The Simpkins Plot

by George A. Birmingham

  CHAPTER XV.

  Meldon, although he still kept Doyle's bicycle, did not arrive atPortsmouth Lodge until after eight o'clock. Major Kent had waiteddinner for him, and was therefore, as even the best men are under suchcircumstances, in a very bad temper. When Meldon walked into the studyhe was sitting with _The Times_ spread out on his knee.

  "I have had," said Meldon, "a long and particularly exhausting kind ofday. I didn't get much lunch with the judge at Donard, and although Ihad a cup of tea with Sabina Gallagher at the hotel, I had so much tosay to her that I didn't eat much. I hope dinner's ready."

  "Dinner," growled the Major, "has been ready for more than an hour."

  "Good," said Meldon. "I'm certainly ready for it. Come on."

  "I wish to goodness," said the Major, rising, "that you'd occasionallytry to be in time for a meal."

  "There's no use wishing that. I won't. It's a matter of principlewith me. I regard punctuality as the vice of little minds. Time ismeant to be the servant, not the master of--"

  "Don't begin a tirade," said the Major, "but let us get at what's leftof our dinner. There won't be much, and what there is will be charred."

  "Wait a minute," said Meldon. "I don't deny that I'm hungry and tired,but I'd rather ride all the way back to Donard than sit down at tablewith you in the temper you're in at present."

  "It'll be worse," said the Major, "if I'm kept waiting any longer. AndI know what your tirades are. If you start on a vague sort of subjectlike time you'll be at it for an hour before you've finished."

  "Very well," said Meldon. "As a matter of fact, what I wanted to saywouldn't have taken five minutes, and I could have said it while youwere ladling out the soup. But if you'd rather gorge down your foodlike a wild beast in a cavern without the civilising accompaniment ofintellectual conversation, you can. I shan't mind. I may perhaps say,however, that everybody doesn't share your tastes. Sir GilbertHawkesby welcomed what I had to say about Milton at lunch to-day, andshowed that he'd not only read 'Samson Agonistes,' but--"

  "The dinner is spoiled, any way," said the Major. "I suppose anotherhour won't make it any worse. Will you be able to finish thatdisquisition in an hour, do you think, J. J.?"

  "I've finished now; so we can go in to our dinner and eat it. It maybe, as you say, spoiled; but it can't be nearly so objectionable aswhat poor Sir Gilbert Hawkesby is trying to eat at the present moment.That ought to be some consolation to you."

  "What's that you're saying about the judge's dinner?"

  "Merely that it's in a much worse state than yours. A little too muchcooking is all you have to complain of. His dinner is soaked inparaffin oil. But come along, Major; the thought of his sufferingsneedn't prevent our satisfying our appetites."

  "What have you been doing, J. J.? Tell me, like a good fellow. I'dlike to know the worst at once."

  "Nothing would induce me," said Meldon, "to start another tirade whileyou're hungry. It wouldn't be fair to you."

  "I shan't be able to eat comfortably, J. J., with the thought of whatyou may have been doing hanging over my head. I shall be imagining allthe time that it's something even worse than it really is. What haveyou done to the judge?"

  "A disquisition," said Meldon--"as well as I recollect disquisition wasthe second word you used--on that subject would certainly last an hour,and by that time your dinner would be almost, if not quite, in as bad astate as the judge's. I'm going into the dining-room. You can stayhere if you like, but I advise you to come with me."

  The Major rose with a sigh, and followed his guest into thedining-room. The soup was nearly cold. So, when they appeared alittle later, were the potatoes and the spinach. The leg of mutton washot but badly burned. Meldon ate heartily. The Major laid down hisknife and fork with a sigh.

  "You said you were hungry," said Meldon. "Why don't you eat?"

  "My appetite is gone," said the Major. "I'm too nervous about you andthat judge to care about food. Besides, look at that"--he prodded apiece of charred mutton with his fork as he spoke--"how can I eat that?"

  "You'd like it even less if it tasted of paraffin oil. That's what thejudge is having to put up with. I daresay he'd be glad enough tochange places with you."

  "Tell me what you did, J. J. You must have eaten enough of that muttonnow."

  "I've had," said Meldon, leaning back in his chair, "a long andexhausting day. It has also been a disappointing day. I haven'taccomplished all I hoped."

  "You never do."

  "On the contrary, I always do--in the end. My first plan for keepingthe judge out of Ballymoy failed. I frankly admit that. It failedbecause the judge turns out to be a pig-headed and obstinate man, whodoesn't know what's good for him. I told him distinctly that if hecame to Doyle's hotel he'd get typhoid fever and die. O'Donoghuebacked me up. But we didn't produce the slightest effect on the judge.His attitude reminded me of that saying of Napoleon's about Englishmenbeing such fools that they don't know when they are beaten. Thiswretched judge thinks he can defy disease germs, which of course hecan't."

  "The fact being," said the Major, "that he recognised at a glance thekind of man you are, and knew that he needn't believe a word you said.I rather respect the judge."

  "You like to put it that way," said Meldon; "but as a matter of fact itwas I who recognised the sort of man he is. I see now--I saw before Ihad been a quarter of an hour in his company--that there is absolutelyno use making any further appeal to his intellect. If I'd known thathe was such a thorough Englishman as he turns out to be, I shouldn'thave wasted my time in trying to reason with him. I should have gonestraight to the only part of him which an Englishman really dislikeshaving touched--his stomach."

  "Look here, J. J.," said the Major, "I don't mind your scoffing atEnglishmen now and then. I know you don't really mean it, but yououghtn't to go too far. Remember I'm an Englishman myself by descent,and I have some feelings. Try not to be offensive. I'm not alwayssaying nasty things about Irishmen to you."

  "No," said Meldon; "your insults are more directly personal. A minuteago you called me a liar, which is much worse than anything I saidabout Englishmen. Besides which it isn't true, whereas what I'm sayingabout the English is an absolute fact. Take yourself, for example.What was it that upset your temper just now in the study? Was it anoverwhelming love for the abstract quality of punctuality? I shouldhave some respect for you if I thought it was, but I can't think that.Nobody who knows you could. You wouldn't care a pin if everybody inthe world was late for every engagement they made for a whole year.What you do care about is your own miserable stomach. If it isn'tfilled at just exactly the usual moment you get savage, although youare usually a fairly good-tempered man. That demonstrates the truth ofwhat I say. And if it's truth about you after all the years you'velived in this country, it is, of course, much more true about thisjudge. Therefore, to get back to what I was saying a minuteago--having failed in my appeal to his intellect--I fall back upon theone vulnerable part of him and try if I can influence him through that."

  "Do tell me what you've done, J. J."

  "I've told Sabina Gallagher--"

  "Who is Sabina Gallagher?"

  "She's Doyle's cook. She is, in the opinion of the judge, quite themost important person in the whole of Ballymoy."

  "I don't expect he really thinks that," said the Major, "after seeingyou. But what did you tell Sabina?"

  "I told her that everything he got to eat was to taste of paraffin oil.That, I think, ought to drive him out of Ballymoy in twenty-four hours."

  "It'll probably drive Sabina out of her job. Doyle will sack herto-morrow morning."

  "No, he won't. _His_ food won't taste of paraffin."

  "In any case she won't do it," said the Major. "No girl would be sowicked."

  "The only thing that will defeat her," said Meldon, "will be the caseof a boiled egg. I don't myself see how she's to manage a boiled egg.I had to leave that to her own imagination. But she's a s
mart girl,and she may hit upon some way of doing it. In any case, the judge canhardly live entirely on boiled eggs. Everything else he gets will havemore or less paraffin in it, except the butter, and it's to taste ofonions. His bed will be damp, too--horribly damp--with Condy's Fluid."

  "You'll probably kill the old man," said the Major.

  "I don't think so. He'll leave before it comes to that. And in anycase, I warned him that he'd endanger his life if he came to Doyle'shotel."

  The dinner was, for the most part, difficult to eat; but the Major, whowas really an abstemious man, succeeded in satisfying his appetite withbiscuits and cheese; a tumbler of whisky and soda and a glass of portfurther cheered him. His anxiety was allayed, for he did not believethat Doyle's cook would venture to poison a judge, even at the requestof Meldon. Therefore he was able to light his pipe in the study with afeeling of satisfaction. He settled down in his accustomed chair, andtook up _The Times_ again. This time he expected to be able to readit. Before dinner his irritation had prevented him from getting anygood even out of the leading articles. Meldon sat down at thewriting-table and wrote a letter to his wife, full of good advice aboutthe management of the baby. When he had finished it he roused theMajor.

  "I told you," he said, "that I'd had a disappointing day. I don'tthink I mentioned to you that the judge's obstinacy was by no means theworst part of it."

  "Oh! So you attacked some one else besides the judge."

  "I don't know whether attacking is quite the right word to use. Icalled in on my way home at the gate lodge of Ballymoy House. Thatfellow Callaghan lives there, you know."

  "Yes. Did you urge him to lie in wait for the judge and shoot at him?"

  "No; I didn't. Callaghan has nothing to do with the judge one way orother. He has his own business to attend to. I wanted to hear fromhim how Simpkins and Miss King have been getting on."

  "I may as well tell you," said the Major, "that I don't at all care forthis plan of yours of setting servants to spy on people, especially onladies. It doesn't strike me as honourable, and I wish you'd stop it.What did Callaghan tell you?"

  "My dear Major, your scruples are perfectly ridiculous. I'm not askingCallaghan to report to me Miss King's private conversations, or to readher letters, or anything of that sort. I merely want to know whetherSimpkins kisses her. There's nothing objectionable about that."

  "I should say that supposing Simpkins did, and she let him, which isperfectly absurd, for Miss King isn't that sort at all, and it'sgrossly insulting to talk of her in that way-- Besides, putting herout of the question, no woman that ever lived could bear--"

  "Lots of women do. It's far commoner than you think. I should saythat hardly a day passes but some woman somewhere lets--"

  "Not Simpkins. He's such a horrid cad."

  "When they are married she'll have to, though I daresay it will hastenSimpkins' end if he does it too often--always supposing that she agreeswith you about him. I don't, as I've said several times. I think he'sa decent enough sort of man, though he does show an extraordinary wantof enterprise in this business."

  "Any way," said the Major, "if anything of the sort happened--which isremotely unlikely--"

  "It's absolutely certain," said Meldon, "even before they're married;repeatedly, I should say."

  "If it did, there's nothing Miss King would dislike more than having ittalked about. I should say that she, or any other woman, would beabsolutely furious at the thought of her gardener creeping up behind atree and spying on what, if it occurs at all, ought to be done in themost confidential way, and then going and reporting to you all--"

  "Any how," said Meldon, "it hasn't happened yet, so far as Callaghanknows. That is why I say that my day has been such a bitterdisappointment. Callaghan tells me that the miserable beast Simpkinshasn't been near the place, or even seen her, since yesterday, when wehad them both out in the _Spindrift_. I can't imagine why he won'tmake use of his opportunities. I told him distinctly that he couldn'texpect her to run after him, however anxious she was to marry him."

  "Perhaps he doesn't want to marry her."

  "He wants to all right, but he's such a wretchedly inefficient beastthat he won't turn to and do it. I've no patience with that sort ofdilly-dallying. I shall go down to-morrow and speak to him about itagain."

  "Take care the judge doesn't catch sight of you."

  "I don't mind in the least if he does," said Meldon. "That won'tmatter. What I have got to take care about is that he doesn't catchsight of either Miss King or Simpkins. I don't know whether you quiterealise, Major, that as long as that judge is in Ballymoy we are livingon the edge of a volcano. The smallest spark might set the thing offand cause an alarming explosion."

  "Do sparks set off volcanoes?"

  "That, I suppose, is the kind of remark that you consider clever. As amatter of fact, it is simply an evidence of your mental sluggishness.My thoughts had passed on, by a perfectly natural transition, fromvolcanoes to powder magazines, which are things that sparks do set off.Any one with even a moderate amount of what I may call mental agilitywould have followed me without any difficulty, and refrained fromasking your very foolish question. But it is difficult to be literalenough to please you. What I ought to have said, what I would havesaid if I had realised at the moment that I was talking to you, isthis. We are living the kind of life comparable to that of the peoplewhose cottages are built round the edge of the crater of an activevolcano, liable to erupt at any moment; or, to change the metaphor, ourposition bears a certain resemblance to that of the careless workmanwho smokes a pipe on the top of a barrel of blasting powder, and ifwe're not extremely careful we'll find ourselves scattered about inlittle bits, like the boy who stood on the burning deck. Have you anyfault to find with that way of expressing my thought? or would you liketo have it still further amplified?"

  "What I suppose you mean," said the Major, "is that this judge of yoursmay possibly recognise Miss King as Mrs. Lorimer."

  "Precisely."

  "Well, he won't. So you can make your mind easy about that. And if hedid--"

  "Have you any reasons to adduce in support of your assertion," saidMeldon; "or are you simply contradicting me for the sake of beingdisagreeable?"

  "I have one good reason."

  "Then trot it out. I shall be delighted to hear it, if it really is agood reason. Nothing appeals to me more strongly than a convincingargument. But don't waste my time and your own with some foolishtheory which wouldn't carry conviction to an audience of politicians atan election meeting."

  "Mine is a good reason, the best possible. It is--"

  "It must be very good indeed if it is to get over the fact that Mrs.Lorimer's features are burned into that judge's brain, owing to hishaving been obliged to stare at her for ten whole days."

  "It's this," said the Major. "He can't recognise Miss King as Mrs.Lorimer, because she isn't Mrs. Lorimer. I'm convinced of that."

  "I'm trying," said Meldon, "to be as patient with you as I can. Manymen would throw something heavy at your head for saying that. I don't.In spite of the fact that I spent hours proving to you by absolutelyirrefragable evidence that Miss King is Mrs. Lorimer, I am stillprepared to listen quietly to what you have to say. What convinces youthat Miss King isn't Mrs. Lorimer?"

  "The woman herself. I know she isn't a murderess. She can't possiblybe, and no amount of evidence will make me think she is."

  "You've seen her twice," said Meldon; "once on Sunday afternoon whenshe had just been to church, and was in a chastened and gentle moodowing to the effect of my sermon on her, when the lethal side of hercharacter was temporarily in abeyance. You couldn't form much of anopinion about her real character at a time like that. The otheroccasion on which you saw her was when she was sea-sick, and no womanis her true self when she's profoundly humiliated. Yet, on thestrength of these two interviews, you are apparently prepared tocontradict the result of a careful induction of mine and the lady's ownexpress st
atement. I don't know how you manage to work yourself into aframe of mind in which that is possible."

  "As a matter of fact," said the Major, "I've seen her three times."

  "Twice."

  "No; three times. The third time--" He paused.

  "Well?"

  "I spent the afternoon with her to-day," said the Major sheepishly,"while you were at Donard with the judge."

  "I don't wonder," said Meldon, "that you're ashamed of yourself. Ibegin to see now why Simpkins has behaved in the extraordinary way hehas. I was inclined to blame him at first. In fact, I'm afraid I saidrather hard things about him. I admit now that I was wrong. Simpkinscouldn't and wouldn't go near her while you were there. It would havebeen no use if he had. I must say, Major, you are a most difficult manto work with. Here I've been sacrificing the whole of my short holidayto carrying through a difficult negotiation for your benefit, and allyou do is to balk me at every turn, to fling obstacles in my way, tofoul every rope I'm trying to get a pull on. How can I marry Simpkinsto Miss King if you won't let him go near her?"

  "She won't marry him, J. J.; so you may put the idea out of your headonce for all. She doesn't like him."

  "I suppose," said Meldon, "that you spent the afternoon crabbing him;saying all the evil you could think of about him. But you've wastedyour time. Miss King's views of marriage are entirely unconventional.She doesn't marry her husbands with the intention of living with them.The less she likes a man the more willing she is to marry him, becauseshe'll feel less compunction afterwards if she thoroughly detests herhusband to start with."

  "She won't marry Simpkins, any how," said the Major obstinately.

  "Did she tell you so?"

  "Not in plain words. I gathered that she wouldn't from the way shespoke of him."

  "You've gathered, as you call it, so many entirely wrong things fromthe way Miss King speaks, that you can place absolutely no reliance onthis impression of yours. You gathered, for instance, that she isn'tMrs. Lorimer."

  "I did."

  "And you are wrong about that, so the chances are that you're wrongabout this too. I see no reason to alter my opinion that she willmarry and afterwards kill Simpkins as soon as ever she gets the chance."