The Willoughby Captains Part 67

Even here it was some time before it again attracted his attention, as its importance was wholly eclipsed by the contents of a note which he found lying on his table, and which ran as follows:

"Dear Riddell,--Will you join us at tea this evening at seven? I expect Fairbairn and Bloomfield.

"Yours faithfully,--

"R. Patrick."

Riddell groaned. Had he not had trouble, and humiliation, and misery enough? What had he done to deserve this crowning torture? Tea with the Griffins!

He sat down and wrote, as in politeness bound, that he would have much pleasure in accepting the doctor's kind invitation, and, sending the note off by Cusack, resigned himself to the awful prospect, which for a time shut out everything else.

However, he had no right, he felt, to be idle. He must finish his work now, so as to be free for the evening's "entertainment," and for the other equally grave duties which lay before him.

But somehow he could not work; his mind was too full to be able to settle steadily on any one thing, and finally he pushed away the books and gave up the attempt.

It was at that moment that the small black book he had found caught his eye.

He took it up, intending, if possible, to ascertain whose property it was, and, failing that, to send Cusack to "cry" it round the school.

But the first thing that met his eye on the front page roused his curiosity. It was evidently a quotation:

"Pa.s.s me not, oh! reader, by, Read my pages tenderly (`tenderly' altered to `on the sly'); All that's writ is writ for thee, Open now and you shall see."

After such a cordial invitation, even Riddell could hardly feel much qualm about dipping farther into this mysterious ma.n.u.script.

It appeared to be a diary, which, but for the announcement at the beginning, one would have been inclined to regard as a private doc.u.ment.

And the first entry Riddell encountered was certainly of that character:

"Friday, the fifth day of the week.--My birthday. Rose at 6:59. I am old. I am 24 (and ten off) some one had taken my soap. Meditations As I dressed me. The world is very large I am small in the world I will aspire as I go to chapel I view Riddell who toucheth his hat. Gross conduct of my father sending me only half a crown breakfast at 7:33.

Disturbance with the evil Telson whereby I obtained lines."

This was quite enough for one day, and Riddell, greatly mystified, turned a few pages farther on to see if the narrative became more lucid as it progressed.

"I am now a skyrocket. Meditations on being a skyrocket. The world is very large, etcetera. Gross meeting of Parliament Riddell the little captain sitteth on his seat. I made a n.o.ble speech gross conduct of Parson, who is kicked out. Eloquence of Bloomfield who crieth Order under the form I see Telson hanging on. I hang too and am removed speaking n.o.bly. Large tea at Parson's the cake being beastly. Riddell it seems hath cut the rudder-lines. I indignate and cut him with a razor I remove two corns from my nether foot."

More in this strain followed, and lower down the diary proceeded:

"Wyndham the junior thinketh much of himself he is ugly in the face and in the second-eleven. I have writ a poem on Wyndham.

"`I do not like thee, Dr Fell (altered to "Wyndham junior") The reason why I cannot tell (altered to "say"); But this I know, and know full well (altered to "ill") I do not like thee, Dr Fell (altered to "Wyndham junior").'

"I over hear much of Wyndham the gross Telson and the evil Parson not knowing I am by the little boys say they have seen the ugly Wyndham come from Beamish's. Oh evil Wyndham being taken by Silk and Gilks. No one knows and Wyndham is to be expelled. I joy much Riddell knoweth it.

Telson telleth Parson that Riddell is gross expelling for Beamish's and Wyndham weepeth in private. I smile at the practice Mr Parrett bowleth me b.a.l.l.s. I taketh them and am out."

If Bosher could have seen the effect of this elegant extract upon the captain he would probably have "joyed" with infinite self-satisfaction.

Riddell's colour changed as he read and re-read and re-read again these few lines of idiotic jargon.

He lay down the book half a dozen times, and as often took it up again, and scrutinised the entry, and as he did so quick looks of perplexity, or joy, or shame, even of humour, chased one another across his face.

The truth with all its new meaning slowly dawned upon him. It had been reserved to Bosher's diary, of all agencies in the world, to explain everything, and cast a flood of light upon what had hitherto been incomprehensible!

Of course he could see it all now. If this diary was to be believed-- but was it? Might it not be a hoax purposely put in his way to delude him?

Yet he could not believe that this laboriously written record could have been compiled for his sole benefit; and this one entry which he had lit upon by mere chance was only one of hundreds of stupid, absurd entries, most of which meant nothing at all, and which seemed more like the symptoms of a disease than the healthy productions of a sane boy.

In this one case, however, there seemed to be some method in the author's madness, and he had given a clue so important that Riddell, in pondering over it that evening and calculating its true value, was very nearly being late for the doctor's tea at seven o'clock.

However, he came to himself just in time to decorate his person, and hurry across the quadrangle before the clock struck.

On his way over he met Parson and Telson, walking arm-in-arm. Although the same spectacle had met his eyes on an average twice every day that term, and was about the commonest "show" in Willoughby, the sight of the faithful pair at this particular time when the revelations of Bosher's diary were tingling in his ears impressed the captain. Indeed, it impressed him so much that, at the imminent risk of being late for the doctor's tea, he pulled up to speak to them.

Parson, as became a loyal Parrett, made as though he would pa.s.s on, but Telson held him back.

"I say, you two," said Riddell, "will you come to breakfast with me to- morrow morning after chapel?"

And without so much as waiting for a reply, he bolted off, leaving his two would-be guests a trifle concerned as to his sanity.

The clock was beginning to strike as Riddell knocked at the doctor's door, and began at length to realise what he was in for.

He did not know whether to be thankful or not that Bloomfield and Fairbairn would be there to share his misery. They would be but two extra witnesses to his sufferings, and their tribulations were hardly likely to relieve his.

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 fas.h.i.+on. "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?"

"Yes--that is--the Radical got in," faltered Riddell, wondering why in common charity no one came to his rescue.

"And pray, Mr Riddell," continued Miss Stringer, ruthlessly, "can you tell us the difference between a Liberal and a Radical? I have often longed to know--and you I have no doubt are an authority?"

Riddell at this point seriously meditated a forced retreat, and there is no saying what desperate act he might have committed had not the doctor providentially come to the rescue.

"The election altogether," said he, laughing, "is rather a sore point in the school. I told you, my dear, about the manner in which Mr Cheeseman's letter was received?"