CHAPTER XX.
Sir Gilbert Hawkesby was, on the whole, a good-tempered man; but he wasliable to sudden outbursts of anger of a violent kind. Lady Hawkesbyknew this, and always bowed meekly to the storm. His butler knew it,and felt no resentment when he was called an incompetent fool. Thebarristers who practised their art in his court knew it, and alwaysgave up pressing objectionable points on his notice when theyrecognised the early signs of approaching indignation. The butler andthe barristers, not Lady Hawkesby, admitted that the judge's anger wasinvariably justified. He never lost control of himself without somegood excuse. Therefore they suffered patiently, knowing that theysuffered justly, and knowing also that they would not suffer long; forthe judge's outbursts were as brief as they were fierce, and he bore nomalice afterwards. Doyle unfortunately did not know Sir Gilbert'speculiarities, and so he was depressed and unhappy. Sabina Gallagherdid not know them either, and the judge had not spared her. He had nohesitation, as Lady Hawkesby, the butler, and the barristers knew, inattacking the most defenceless people when the mood was on him, and hehad used exceptionally strong language to Sabina Gallagher. It tookhim on this occasion longer than usual to recover his self-possession.He gave no kiss in response to his niece's affectionate salutation. Heate the really excellent luncheon which she had prepared for him ingloomy silence and without a sign of appreciation. The gilly, whoaccompanied him up the river in the afternoon, came in for the lastgusts of the expiring storm.
At about four o'clock Sir Gilbert hooked a fine salmon and landed himsuccessfully. The gilly, who was a man of tact, greatly over-estimatedthe weight of the fish, and paid a rich compliment to the judge'sskill. Miss King said all the most appropriate things in tones of warmconviction. Sir Gilbert began to feel that life was not altogether anintolerable affliction. An hour later, in a pool strongly recommendedby the gilly, another fish was caught. It was inferior to the first insize, but it was a very satisfactory creature to look at. The judge'stemper was quite normal when he sat down at dinner. When, at MissKing's request, he lit his cigar in the drawing-room afterwards, hebegan to take a humorous view of the misfortunes of the morning.
"I ought to have accepted your invitation at once, Milly, and notattempted to live at the local hotel. I never came across such a placein my life, though I have knocked about a good deal and am pretty wellaccustomed to roughing it. My bedroom reeked of abominabledisinfectants. The floor was half an inch deep in chloride of lime.The sheets were soaked with-- By the way, what is the name of thelocal parson?"
"I don't know," said Miss King. "He's an old man, and, I fancy,delicate. I've never seen him. He wasn't in church last Sunday."
"Has he a curate?"
"Yes; I believe so. But the curate is away on his holiday.Somebody--I forget who; very likely Callaghan the gardener--told me so.At all events, I've not seen anything of him. But what do you wantwith the local clergy?"
"I only want one of them," said the judge; "but I want him ratherbadly. The man I mean can't be a Roman Catholic priest. He has abright red moustache. I wonder if you've come across him."
"That must be Mr. Meldon. He has a parish somewhere in England, Ibelieve. He's over here on his holiday. I travelled in the carriagewith him from Dublin. He is staying with a Major Kent."
"He's apparently quite mad," said the judge, "and ought to be shut up.He's dangerous to society."
"He's certainly eccentric. We had a long talk in the train, and hetold me a lot about his baby, which had been keeping him awake atnight. I was out yachting one day with him and Major Kent."
"Don't go again," said the judge. "Your life wouldn't be safe. IsMajor Kent mad too?"
"Not at all. He struck me as a very pleasant man, most considerate andkind."
"He must be very unusually kind if he tolerates Meldon. Of all theobjectionable lunatics I ever met, that parson is out and away theworst."
"I shouldn't have said he was actually mad. In some ways I think he'srather clever. He preached quite a remarkable sermon last Sunday, thesort of sermon you can't help listening to."
"I can easily believe that," said the judge. "He preached me a sermonyesterday which I'm not at all likely to forget."
"Where did you meet him, Uncle Gilbert?"
"I didn't meet him. He met me. I shouldn't have dreamed of meetinghim. He met me at the railway station at Donard, and invited himselfto luncheon with me. He also brought a doctor whom he had along withhim. Then he warned me that my life wouldn't be safe in Ballymoy. Ithought he was the usual sort of fool with scare ideas about leaguesand boycotting. But it wasn't that at all. He thought he'd frightenme off with stories about bad drains; said I'd be sure to die if Istayed at the hotel. He was quite right there, I must say. I shouldhave died if I hadn't left at once."
"Were they very bad?"
"Were what very bad? Oh, the drains. Not at all. At least I daresaythey were bad enough. I wasn't there long enough to find out. But Ishouldn't have died of the drains in any case. I'm not the kind of manwho catches diseases."
Sir Gilbert's chest swelled a little as he spoke, and he slowly puffedout a large cloud of smoke. He was justly proud of his physicalhealth, and was accustomed to hurl defiance at microbes and to heapcontempt on the doctor's art.
"I'm sure you're not," said Miss King dutifully.
"What I should have died of," said the judge, "if I had died, wouldhave been starvation. You'll hardly believe me when I tell you thatevery scrap of food I got, even the boiled egg which I ordered forbreakfast, thinking it would be safe--"
Miss King had heard all about the paraffin oil before. She had indeedheard about it more than once. She did not want to hear of it again,because she feared that a repetition of the story might put her uncleinto another bad temper.
"I can't understand it," she said. "How any one could be so carelessas--"
"It wasn't carelessness," said the judge. "If it had been I might havegiven the place another trial. It was done on purpose."
"Surely not."
"I pursued the cook," said the judge, "into the fastnesses of herkitchen. She fled before me, but I ran her to earth at last in thescullery. A filthier hole I never saw. I went for her straight, andexpected to be told a story about somebody or other upsetting a lampover all her pots and pans. Instead of that, she answered me, withouta sign of hesitation and said-- Now what do you think she said?"
"I can't guess. Not that she thought you'd like the flavour?"
"No. She hadn't quite the effrontery to say that. She told me thatMr. Meldon, this parson of yours who takes you out yachting, had givenorders before I came that all my food was to be soaked with paraffinoil."
"Oh! But that's too absurd."
"So you'd think. So I thought at the moment. I didn't believe her. Ithought that she was putting up an unusual line of defence to excuseher own gross carelessness. But I was evidently wrong. The girl seemsto have been telling the truth. I think I mentioned to you the statein which I found my bed last night."
"You said it was damp."
"Damp! I never said damp. Soaking is the word I used; or at allevents ought to have used. It was soaking with Condy's Fluid, as itturned out, though I didn't know at the time what the stuff was. I hadan interview with the hotelkeeper himself, a ruffian of the name ofDoyle, about that. I had very nearly to break the bell before I couldget any one to come to me. It's a very odd thing, but he told mepractically the same story; said that this man Meldon, whoever he is,had given orders to have Condy's Fluid poured all over my bed andchloride of lime shovelled on to the floor. I did not believe him atthe time any more than I believed that miserable slut of a cook thenext morning. I was in such a temper when I left that I didn't thinkof putting their two stories together; but going over the whole thingthis afternoon in my mind it struck me as rather peculiar that theyshould both have hit on such a grotesque sort of a lie, if it was alie."
"Surely you don't think that Mr. Meldon-
-he's rather eccentric, I know,but I can scarcely believe that he'd--"
"I'm not at all sure what I ought to think. It seems unlikely that anyclergyman, unless he is quite mad, and you say he's not mad--"
"No; he's not mad. He's peculiar. But he is certainly not mad. MajorKent has the highest opinion of him, and Major Kent is quite sane."
The judge threw the end of his cigar into the fire and sat silent for aminute or two. His mind was working on the curious series of eventswhich had followed his arrival in Ballymoy. He became very muchinterested.
"Milly," he said at last, "I'll take your word for it that the man'snot mad. But how on earth am I to explain his actions? For I reallyhave no doubt that he's at the bottom of all I've been through. Firstof all, he met me at the station at Donard, having travelled twentymiles for the express purpose of trying to prevent my coming on here.Now why did he do that?"
"Perhaps he really thought you'd be uncomfortable at the hotel."
"He seems to have done his best to make me uncomfortable, anyhow."
"And succeeded," said Miss King with a smile.
"And succeeded brilliantly. I don't in the least wish to deny that. Inever was more uncomfortable in my life. But what I want to know is,what possible motive he had for doing it. Unless he's an absolutelunatic, and you say he's not that--"
"No. He's sane, though I think he's decidedly eccentric."
"Then he must have had a motive of some sort. He plainly doesn't wantto have me here in Ballymoy. Now why not? That's what's puzzling me.Why not? I never saw the man in my life till yesterday. I never heardof him. What on earth can it matter to him whether I spend a fortnighthere or not?"
"There was some dispute about the fishing before you came," said MissKing. "I heard about it from Callaghan the gardener. Mr. Meldon'sfriend, Major Kent, thought he had a right to fish in some part of theriver--"
"But what difference would my being here make? I'm not the owner ofthe fishing. Major Kent may be right or wrong. But there's no use hisdisputing with me. He wouldn't be in a bit better position if I hadturned round and gone home."
"I suppose not."
"So we may rule that explanation out of court. And yet the man musthave had a motive of some sort. No one would take all the trouble thathe has taken unless he saw his way to gain something by it." The judgepaused again, thinking deeply. Then he smiled suddenly. "Look here,Milly. You don't mind my asking you rather a personal question, doyou?"
"Not a bit. My conscience is quite easy. I didn't bribe the cook toput paraffin oil in your dinner, and I should never have thought ofpouring Condy's Fluid over your bed."
"Has that curate, Meldon, I mean--"
"He's not a curate," said Miss King. "He's a vicar at least."
"I shouldn't wonder if he turned out to be an archdeacon. But has he--It's rather an awkward question to ask; but you're not a child, Milly.You know that you're a very attractive young woman, and you have whatwould seem to some people quite a good fortune, besides what you earnby your writing. Has this man been trying to make love to you?"
Miss King laughed aloud. The cheerful ring of her obviouslyspontaneous mirth shattered the theory which the judge was building up.
"No," she said; "he has not. Quite the contrary. Oh, Uncle Gilbert, Imust tell you. It's too funny. He warned me in the most solemn waythat I wasn't to attempt to make love to him."
"In spite of all you say, Milly, he must be stark mad."
"No. He thought, he really did think, that I wanted to flirt with him,and he told me not to. He said he couldn't have it. I was awfullyangry with him at the time. No one ever said such a thing to mebefore. It was the first day he called here."
"Does he often call here?"
"Nearly every day. He was here this afternoon while we were up theriver. He said he wanted to see me on most important business."
"I wish I'd seen him."
"You will soon. He's sure to come to-morrow."
"If he does," said the judge, "I'll take the opportunity of having atalk with him. But tell me more about that curious incident, Milly.Are you sure he doesn't want to make love to you?"
"Quite. I couldn't possibly be mistaken. Besides, he's married. Hetold me that in the most insulting way, so as to prevent my making anyattempt to marry him myself."
"Of course that settles it," said the judge. "I thought for a momentthat he might possibly have some wild idea of marrying you. That wouldaccount for his making the desperate efforts he has made to keep me outof the place. He'd know that I wouldn't like you to marry a madparson. But if it wasn't that, Milly, and after all you've told me itclearly can't be, what on earth is the idea at the back of his mind?Why has he arranged for this systematic persecution of me?"
"Are you sure the fishing dispute has nothing to do with it. I can'tthink of anything else."
"Unless he's a fool," said the judge, "he can't suppose that my givingup the fishing would make it any easier for his friend to poach."
"Major Kent wouldn't poach," said Miss King warmly. "He's a gentleman.If you knew him, Uncle Gilbert, you wouldn't say such things about him."
"You seem to know him very well," said the judge. "Oh yes! You toldme you had been out yachting. Does _he_ often call here?"
"He was here on Sunday afternoon. Yes, and on Tuesday, now I come tothink of it."
"And you were out yachting with him on the Monday in between. That'snot bad for three days, eh, Milly?"
He looked at her keenly as he spoke, and a half smile flickered on hislips. Miss King blushed slightly, and then, being very angry withherself for blushing, grew quite red in the face. The judge's smilebroadened.
"From what you've seen of this man Meldon," he said, "would you supposethat he's a very altruistic sort of person?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is he the sort of man who'd put himself about a great deal and take alot of trouble for the sake of doing a good turn to a friend? Do youthink, for instance, that he'd indulge in all sorts of elaboratepractical jokes with a view to frightening me out of Ballymoy, if hethought my presence here was likely to interfere with any plan that hisfriend Major Kent might have very much at heart?"
Miss King looked at the judge in some surprise. Then she suddenlyblushed again.
"Uncle Gilbert," she said, "you're too bad. I know what you'rethinking about. But why do you suppose that any of these men shouldwant to marry me?"
"You're a very attractive young woman, my dear," said the judge. "Ican quite understand-- What sort of a man is this Major Kent?"
"I won't talk about him," said Miss King. "It's not nice of you tocross-question me in that way. I hate being treated as if I didnothing but go about hunting for a husband; as if I never spoke to aman without wondering in my own mind whether he'd be likely to marryme. That's the way you always treat us, and I won't stand it. Ifthere are such women, and I don't think there are many, I'm not one ofthem."
"No," said the judge; "you're not. If you had been you'd have beenmarried long ago. But in this case it seems that the possible husbandis hunting you with some vigour. He has certainly done his best to getrid of me, regarding me, no doubt, as a possible obstacle in his way."
"I'm sure Major Kent had nothing to do with that. He's not at all thekind of man who'd make plans and schemes. But the whole thing isutterly absurd. What's the good of talking about it?"
"It is utterly absurd. It's the most absurd thing I ever heard of inmy life. I simply wouldn't have believed it possible if it hadn'tactually happened, that this red-haired parson--the man has a perfectlydiabolical imagination. I wonder what he'll do next. I feel certainhe won't give up. Could he possibly get at your cook, Milly?"
"I'm sure he couldn't. Hodge has the greatest contempt for all theIrish. She regards them as savages, and is rather surprised to findthat they wear clothes."
"That's a comfort. I can face almost anything if I get my foodproperly. But I must keep a c
areful look out. Meldon seems to me thekind of man who wouldn't stick at a trifle, and he's evidentlydetermined to get rid of me."
"Perhaps he'll ask you out yachting and--"
"And maroon me on a desert island?"
"No, but make you-- Oh! I forgot, you don't get sea-sick."
"No. There's not a bit of use his trying to get the better of me inthat way. I should simply laugh at the worst ground swell he canproduce. I hope he will ask me out yachting. I should like to have anice long day alone with Mr. Meldon. He's a man worth knowing."
The conversation drifted on to other topics. The judge, after themanner of fishermen, rehearsed the capture of his two salmon, comparedthem to similar fish caught elsewhere, and made enquiries about thenetting at the mouth of the river. At about ten o'clock he lit a freshcigar and returned to the subject of Meldon.
"You say," he said, "that he's likely to call here to-morrow morning."
"He's almost certain to. Except the day when he went to meet you atDonard he has never missed paying me a visit."
"About four o'clock, I suppose, is his regular hour?"
"He has no regular hour," said Miss King. "He's quite unconventional.He may drop in for breakfast, or he may turn up suddenly while we'redressing for dinner."
"I hope he'll do one or the other. I don't want to sit waiting for himall day. If he comes while I'm fishing you must bring him up the riverafter me. By the way, how is your novel getting on, Milly? Have youfinished it off?"
"I've hardly done a stroke of work since I came here. I'm dissatisfiedwith the whole thing. I'm thinking of beginning it again."
"If you do," said the judge, "put Meldon into it."
"I should like to."
"Do. Tell the story of his bribing the cook to poison me, and I'll buytwo hundred copies straight away. I've always wanted to be put into anovel, and I should like to go down to posterity side by side withMeldon."
"I wish I could."
"There's no difficulty that I can see. He'll do equally well for ahero or a villain."
"I'm afraid all the other characters would look like fools. That's thedifficulty."
"They would," said the judge. "I'm very much afraid they would.Perhaps after all you'd better not put me in. Let him poison some oneelse. I shouldn't be an attractive figure if I were posed as one ofMeldon's victims."
"Perhaps," said Miss King, "I might work out the plot in such a waythat you'd get the better of him in the end."
"I fully intend to. I shall see him to-morrow, and if the thing ispossible at all, I shall make him thoroughly ashamed of himself."
"Then I'll wait till after to-morrow," said Miss King, "before I decideon my plot. It will be much easier for me if I get the whole thingready-made."
Sir Gilbert Hawkesby finished his cigar and went to bed. He wastolerably well satisfied with himself. He understood, so he believed,the motives which had induced Meldon to make his life in Ballymoyuncomfortable. He was sure that Miss King was able to manage her ownaffairs, and he was not anxious to make objections to her marryingMajor Kent, or any other tolerably respectable man whom she happened tolike. He knew, too, that Lady Hawkesby would be pleased to have herniece settled in life in any way which would put a stop to the growingnotoriety of the novels she wrote.