CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
WYNDHAM MAKES A FINAL VENTURE.
If any proof had been needed that young Wyndham was "down," as the Parrett's fellows termed it, the fact that he did not put in appearance at the second-eleven practice next day supplied it.
Bloomfield, who in ordinary course had strolled round to watch the play, noticed his absence, and drew his own conclusions from it.
To Bloomfield's credit be it said that, whatever his own suspicions may have been, he had been as reluctant as Riddell himself, as long as any doubt existed, to name Wyndham publicly as the culprit for whom all Willoughby was on the lookout.

He had been very angry with Riddell for his reserve, but when it came to the point of publishing his own suspicions or not, his better feeling prevented him, and led him to copy the captain's example.
For Riddell's reply to the suggestion of Wyndham's name had neither confirmed or denied its correctness.

He had merely declined to say anything about the matter, so that as far as Bloomfield was concerned it was no more than a guess, and that being so, he too was wise enough to keep it to himself.
However, now that he noticed Wyndham's unwonted absence from the cricket practice, he felt more than ever convinced something was wrong in that quarter.
And so there was.
Wyndham, with a drawn sword, so to speak, over his head, was fit for nothing.
He dared not go back to Riddell.

As long as his tongue was tied any explanation was impossible, and unless he could explain, it was worse than useless to talk to the captain.
Equally out of the question was a confession to the doctor, or a letter explaining all to his brother.

The only thing was either to make up his mind to his fate, or else, by getting Silk and Gilks to release him from his promise, to get his tongue free to make a full confession of his own delinquencies, and throw himself entirely on the doctor's mercy.
This last chance seemed feeble enough.