The Simpkins Plot Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII.

  It was eight o'clock, and the evening was deliciously warm. Major Kentand Meldon sat in hammock chairs on the gravel outside PortsmouthLodge. They had dined comfortably, and their pipes were lit. For atime neither of them spoke. Below them, beyond the wall which boundedthe lawn, lay the waters of the bay, where the _Spindrift_, MajorKent's yacht, hung motionless over her mooring-buoy. The eyes of bothmen were fixed on her.

  "I feel," said Meldon at last, "like the village blacksmith."

  "There are four in Ballymoy," said the Major. "Reilly is the man whoworks for me. If you feel like him, I'm sorry for you. He's generallydrunk at this hour."

  "I refer," said Meldon, "to Longfellow's village blacksmith. You'renot a highly-educated man, I know, but I thought you'd have heard ofhim.

  "'The muscles of his brawny arms Were strong as iron bands.'

  It's a poem which most people learn while at school. I am sometimestempted to think that you never were at school."

  "I don't see, J. J., that your muscles are anything particular toswagger about."

  "I wasn't referring to my muscles," said Meldon. "The resemblance Ispeak of lies in the fact that I've 'earned my night's repose.' Thevillage blacksmith felt that he deserved his after listening to hisdaughter singing in the local church choir. I've undergone an evenseverer nerve strain. I've practically arranged the marriage betweenSimpkins and the murderess."

  "I wish very much that I knew exactly what you've been doing all day,J. J. I always feel nervous when you go out alone. I never know--"

  "I'll give you an exact account of my proceedings, if you like. First,I had a personal interview with Simpkins; and I may as well say at oncethat I was on the whole favourably impressed by him. I don't mean tosay that he ought not to be killed, but merely that if left to myself Iwould not go out of my way to kill him. I next talked the matter overwith Doyle and Dr. O'Donoghue. I found that they quite agreed withyou; and the doctor is prepared to sign the death certificate as soonas Miss King--who will then, of course, be Mrs. Simpkins--has finishedhim off. I then called at Ballymoy House and arranged with Callaghan,the gardener, to keep me informed of the progress of events. Finally,I interviewed Miss King herself. I was unfortunately obliged to offendher a little, and I expect she won't care about talking to me for thenext few days."

  "Did you allude to the trial?"

  "No. And she wouldn't have minded in the least if I had. She's quitefrank with me in talking about her art. The fact is, she wanted toflirt with me, and of course I couldn't have that."

  "Are you sure of that, J. J.? It seems to me very unlikely that a ladyof that sort would want to flirt with a clergyman."

  "I'm not exactly an ordinary clergyman," said Meldon, "and shecertainly did want to flirt with me. I could see it by the expressionof her eye. Any man who knows anything about women gets into the wayof judging them very largely by the expression of their eyes. You findafter a little practice that you are able to tell with almost absolutecertainty what their intentions are; and there was no mistake aboutMiss King's this afternoon."

  "I'm glad," said the Major, "that you went away at once."

  "I didn't," said Meldon. "It was she who went away. I hurt herfeelings by telling her plainly that I was a married man. She flewinto a temper and pranced off."

  "She must be a very--"

  "No, she's not--not in the least. It was simply a case of what Virgilcalls 'spretae injuria formae.'"

  "Talk English," said Major Kent. "You know I don't understand Latin."

  "Never mind," said Meldon; "you wouldn't understand it a bit better ifI put it into English. You haven't the necessary experience. And inany case it doesn't in the least matter. The important thing for youto get a hold of is that the marriage is arranged, and unless somethingquite unforeseen turns up it will come off. I told Simpkins that shehad a large fortune and was the niece of an earl. Those facts, inaddition to her personal charm, will, I imagine, bring him rapidly upto the scratch. I can do no more for the present. That's why I said Iwas like the blacksmith and had earned my night's repose."

  "It's early yet," said the Major. "I seldom turn in before eleven.But, of course, you can go off at once if you like."

  "When I quoted that line about the night's repose," said Meldon, "I wasspeaking figuratively. I haven't the least intention of going to bedat this hour. I don't suppose the original blacksmith did either, evenif he was feeling a bit upset about the choir. What I really meant wasthat I am quite entitled now to have a couple of days off in the_Spindrift_."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that," said the Major. "I was afraid youwere going to spend your whole holiday running backwards and forwardsbetween this and Ballymoy."

  "I can't take a regular cruise," said Meldon. "I absolutely must beback here the day after to-morrow. No matter how carefully you arrangethings, there's always a risk of something going wrong. Quite atrifling accident might upset the entire plan, and I ought to be on thespot to straighten things out directly they begin to get into a tangle."

  Major Kent made no answer. He sat smoking until his pipe went out.Then for a while he sat with the empty pipe in his mouth, sucking at itas if it were still alight. He was thinking deeply. The eveningdarkened slowly, and a faint breeze stole in from the sea.

  "Every prospect of a fine day to-morrow," said Meldon.

  The Major took no notice of the remark. Meldon filled a fresh pipe,and watched the _Spindrift_ tugging at her moorings as the breezefreshened or died and the tide caught her.

  "J. J.," said the Major at last, speaking very solemnly, "I'd ratheryou didn't."

  "Didn't what?"

  "I know you enjoy this sort of thing, and I don't want to spoil yourholiday. I'd like you to have a really good time, but I wish you'd hiton some other amusement."

  "Try and be a little more explicit, Major. I'm a quick-witted man, andI can generally guess at your meaning, no matter how you wrap it up inparaphrases, but this time I really can't. The only amusement I'veproposed so far is a short trip in your yacht. I suppose you don'tgrudge me that?"

  "You know very well I don't, J. J. But I wish you wouldn't play thesetricks with Simpkins. He's a man I don't like."

  "You told me that last night," said Meldon, "and I agreed at once tohave him murdered."

  "Of course I know that you like talking in that sort of way, and Idon't mind it a bit. It's your way of making jokes, and you don't meanany harm by what you say; but I'd really rather not be mixed up withSimpkins even by way of a joke. I don't like the man at all."

  "Don't repeat that again," said Meldon. "I quite believe you. And asfor the murder of Simpkins being a joke, I assure you it's nothing ofthe sort. I may be flippant--several people have called meflippant--but I draw the line at making jokes about murder. It's aserious subject. In fact I've more than once hesitated about goinginto this business at all. It's mainly for your sake that I'm doingit."

  "Then don't do it," said the Major. "I know quite well that you don'tmean a word you say, but--"

  "I mean it all. Am I the kind of man who says what he doesn't mean?Come now, Major; you've known me a good many years, and we've been insome tight places together. Have you ever heard me say a thing Ididn't mean?"

  "To be quite candid," said the Major, "I have, once or twice."

  "You're entirely mistaken. You have not. And in any case I mean whatI say now. Do you really suppose that I'd have spent the whole of thishot day fagging up and down the roads about Ballymoy if I wasn't inearnest about what I was at?"

  "But you don't. You can't think that this lady--Miss King or whateverher name is--will really murder Simpkins?"

  "She'll try to if she marries him. I can't be absolutely certain thatshe'll succeed, but I think it's very likely that she will. She's hada lot of practice, and by her own account she's been unusuallysuccessful."

  "That's all rot, of course," said the Major. "Murder isn't committedin that
sort of way. No woman would deliberately with her eyes open--"

  "Did Mrs. Lorimer murder her husband by accident, or did she intend todo it and plan the whole thing out beforehand?"

  "I don't know."

  "You do know. You read the evidence and you read the judge's charge,and you know as well as I do that she proceeded in the most deliberateway possible."

  "It looked like it," said the Major. "I must say it looked like it."

  "Very well. Is Miss King Mrs. Lorimer, or is she not?"

  "I don't know."

  "I proved to you yesterday evening that she is. I proved it in a waythat left no possible room for doubt in your mind, if you are honestwith yourself and look facts plainly in the face. I am not going intothe proof again, because it's a very exhausting thing and I've had ahard day. Besides, if it didn't convince you the first time, itwouldn't the second. Trains of reasoning aren't like advertisements.You come to believe that a certain kind of pill will prevent your goingbald because you've seen statements to that effect ten thousand times.It's the cumulative weight of repeated assertion which compels beliefin that case. But the kind of belief which depends on reasoning isquite different. If you've the sort of intellect which cannot graspthe proof which Euclid gives of one of his propositions, no number ofrepetitions of it will help you in the least. That's a curiouspsychological law, but it is a law. Therefore it would be the merestwaste of time for me to demonstrate to you again that Mrs. Lorimer andMiss King are the same person. I pass on to the next stage in ourenquiry. Will Miss King murder her next husband?"

  "If she's Mrs. Lorimer," said the Major, "and if Mrs. Lorimermurdered--"

  "There are no 'ifs' about the matter," said Meldon; "she unquestionablywill. She told me so herself, and whatever else she is she's a womanof her word. There remains now only one question, Who is her nexthusband to be? And the answer to that may be given in twosyllables--Simpkins."

  "If you really believe all that," said the Major, "and--"

  "I do," said Meldon.

  "Then you're going to commit a horrible crime, and I insist on yourstopping at once."

  "I can't stop it now. I've set the thing going, and it can't bestopped. You might have stopped it yesterday, but you're too late now.I'm sorry for poor Simpkins myself. I thought him a decent enough sortof man."

  "He's a cad."

  "There you are again. In one breath you try to stop me, and in thevery next breath you urge me strongly to go on. Which do you mean?Not that it matters, for the thing is as good as done now. Still youought to try and cultivate the habit of definitely making up your mind,and then sticking to it. You said yesterday distinctly, and so far Icould judge sincerely, that you wished Simpkins was dead. Now youpretend that it's a shock to you to hear that he's going to be killed.That's what I call vacillation, and you ought to be ashamed of it."

  Major Kent sighed heavily.

  "There's no use my talking," he said, "but you'll get yourself intotrouble some day with these jokes of yours."

  "Major," said Meldon, "I've absolutely no patience with you. You'reback again at that joke theory of yours, after I've spent half theevening explaining to you that this isn't a joking matter at all. Imust decline to discuss the matter any further. We'll talk ofsomething else. I was speaking to O'Donoghue to-day about the properway of feeding the child when it has whoping-cough. He says it oughtto be given as much as it wants to eat of any ordinary kind of food.I'm inclined to agree with him. Now what is your opinion?"

  "I suppose you're thinking of your own child?"

  "Yes, I am. And don't forget that she's not merely my child. She'salso your god-child."

  "Well, I gave her a silver mug. Didn't I?"

  "You did. A capital mug, large and heavy. She'll be very grateful toyou for that mug some day; though, up to the present, all she has doneto it is to dint its side one day by dropping it against the corner ofthe fender when it was given her to play with. You did your duty inthe matter of a mug, and I'm not suggesting for a moment that youshould give her another. When I reminded you that you are hergod-father, I merely wanted to suggest that you ought to take somelittle interest in her health and education."

  "But I don't know what babies ought to eat."

  "What you really mean is that you don't care. You're so wrapped up inthis miserable local squabble with Simpkins about a salmon that you'velost all interest in the wider subjects which are occupying theattention of the world."

  "Come now, J. J. Your baby--she's a very nice baby and all that. Butreally--"

  "I won't talk about her any more if she bores you. I thought, andhoped, that she might interest you. That's the reason I started her asa topic of conversation. As she doesn't, I'll drop her again, at once.But what am I to do? I began this evening with a literary allusion,and found that you'd never heard of Longfellow's 'Village Blacksmith.'That wasn't a very encouraging start, you'll admit. Last night I triedyou with art, and all you did was to mix it up with morality, which, aseverybody knows, is a perfectly hopeless thing to do. The ancientHebrews had more sense. They were specialists in morality, and theyabsolutely forbade art. Whereas the Greeks, who were artists, went infor a thoroughly immoral kind of life. Finding that you were totallyindifferent to the metaphysics of the aesthetic, I offered you aninteresting chain of abstract reasoning. What was the result? Youwere absolutely unable to follow me. I then threw out some hints whichmight have led to an interesting psychological discussion, but youdidn't know what I meant. This evening I touched on one of the greatprinciples which must guide us in the consideration of the wholefeminist question--"

  "That was when you talked about judging Miss King's intentions by thelook of her eyes," said the Major.

  "Yes; it was. And so far as I can recollect, all you did was to grinin a futile and somewhat vulgar way. Finally, I tried to talk to youabout child culture, which is one of the most important problems of ourday; a problem which is occupying the attention of statesmen,philanthropists, philosophers, doctors, and teachers of every kind,from kindergarten mistresses to university professors. I began inquite a simple way with a question about the food of an infant. Wemight, if you had taken the subject up at all warmly, have got on tothe endowment of motherhood, nature study, medical examination ofschools, the boarding-out of workhouse children, religious education,boy scouts, eugenics, and a lot of other perfectly fascinating topics.But what do you do? You say frankly and shamelessly that you knownothing at all about the matter."

  "But I really do not know how to feed babies. What was the use ofpretending that I do?"

  "Is there--to get back to the point from which I started--is there anysubject that you do know anything about besides politics and poloponies?"

  "I'm afraid not, J. J., except the yacht. I do know something abouther."

  "Then," said Meldon, "we'll discuss her. I expect we'll come to an endof her soon, but we can at all events decide where we'll go to-morrow."

  The yacht turned out to be a more fruitful subject than Meldonexpected. The Major had made some alterations in her trim, which ledto an animated discussion. He also had a plan for changing her from acutter into a yawl, and Meldon was quite ready to argue out the pointsof advantage and disadvantage in each rig. It was half-past eleveno'clock before they parted for the night, and even then they had notdecided where to go next day.