CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
A SELECT PARTY AT THE DOCTOR'S.
Young Wyndham, had he only known what was in the captain's mind as he walked that afternoon across the Big, would probably have thought twice before he went such a long way round to avoid him.
Silk's little piece of pantomime had not had the effect the author intended.

In the quick glance which Riddell had given towards the bench and its occupants he had taken in pretty accurately the real state of the case.
"Poor fellow!" said he to himself; "he's surely in trouble enough without being laid hold of by that cad.

Silk thinks I shall fancy he has captured my old favourite.

Let him! But if he has captured him he doesn't seem very sure of him, or he wouldn't hold him down on the seat like that.

I wonder what brings them together here?
and I wonder if I had better go and interfere?
No, I think I won't just now." And so he walked on, troubled enough to be sure, but not concluding quite as much from what he saw as Wyndham feared or Silk hoped.
As he walked on fellows glared at him from a distance, and others passing closer cut him dead.