"It seemed a clean cut, didn't it?"

"Yes; about three-quarters of the way through. Whoever did it must have
been up to his business, for he only touched the right cord on which all
the strain comes at the corner."

"It must have been done between five o'clock yesterday and this
morning," said Riddell. "If the cut had been there yesterday the line
would have given at the corner to a certainty."

"Oh, yes; it must have been done in the night."

"Doesn't the boatman know anything about it?"

"No; I asked him. He says no one opened the door after the boats had
gone in except himself and the boat-boy."

"It's horribly mysterious," said Riddell. "But, I say, hadn't we better
offer the new race at once?"

"All serene."

"Had we better write?" asked Riddell.

"No; why? What's the use of looking ashamed?" said Fairbairn; "let's go
to them. Bloomfield's sure to be in his study."

The two boys went accordingly, and found the Parrett's captain in his
study along with Game and Ashley. It was rarely indeed that the
schoolhouse seniors penetrated uninvited into the headquarters of their
rivals. But on this occasion they had a right cause at heart and honest
consciences to back them.

But it was evident at a glance they had fallen on unfriendly society.
Game, quite apart from his state of mind with regard to the accident,
had not forgotten his repulse at the hands of the new captain a week or
two ago, nor had Bloomfield quite got over the indirect snub he had
received on the same occasion.

Riddell himself had almost forgotten the circumstance, and attributed
the unencouraging aspect of the rival seniors entirely to the day's
misadventure.

"Excuse us coming over," said he, feeling that a beginning must be made
to the interview, "but we wanted to tell you how sorry our fellows are
about the race."

"Have you found out who did it?" asked Bloomfield.

"No," said Riddell, "and we can't even guess."

"But what we came for specially," broke in Fairbairn at this point, "was
to say we are quite ready to row you again any day you like."

There was a touch of defiance in the tone of the schoolhouse stroke
which was particularly irritating to the Parrett's boys.

"Of course, we would row you--" began Bloomfield.

"But we don't mean to," broke in Game, "till this ugly business is
cleared up."

"What do you mean?" asked Fairbairn.

"You know what we mean," said Game, warmly. "As soon as you find out
who cut o