The Simpkins Plot Part 35

"It's what I didn't think Sabina would do, for she was always a quiet, decent girl, with no harm in her."

"Don't run away with the idea that Sabina has done anything wrong,"

said Meldon, "for she hasn't. I can't stop here to explain the whole circ.u.mstances to you, for I have other things to do, and in any case you wouldn't be able to understand. But I would like to fix this fact firmly in your mind: Sabina is in no way to blame."

"Is there any fear now," said Callaghan, "that she might be took by the police?"

"Not the slightest."

"Him being a judge and all?"

"That doesn't make the least difference. If Sabina had poisoned anybody--she hasn't, but if she had--or even if she'd tried to, she'd be had up for it whether her victim was a judge or a corner boy. It's worse, I believe, if you poison the king; but short of that it's the same thing exactly. The law doesn't set a bit more value on a judge's life than on any one else's, and Sir Gilbert Hawkesby would be the first man to tell you that. You can ask him if you like. But the point isn't really of any importance, because, as I said before, Sabina has neither poisoned nor tried to poison anybody. She has simply done her duty."

CHAPTER XIX.

"On the whole," said Meldon, "things are turning out better than I expected. They developed in a way that at first a little surprised me.

In fact, for an hour or two I was rattled, and hardly knew what to say or do; but on thinking the whole affair over quietly, after an interview I had with Callaghan, I have every reason to feel fairly well satisfied."

He and Major Kent sat together at afternoon tea on the verandah of Portsmouth Lodge. The Major was evidently nervous and uncomfortable.

The teaspoon tinkled in the saucer as he handed a cup to his friend, and he forgot to help himself to a lump of sugar.

"I took Doyle quite the right way," said Meldon, "and I don't think he'll sack Sabina. I should have been sorry if Sabina had got into serious trouble--"

"What about the judge?" said the Major.

"I'm talking about Sabina Gallagher at present, I'll come to the judge later on. As a matter of fact he's perfectly well able to look after himself. Sabina isn't, and it is my practice--it ought to be yours, Major, but of course it isn't--it is my practice to look after the poor and helpless, especially when they happen to be women, before I do anything for those who are rich and powerful. You, I regret to say, go upon a different plan. Because Sabina happens to be a friendless servant, with no one to take her part, you don't care a pin what happens to her. You are interested only in this judge, who is well off and has the whole force of the British const.i.tution at his back if any one attempts to do him any harm."

The Major accepted the rebuke meekly.

"I only meant," he said, "that I'd like to hear about the judge now I know that Sabina is all right. And after all, J. J., the British const.i.tution isn't much use to a man when you are set on ragging him."

"Of course not," said Meldon. "In fact, the British const.i.tution is a greatly over-rated thing. It didn't save poor Lorimer from his untimely end. It wouldn't save this judge if I had determined to make him miserable. It won't save Simpkins when his time comes. However, as things turn out, I don't want to harry the judge. There's no particular point in it. I don't much mind now even if he goes back to Doyle's hotel."

"He really left then?"

"Yes. Doyle was rather upset about it. It's a serious loss to him, and I'm sorry it occurred, for it turns out now that it was quite unnecessary. I couldn't possibly be expected to guess; but, as a matter of fact, I needn't have worried about that judge at all. He won't do us any harm. In fact, I expect he'll turn out to be a most valuable ally. I shall see him to-morrow and try to enlist his sympathies for our Simpkins plot. I expect he'll simply jump at it."

"I thought you said he'd gone."

"He has gone from the hotel, but not from Ballymoy. He's at present staying with his niece."

"I didn't know he had a niece."

"Miss King, or, to be quite accurate, Mrs. Lorimer, is his niece, and he's staying with her."

Major Kent started and laid down his teacup. Then a look of relief came into his face, and he smiled.

"You'll give up that absurd theory of yours now, I suppose," he said, "and admit that Miss King isn't a murderess. I always knew she wasn't, though I couldn't convince you."

"I don't see," said Meldon, "that anything has happened to invalidate the evidence on which we originally concluded that Miss King is Mrs.

Lorimer."

"Don't be an a.s.s, J. J. You say she's the judge's niece; so of course she can't--"

"You apparently think," said Meldon, "that a judge's niece, merely because her uncle happens to occupy a position of legal eminence, couldn't possibly commit a crime. You're entirely wrong. Some of the greatest women criminals the world has ever seen have been the nieces of men of high position. Look at Lucrezia Borgia, for instance. Her uncle was a Pope; and whatever our religious opinions may be we must admit that a Pope is a bigger man than an ordinary judge, and yet Lucrezia is famous for some of the most remarkable crimes in all history. I could quote other instances, but that one ought to be sufficient to convince you that relationship to a judge is no safeguard--"

"That wasn't what I meant, J. J. You say that this judge tried Mrs.

Lorimer. Now if--"

"Do you mean to suggest," said Meldon, "that a judge wouldn't try his own niece for murder?"

"Of course he wouldn't. How could he?"

"You're entirely wrong," said Meldon. "As a matter of fact any right-minded and really upright judge, such as we have every reason to suppose this Sir Gilbert Hawkesby is, would take a special pride in trying his own niece. He'd like to hang her if he could, always supposing that he felt sure that she was guilty. If there's one thing judges are more determined about than another it's their independence of all considerations of private friendship in the discharge of their duties. There are several recorded instances of judges hanging their own sons. The expression, 'A Roman father,' arises, as well as I recollect, from an incident of the sort, and the men who have done that kind of thing have always been regarded as the brightest examples of incorruptibility. Every lawyer is brought up in the tradition that he can't do a finer action, if he becomes a judge--and they all expect to become judges in the end--than to hang a relative of his own. Sir Gilbert saw his opportunity when Miss King was brought up before him, and the moment he became convinced of her guilt he summed up against her in the most determined way."

"You may talk as you like, J. J., but no judge would do it."

"You have evidently a very low opinion of judges," said Meldon. "So has Doyle. He thinks that they are all influenced by political prejudices, and are ready to condemn a man who belongs to any League, without waiting to find out whether he has committed a crime or not.

That's bad enough; but what you charge them with is infinitely worse.

You say that they are habitually guilty of nepotism--that is to say of partiality to their own nieces, which is one of the worst crimes there is in a judge, as bad as simony would be in a bishop."

"I don't say anything of the sort. I say--"

"Either you say that Miss King isn't his niece or you say that he wouldn't try her for murder. You must be saying one or the other, though you don't express yourself very distinctly, because there's nothing else you could say."

"I don't, of course, agree with you," said the Major, after a pause.

"In fact, I think you're talking downright nonsense, but I'm not going to argue with you. I'm--"

"I wish you'd always take up that att.i.tude," said Meldon. "Your arguments waste a lot of time."

"I'm just going to ask you one question. Supposing Miss King is Mrs.

Lorimer--"

"She is. There's no supposition about it."

"And supposing the judge tried her as you say--"

"That's in all the papers. There's no use attempting to deny that, whatever else you deny."

"And supposing she's his niece--"

"Callaghan says the cook told him she was," said Meldon, "and it appears that she kissed him when they met, which she'd hardly have done if they weren't relations."

"Then," said the Major triumphantly, "how can you account for his going to stay with her as if she hadn't done anything wrong?"

"I don't quite catch your point, Major."