But no, Wyndham had come back for his knife, which Riddell had borrowed for sharpening a pencil.

That was all he wanted; and having recovered it he departed quickly.
Riddell spent the rest of that evening in low spirits.

He had been baulked, and worse than that, he felt other hands were playing their game more successfully, and that amongst them all young Wyndham was going wrong.
So the eve of the great boat-race was anything but a cheerful evening for the new captain.
But with the morning even Riddell could hardly harbour any thoughts outside the event of the day.

Morning school that Wednesday was a farce all over Willoughby.

Even the doctor seemed absent-minded, while one or two of the junior masters gave up the attempt in despair.
The race was fixed for three o'clock, when the tide would be running up at its fastest, and long before that hour every advantageous point of view on the banks was secured by eager spectators.