CHAPTER XXII.
It was nearly twelve o'clock when Meldon left Sir Gilbert Hawkesby. Hewalked rapidly down to Ballymoy House, and seized his bicycle. MissKing, who had been watching for him, ran out and invited him to stayfor luncheon. Meldon excused himself briefly on the plea of reallyurgent business.
"But can't you spare us even an hour?" said Miss King persuasively.
Meldon sprang into the saddle. It was his custom to mount from thepedal, and on this occasion the pedal came off.
"Now," said Miss King, "your bicycle is broken and you must stay."
"It's Doyle's bicycle," he said. "I wouldn't own a machine like this.My temper would wear thin in a week if I did."
He turned the bicycle upside down, and set to work vigorously with awrench.
"If," said Meldon, "my business were my own--that's to say, if I wereacting in my private capacity for my own interests--I should let thewhole thing slide at once." He screwed hard at a nut as he spoke."But what I have to do concerns the whole community here. It is alsoof the greatest importance to you, Miss King."
"To me?"
"And my action has, I may add, the warmest approval of the judge.There! Thank goodness, that wretched thing is stuck on again.Good-bye for the present, Miss King."
"But-- Oh, do wait for a moment! You really must explain--"
Meldon mounted and rode away while she spoke. Just before hedisappeared from view, he turned his head and shouted back,--
"You'll know all about it this afternoon, Miss King."
He rode rapidly down to the village, and dismounted at the door ofSimpkins' office. It was shut. Meldon knocked loudly several times,but received no answer. He mounted his bicycle again and rode off athigh speed to Simpkins' house. Here the door was opened to him by thered-haired servant.
"I want to see Mr. Simpkins at once," said Meldon.
"It'll fail you to do that," said the girl, "for he isn't within."
"Tell me this, now," said Meldon. "Aren't you a cousin of SabinaGallagher's?"
"I am, of course."
"Very well. I'm a friend of Sabina's. I'm the chief, if not the onlyfriend Sabina has in Ballymoy, I daresay she's told you that herself."
"She has not then; for I didn't see her this last week only the once."
"Well, you must take my word for it that I am. Now, recollecting thatfact, I expect you to show a proper family feeling and to treat thefriends of your near relations as if they were your own. Is Mr.Simpkins really out, or is he simply in bed and ashamed to confess it?"
"He is not in bed. Nor he wasn't in it since nine o'clock thismorning. It's away off he is ever since he had his breakfast; and ifyou don't believe what I'm telling you, you can go upstairs and see foryourself."
"I do believe you," said Meldon. "Where has he gone to?"
"How would I know? Barring that he took a packet of sandwiches withhim, I don't know where he is no more than yourself."
"Sandwiches! That looks as if he won't be back for luncheon."
"He will not then, for he told me so."
"Did he go on his bicycle?"
"It could be that he did, for it's not within in the house."
"Then we may assume that he did," said Meldon, "and it follows fromthat that he intended to go some distance. Now tell me this, whatdirection did he start in?"
"How would I know? As soon as ever I had the sandwiches made for him Iwent to feed the fowl, and by reason of the way the white hen has oframbling and her chickens along with her--"
"Thanks," said Meldon. "If it wasn't that I have to find Mr. Simpkinsat once, I'd stay and hear about the white hen. But under thecircumstances I can't. Good-bye."
He rode down to the hotel and found Doyle, who was sitting on thewindow-sill of the commercial room reading a newspaper.
"Doyle," he said, "where's Simpkins gone?"
"I don't know," said Doyle, "that he's gone anywhere; though I'd beglad if he did, and that to a good, far-off kind of a place."
"Did you see him this morning?"
"I did. I seen him. It might have been half-past ten or maybe eleveno'clock--"
"On his bicycle?"
"He was on his bicycle."
"Where was he going?"
"I don't know where he was going, for I didn't ask, not caring; unlessit might be to some place that he wouldn't get back from too easy."
"It is of the utmost possible importance," said Meldon, "that I shouldknow where he's gone. I am pledged to produce him at Ballymoy Housethis afternoon. Unless I do, our whole plan for getting rid of him islikely to miscarry."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Doyle. "But I couldn't tell you wherehe went, not if it was to have him hanged when you caught him."
"I am not going to have him hanged," said Meldon. "I can't; for hehasn't done anything, so far as I know, that any court would condemnhim for. What I want is to get him married."
"Married, is it?"
"Yes, to Miss King."
"But-- What you said at the first go-off, the day you was withintalking to me and the doctor, was that you'd--"
"I can't possibly enter into a long explanation now," said Meldon; "butif you want to get rid of Simpkins permanently, you'll rack your brainsand help me to find out where he's gone to-day."
Doyle thought deeply for a couple of minutes.
"Where he's gone," he said at last, "is beyond me. But I took noticeof the trousers he had on him when he was starting. I'm not sure willit be any use to you to know it, but they was white."
"Good," said Meldon. "As it happens, that fact does throw a great dealof light on the problem. No man wears white trousers unless he's goingboating on a fine day, or going to play cricket, or going to play lawntennis. We may cross off the boating at once. Simpkins wouldn't go ina boat voluntarily, even on the finest day. We may also excludecricket; because there's no cricket within fifty miles of Ballymoy inany direction. There only remains tennis; so we may take it as certainthat it is lawn tennis which Simpkins has gone to play. You follow meso far, I suppose, Doyle."
"It might be what they call golf."
"No, it couldn't. You don't understand these things, Doyle; but, as amatter of fact, no one plays golf in white trousers. It wouldn't beconsidered proper, and so we may be perfectly certain that Simpkinswouldn't do it."
"I wouldn't say," said Doyle, "that you're much nearer knowing wherehe's gone to."
"Not much, but I am a little. I happen to know--Sabina's red-hairedcousin told me--that he has taken a packet of sandwiches with him anddoesn't expect to be home till late. It follows from that that he'snot playing tennis in this immediate neighbourhood. It also followsthat he isn't going to any friend's house. Nobody ever bringssandwiches to a private tennis party. Therefore Simpkins must havegone to play at some sort of club."
"Unless it would be at Donard," said Doyle, "I don't know where there'dbe a thing of the kind."
"Right," said Meldon. "And, as a matter of fact, there is a club atDonard. I know that, because I was once invited to play there in atournament. I think we may feel tolerably certain that Simpkins isthere. Let me see now. It's not quite one o'clock. If I ridefast--I'll borrow the doctor's bicycle. I can't stand this loose pedalof yours any more. If I ride fast I'll be there by half-past two. Saytwenty minutes to three. Allowing for twenty minutes in which topersuade Simpkins to start home at once, I ought to be on my way backby three. I'll hustle him along a bit, and there's no reason that Ican see why he shouldn't be at Ballymoy House by half-past five."
"You'll never do all that," said Doyle. "Is it likely he'll go withyou?"
"It's not exactly likely, but he will. I shall speak to him in such away that he practically must. Get me the doctor's bicycle at once."
"If it's that you want," said Doyle, "you haven't far to go to look forit. It's within in the hall this minute, for he left it here lastnight, saying he'd be round for it this morning."
"Good. I'll take it
at once and be off."
The grounds of the Donard tennis club are pleasantly situated about amile outside the town on the Ballymoy road. Meldon reached them wellbefore the time he had arranged, passing through the gate at a quarterpast two o'clock. The annual tennis tournament was in full swing. Allthree courts were occupied by players, and an eager crowd of spectatorsstood round watching the progress of the matches. Simpkins was perchedon top of a step ladder, acting as umpire for two ladies. His positionrendered him very conspicuous, and Meldon caught sight of him at once.He took a short cut through a court where a mixed double was inprogress and seized Simpkins by the leg.
"Simpkins," he said, "get off that ladder at once."
Simpkins was surprised. So were the two ladies who were playingtennis. They stopped their game and stared at Meldon. Then theyglanced at Simpkins with puzzled suspicion. Men, as every one isaware, even men with reputations for respectability, are sometimesarrested suddenly in the most unlikely places for crimes of which noone ever suspected them. It is true that they are very rarely arrestedby clergymen, but it is on record of the most famous of all detectivesthat he once assumed the dress of a clergyman as a disguise. The ladywho was serving when Meldon interrupted the game had read the historyof that detective's life. She looked at Simpkins with awed horror.Simpkins wriggled uncomfortably on his ladder. He was conscious ofbeing placed in a very unpleasant position, and was anxious, ifpossible, to divert the attention of the ladies.
"Forty-fifteen," he said loudly, but erroneously, for the score wasthirty all. Then he turned to Meldon and added in a whisper: "Go awayat once, please."
He hoped that the ladies would go on with their game. They did not.He had given their score wrongly, and they became more suspicious thanever. Nor did Meldon stir.
"Come down off that ladder at once," said Meldon. "I don't want tomake a very unpleasant affair public property; but if you don't comedown, I'll speak out, and there's a small crowd gathering round us."
This was true. The lady who had been serving dropped the two balls sheheld in her hand and sidled up towards the step ladder. A number ofpeople, who had been watching an exciting match in the next court, leftit, and approached Meldon to find out what was going on. Simpkins'conscience was quite at ease. He had done nothing wrong. He was not,as far as he was aware, mixed up in anything unpleasant. Hisinnocence, though it did not make him feel comfortable, gave himcourage to attempt an argument with Meldon.
"Why should I come down?" he said. "I'm umpiring in this match, and Isee no reason for leaving it in the middle."
"Very well," said Meldon. "If you choose to take up that sort ofattitude you'll only have yourself to thank for the unpleasantnesswhich will follow. Still, I've always had a regard for you, althoughyou're not what I'd call popular with the people of Ballymoy, so Iwon't say more than I can help at first. Have you forgotten Miss King?"
"No," said Simpkins, "I haven't. Why should I? I mean to say, there'snothing particular for me to remember about Miss King."
The secretary of the tennis club pushed his way through the crowd. Hewas in an excited and irritated condition. Every single competitor hadcomplained that the handicapping was disgracefully done. Some wereangry because their skill was reckoned too cheaply; others thought thattheir chances of winning were unduly prejudiced. They had allexpressed their opinions freely to the secretary. It was also becomingmore and more evident that the tournament could not possibly befinished in the time allotted to it. The secretary had spent themorning urging the players not to waste time. It particularly annoyedhim to see that Simpkins' two ladies had stopped playing.
"What's the matter?" he said. "Why the--I mean to say, why on earthdon't you go on with your game?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt the proceedings," said Meldon, "but it isimperatively necessary for me to have a few words in private withSimpkins."
The secretary turned on Simpkins at once. He was one of the people whohad grumbled most loudly and continuously about his handicap. He hadalso wasted time by raising obscure points of law on two occasions.The secretary had conceived a strong dislike for him.
"Why don't you go," he said, "and hear what this gentleman has to say?I'll get another umpire."
"He hasn't anything to say to me," said Simpkins.
"He says he has," said the secretary, "and he ought to know."
"Quite right," said Meldon. "I'm the only person who does know.Simpkins can't be really certain that I haven't until he comes andlistens."
"Go at once," said the secretary.
Simpkins looked round him for sympathy, but got none. Public opinionwas dead against him. The mention of Miss King, whom nobody knew,suggested the possibility of some horrible and deeply interestingscandal. Simpkins got down from his ladder. Meldon at once took himby the arm and led him away.
"Where's your bicycle?" he said.
"What on earth do you want with me?" said Simpkins. "It's quiteintolerable--"
"Miss King is waiting for you," said Meldon. "She expects you thisafternoon, and if you start at once you'll just be there in time."
"But I've no engagement with Miss King."
"You have not," said Meldon, "at present. But you soon will have anengagement of the most solemn and enduring kind."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Look here," said Meldon. "There's no use beating about the bush whenwe haven't a moment to spare. You gave me to understand that youwanted to marry Miss King."
"I didn't. All I said was--"
"That won't do," said Meldon. "You may think that you can play fastand loose with a poor girl's affections in that sort of way, and so youmight if she was lonely and unprotected. But as it happens that judgewho came to Ballymoy the other day turned out to be Miss King's uncle,and he's quite determined to see this business through. I was tellinghim about it this morning. I pledged my word to have you on the spotthis afternoon, and to get the whole thing settled before dinner."
"But this is utterly ridiculous. I've only spoken to the woman threetimes in my life."
"A good deal can be done in three interviews," said Meldon. "In thiscase it appears that a good deal has been done. I don't profess toknow exactly what you said to Miss King--"
"I never said anything to her."
"Do you mean to assert that you went through three interviews withoututtering a single word."
"Of course not. What I mean to say is--"
"Now you're beginning to hedge," said Meldon, "and that's a bad sign,an uncommonly bad sign. No man hedges in that sort of way unless hehas something to conceal. It's perfectly plain to me that you said agood deal to Miss King. Anyhow, she evidently thinks you did. Shetold the whole story to the judge last night, and he spoke to me aboutit this morning."
"Told what story?"
"Your story. And the upshot of it was that I promised to bring youthere this afternoon. It's all arranged. Miss King is to be at home.The judge will be up the river. I shall leave you with Miss King, andthen join the judge. We shall give you a clear hour, and when we comeback we shall expect to hear that the whole thing is settled."
"I never heard of such an absurd entanglement in my life."
"There is no entanglement about it. It's perfectly simple, plain, andstraightforward. Where's your bicycle?"
Simpkins wavered.
"Perhaps," he said, "I'd better go and explain. It's an infernalnuisance--"
"I don't quite know what you mean by explaining," said Meldon. "Thereseems to me only one thing for you to do, and that is to go at once andoffer to marry Miss King. Where's your bicycle?"
"It's behind the tent; but I must tell the secretary that I'm going.I'm afraid he'll be angry."
"If that bald-headed man with the white moustache is the secretary,"said Meldon, "I should say from the way he spoke just now that he'll beextremely glad. If you tell him the whole story you'll find that he'llquite agree with me about what your duty is."
"I s
han't tell him, and I hope you won't."
"I certainly won't," said Meldon. "I have too high a sense of thevalue of time to waste it telling stories to that secretary. Comealong and get your bicycle."
"It's just as well," said Meldon a few minutes later, when he andSimpkins had mounted their bicycles--"it's just as well that you haveon those white trousers and a cool sort of shirt. We've got to ridepretty fast, and it wouldn't do for you to arrive in a state of reekingheat."
"I want you to understand clearly," said Simpkins, "that I'm not goingto do anything more than explain to Miss King that some absurd mistakehas arisen; explain, and apologise."
"If you like to call it explaining, you can. But I strongly recommendyou to do it thoroughly. I may tell you that I have Callaghan postedbehind a tree to watch you, and if you don't offer Miss King propertokens of affection, I shall hear of it, and so will the judge. It'sscarcely necessary for me to tell you, Simpkins, that the judge isn't aman to be trifled with."
"Tokens of affection! Do you mean that I--?"
"I do," said Meldon. "I mean that exactly. And you're to do it as ifyou liked it. You very probably will like it, once you've broken theice."
For a few minutes they rode on in silence. Then Simpkins spoke again,--
"Do you mean that I should--that I should hold her hand and kiss her?"
"After you've proposed to her," said Meldon, "not before. It would bewhat Callaghan calls impropriety of conduct if you did it before, andhe'd probably interrupt you. He doesn't like that sort of thing. Ishouldn't like it myself either, and I don't think the judge would,although he's evidently a liberal-minded man."
"I couldn't possibly do that," said Simpkins. "I've only spoken to herthree times."
"You'll have to," said Meldon, "after she's accepted you. It's theusual thing. Miss King will be angry, quite rightly angry andinsulted, if you don't. You read any novel you like, and you'll findthat as soon as ever the hero has proposed to the heroine, oftenwithout waiting for her answer, he rains passionate kisses on some partof her, generally her hair. I don't ask you to go as far as that; butone or two kisses--you can begin with her hand if you like, and work ongradually."
"Of course I shall do nothing of the sort," said Simpkins. "I shallsimply explain to Miss King that owing to some sort of muddle--"
"If I were you, Simpkins, I shouldn't talk too much. From the gaspysort of way you're speaking now, I imagine you're not in particularlygood training, and you have a long ride before you. It will be mostunfortunate if, when I've planted you down in front of Miss King, youare unable to do anything except pant. No girl would stand that. Byfar the best plan for you is to breathe entirely through your nose, andsit well back in your saddle, so that your chest and lungs are keptproperly expanded."
Simpkins spoke no more for some time. He may have considered theadvice good. He may have felt an increasing difficulty in talking whenriding very rapidly. When they reached Ballymoy there were signs ofunusual excitement in the street. Doyle and O'Donoghue were standingon the steps of the hotel. A small crowd had gathered on the road infront of them. Most of the shopkeepers were at the doors of theirshops. A considerable number of women were looking out of the upperwindows of the houses. A cheer arose as the two bicyclists passedthrough the town. Meldon took off his hat and waved it.
"Musha, good luck to you," shouted a woman's voice.
"That," said Meldon, "is almost certainly Sabina Gallagher. She'snaturally greatly interested on account of her cousin."
"Interested in what?" gasped Simpkins.
"Your marriage," said Meldon. "I mentioned it to Doyle this morning,and he has evidently told every one about the place."
Simpkins stopped abruptly and got off his bicycle.
"I'm damned," he said, "if I'm going to stand this."
Meldon also dismounted.
"Get up at once, Simpkins," he said. "We are late enough as it is."
"I'm going straight home," said Simpkins.
"From the look of Doyle and O'Donoghue and the crowd there was in thestreet," said Meldon, "I should say that they'll probably mob you ifyou go back now. You're not over and above popular in the place asthings stand; and, if the people think that you're behaving badly toMiss King, they'll very likely kill you. From what I've heard sinceI've been here I don't expect the police will interfere to save you."
"I'm not going to be made a public laughing stock."
"You'll be that and worse if you turn back. There isn't a woman or agirl about the place but will be making jokes about you if you funk itnow. Come on."
Simpkins looked back at the street he had just left. The people werestanding together gazing after him curiously. He mounted his bicycleand rode on, followed by Meldon.
"I shall explain to Miss King," he said, "that the unpleasant situationin which we find ourselves placed is in no way my fault."
"You can try that if you like," said Meldon. "But I don't expectshe'll be at all satisfied."