The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines (книги бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

“Not exactly!” said Gilks, bitterly; “but I’ve come round to letting the cad alone. What’s the good of bothering?”

“And you mean to say you’d let him go on knowing who the fellow is who cut the rudder-lines of our boat, and not make him say who it is?”

“I expect that’s all stuff about his knowing at all,” said Gilks.

“Not it! Between you and me, I fancy he’s had a tip from somewhere.”

“He has? Bah! don’t you believe it. He’d like to make believe he knows all about it. It would pay, you know.”

“But every one thinks he knows.”

“Not he! He would have told the fellow’s name long ago. Whatever object would he have in keeping it back?”

“Oh! I don’t know. He says some gammon about not being quite sure. But he’s had time enough to be sure by now.”

Gilks walked on in silence for a little, and then inquired, “And suppose you did get to know who it was, what would be the use?”

“The use!” exclaimed Wibberly, in amazement. “Why, what do you mean? By Jove, I’m sorry for the fellow when he turns up. He’ll soon find out the use of it.”

Gilks said nothing, but walked on evidently out of humour, and Wibberly having nothing better to do accompanied him.

“By the way,” said the latter, presently, seeing his companion was not disposed to continue the former conversation, “what’s up between you and Silk? Is it true you’ve had a row?”

Gilks growled out something which sounded very like an oath, and replied, “Yes.”

“What about?” inquired the inquisitive Wibberly, who seemed to have the knack of hitting upon unwelcome topics.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to know,” growled Gilks.

“I heard it was some betting row, or something of that sort,” said Wibberly.

“Eh? — yes — something of that sort,” said Gilks.

“Well,” said Wibberly, “I never cared much for Silk. He always seemed to know a little too much for me. I wouldn’t break my heart if I were you.”

“I don’t mean to,” said Gilks, but in a tone which belied the words, and even struck Wibberly by its wretchedness.

“I say,” said he, “you’re awfully down in the mouth these times. What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong? I’m all right, I tell you,” said Gilks, half angrily.

Wibberly was half inclined to say that he would not have thought it if he had not been told so, but judging from his companion’s looks that this little pleasantry would not be appreciated, he forbore and walked on in silence.

It was a relief when Wibberly at length discovered that it was time for him to be going back. Gilks wanted nobody’s company, and was glad to be left alone.

And yet he would gladly have escaped even from his own company, which to judge by his miserable looks as he walked on alone was less pleasant than any.

He was sorry now he had not gone to watch the juniors, where at least he would have heard something less hateful than his own thoughts, and seen something less hateful than the dreary creations of his own troubled imagination.

“What’s the use of keeping it up?” said he, bitterly, to himself. “I don’t care! Things can’t be worse than they are. Down in the mouth! He’d be down in the mouth if he were! — the fool! I’ve a good mind to— And yet I daren’t face it. What’s the use of trusting to a fellow like Silk! Bah! how I hate him. He’ll betray me as soon as ever it suits him, and — and — oh, I don’t care. Let him!”

Gilks had reached this dismal climax in his reflections, when he suddenly became aware that the object of his meditations was approaching him.

Silk had his own reasons for not joining the throng that was looking on at the juniors’ match. It may have been mere lack of interest, or it may have been a special desire to take this walk. Whichever it was, his presence now was about as unwelcome an apparition as Gilks could have encountered, and the smile on the intruder’s face showed pretty clearly that he was aware of the fact.

“What are you prowling about here for?” said he as he came up, with all the insolence of a warder addressing a convict.

“I’ve a right to walk here if I choose,” replied Gilks, sulkily; “what are you here for?”

“To find you. I want to speak to you,” replied Silk.

“I don’t want to speak to you,” replied Gilks, moving on.

“Don’t you?” replied Silk, with a sneer. “You’ll have to do it whether you want or not, my boy.”

There was something about the Welcher which had the effect of cowing his companion, and Gilks, fuming inwardly, and with a face as black as thunder, said, “Well — say what you’ve got to say, and be done with it.”

Silk laughed.

“Thank you. I’ll take my time, not yours. Which way are you going?”

“No way at all,” said Gilks, standing still.

“Very well. I’m going this way. Come with me.”

And he began to walk on, Gilks sullenly following.

“You saw Wyndham the other day?” said Silk.

“Suppose I did?”

“What did he want?”

“I don’t know — some foolery or other. I didn’t listen to him.”

“You needn’t tell lies. What did he want, I say?”

“How should I know?” retorted Gilks.

“What did he want? do you hear?” repeated the other.

“He wanted me to let him blab about something — about Beamish’s it was.”

“And did you tell him he might?”

“Yes. I said he might blab about me too for all I cared. And so he may. I wish to goodness he would.”

“And whatever business had you to tell him he might say a word about it?” demanded Silk, angrily.

“What business? A good deal more business than you’ve got to ask me questions.”

“Do you know what he’s done?”

“No, I don’t; and I don’t care.”

“Don’t you care?” snarled Silk, fast losing his temper; “that foolery of yours has spoiled everything.”

“So much the better. I don’t care.”

“But I care!” exclaimed Silk, furiously, “and I’ll see you care too, you fool!”

“What’s happened, then?” asked Gilks.

“Why, Riddell—”

“For goodness’ sake don’t start on him!” cried Gilks, viciously; “he’s nothing to do with it.”

“Hasn’t he? That’s all you know, you blockhead! He suspected Wyndham of that boat-race business. I can’t make out how, but he did. And the young fool all along thought it was Beamish’s he was in a row about. But Riddell wouldn’t have known it to this day if you hadn’t given the young idiot leave to go and blab, and so clear it up.”

“Let him blab. I wish he’d clear up everything,” growled, or rather groaned, Gilks.

“Look here!” said Silk, stopping short in his walk and rounding on his victim. “I’ve had quite enough of this, and you’d better shut up. You know I could make you sorry for it if I chose.”

Gilks said nothing, but walked on sullenly.

“And the worse thing about it,” continued Silk, “is that now Wyndham and Riddell are as thick as brothers, and the young toady’s sure to tell him everything.”

“And suppose he does?”

“There’s no suppose about it. I don’t choose to have it, I tell you.”

“How can you help it?” said Gilks.

“We must get hold of the young ’un again,” said Silk, “and you’ll have to manage it.”

“Who? — I?” said Gilks, with a bitter laugh.

“Yes, you. And don’t talk so loud, do you hear? You’ll have to manage it, and I think I can put you up to a way for getting hold of him.”

“You can spare yourself the trouble,” said Gilks, stopping short and folding his arms doggedly. “I won’t do it.”

“What!” cried Silk, in a passion.

It was the second time in one week that Silk had been thus defied — each time by a boy whom he had imagined to be completely in his power. Wyndham’s mutiny had not wholly surprised him, but from Gilks he had never expected it.

“I won’t do it, there!” said Gilks, now fairly at bay and determined enough.

Silk glared at him for a moment, then laughed scornfully.

“You won’t? You know what you are saying?”