The Simpkins Plot

  CHAPTER XVII.

  "You may as well drive me into Ballymoy, Doyle," said Meldon, as theywalked up together from the shore. "You've your trap with you, Isuppose?"

  "I have, and I'll drive you of course, but I'll be expecting thatyou'll do something when we get there the way the judge won't beleaving the hotel altogether."

  "You may put that out of your head at once," said Meldon, "for I'll donothing of the sort. I've already explained to you at some length thatmy chief object at present is to chase away the judge, not only fromyour hotel but from Ballymoy."

  Doyle relapsed into a sulky silence. He did not speak again until heand Meldon were half way into Ballymoy. Then he broke out suddenly.

  "Any way," he said, "Sabina Gallagher won't spend another night undermy roof. She'll be off back to her mother as soon as ever she can gether clothes packed. I'll give her a lesson that will cure her ofplaying off tricks on the gentlemen that stops in my hotel."

  "If you take that kind of revenge on Sabina," said Meldon, "you will bedoing an act of gross injustice for which you will be sorry up to theday of your death."

  "I will not, but I'll be serving her out the way she deserves."

  "She has been acting all through," said Meldon, "in your interests,though you can't see it; and you'll make a kind of dog Gelert of her ifyou sack her now. You know all about the dog Gelert, I suppose, Doyle?"

  "I do not," said Doyle, "and what's more I don't care if there wasfifty dogs in it. Sabina'll go. Dogs! What has dogs got to do withSabina and myself? It's not dogs I'm thinking of now."

  "You evidently don't know anything about the dog I'm speaking of," saidMeldon. "He belonged to a Welsh king whose name at this moment Iforget. The king also happened to have a baby which slept, as manybabies do, in a cradle. You're listening to me, I suppose, Doyle?"

  "I am not," said Doyle. "It's little good I, or any other body, wouldget by listening to you. Sabina Gallagher listened to you, and look atthe way she is now. It's my belief that the less anybody listens toyou the better off he'll be."

  "All the same, I expect you are listening," said Meldon. "In any case,as I'm speaking distinctly, and you can't get away, you're bound tohear, so I'll go on with the story. One day the king came in and foundthe dog close to the cradle with his mouth all covered with blood. Heleaped to the conclusion that he'd eaten the baby."

  "He was a damned fool if he thought that," said Doyle. "Who ever heardof a dog eating a baby?"

  "You are listening to me," said Meldon. "I thought you would when thestory began to get interesting. And you're perfectly right. The kingwas a fool. He was such a fool that he killed the dog. Afterwards itturned out that the dog had really been behaving in the most noble waypossible--had, in fact, been fighting a wolf which wanted to eat thebaby. Then the king was sorry, frightfully sorry, because he saw thatthrough his own hasty and ill-considered action he had killed his bestfriend, a friend who all along had been acting in his interests. Yousee the point of that story, don't you? You'll be exactly in theposition of the king, and you'll suffer endless remorse just as he didif you go and sack Sabina."

  Doyle meditated on the story. It produced a certain effect on hismind, for he said,--

  "If so be it wasn't Sabina that put the paraffin oil into the judge'sdinner, but some other one coming in unbeknown to her, and Sabina maybedoing her best to stop it, then of course there wouldn't be anotherword said about it; though as soon as ever I found out who it was--"

  "You mustn't push the parable to those extremes," said Meldon. "Noparable would stand it. Sabina did pour in the paraffin oil. I'm notpretending that a wolf or any animal of that sort came in and meddledwith the judge's food. I'm merely trying to explain to you that lateron, when you understand all the circumstances, you'll find yourselftearing out your hair, and rubbing sack-cloth and ashes into your skin,just as the king did when he realised what he had done in the case ofthe dog Gelert. As well as I recollect the poor man never got over it."

  "Dogs or no dogs," said Doyle, "Sabina Gallagher will have the wagesdue to her paid, and then off with her out of my house. For conductthe like of hers is what I won't stand, and what nobody in a hotelwould stand."

  "Very well," said Meldon; "I've told you what the consequences of youraction will be. If you choose to face them you can. I've done my bestto save you. But you are evidently bent on going your own way. Idaresay you may be quite right in supposing that you won't suffer much,even when you find out that you have committed a gross injustice.After all, it requires a man to have some sort of a conscience tosuffer in that sort of way, and you apparently have none. But there'sanother consideration altogether that I'd like to bring under yournotice. I've had some talk with Sabina during the last few days, andI've come to the conclusion that she's a young woman with a talent forcooking of a very rare and high kind. There's nothing that girlcouldn't do if she got a little encouragement. Give her the smallesthint and she acts on it at once."

  "I wish to God then," said Doyle, "that you'd held off from giving herhints, as you call it. Only for you I don't believe she'd ever havethought--"

  "I'm not speaking now of the paraffin oil business. You mustn't allowthat to become an obsession with you, Doyle. There are other things inthe world besides that judge's meals. As it happens, I was givingSabina a short lecture on the art of cookery some days before I heardof the judge's arrival. I was speaking to her about the advisabilityof knocking together an occasional omelette for you, or a nice littlesavoury made of olives and hard-boiled eggs. I found her unusuallyreceptive, and quite prepared to follow up the ideas I put before her.There was just one thing stood in her way--"

  "Who'd eat the like of them things?" said Doyle.

  "You would," said Meldon, "if you got them. But you won't, not fromSabina Gallagher, because you're determined to sack her. And not fromany other cook as long as you pay the perfectly miserable wages you doat present. You can't expect first-rate results when you sweat youremployees. That's a well-known maxim in every business, and the sooneryou get it into your head the better. You set yourself up here inBallymoy as a sort of pioneer of every kind of progress. You're thepresident of as many leagues and things as would sink a large boat.There isn't hardly a week in the year but you make a speech of somesort. Ah! here we are at the hotel. Remind me some time again tofinish what I was saying to you. I must find out now what has happenedto the judge."

  He leaped out of the trap and walked straight through the hotel to thekitchen. He found Sabina there.

  "Good morning, Sabina Gallagher," he said. "I hear you did exactly asI told you. You're a good girl, Mr. Doyle is angry just at present,and you'd better keep out of his way."

  "He'll hunt me," said Sabina.

  "He will not," said Meldon. "If you have the sense to keep out of hisway until he has cooled down a bit, and cook him decent dinners in themeanwhile. I've spoken to him very strongly about you, and I don'tthink he'll dare to push matters to extremities, although he maygrumble a bit. If he catches you, and you find his temper particularlybad, just mention the dog Gelert to him. I told him the story thismorning and it produced a great impression on his mind."

  "He'll hunt me," said Sabina tearfully. "Whatever dog I might talk tohim about he'll hunt me."

  "If he does," said Meldon, "I'll engage you myself. We'll be wanting agirl as soon as ever we go home, to look after the baby a bit and dothe cooking and washing, and keep the whole place clean generally.You'd like to come and live in the house with me, wouldn't you, Sabina?"

  "I'm not sure would I."

  "You would. There's no doubt about it. But we need not discuss thatyet, for I don't expect Mr. Doyle will sack you. What I really want totalk to you about is that judge. Where is the judge?"

  "He's gone," said Sabina.

  "I know that," said Meldon. "But he'll come back all right. He mustcome back for his luggage."

  "He will not then. It's not an hour ago since Patsy
Flaherty, the samethat does be driving the car, came in and said he had orders to takeall the luggage there was and the fishing-rods, and the rest ofwhatever there might be in the place belonging to the gentleman."

  "He was not taking them to the train, I suppose?"

  "He was not then, but up to Ballymoy House."

  "Nonsense! He couldn't possibly have been taking them up to BallymoyHouse."

  "It's what he said any way, for I asked him. And he told me that thegentleman had it made up with the young lady that does be stoppingthere beyond, the way he'd go and live with her."

  "This," said Meldon, "is perfectly monstrous. I must go and see aboutit at once. He has evidently been bullying that unfortunate Miss King,coercing her with threats until she has agreed to board and lodge him.I can't have that sort of thing going on under my very eyes. You'llexcuse me, Sabina, if I run away from you. It's absolutely necessarythat I should go up to Ballymoy House at once. I'll borrow Mr. Doyle'sbicycle again."

  He went out through the back door into the yard, and found Doylestabling his pony.

  "I suppose," he said, "that I can have your bicycle again. Affairshave taken a turn which I'm bound to say I did not foresee. I have toget at that judge as soon as possible. He seems to have beenill-treating Miss King. I expected that he'd go for her over thatparaffin oil affair, but--"

  "Amn't I telling you," said Doyle, "that she'd neither act nor part--"

  "I know that; but the judge thinks she had, and he's-- You'd hardlybelieve it, Doyle, but he's had the unparalleled insolence to go andquarter himself on her in Ballymoy House."

  "It's what I said he'd do," said Doyle, "and I'm not surprised."

  "If you understood the peculiar and delicate relations which existbetween that judge and Miss King--but of course you don't, and I,unfortunately, can't explain them to you. If you did, you'd see atonce that the judge must simply have forced himself on Miss King,using, I have no doubt, the most unchivalrous and despicable threats toachieve his end. Considering that he's getting his board and lodgingout of her he might very well be prosecuted for blackmail. Justconceive to yourself, Doyle-- But I can't talk about it. Where's thebicycle?"

  "You took it out with you to Portsmouth Lodge last night," said Doyle,"and so far as I know you didn't bring it back again. But there's anold one in the stable belonging to Patsy Flaherty, and you can takethat if you like."

  "It can't be worse than yours," said Meldon, "with that loose pedal.Just you wheel it round to the door for me, and pump up the tyres ifthey want it. There's something I forgot to ask Sabina. I'll gothrough the kitchen, and meet you by the time you have the machineready."

  He darted into the kitchen, leaving Doyle to tie up his pony and pumpthe bicycle.

  "Is that you back?" said Sabina. "I thought you were gone. Didn't youtell me there was a hurry on you?"

  "I'm just going," said Meldon; "but before I start I want to ask youhow you managed the boiled egg. I suppose the judge had a boiled eggfor breakfast. Did you put paraffin into it?"

  "I did."

  "How? I'm most anxious to know how it was done."

  "It's what the gentleman asked me himself," said Sabina, "and I toldhim the truth."

  "Then tell it to me."

  "I'm not sure will I. The gentleman was terrible upset when he heardit, worse than you'd think; for he had the egg ate."

  "There can't have been much paraffin in it, then."

  "There was not; but there was some."

  "And how did you get it there?"

  "It was with a hairpin I did it."

  "Do you mean to say that you took a hairpin out of your head, and--"

  "I did, of course. Where else would I get one?"

  "And dipped it in paraffin, and then stuck it through the egg. Ideclare I could find it in my heart to be sorry for that judge. Onlythat he deserves all that he's got on account of the way he has behavedto Miss King, I'd go and apologise to him. You're a smart girl,Sabina. I always said you were, and now you've proved that I wasperfectly right in my estimate of your abilities. Good-bye again.This time I really must be off."

  He seized Sabina's hand, and greatly to her surprise shook it heartily.Then he left the kitchen and slammed the door behind him. Doyle waswaiting for him with Patsy Flaherty's bicycle. Meldon jumped on it androde off, ringing his bell as he went along the street. Doyle watchedhim disappear, and then turned and walked into the kitchen. Sabina,forgetful of his wrath and her own threatened fate, broke out when shesaw him.

  "Well now, did any one ever see the like? Many's the queer one I'vecome across since I entered this house, but never the equal of him forgoings on. Anybody would think he was--"

  "It's not drink," said Doyle. "Nobody ever saw the sign of it on him."

  He was angry, angry with Sabina Gallagher, and perhaps more angry withMeldon; but he had a sense of justice, and was loyal to the man who hadonce been his friend. He thought that Sabina was going to make anaccusation which might be natural enough, but was certainly false. Asa matter of fact, she had not meant to say anything of the sort, anddisclaimed the suggestion hotly.

  "I wasn't saying it was drink. I know well it couldn't be, for he's asimple, innocent kind of gentleman that wouldn't do the like. But I'dsay he was one that liked a bit of sport, and didn't care whatfoolishness he might be after so long as he got it."

  She smiled amiably at Doyle, as she spoke; but he was not a man to bediverted from his purpose by smiles, or lulled into forgetfulness bythe charm of general conversation.

  "You'll go upstairs this minute, Sabina Gallagher," he said, "andyou'll pack up whatever clothes you have--and that's not many--and assoon as you have that done you'll go off home, for I'll not have you inthis house another night."

  "I was thinking," said Sabina, "that you'd likely be saying that."

  "I'd say more," said Doyle, "only if I did I might say what I'd besorry for after."

  "You might surely."

  "Though I wouldn't say more than you deserve whatever I said. What inthe name of all that's holy did you mean by poisoning the gentlemanthat came here to stop in the hotel, and would have paid me threepounds a week and maybe more?

  "It was Mr. Meldon told me," said Sabina, "and how was I to know butyou sent a message to me by him, the way I'd be doing what it was youwanted done?"

  "Is it likely I'd send him to you on a message? Oughtn't you to havemore sense than to think I'd trust that one with a message? Andwouldn't anybody that wasn't a born fool know that I didn't want thelamp upset over the dinner?"

  "It was you told me to put the stuff the doctor was after giving you onthe sheets of the gentleman's bed, and after the like of that was doneon him, it wouldn't make much matter what other devilment he'd have toput up with. Sure there's nothing in the world worse on a man than adamp bed, and me after airing them sheets at the kitchen fire for thebest part of the morning, so as no one would have it to say that theywasn't dry. If you didn't want him hunted out of the house, why didyou bid me do that?"

  Doyle felt the force of the argument; felt it more acutely than Sabinacould guess. He himself, at the bidding of Meldon, had done much tomake an honoured and profitable guest uncomfortable. Could he fairlyblame Sabina for acting in a similar way with precisely the sameexcuse? He felt the necessity for speaking very sternly.

  "Will you get out of this?" he said, "for I'm in dread but I mightraise my hand to you if you stand there talking to me any more. You'dprovoke the patience of a saint; but I wouldn't like to have it cast upto me after that ever I struck you."

  "I'm going. You needn't think I'm wanting to stay. There's plentywill be glad to get me, and pay me more wages than ever you done."

  Doyle recognised the truth of this. He had got Sabina cheap--cheapeven by the standard of wages which prevails in Connacht. He felt halfinclined to reconsider his determination. The judge was gone. Thedismissal of Sabina, though a pleasant and satisfying form ofvengeance, would not bring the lost t
hree pounds back again; whilethere might be a good deal of trouble in getting another cook.

  "Before I go," said Sabina, who did not want to go, and was watchingDoyle's face for signs of relenting, "before I go I've a message togive you from Mr. Meldon."

  "I seen him myself this morning," said Doyle, "and I don't know whatthere could be in the way of a message for me that he wouldn't havetold me himself."

  "What he bid me tell you was this--" Sabina paused. "Well now," shesaid, "if I haven't gone and forgot the name of the dog!"

  "Was it a dog that a king killed one time," said Doyle, "on account ofhis thinking it had his baby ate?"

  "It might," said Sabina. "It was a queer name he had on it, and Idisremember what it was."

  "I disremember it myself," said Doyle, "but it was likely the same dogas he was telling me about when I was driving him in. He always didhave a liking for dogs, that same Meldon."

  "It might be that one or it might be another. Any way, he thought adeal of it, for he said to me no later than this minute that if Imentioned the name of it to you, you wouldn't hunt me."

  "Listen to me now, Sabina Gallagher. I'll let you stay on here, thoughit's a deal more than you deserve--I'll let you stay on and do thecooking the same as you used to, on account of the respect I have foryour mother, who is a decent woman, and your father that's dead--I'lllet you stay on if you'll tell me this: What had the dog to do one wayor the other with the paraffin oil you put on the judge's dinner?"

  "I never seen the dog; and I don't know that I ever heard tell of anydog doing the like."

  "Then what are you talking to me about the dog for if it didn't dosomething, be the same less or more, in the way of helping you todestroy the judge's dinner?"

  "It was Mr. Meldon told me to mention the name of the dog to you. AndI would, I'd do it this minute, only I disremember it."

  "Will you ask him the next time he's here, and tell me after, what itwas the dog had to do with the matter?"

  "I will, of course, if it's pleasing to you."

  "Then you may stay on a bit yet, Sabina. You may stay on till youlearn enough about cooking to be able to better yourself; and it's whatyou should be able to do soon with the opportunities that you have inthis house. But I'd like if you could find out about the dog, for Mr.Meldon was saying a lot about him this morning, and I'd be thankful ifI knew what sort of a dog he was."