The Simpkins Plot Part 32

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

"If so be it wasn't Sabina that put the paraffin oil into the judge's dinner, but some other one coming in unbeknown to her, and Sabina maybe doing her best to stop it, then of course there wouldn't be another word 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. "No parable would stand it. Sabina did pour in the paraffin oil. I'm not pretending that a wolf or any animal of that sort came in and meddled with the judge's food. I'm merely trying to explain to you that later on, when you understand all the circ.u.mstances, you'll find yourself tearing 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 of the 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 wages due to her paid, and then off with her out of my house. For conduct the like of hers is what I won't stand, and what n.o.body in a hotel would stand."

"Very well," said Meldon; "I've told you what the consequences of your action will be. If you choose to face them you can. I've done my best to save you. But you are evidently bent on going your own way. I daresay 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 to suffer in that sort of way, and you apparently have none. But there's another consideration altogether that I'd like to bring under your notice. I've had some talk with Sabina during the last few days, and I've come to the conclusion that she's a young woman with a talent for cooking of a very rare and high kind. There's nothing that girl couldn't do if she got a little encouragement. Give her the smallest hint and she acts on it at once."

"I wish to G.o.d then," said Doyle, "that you'd held off from giving her hints, as you call it. Only for you I don't believe she'd ever have thought--"

"I'm not speaking now of the paraffin oil business. You mustn't allow that to become an obsession with you, Doyle. There are other things in the world besides that judge's meals. As it happens, I was giving Sabina a short lecture on the art of cookery some days before I heard of the judge's arrival. I was speaking to her about the advisability of knocking together an occasional omelette for you, or a nice little savoury made of olives and hard-boiled eggs. I found her unusually receptive, 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 from Sabina Gallagher, because you're determined to sack her. And not from any other cook as long as you pay the perfectly miserable wages you do at present. You can't expect first-rate results when you sweat your employees. That's a well-known maxim in every business, and the sooner you get it into your head the better. You set yourself up here in Ballymoy as a sort of pioneer of every kind of progress. You're the president 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 some sort. Ah! here we are at the hotel. Remind me some time again to finish what I was saying to you. I must find out now what has happened to the judge."

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

"Good morning, Sabina Gallagher," he said. "I hear you did exactly as I 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 his way until he has cooled down a bit, and cook him decent dinners in the meanwhile. I've spoken to him very strongly about you, and I don't think he'll dare to push matters to extremities, although he may grumble a bit. If he catches you, and you find his temper particularly bad, just mention the dog Gelert to him. I told him the story this morning and it produced a great impression on his mind."

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

"If he does," said Meldon, "I'll engage you myself. We'll be wanting a girl as soon as ever we go home, to look after the baby a bit and do the cooking and was.h.i.+ng, 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 that yet, for I don't expect Mr. Doyle will sack you. What I really want to talk 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 must come back for his luggage."

"He will not then. It's not an hour ago since Patsy Flaherty, the same that does be driving the car, came in and said he had orders to take all the luggage there was and the fis.h.i.+ng-rods, and the rest of whatever 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 Ballymoy House."

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

"This," said Meldon, "is perfectly monstrous. I must go and see about it 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'll excuse me, Sabina, if I run away from you. It's absolutely necessary that I should go up to Ballymoy House at once. I'll borrow Mr. Doyle's bicycle again."

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

"I suppose," he said, "that I can have your bicycle again. Affairs have taken a turn which I'm bound to say I did not foresee. I have to get at that judge as soon as possible. He seems to have been ill-treating Miss King. I expected that he'd go for her over that paraffin 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 hardly believe it, Doyle, but he's had the unparalleled insolence to go and quarter 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 exist between 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 at once that the judge must simply have forced himself on Miss King, using, I have no doubt, the most unchivalrous and despicable threats to achieve his end. Considering that he's getting his board and lodging out of her he might very well be prosecuted for blackmail. Just conceive to yourself, Doyle-- But I can't talk about it. Where's the bicycle?"

"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 an old one in the stable belonging to Patsy Flaherty, and you can take that 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 if they want it. There's something I forgot to ask Sabina. I'll go through the kitchen, and meet you by the time you have the machine ready."

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

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

"I'm just going," said Meldon; "but before I start I want to ask you how you managed the boiled egg. I suppose the judge had a boiled egg for 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 told him the truth."

"Then tell it to me."

"I'm not sure will I. The gentleman was terrible upset when he heard it, 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?"