_ CHAPTER XXIII
In spite of the fact that his trousers were white instead of black, and that he wore a shirt with a soft collar attached to it, Simpkins looked hotter and more dishevelled than Meldon when they arrived together at the gate of Ballymoy House. They had ridden fast, and it was only a little after five o'clock when they turned off the highroad into the shady avenue.
"Now," said Meldon, "you can dismount if you like, and walk up under the trees to cool yourself. I quite admit that an appearance of breathless eagerness is suitable enough under the circumstances. Every woman likes to feel that a man would come to her at the top of his speed. Still, it's quite possible to overdo it, and I think you'd be better this minute of being a little less purple in the face. Are you very thirsty?"
"I am," said Simpkins. "Anybody would be."
He spoke rather sulkily. He resented the way in which Meldon had forced him to ride, and he did not like paying a visit to a lady, even though he did not intend to propose to marry her, when he was covered from head to foot with dust.
"You're not too thirsty to speak, anyhow," said Meldon. "I was afraid you might be. It wouldn't have done if your mouth had been all parched up like the Ancient Mariner's, just before he bit his arm and sucked the blood. Recollect that you have to speak distinctly and slowly, as well as persuasively. You can't expect Miss King to do all the talking in 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 much dust off your shoes as you can. I don't object to dusty shoes for myself in the least, but they don't suit your style."
Simpkins did as he was told, for he did not share Meldon's indifference to 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 appearance much by that last performance. You were better before. But never mind. Miss King has seen you at your best, the Sunday afternoon I brought 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 were that day on the yacht. If she put up with you then, she won't mind you now. Come on."
They left their bicycles near the gate, and walked up together along the avenue.
"Pull yourself together now, Simpkins," said Meldon. "The crisis of your life is almost on you. When we turn the next corner you'll see Miss King seated on a wicker chair on the lawn, waiting for you. At first she'll pretend not to see us; though, of course, she will see us out of the corner of her eye. When we get quite close, so close that she can't possibly ignore us any longer, she will look up suddenly, cast down her eyes again with a blush, and exhibit every sign of pleasurable embarrassment. That will be your opportunity. Step forward and fling yourself at her feet, if that's the way you have determined to do it. I shall slip quietly away, and be out of sight almost at once. . . . Hullo!"
The exclamation was one of extreme surprise. The scene, when he turned the corner, was not exactly as he had described it to Simpkins. Miss King, indeed, was there, seated in a wicker chair, very much as he had expected. Beside her was a table littered with tea things. At her feet, on a rug, sat Major Kent, in an awkward attitude, with a peculiarly silly look on his face. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby sat upright, at a little distance, in another chair. He appeared to be delivering some kind of an address to Miss King and Major Kent.
"This," said Meldon, "is awkward, uncommonly awkward. You see the result 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't say. 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 call to-morrow instead."
"Certainly not," said Meldon. "It'll be all right. The judge knows what is expected of him, and will disappear at once, making a plausible excuse, so as not to embarrass Miss King unnecessarily. I shall deal with 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 seen us.--Hullo, Miss King! Here we are at last. I'm sure you thought we were never coming."
He dragged Simpkins forward by the arm. Miss King, blushing deeply, to Meldon's great delight, rose from her chair and came forward to meet them. The judge, a broad smile on his face, followed her. The Major hung 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 a cup."
"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 like most would be a short stroll up the river with Sir Gilbert and the Major."
"Certainly," said the judge. "I've had my tea, and I'm quite ready for a walk."
"Come along, Major," said Meldon.
Major Kent showed no sign of moving. He had established himself behind Miss King's chair, and was eyeing Simpkins with an expression of hostility 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 an account 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, is often 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. How can he possibly--?"
"Now that we're out of earshot," said the judge, "I hope that you'll allow me to congratulate you on the success of your plan. Your management of the details was admirable."
Meldon was susceptible to this kind of flattery, and he felt that he deserved a little praise. It had been no easy matter to track Simpkins to Donard, and very difficult to bring him back to Ballymoy. He forgot the 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 to Donard to get him."
The judge seemed surprised.
"Really!" he said. "I should hardly have thought there's been time for you 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 my plans. You scarcely know him yet, Sir Gilbert. When you do you'll understand that he isn't the kind of man to whom any one would confide the working out of a delicate negotiation. He's a thorough gentleman, quite the best type of military officer; a man who might be trusted to run absolutely straight under any circumstances. But he has the defects of his qualities. He's rather thick-headed, and he takes an extraordinary delight in arguing."
"I'm glad to hear you speak so well of him," said the judge, "now that he's--"
"I think I'll go back and get him now," said Meldon. "He has a very strong dislike for Simpkins, and I wouldn't like him to break out in any way before Miss King. It might be awkward for her."
"He won't," said the judge. "In his present temper he won't break out against any one. He's almost idiotically happy. You might have seen it in his face."
"He had a sheepish look," said Meldon. "It's a curious thing, isn't it, Sir Gilbert, that when a man is really satisfied with himself he gets to look like a sheep. I daresay you've noticed it, or perhaps you haven't. In your particular line of life you come more into contact with people who are extremely dissatisfied. Still, occasionally you must have had a chance of seeing some one who had just had an unusual stroke of good luck. Mrs. Lorimer, for instance"--Meldon winked at the judge--"when the jury brought in its verdict of 'Not Guilty.' But I really must run back for the Major."
The judge seemed disinclined to discuss Mrs. Lorimer, but he held fast to Meldon's arm.
"After what you said to me this morning," he said, "the events of the afternoon were not altogether a surprise, though I confess I didn't know 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, and evidently sceptical.
"If you don't believe me," said Meldon, "ask Miss King."
"Anyhow," said the judge, "however you knew it, you were perfectly right. I don't like to go into details, but when I came down from the river 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 course I coughed at once. But if you'd been there you'd know that he couldn't have 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 whole thing was settled, and the usual accompaniments were in full swing."
"Do you mean to suggest that my friend Major Kent was kissing Miss King?"
"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 back and 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 brought Simpkins here for?"
"I don't know in the least. To tell you the truth, Simpkins strikes me as
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. "I thought 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'm sure she was quite prepared to take the man you recommended, whoever he was, and she has taken Major Kent. You can't have spoken as plainly as you 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 at Donard kidnapping that idiot Simpkins, and carrying him off from the middle of a tennis tournament. It ought to have been perfectly obvious that I couldn't have brought the Major here. Even you, with your extraordinary faculty for making mistakes about perfectly simple things, must be able to see that."
"If you didn't bring him," said the judge, "I suppose he came by himself. Very likely he fell into the same mistake that my niece and I did. He may have thought you wanted him to marry her."
"He can't possibly have thought anything of the sort. I've told him all 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 judging simply by appearances, I should say that the Major is the better man."
"He is, decidedly. Simpkins is in every way his inferior. The fact is--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 I appreciate your point of view, and I respect your feeling of affection for your friend."
"There's no use beating about the bush in this way," said Meldon. "If you think I'm going to remain passively indifferent while my unfortunate 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," said Meldon. "You must know them."
He wrenched his arm from the judge's grip as he spoke, and started at a rapid pace towards the lawn. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby hesitated for a moment with a look of bewilderment on his face. Then he ran after Meldon, 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's danger. Further endearments--"
"We needn't be afraid of that," said the judge, "while Simpkins is there, and I really do want to tell you my story. It may, I think it will, 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 is this. I met Mrs. Lorimer on the platform of Euston Station on the evening of her acquittal, and I mistook her for my niece who was travelling 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. "Any one might have made it. The likeness is extraordinary."
"The thing to do now," said Meldon after a long pause, "is to get Simpkins 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 that before."
"Marry!-- Oh yes, while you thought she was-- Do you dislike Simpkins very much?"
"No; I don't. But everybody else, including the Major, does."
"I'm beginning to understand things a little," said the judge, "and I agree 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 no intention of alluding to Mrs. Lorimer in your niece's company. After all, we ought to recollect that we're gentlemen. I've always done my best 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 on the lawn in a state of obvious discomfort. Major Kent was standing behind Miss King's chair, looking like a policeman on guard over some specially valuable life threatened by a murderer. His face wore an expression of suspicious watchfulness. Simpkins sat on the chair previously occupied by Sir Gilbert, and looked ill at ease. He had a cup of tea balanced on his knee. His eyes wandered restlessly from Miss King to Major Kent, and then back again. He did not see his way to making his apology or offering his explanation while Major Kent was present. 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 in giving any account of himself. Miss King was doing her best to keep up a friendly conversation with him, but the Major refused to speak a word, and she felt the awkwardness of the situation.
"I suppose, Simpkins," said Meldon, "that your tournament would be over by 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 hunted about the country by Meldon, and he had no intention of going back to Donard; but he welcomed any prospect of escape from the horrible situation 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 more if he means to ride back to Donard. He's not in good training, and another 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 word to you, Mr. Meldon."
"So you shall," said Meldon, "but not now. The day after to-morrow you shall say all you want to. Just at present I haven't time to listen to you."
"Perhaps," said Simpkins, turning to Miss King, "I'd better say good-bye."
He shook hands with her and Sir Gilbert, absolutely ignored Meldon and Major Kent, and walked across the lawn. Meldon ran after him.
"I hope, Simpkins," he said, "that this will be a lesson to you. Owing to your miserable procrastination, the Major has stepped in before you and secured Miss King. You might just mention that to Doyle and O'Donoghue as you pass the hotel. They'll be anxious to hear the news." _