my question in order to be insulted by Crossfield or any one. Mr Crossfield. I apologise to the hon. gentleman. I will not insult him by supposing he has any virtues.
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