CHAPTER XXIII.
In spite of the fact that his trousers were white instead of black, andthat he wore a shirt with a soft collar attached to it, Simpkins lookedhotter and more dishevelled than Meldon when they arrived together atthe gate of Ballymoy House. They had ridden fast, and it was only alittle after five o'clock when they turned off the highroad into theshady avenue.
"Now," said Meldon, "you can dismount if you like, and walk up underthe trees to cool yourself. I quite admit that an appearance ofbreathless eagerness is suitable enough under the circumstances. Everywoman likes to feel that a man would come to her at the top of hisspeed. Still, it's quite possible to overdo it, and I think you'd bebetter this minute of being a little less purple in the face. Are youvery thirsty?"
"I am," said Simpkins. "Anybody would be."
He spoke rather sulkily. He resented the way in which Meldon hadforced him to ride, and he did not like paying a visit to a lady, eventhough he did not intend to propose to marry her, when he was coveredfrom head to foot with dust.
"You're not too thirsty to speak, anyhow," said Meldon. "I was afraidyou might be. It wouldn't have done if your mouth had been all parchedup like the Ancient Mariner's, just before he bit his arm and suckedthe blood. Recollect that you have to speak distinctly and slowly, aswell as persuasively. You can't expect Miss King to do all the talkingin this case. Her business is to blush and hang back."
"I've told you already," said Simpkins, "that I'm simply--"
"Don't start an argument; but take a wisp of grass and wipe as muchdust off your shoes as you can. I don't object to dusty shoes formyself in the least, but they don't suit your style."
Simpkins did as he was told, for he did not share Meldon's indifferenceto dust. He also wiped his face carefully with a pocket handkerchief,giving it a streaky look.
"I don't think," said Meldon, "that you've improved your appearancemuch by that last performance. You were better before. But nevermind. Miss King has seen you at your best, the Sunday afternoon Ibrought you up to call, and she'll recollect what you looked like then.In any case, nothing you can do will make you as ghastly as you werethat day on the yacht. If she put up with you then, she won't mind younow. Come on."
They left their bicycles near the gate, and walked up together alongthe avenue.
"Pull yourself together now, Simpkins," said Meldon. "The crisis ofyour life is almost on you. When we turn the next corner you'll seeMiss King seated on a wicker chair on the lawn, waiting for you. Atfirst she'll pretend not to see us; though, of course, she will see usout of the corner of her eye. When we get quite close, so close thatshe can't possibly ignore us any longer, she will look up suddenly,cast down her eyes again with a blush, and exhibit every sign ofpleasurable embarrassment. That will be your opportunity. Stepforward and fling yourself at her feet, if that's the way you havedetermined to do it. I shall slip quietly away, and be out of sightalmost at once. . . . Hullo!"
The exclamation was one of extreme surprise. The scene, when he turnedthe corner, was not exactly as he had described it to Simpkins. MissKing, indeed, was there, seated in a wicker chair, very much as he hadexpected. Beside her was a table littered with tea things. At herfeet, on a rug, sat Major Kent, in an awkward attitude, with apeculiarly silly look on his face. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby sat upright,at a little distance, in another chair. He appeared to be deliveringsome kind of an address to Miss King and Major Kent.
"This," said Meldon, "is awkward, uncommonly awkward. You see theresult of being late, Simpkins. The judge has evidently given you up,and come down from the river. What the Major is doing here, I can'tsay. He's the sort of man who will blunder, if blundering is possible."
"I think," said Simpkins, "that we'd better turn back. I can callto-morrow instead."
"Certainly not," said Meldon. "It'll be all right. The judge knowswhat is expected of him, and will disappear at once, making a plausibleexcuse, so as not to embarrass Miss King unnecessarily. I shall dealwith the Major. It won't take me five minutes."
"Still," said Simpkins, "it might be better--"
"You can't run away now, in any case," said Meldon. "They've seenus.--Hullo, Miss King! Here we are at last. I'm sure you thought wewere never coming."
He dragged Simpkins forward by the arm. Miss King, blushing deeply, toMeldon's great delight, rose from her chair and came forward to meetthem. The judge, a broad smile on his face, followed her. The Majorhung about in the background, and appeared to be nervous.
"You'd like some tea, I'm sure," said Miss King.
"Not for me," said Meldon; "but Mr. Simpkins will be delighted to get acup."
"Oh! but you must have some," said Miss King. "You look so hot."
"Mr. Simpkins is hot. I'm not in the least. In fact, what I'd likemost would be a short stroll up the river with Sir Gilbert and theMajor."
"Certainly," said the judge. "I've had my tea, and I'm quite ready fora walk."
"Come along, Major," said Meldon.
Major Kent showed no sign of moving. He had established himself behindMiss King's chair, and was eyeing Simpkins with an expression ofhostility and distrust.
"Never mind the Major," said the judge. "He's all right where he is."
He took Meldon's arm as he spoke and strolled off across the lawn.Meldon turned and winked angrily at the Major. The judge began anaccount of the capture of his last salmon, holding fast to Meldon's arm.
"Excuse me one moment," said Meldon. "I must give the Major a hint.He's one of those men who, though extremely kind and sympathetic, isoften a little wanting in tact."
"He's all right," said the judge. "He's quite happy."
"I daresay he is," said Meldon. "My point is that Simpkins isn't. Howcan he possibly--?"
"Now that we're out of earshot," said the judge, "I hope that you'llallow me to congratulate you on the success of your plan. Yourmanagement of the details was admirable."
Meldon was susceptible to this kind of flattery, and he felt that hedeserved a little praise. It had been no easy matter to track Simpkinsto Donard, and very difficult to bring him back to Ballymoy. He forgotthe Major for a moment and went willingly with the judge.
"I had rather a job of it," he said. "I had to go the whole way toDonard to get him."
The judge seemed surprised.
"Really!" he said. "I should hardly have thought there's been time foryou to go and come back."
"I ride pretty fast," said Meldon, with an air of satisfaction.
"And the Major never said a word about it."
"The Major didn't know. I don't tell the Major all the details of myplans. You scarcely know him yet, Sir Gilbert. When you do you'llunderstand that he isn't the kind of man to whom any one would confidethe working out of a delicate negotiation. He's a thorough gentleman,quite the best type of military officer; a man who might be trusted torun absolutely straight under any circumstances. But he has thedefects of his qualities. He's rather thick-headed, and he takes anextraordinary delight in arguing."
"I'm glad to hear you speak so well of him," said the judge, "now thathe's--"
"I think I'll go back and get him now," said Meldon. "He has a verystrong dislike for Simpkins, and I wouldn't like him to break out inany way before Miss King. It might be awkward for her."
"He won't," said the judge. "In his present temper he won't break outagainst any one. He's almost idiotically happy. You might have seenit in his face."
"He had a sheepish look," said Meldon. "It's a curious thing, isn'tit, Sir Gilbert, that when a man is really satisfied with himself hegets to look like a sheep. I daresay you've noticed it, or perhaps youhaven't. In your particular line of life you come more into contactwith people who are extremely dissatisfied. Still, occasionally youmust have had a chance of seeing some one who had just had an unusualstroke of good luck. Mrs. Lorimer, for instance"--Meldon winked at thejudge--"when the jury brought in its verdict of 'Not Guilty.' But Ireally mus
t run back for the Major."
The judge seemed disinclined to discuss Mrs. Lorimer, but he held fastto Meldon's arm.
"After what you said to me this morning," he said, "the events of theafternoon were not altogether a surprise, though I confess I didn'tknow that my niece cared as much as she does."
"Oh, she's very keen on it."
"So it appears; but would you mind telling me how you knew that?"
"She told me so herself."
"She-- Oh!"
The judge looked Meldon straight in the face. He was surprised, andevidently sceptical.
"If you don't believe me," said Meldon, "ask Miss King."
"Anyhow," said the judge, "however you knew it, you were perfectlyright. I don't like to go into details, but when I came down from theriver this afternoon the position of affairs was quite plain to me."
"She was looking eager, I suppose, and perhaps a little anxious."
"I should hardly say anxious. The fact is that they--"
"Was the Major there then?"
"Of course he was," said the judge.
"I don't see any 'of course' about it. He might have come afterwards."
"If you'd seen what I saw," said the judge--"a mere glimpse, of courseI coughed at once. But if you'd been there you'd know that he couldn'thave come afterwards. He must have been there for some time."
"I don't know what you mean," said Meldon.
"If you will have it in plain language," said the judge, "the wholething was settled, and the usual accompaniments were in full swing."
"Do you mean to suggest that my friend Major Kent was kissing MissKing?"
"As well as I could see, he was."
"After proposing to her?"
"Certainly. He wouldn't do it before."
"There's been some frightful mistake," said Meldon. "I must go backand set things straight at once."
"Wait a minute. Surely this is what you wanted all along?"
"No. It isn't. What I arranged--what do you suppose I broughtSimpkins here for?"
"I don't know in the least. To tell you the truth, Simpkins strikes meas _de trop_. What did you bring him for?"
"I brought him to marry Miss King, of course."
"I must have misunderstood you this morning," said the judge. "Ithought Major Kent was the man you were backing."
"You can't have thought that," said Meldon. "I spoke quite plainly."
"My niece seems to have made the same mistake," said the judge. "I'msure she was quite prepared to take the man you recommended, whoever hewas, and she has taken Major Kent. You can't have spoken as plainly asyou thought you did. We both took you up wrong."
"Who brought the Major here?"
"Till just this minute" said the judge, "I thought you did."
"I didn't. How could I possibly have brought him when I was on atDonard kidnapping that idiot Simpkins, and carrying him off from themiddle of a tennis tournament. It ought to have been perfectly obviousthat I couldn't have brought the Major here. Even you, with yourextraordinary faculty for making mistakes about perfectly simplethings, must be able to see that."
"If you didn't bring him," said the judge, "I suppose he came byhimself. Very likely he fell into the same mistake that my niece and Idid. He may have thought you wanted him to marry her."
"He can't possibly have thought anything of the sort. I've told himall along--in fact, it was really his plan."
"That Simpkins should marry my niece?"
"Yes. We've talked it over a dozen times at least."
"Of the two," said the judge, "I'd rather have the Major for a nephew.I scarcely know him, and I don't know Simpkins at all; but judgingsimply by appearances, I should say that the Major is the better man."
"He is, decidedly. Simpkins is in every way his inferior. The factis--I don't want to say anything to hurt your feelings."
"Don't mind my feelings. They're accustomed to laceration."
"Well, I think the Major is too good a man to--"
"You can't expect me to agree with you there," said the judge. "But Iappreciate your point of view, and I respect your feeling of affectionfor your friend."
"There's no use beating about the bush in this way," said Meldon. "Ifyou think I'm going to remain passively indifferent while myunfortunate friend allows himself to be entrapped by a woman like Mrs.Lorimer--"
"Good Heavens!" said the judge. "Mrs. Lorimer! What on earth has Mrs.Lorimer--?"
"There's no use your pretending to be ignorant of the facts," saidMeldon. "You must know them."
He wrenched his arm from the judge's grip as he spoke, and started at arapid pace towards the lawn. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby hesitated for amoment with a look of bewilderment on his face. Then he ran afterMeldon, and caught him by the arm again.
"Hold on a minute," he said. "Something has just occurred to me.Before you do anything rash let me tell you a little story."
"I can't wait," said Meldon. "Every moment increases the Major'sdanger. Further endearments--"
"We needn't be afraid of that," said the judge, "while Simpkins isthere, and I really do want to tell you my story. It may, I think itwill, alter your whole view of the situation."
"I'll give you two minutes," said Meldon, taking out his watch.
"One will do," said the judge, speaking rapidly. "All I have to say isthis. I met Mrs. Lorimer on the platform of Euston Station on theevening of her acquittal, and I mistook her for my niece who wastravelling in the same train."
Meldon put his watch into his pocket and stared at the judge.
"It was quite an excusable mistake," said Sir Gilbert soothingly. "Anyone might have made it. The likeness is extraordinary."
"The thing to do now," said Meldon after a long pause, "is to getSimpkins out of this as quickly as possible. He's no use here."
"None," said the judge. "Why did you bring him?"
"I brought him to marry your niece," said Meldon. "I told you thatbefore."
"Marry!-- Oh yes, while you thought she was-- Do you dislike Simpkinsvery much?"
"No; I don't. But everybody else, including the Major, does."
"I'm beginning to understand things a little," said the judge, "and Iagree with you that the first thing to be done is to remove Simpkins.We shall have a good deal to talk over, and his presence--"
"When you speak of talking things over," said Meldon, "I hope you've nointention of alluding to Mrs. Lorimer in your niece's company. Afterall, we ought to recollect that we're gentlemen. I've always done mybest to spare her feelings, and I hope that nothing--"
"I shan't mention the subject."
Meldon and Sir Gilbert walked back together. They found the group onthe lawn in a state of obvious discomfort. Major Kent was standingbehind Miss King's chair, looking like a policeman on guard over somespecially valuable life threatened by a murderer. His face wore anexpression of suspicious watchfulness. Simpkins sat on the chairpreviously occupied by Sir Gilbert, and looked ill at ease. He had acup of tea balanced on his knee. His eyes wandered restlessly fromMiss King to Major Kent, and then back again. He did not see his wayto making his apology or offering his explanation while Major Kent waspresent. At the same time he dreaded being left alone with Miss King.Now that he was face to face with her he felt a great difficulty ingiving any account of himself. Miss King was doing her best to keep upa friendly conversation with him, but the Major refused to speak aword, and she felt the awkwardness of the situation.
"I suppose, Simpkins," said Meldon, "that your tournament would be overby the time you got back to Donard, even if you started at once."
Simpkins rose to his feet with alacrity. He did not like being huntedabout the country by Meldon, and he had no intention of going back toDonard; but he welcomed any prospect of escape from the horriblesituation in which he found himself.
"Won't you finish your tea?" said Miss King.
"He has finished it," said Meldon; "and he'd better not have any moreif he me
ans to ride back to Donard. He's not in good training, andanother chunk of that rich cake of yours, Miss King, might upset him.Good-bye, Simpkins."
"I'd like," said Simpkins, trying to assert himself, "to speak a wordto you, Mr. Meldon."
"So you shall," said Meldon, "but not now. The day after to-morrow youshall say all you want to. Just at present I haven't time to listen toyou."
"Perhaps," said Simpkins, turning to Miss King, "I'd better saygood-bye."
He shook hands with her and Sir Gilbert, absolutely ignored Meldon andMajor Kent, and walked across the lawn. Meldon ran after him.
"I hope, Simpkins," he said, "that this will be a lesson to you. Owingto your miserable procrastination, the Major has stepped in before youand secured Miss King. You might just mention that to Doyle andO'Donoghue as you pass the hotel. They'll be anxious to hear the news."
CHAPTER XXIV.
Major Kent and Meldon dined at Ballymoy House, and spent a verypleasant evening. At eleven o'clock they started on their drive home.
"I'm sorry--" said the Major, and then paused.
"I hope not," said Meldon. "You ought not to be."
"I'm not," said the Major. "I merely meant that I'm afraid this ratherunexpected--"
"Go on," said Meldon. "I'd like to get at your exact feelings if Ican."
"Isn't this rather--rather an upset for you, J.J.?"
"For me?"
"Yes. On account of that plan of yours--Simpkins, you know. I wasafraid all the time you would feel disappointed."
"My plan," said Meldon, "is perfectly sound, and is working outadmirably."
"But you said that you meant--"
"You're making one of your usual mistakes, Major. You're confusing theend I had in view with the means I adopted to bring it about. What Ioriginally undertook to do was to remove Simpkins from Ballymoy. Inthat I have been entirely successful. He can't, simply can't, spendanother week in the place. I mentioned to Doyle this morning thatSimpkins intended to marry Miss King. Doyle evidently told severalother people, for half the town was out to cheer us as we passedthrough on our way from Donard. When Simpkins sneaked back at aboutsix o'clock this evening, looking like a whipped dog, there was sure tohave been a large crowd to meet him. I said he was to tell Doyle theresult as he passed; but whether he did or not, Doyle is sure to havefound it out before night. How do you suppose Simpkins will befeeling?"
The Major chuckled.
"And what do you suppose will happen?" said Meldon.
"I don't know. They'll laugh at him, I expect."
"Laugh isn't the word," said Meldon. "They'll get out the town bandand play tunes under his window half the night. He won't be able toput his nose outside the door without being met by a tribe of smallboys grinning. There isn't a woman or a girl in the place, from SabinaGallagher up, but will be making fun of him. Doyle and O'Donoghue andall the police will call round to condole with him. No man could standit for a week. He'll go to-morrow, and have his luggage sent afterhim. That's the way my plan has worked out with regard to Simpkins,and I've no reason to be ashamed of it."
"I'm glad you look at it that way, J. J. I was afraid perhaps--"
"You needn't have been. I'm not one of those small-minded men whoallow themselves to be tied to details, and are irritated becausethings don't go exactly as they expect. I look to the real object, thegreat ultimate end which I hope to achieve. As long as that comes offall right I don't worry myself about trifles. In this case Iconsider--and everybody who takes a large view will also consider--thatI have been entirely successful. And now let's talk of something else.I'll marry you, of course."
"We both hope you will," said the Major.
"Right. That's settled. What about bridesmaids?"
"We haven't gone into that yet."
"You must have bridesmaids, of course. And I don't think you could dobetter than your own god-daughter. She'll be over the whooping-coughby that time, I hope."
"I'd like that very much," said the Major. "But isn't she rathersmall?"
"Not at all. She can be led up the aisle immediately behind the bride.Sabina Gallagher can lead her. I'm going to engage Sabina as nurse andgeneral servant. Now that Simpkins is going, Doyle can get thatred-haired girl, Sabina's cousin. She'll do him quite well for all hewants. And he never properly appreciated Sabina. Shall we regard thatas settled?"
"I suppose it will be all right."
"Quite," said Meldon. "You may safely leave it in my hands. And now,Major, since everything has worked out in such a satisfactory way foryou, I hope you'll try and feel more kindly towards poor Simpkins.He'll suffer a lot as it is; and I don't think you ought to make anyfurther attempt on his life. I always thought you were going too farin your resentment."
"J. J., I really--"
"The judge will let you fish anywhere you like; so that you haven't aghost of a grievance left."
"I'll ask Simpkins to the wedding if you like."
"That," said Meldon, "would be a refinement of cruelty, and I won'tconsent to its being done. Wanting to kill the man was bad enough. Inever liked it. But what you propose now is infinitely worse. Whycan't you forgive the wretched creature, and then forget all about him?"
* * * * * *
It was half-past twelve o'clock. Major Kent, in spite of theexcitement of the afternoon, was sound asleep when he was roused by asharp knocking at his door. He sat up in bed and struck a match.
"Good gracious, J. J.," he said, "what on earth do you want at thistime of night? Why aren't you asleep?"
"I couldn't sleep," said Meldon, "with the feeling on my mind that Ihad been doing a wrong--quite without malice and under circumstanceswhich excuse it, but still doing a wrong to Miss King."
"You mean in mistaking her--"
"Quite so."
"That'll be all right, J. J. Don't worry about it. Go back to bedagain."
"I'm not worrying in the least," said Meldon. "I never worry; but whenI've done a wrong to anybody, I like to make amends at once."
"You can't do anything to-night. It's too late. Do go back to bed."
"I have done something. I've made amends, and here they are. I wantyou to give them to her to-morrow morning."
He held out a sheet of paper as he spoke.
"If that's a written apology," said the Major, "it's quite unnecessary.But you can leave it on the dressing-table. It's nice of you to thinkof making it."
"It's not an apology," said Meldon. "Apologies are futile things.This is something that will be of some use and real value to Miss King.It's the end of a novel."
"What are you talking about?"
"I've always understood," said Meldon, "that the last few paragraphs ofa novel are by far the most difficult part to write. Now that I'vefound out what Miss King's art really is, I think the best thing I cando, by way of making amends for my unfortunate mistake, is to hand overto her the conclusion of a novel, ready written. I've been at it eversince you went to bed. Here it is. I'll just read it out to you, andthen you can give it to her with my compliments to-morrow morning."
"'The evening closed slowly, a glory still lingering on the shiningwaters of the bay, as if day were indeed loth to leave the scene it hadfound so fair. A solitary figure breasted the long hill above thelittle town, striding steadily along the grey road, which woundeastwards into the gloom.'"
"It may perhaps be better to mention to you, Major, though Miss Kingwill recognise the fact at once for herself, that the solitary figureis Simpkins."
"'At the crown of the hill, just where the road begins to dip again, atthe spot where the last view of the town and the bay is obtained, thelonely traveller paused. He turned round, and for a while stood gazingwistfully at the scene he had left behind. The hum of the town's life,the sudden shoutings of the children at their play, even, as hefancied, the eternal pathos of the ocean's murmuring, were borneupwards to him on the evening breeze. Far off, among the trees
,twinkled a solitary light. A great sob shook his frame suddenly.There, in the warm glow of the lamp, whose rays reached him like thoseof some infinitely distant star, sat the woman whom he loved, who mighthave been his, who was-- Ah me! He set his teeth. His lips,bloodless now as the very lips of death, were pressed tight together.He turned again, and, still walking bravely, descended the hill intothe gloom.
"'So life deals with us. To one is given, and he hath abundance. Fromanother is taken away even that which he hath. Yet, who knows? It wastowards the east he travelled. The sun had set indeed; but it wouldrise again. And it is always in the east that suns rise.'"
"Thanks, J. J.," said the Major sleepily. "It's awfully fine. If youwouldn't mind putting it on the dressing-table under my brush, it willbe quite safe till morning."
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