At breakfast the next morning Major Kent spoke to Meldon in a gentle,
rather hopeless tone. It was as if he had no great expectation of his
words producing any effect.
"I suppose," he said, "that nothing I can say will prevent your
thrusting yourself into the company of this judge to-day."
"If you refer," said Meldon, "to my intention of calling civilly on Sir
Gilbert Hawkesby, nothing you say will alter my view that it is a very
proper thing to do, considering that the man is a stranger in the
locality."
"Then I beg of you, J. J., to be careful. Don't say anything insulting
about Miss King. Remember that she's his niece, and he won't like to
hear her abused. Besides, he'll tell her what you say afterwards, and
it would be very painful to her to hear the sort of accusations you've
been bringing against her since she came to Ballymoy."
"Major," said Meldon, "we've been intimate friends for years, and you
ought to know that, whatever else I may be, I'm always a gentleman. Is
it likely I'd go out of my way to insult a helpless woman?"
"You wouldn't mean to, J. J., but you might do it. Your ideas of what
is insulting are so peculiar. Believing the sort of things you do
believe about her, you might say something very offensive without
meaning any harm. Do be careful."
"I shall not allude to her past, if that's what you are thinking of. I
never have alluded to her past to any one but you, except on the one
occasion on which she brought up the subject herself. Nothing could
possibly be in worse taste than to fling that story in the judge's
face."
"I wish," said the Major, "that I could persuade you not to be quite so
cock-sure about what you call her past. You ought to try and realise
that you may possibly be mistaken."
"That," said Meldon, "is practically what Oliver Cromwell said to the
Scotch Presbyterian ministers. It may have been a sound remark from
his point of view, but I'm rather surprised to hear you quoting and
endorsing it. I always thought you were a Conservative."
"I am. But what has that got to do with your theories about--?"
"If you are a Conservative you ought not to be backing up Oliver
Cromwell. He was a revolutionary of an extreme kind. You ought to be
ashamed of giving your adherence to any sentiment of his. You might
just as well propose to cut off the king's head."
"I don't quite see why I'm bound to believe in your infallibility
because I happen to be a Conservative. All I suggested was that you
might possibly be mistaken."
"In putting your suggestion in the way you did," said Meldon, "you
proclaimed yourself a disciple and admirer of Oliver Cromwell. I've no
particular objection to that. I'm not a prejudiced man in political
matters, and Cromwell is a long time dead. If you choose to proclaim
yourself a regicide, I shan't quarrel with you. All I want you to
understand is that you can't have it both ways. No man can quote
Oliver Cromwell with approval and still go on calling himself a
loyalist."
"All the same, you may be mistaken about Miss King."
"I may," said Meldon; "any man may be mistaken, unless he happens to be
a Pope, who of course never is, _ex officio_; but as a matter of fact I
very seldom am, and in this particular case I'm demonstrably right."
"Well, don't air your theory to the judge; that's all I care about."
"Not being a perfect fool, I won't. I have a considerable natural
talent for diplomacy, as I daresay you've observed, and I'm not the
least likely to start off by putting up that judge's back. My game is
to pacify and soothe him in such a way that he will become our active
ally."
"You'll find that difficult after the paraffin oil."
"If necessary," said Meldon, "I shall apologise for the paraffin, but I
scarcely expect it will be necessary. The judge is a sensible man. He
knows that we have to take the rough with the smooth in life. He'll
regard that as a mere incident, a more or less humorous incident."
"He'll be a queer sort of man if he does."
"And now," said Meldon, "I must be off. It's nearly ten o'clock,
thanks to your lazy habit of not breakfasting till after nine.
Fortunately, I've still got Doyle's bicycle. Not that it's at all a
dependable machine. The pedal will probably come off once at least on
my way in. However, at worst, I'll be there by eleven."
The pedal on this occasion held to its place, and Meldon reached
Ballymoy House at a quarter to eleven. The door was opened to him by
Miss King, who had seen him coming up the avenue. She greeted him with
a smile, and, in reply to his enquiry, told him that the judge had gone
up the river.
"I promised," said Miss King, "to send him word if you called. I think
he wants to see you. Won't you come in? I'll send Callaghan to look
for him."
"Thanks," said Meldon. "I think I'll go and look for him myself. I
should rather like the walk, and I might be some use to him in showing
him the pools. I used to fish this river a good deal myself at one
time. By the way, did he say what he wants to see me about?"
"He didn't go into details," said Miss King, "but I rather think he
wants to ask you some questions about--"
"Did he mention the subject of paraffin oil?"
Miss King smiled.
"I'm sorry that's weighing on his mind," said Meldon. "I thought he
might have got over it by this time. However, it won't take long to
explain it. I won't say good-bye, Miss King. I shall probably see you
again this afternoon."
"Won't you come back for luncheon? It will be ready at half-past one."
"No, thanks. I can't. The fact is I'm thinking of dropping in on Mr.
Simpkins about that time. He may be coming up here with me in the
afternoon. He has something he wants to say to you."
"About the fishing?"
"No. The fact is--but I'd better let the poor fellow explain himself.
I'll run off now and hunt about for Sir Gilbert. If he's had any luck
at all this morning he'll have forgotten about the paraffin oil before
I get to him. Good-morning, Miss King. Don't believe all the Major
says about Mr. Simpkins. There's no one I know who's fairer-minded in
a general way than the Major. But in the case of Mr. Simpkins he's
regularly warped, and you ought not to take any notice of what he may
have said."
Sir Gilbert Hawkesby was up to his knees in the river when Meldon came
upon him. He was throwing a fly over a most likely pool and had
already been rewarded by a rise. On the bank lay a remarkably fine
salmon, at least twenty pounds in weight, which he had caught. He was
in a very cheerful mood, and felt kindly towards every one in the world.
"Don't let me interrupt you," said Meldon. "You're at one of the best
spots on the whole river. I'll sit down here and wait till you've
finished."
But the judge, though a very keen fisherman, was evidently more eager
to talk to Meldon than to catch another salmon. He waded ashore at
once and laid down his rod.
"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Meldon," he said. "There are one or
two questions I'd like to ask you."
"I thought there very likely were," said Meldon, "and I need scarcely
say that I'm perfectly ready to answer them, so far as I can with
proper consideration for your peace of mind."
"My peace of mind!"
"Yes. I shan't, of course, say anything which would be liable to upset
you. I know you're here on a holiday, and nothing spoils a holiday so
much as worry of any sort. I have the greatest respect and liking for
you."
"That's what you said when you were telling me that cock-and-bull story
about the drains."
"Doyle's drains are bad," said Meldon. "I hardly exaggerated at all
about that. You ask Simpkins. He wanted-- By the way, have you met
Simpkins yet?"
"No; I haven't. But it isn't about Simpkins I want to talk now."
"That's a pity. I enjoy talking about Simpkins. He's not a bad fellow
at all, though the Major doesn't care for him. But I expect you'll
meet him this afternoon."
"Thanks," said the judge. "I shall be glad of the chance of forming my
own estimate of Simpkins' character. I am sure it will agree with
yours. But to get back to what I was saying about the drains. Would
you mind telling me why you went all the way to Donard to warn me about
the drains?"
"To be perfectly frank--by the way, do you want me to be perfectly
frank?"
"Certainly. Even at the expense of my peace of mind."
"I don't think what I'm going to say now will affect your peace of
mind. The fact is, I thought at that time that it would be better for
you not to come to Ballymoy. I hope you don't mind my saying so. I
need scarcely tell you that it wasn't a personal matter. There's
nothing I should enjoy more than having you here permanently."
"I suppose that the Condy's Fluid and the paraffin oil were--?"
"Means to the same end," said Meldon. "They were kindly meant. If
they caused you any serious inconvenience--"
"They did."
"Then I apologise, frankly and unreservedly. The fact is, I acted
under a complete misapprehension. If I had known then what I know now
I should have welcomed you, and done my best to make your stay here
pleasant. That's what I intend to do now; so if any one annoys you in
the slightest just let me know, and I'll put a stop to the performance
at once."
"Thanks; and now perhaps, as we've gone so far, you'll satisfy my
curiosity a little further by explaining why you object to my presence
here."
"I don't object to it in the least. I did once, as I said; but I don't
now."
"What has happened to change your views?"
"Now that is a question I can hardly answer without going into some
very private and delicate matters which I am sure you would not care to
discuss. It wouldn't be pleasant for you if I talked about them.
You'd be sorry afterwards."
"Would my peace of mind be affected?"
"Seriously. That's the reason I won't go into the matter."
"All the same," said the judge, "I think I'll hazard a guess about it.
Are these mysterious affairs you allude to in any way connected with
Miss King?"
"I see," said Meldon, "that you've been talking it all over with her,
and that's she given you a hint, so I need say no more."
"Miss King's only idea," said the judge, "is that you think I'm likely
to make myself objectionable in some way about the fishing. It appears
that there has been a dispute--"
"That miserable business between Simpkins and the Major. I know all
about that, and I may say at once that it had nothing whatever to do
with my attempt to keep you out of Ballymoy."
"I thought not. I merely mentioned it to show you that my niece is
quite in the dark about your real reason, and that I got no hint from
her."
"She may not be quite as much in the dark," said Meldon, "as she
pretends when she's talking to you. The subject would naturally be an
awkward one for her to discuss. It's awkward enough for us. I think
we'd better drop it at once."
"I suppose," said the judge boldly, "that your friend thought he'd have
a better chance if I were not here to interfere with him."
"I don't like that way of putting the case," said Meldon. "Why not say
that Miss King would have had a better chance?"
"Considering that Miss King is my niece," said the judge, "you will
understand that I rather object to your way of putting it. It's
scarcely respectful to her. Whatever the facts may be in any
particular case, there's a well-established convention in these
matters. We don't, any of us, talk as if it were the lady who is, so
to speak, the aggressor."
"I see your point, though in this particular case I can't help
feeling-- But why should we go on? It's far better to drop the
subject."
"But I don't see yet why you first of all wanted to keep me out of
Ballymoy, and then suddenly changed your mind. What happened in the
interval?"
"If you're quite determined to thrash the matter out," said Meldon,
"the best way will be to get at the main point at once. Everything
will come easier to us after we have that settled. Have you any
objection to our proposal?"
"What proposal?"
"Come now. I know that it's quite the correct thing for judges to ask
ridiculous and silly questions, affecting not to know what everybody in
the world knows quite well. There was one the other day--I don't think
it was you--who inquired quite solemnly what a 'bike' was; and I
recollect another--it was in a horse-racing case--who pretended not to
know the meaning of the phrase 'two to one on.' I don't profess to
understand why you all do that kind of thing, but I'm willing to
suppose that there's some good reason for it. I daresay it's what's
called a legal fiction, and is an essential part of the machinery by
which justice is administered. If so, it's all right in its proper
place; but what on earth is the good of keeping it up out of court?
Sitting here on the bank of a west of Ireland river, with a large
salmon lying dead at our feet, it really is rather absurd to ask me
what proposal."
"I merely wanted," said the judge, "to make quite sure--"
"You were quite sure. You couldn't have had the slightest doubt in
your mind. You yourself began the discussion about Miss King's chances
of marrying--"
"I said your friend's chances of marrying Miss King."
"It doesn't in the least matter which you said. The point just now is
that you knew perfectly well what I meant when I spoke of the proposal
at present under discussion."
"Has he proposed yet?"
"No, but he will this afternoon; and what I want to get at is whether
you're going to put a stop to the marriage or not."
"I, really-- Miss King is, I think, quite able to manage her own
affairs; and I shouldn't in any case care to interfere, beyond offering
advice in case your friend should turn out to be an obviously
unsuitable person."
"That's all right. I can't expect you to say more than that. I knew
all along that you didn't want to have the thing put to you at the
point of the bayonet. You'll recollect that I had no wish to force it
on you."
"You mustn't suppose," said the judge, "that I'm in any way committed
to a definite support--"
"Certainly not," said Meldon. "A man in your position couldn't. I
thoroughly understand that. And I hope you don't think that I've been
in any way disrespectful to you. I didn't mean to be. I have the
highest possible regard for all judges, and what I said just now about
legal fictions was simply meant to avoid prolonging a discussion which
can't have been pleasant for you. And after all, you know, it was
rather absurd your trying to come the judge over me, considering what
we were talking about. You wouldn't have done it, I'm sure, if you'd
stopped for a moment to consider the peculiar and rather delicate
circumstances under which we are carrying on this negotiation. I
expect the habit of talking in that judicial way was too strong for
you. You forgot for the moment what it was we were speaking about, and
thought it was some ordinary law case. The force of habit is a
wonderful thing. Have you ever noticed--"
"So far as I have been able to discover up to the present," said the
judge, "you are greatly interested in bringing about a marriage between
your friend and my niece."
"Interested is a dubious sort of word to use, and I don't like it. Let
us be quite clear about what we mean. In one sense I am interested; in
another sense I am entirely disinterested--which is the exact opposite.
You catch my point, don't you? It is a very instructive thing to
reflect on the curious ambiguity of words. But I am sure you can tell
me more about that than I can possibly tell you. With your legal
experience you must have come across scores of instances of the
extraordinarily deceptive nature of words."
"You thought apparently that I should be likely to object to the
marriage, and therefore you tried to keep me out of Ballymoy, using
means which might be described as unscrupulous."
"I've already apologised for the paraffin oil," said Meldon. "A full
and ample apology, such as I have offered, is generally considered to
close an incident of that kind. In the old duelling days, when men
used to go out at early dawn to shoot at each other with pistols, the
one who had shied the wine glass at the other the night before often
used to apologise; and when he did the pistols were put up into their
case, and both parties went back comfortably to breakfast. I've often
wondered that men of your profession--judges, I mean--didn't do
something effective to put a stop to duelling. It was always against
the law, and yet we had to wait for the slow growth of public opinion--"
"Then," said the judge, "you changed your mind, and came to the
conclusion that my presence here wasn't likely to interfere with your
friend's plans. Now will you tell me why--"
"I've made three distinct and separate efforts," said Meldon, "to
change the subject of conversation. I tried to start you off on
habits, a subject on which almost every man living can talk more or
less. I thought you'd have taken that opportunity of telling the story
about the horse which always stopped at the door of a certain public
house, even after the temperance reformer had bought him. I'm sure
you'd have liked to tell that story. Everybody does."
"I don't.".
"So it appears. You're an exceptional man. Recognising that, I
started the subject of words, which is more philosophical. You might
quite easily have got off on the degradation of the English language
owing to the spread of slang. Then we could have spent an agreeable
half-hour."
"But I didn't want to talk about words. I--"
"I saw that; so I gave you another chance. Starting on the annals of
your profession, I proposed a question to you which ought to have
aroused in you a desire to defend the public utility of the great legal
luminaries of the past. I practically denied that judges are any good
at all. Instead of showing me, as you very easily might have, that it
was the judges who created the public opinion which put a stop to
duelling, and not public opinion which goaded the judges on to hang the
duellists, you--"
"I wanted to know, and I still want to know, why you changed your mind."
"If you can't think that out for yourself," said Meldon, "I'm not going
to do it for you. A man like you ought to be able to follow a
perfectly simple line of thought like that. If you can't see the plain
and obvious mental process which led to my change of opinion, I don't
see how you can expect to track the obscure workings of the criminal
mind. The criminal, as of course you know, is always more or less
demented, and consequently doesn't reason in the obvious and
straightforward way in which I do. His mentality--"
"I suppose you're changing the conversation again," said the judge.
"I'm trying to; but it doesn't seem to be much use."
"I'll talk to you on any subject you choose to select with pleasure,"
said the judge, "if you'll tell me what it was that led to your change
of mind about my probable action in this matter of your friend's
proposal to marry my niece."
"There's just one fact which I haven't mentioned. You ought to have;
you perfectly well might have guessed it. But as you haven't, I'll
tell it to you. When I first heard of your coming to Ballymoy, I
didn't know that you were Miss King's uncle. I only found that out
yesterday."
"That makes things worse than ever," said the judge. "I was beginning
dimly to understand some of your actions before you told me that. Now
I'm utterly and completely at sea. Why you should have tried to stop
me coming to Ballymoy if you didn't know I was Miss King's uncle is
beyond me altogether."
"I really can't go into that," said Meldon. "You must understand it
perfectly well, and in any case I'm bound to respect Miss King's
confidence. I can't possibly repeat to you things she has said to me
in a strictly private way."
"Of course if my niece--but that puzzles me even more. She hasn't said
a word to me about any private understanding with you."
"She wouldn't," said Meldon, "and I daresay I ought not to have
mentioned that such a thing exists. However, in the end, of course,
you'll know all about it."
"In the end?"
"Yes. After the marriage. Shortly after."
"If she really is to be married," said the judge, "I wish she'd hurry
up about it. I hate these mysteries."
"You can't hate them more than I do," said Meldon, "and you can rely
upon me to bring things to their crisis, their preliminary crisis--the
actual marriage can't take place for a fortnight--as soon as possible."
"Do. By the preliminary crisis I suppose you mean the engagement."
"Certainly. I shall use every effort to bring that off this afternoon.
Now that I know you're as keen on it as I am myself, I think I may
pledge you my word that it will come off this afternoon. But, if so, I
must leave you now. Good-bye."