The Simpkins Plot Page 14

  CHAPTER XIV.

  Meldon left the hotel and mounted his bicycle without speaking anotherword. He rode rapidly out of the town, followed at some distance byO'Donoghue, who was a cyclist of inferior strength and energy. For thefirst four miles the road to Ballymoy goes steadily up hill. Meldon,gripping his handle-bars tightly, rode at a fast rate. O'Donoghue wasleft further and further behind. At the top of the hill Meldon had alead of a full quarter of a mile. Then the left pedal of his bicyclecame off, and he was obliged to dismount. He was working at it with aspanner when O'Donoghue, breathless and in a bad temper, came up withhim. Meldon greeted him cheerfully.

  "Obstinate old swine the judge is," he said. "You would have thought aman like that whose business in life consists very largely in weighingevidence, and who has been specially trained to arrive at soundconclusions from the facts presented to him, would have seen thenecessity of giving up this ridiculous expedition of his to Ballymoy."

  "Why did you ride on like that and leave me behind?" said O'Donoghueshortly.

  "If I were inclined to be captious and wanted to find fault," saidMeldon, "I might say why did you lag behind and leave me to ride bymyself? I don't want to ride by myself. I want to discuss the judge'sconduct."

  O'Donoghue also wanted to discuss the judge's conduct. He was evenmore anxious to find out, if he could, why Meldon disliked the idea ofthis particular judge paying a visit to Ballymoy. He recovered histemper with an effort.

  "I don't think," he said, "that he believed a word you said about thedrains."

  "That's exactly what I'm complaining of. He ought to have believed us.According to all the rules of evidence, no stronger testimony couldpossibly have been offered than the statements of a clergyman and adoctor, neither of whom had any personal interest in the condition ofthe drains. Unless we'd brought a bottle of water out of Doyle's well,and shown him the bacilli swimming about in it, I don't see what morewe could have done."

  "I wish I knew," said O'Donoghue, "exactly why it is that you want tokeep Sir Gilbert out of Ballymoy. What harm is there for him to do ifhe comes?"

  "He won't do me any harm at all. In fact I shall be delighted to havehim there. He struck me as a very intelligent and highly-educated man.You saw how he caught my point about 'Samson Agonistes' at once.Neither you nor Doyle, nor for the matter of that the Major, would haveknown in the least what I was talking about. A man like that about theplace would be a great comfort to me. I should have some one to talkto. I wish I could get you all to understand that I'm acting in thiswhole business from purely disinterested and altruistic motives. _I_don't want to get rid of Simpkins. You and Doyle and the Major do."

  "The thing I can't understand," said O'Donoghue, "is what the judge hasto do with Simpkins. If I was clear about that-- What I mean to sayis if I could make out why--"

  "Thank goodness," said Meldon, "I've got that beastly pedal fixedagain. Come on, doctor. We haven't a minute to waste. I want to bein Ballymoy a clear hour before the judge arrives there."

  He mounted the bicycle as he spoke, and rode off at full speed. Theslope of the road was downwards from the place of the halt, andO'Donoghue was able to keep close to Meldon for some time. He made anumber of breathless attempts to speak.

  "If you'd only tell me," he panted, "why--"

  Sometimes he got a little further than the "why."

  He never succeeded in completely finishing his sentence. After a whilehe began to drop behind again. On a long level stretch of road Meldondrew rapidly ahead and might have reached Ballymoy a whole mile infront of O'Donoghue if the pedal of Doyle's bicycle had not failed himagain. The accident gave the doctor his opportunity. He came up withMeldon and asked his question.

  "What difference will the judge make to Simpkins? That's what I wantto know, and I won't go on blindfold doing exactly what you tell me.If I saw my way it would be different."

  "I can't explain the position fully to you," said Meldon, "withoutgiving away a secret which isn't really mine; a secret which involvesthe honour of a lady. But when I tell you that my plan for getting ridof Simpkins permanently involves my marrying him to Miss King, you'llno doubt be able to make out for yourself why it is absolutelynecessary to keep Sir Gilbert Hawkesby out of Ballymoy. Anyintelligent man, able to put two and two together, ought to see thewhole thing, especially if he's been reading the newspapers."

  O'Donoghue sat down on the bank at the side of the road and thoughtdeeply. Meldon worked vehemently at the pedal.

  "I can't see in the least what you're at," said O'Donoghue at last."But it doesn't matter. If your plan of making Simpkins marry thatlady depends on your keeping the judge out of the place, then, so faras I can see, it's done for. He's coming in spite of you."

  "My plan will be all right," said Meldon, "if he doesn't stay; and Ithink he won't stay."

  "He doesn't seem to mind drains a bit; and he'll mind them less when hesees them. They're bad, of course; but they're not near so bad as youmade out. I don't expect a man that age will catch anything."

  "I'm not now relying on the drains," said Meldon. "I quite give inthat they've failed. I'm on my way back to make other arrangementswhich will have him out of Ballymoy in twenty-four hours."

  "You mean the chloride of lime in his bedroom."

  "That and other things. I'm convinced that we run a grave risk everyhour he spends in Ballymoy, and so I shall naturally take pretty strongmeasures to get him out."

  "Don't mix me up in them if you can help it. I backed you up about thedrains, but for a man in my position it doesn't do to go too far,especially with a judge."

  "All you have to do," said Meldon, "is to supply the chloride of limeand the Condy's Fluid. I shan't ask you to do anything else. Youcan't complain about a trifle like that. Most men would do a greatdeal more in order to get rid of Simpkins."

  The pedal was fixed again. Meldon shook it violently to make sure thatit was really firm.

  "I hope," he said, "it will stick on this time. These delays are mostexasperating when one's in a hurry. We shall have to buck up now,O'Donoghue, and ride really fast."

  O'Donoghue groaned. He had been riding at the top of his speed sincehe left Donard, and there were still six miles between him andBallymoy. Meldon led off at a racing speed, leaving the doctor tofollow him through a choking cloud of dust. About three miles outsideBallymoy, O'Donoghue, having entirely lost sight of Meldon, sat down torest on the side of the road. The pedal was holding to its place, andhe had no hope of seeing his companion again.

  Meldon propped his bicycle up outside the door of the hotel, walkedinto the hall, and shouted for Doyle.

  "I could do," he said, "with a cup of tea, if you'll be so good as totell Sabina Gallagher to make it for me."

  "I'll do that," said Doyle. "I'd do more than that for you, Mr.Meldon. The tea will be laid out for you in the commercial room infive minutes if so be Sabina has the kettle on the boil, and it's whatI'm always telling her she ought to see to."

  "I don't want it set out in the commercial room," said Mr. Meldon, "noryet in the drawing-room. I want to take it in the kitchen along withSabina."

  "Is it in the kitchen? Sure that's no place for a gentleman likeyourself to be taking his tea."

  "All the same it's there I mean to have it. The fact is, I have a wordor two to say to Sabina privately."

  Doyle opened a door at the end of the hall in which they stood, andshouted down a long passage:

  "Sabina, Sabina Gallagher! Are you listening to me? Very well then.Will you wet some tea in the silver teapot which you'll find beyondin--"

  "I'd prefer the brown one," said Meldon, "if it's all the same to you.I hate the taste of plate-powder. I don't think it's likely thatSabina has been wasting her time polishing your silver, but you nevercan tell what a girl like that would do."

  "In the brown teapot," shouted Doyle. "And set out a cup and saucer onthe kitchen table--"

  "Two cups," said Meldon. "I wa
nt Sabina to join me, so that I'll besure of getting her in a good temper."

  "Two cups," shouted Doyle. "And when you have that done be off andclean yourself as quick as you can, for the Reverend Mr. Meldon will bedown in a minute to take tea with you. If there isn't a pot of jamdown below--and it's likely you have it ate if there is--go into theshop and ask for one. Is it strawberry you'd like, Mr. Meldon?"

  "That or raspberry," said Meldon. "I don't care which. And now I wantto say a word or two to you."

  "Come inside," said Doyle. "There isn't a soul in the bar, and maybeyou'd like a drop of something before your tea."

  "I would not. You know very well, Doyle, that I never touch whiskybefore my meals, especially when I've any business to do; and you oughtto be ashamed of yourself for offering it to me."

  Doyle pushed forward a chair, selected another for himself, and satdown opposite Meldon.

  "Is it about the judge that's coming this evening that you wanted tospeak to me?"

  "It is," said Meldon.

  "I was thinking it might be. When you asked for the loan of my bicyclethis morning, and told me that you and the doctor was off to Donard ina hurry, I made full sure it was him you were after. What have youdone with the doctor?"

  "He'll be here in a few minutes," said Meldon, "and when he comes he'llgive you some chloride of lime and a bottle of Condy's Fluid. You'reto sprinkle the lime on the floor of the judge's bedroom, and to dampthe sheets on his bed with a solution of Condy's Fluid. O'Donoghuewill give you exact directions about the quantities."

  "And what would that be for?"

  "The judge wants it done," said Meldon, "and that ought to be enoughfor you."

  "I was reading a bit in the paper one day about what they call theChristian Science. I suppose, now, he'll be one of them?"

  "No," said Meldon. "He's not. If you'd read a little more carefullyyou'd have understood that no Christian Scientist would walk on thesame side of the street as a bottle of Condy's Fluid. The principalarticle of their creed is that there are no such things as germs,consequently it's mere waste of time trying to kill them. And asCondy's Fluid exists chiefly for the purpose of killing germs, itstrikes the Christian Scientist as an immoral compound. I don't knowexactly what religion your judge professes, but one thing is clear fromhis insisting on Condy's Fluid, he's not a Christian Scientist."

  "It's as well he's not," said Doyle. "What I say, and always did say,is this: The Catholic religion is the right religion, meaning nooffence to you, Mr. Meldon. And the Protestant religion is a goodreligion for them that's brought up to it. And if a man can't make uphis mind to one or other of the two of them, it's better for him not tohave a religion at all."

  "Don't let your interest in theological controversy distract yourattention from seeing after the thorough disinfection of the judge'sbedroom."

  "I will not," said Doyle; "but I'll see that your orders are carriedout. It's a queer notion, so it is, to be sleeping in damp sheets.But a man like that ought to know what suits him."

  "Right," said Meldon. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off tothe kitchen and have my tea. You keep your eye lifting for the doctor,and get those things out of him as soon as you can."

  Sabina Gallagher, blushing and embarrassed, with a clean apron on,stood with her back against the dresser when Meldon entered thekitchen. He shook hands with her, and noticed at once that she hadobeyed her master's orders and made some effort to clean herself. Herhands were damp and cold.

  "I'm glad to see you looking well," said Meldon, "Is the tea ready?"

  "It is," said Sabina.

  Meldon sat down and poured out two cups.

  "Come along," he said, "and keep me company."

  Sabina sidled towards the table.

  "I'm just after my tea," she said, "and I'd be ashamed to be sittingdown with a gentleman like yourself."

  "Nonsense," said Meldon, "I want to talk to you, and I can't do that ifyou're standing there in the middle of the floor so as I'd get a crickin my neck trying to look at you. Sit down at once."

  Sabina grinned sheepishly and sat down. Meldon drank off his cup oftea at a draught, and poured out a second.

  "Have you taken the advice I gave you the other day about yourcooking?" he asked.

  "Is it making them things with olives?"

  "It is."

  "Well, I have not; for I wouldn't be fit."

  "I'm glad to hear it," said Meldon. "Circumstances have arisen since Ilast saw you which render it desirable that you should cook as badly aspossible during the next few days. There's a judge coming here thisevening."

  "I heard Mr. Doyle saying that same," said Sabina.

  "And he'll be expecting some sort of a dinner to-night."

  "There's a chicken ready to go into the oven for him any minute."

  "What you have to do," said Meldon, "is to see that he gets as bad adinner as possible, and a worse breakfast to-morrow morning."

  "Bad, is it?"

  "Uneatable," said Meldon. "Serve him up food that a pig wouldn't lookat. Can you do that, do you think?"

  "I might, of course," said Sabina; "but--"

  "Then do."

  "Sure if I do he'll not be for stopping in the hotel."

  "Exactly," said Meldon. "He's not wanted to stop."

  "Mr. Doyle will lacerate me after, if the gentleman leaves, and thelanguage he'll use will be what I wouldn't like to be listening to."

  "Mr. Doyle," said Meldon, "may take that view at first. He's ashort-sighted man, and is inclined to consider only the immediatepresent; but, in giving you the directions I am giving about thejudge's food, I am acting in Mr. Doyle's best interests. I'm lookinginto the future, and doing what will be best for Mr. Doyle in the longrun. After awhile he'll come to understand that, and then he'll beextremely pleased with you, and most probably he'll raise your wages."

  "He'll not do that," said Sabina confidently.

  "In any case," said Meldon, "whatever view he ultimately takes of youraction, you will have the feeling that you are securing the greatestgood of the greatest number, and that's a reward in itself--a muchbetter reward than a few shillings extra wages."

  "It might be," said Sabina; but she spoke without conviction.

  "As to the exact method that you ought to pursue," said Meldon, "Idon't lay down any hard and fast rules; but I should suggest thatparaffin oil is a thing that has a most penetrating kind of taste, andI don't know that I ever met any one who liked it. I remember once aservant we had at home cleaned the inside of the coffee-pot withparaffin oil. I tasted the stuff for weeks afterwards, and I couldn'tmake out for a long time where the flavour came from."

  "Would there be any fear," said Sabina, "but I might poison him?"

  "Not a bit," said Meldon. "You'll do him good if he eats the things.You may not know it, but vaseline is made from paraffin oil, and it'swell known that vaseline is an extraordinarily wholesome sort of stuff,good for almost anything in the way of a cut or a burn. Then there's akind of emulsion made from petroleum--that's the same asparaffin--which cures consumption. For all we know this judge may besuffering from consumption, and a little paraffin may be the best thingin the world for him."

  "I wouldn't like if he was to die on us."

  "Nor would I; but he won't. You needn't be the least bit afraid ofthat. For one thing, the moment he smells the paraffin he'll stopeating the food. However, all this is only my idea. Better plans maysuggest themselves. For instance, I have noticed that if you chop upan onion with a knife, and then spread butter with the same knife, thebutter gets a most objectionable taste. You have onions about thehouse, I suppose."

  "I have."

  "Then you might try that. And there's a way of dealing with bacon.I'm not quite sure how it's done, but the taste all goes out of it, andit gets extremely tough. Then you fry it in such a way that it's quitelimp, and sprinkle a little soot on it. I've often tried to eat bacondone that way--before I was married, of course--and
I never could. Idon't suppose the judge will be able to either. Boiled eggs aredifficult things to tamper with, but you could always see that theywere stale."

  "I could not, then."

  "You could, Sabina. Don't raise frivolous difficulties. Anybody couldkeep an egg until it was stale."

  "Not in this house."

  "And why not?"

  "Because they'd be ate," said Sabina. "Whatever many eggs the hensmight lay they'd be ate by some one before they were a day in thehouse, and I couldn't keep them. There was a little Plymouth Rock henthat was wanting to sit here last week, and it took me all I could doand more to get the eggs saved up for her, and at the latter end I hadonly nine."

  "Is she sitting yet!"

  "She is, of course."

  "Then you might try the judge with the eggs that's under her."

  "I will not, then. Is it after all the trouble I had with her, and thechickens will be out early next week. I never heard of the like."

  "Well," said Meldon, "I'll have to leave the boiled eggs to you,Sabina, but I'll be disappointed in you if the judge eats them. Do youthink now that you thoroughly understand what you've got to do?"

  "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

  "Then I'll say good-bye to you. I'm much obliged to you for the cup oftea. And remember, Sabina, this isn't any kind of a joke. It'sserious business, and I mean every word I say. It's most importantthat the judge should leave Ballymoy as soon as possible."

  "Is it persecuting the League boys he's after?" said Sabina. "Forthere's a cousin of my own that's in with them, and--"

  "Brother of the red-haired girl at Mr. Simpkins?"

  "He is; and I wouldn't like any harm would come to him."

  "You act as I have told you, and no harm will come to him. But if thejudge stays on here it's impossible to say what may happen. You knowwhat judges are, Sabina."

  "I've heard tell of them, and it's mighty little good is ever said ofthem or their like."

  "Quite so," said Meldon. "So you do your best to get this one out ofBallymoy."