self. They think you are shielding some one."

The captain's face changed colour rapidly, and Bloomfield was quick
enough to see it.

"It's hardly what fellows had been led to expect of you," said he, with
a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Anyhow it knocks on the head any idea
of our pulling together as I had hoped. I certainly shall do nothing
towards it as long as this ugly business is going on."

"Bloomfield, I've told you--" began Riddell.

"You've told me a great deal," said Bloomfield, "but you can't deny that
you are sheltering the cad, whoever he is, under the pretext of not
being quite sure."

Riddell said nothing, and Bloomfield, seeing nothing could come of this
altercation, left the room.

At the door, however, a thought struck him. Could that agitated scene
between Riddell and young Wyndham, which he had interrupted by his
arrival, have had anything to do with this mystery?

He recollected now what a state of distress both had been in; and, now
he thought of it, surely he had heard Wyndham's voice saying something
in tones of very eager appeal at the moment the door was open. Besides
Wyndham had been very "down" for a week past. Bloomfield had noticed it
at the cricket practices; and more than one fellow had spoken of it in
his hearing. He knew too how thick the boy was with the captain, and
with what almost brotherly concern Riddell watched over all his
interests; every one in Willoughby knew it.

Bloomfield was only a moderately clever youth, but he knew enough to put
two and two together; and, as he stood there at the door, the state of
the case flashed across his mind. He might get at the secret after all!

"You forget that other people can suspect besides you, Riddell," he
said, turning back. "Suppose I was to suspect that precious young
friend of yours who stood blubbering here just now?"

It was well for the captain that his back was turned as Bloomfield said
this, otherwise the least doubt as to the correctness of his guess would
have been instantly dispelled.

The last strait in which Riddell found himself was worse than any that
had gone before. For he could not deny, and to say nothing would be the
same as assenting. The secret was out, and what could he do? The only
thing seemed to be to appeal to Bloomfield's generosity, to explain all
to him, and to implore him, for a day or two at least, to keep sacred
the confidence.

And yet--it was the old question--suppose he wer