The Simpkins Plot | Page 5

was quite prepared
to study Mr. Meldon as a type, but she saw no reason why Mr. Meldon
should study her. He appeared to be filled with an ill-bred curiosity
which she determined not to satisfy.
Meldon did not seem to resent her silence in the least. He leaned back
in his seat and unfolded one of the papers he had snatched from the
bookstall. It was a London evening paper of the day before, and
contained a full account of the last scene of a sensational trial which
had occupied the attention of the public for some time. A Mrs. Lorimer
was charged with the murder of her husband. Her methods, if she had
done the deed, were cold-blooded and abominable; but she was a young
and good-looking woman, and the public was very anxious that she
should be acquitted. The judge, Sir Gilbert Hawkesby, summed up very
strongly against her; but the jury, after a prolonged absence from court,
found her "not guilty." The paper published a portrait of Mrs. Lorimer,
at which Meldon glanced. Suddenly his face assumed an expression of
great interest. He studied the portrait carefully, and then looked at Miss
King. She sat at the other end of the carriage, and he saw her face in
profile as she bent over her papers. Mrs. Lorimer's side face was
represented in the picture; and she, too, was bending over something.
Meldon laid down the paper and took up another, this time an Irish
morning paper. It contained an interview with Mrs. Lorimer, secured by
an enterprising reporter after the trial. Meldon read this, and then turned
to the magazine page and studied the picture of the lady which
appeared there. In it Mrs. Lorimer wore a hat, and it was again her side
face which was represented. Meldon looked from it to Miss King. The

likeness was quite unmistakable. He took up a third paper, a profusely
illustrated penny daily. He found, as he expected, a picture of Mrs.
Lorimer. This was a full-length portrait, but the face came out clearly.
Meldon took up the Irish paper again, and re-read very carefully the
interview with the reporter on the evening of the trial. Then he folded
up all three papers and leaned over towards Miss King.
"You must excuse me," he said, "if I didn't recognise you just now. You
put me out by giving your name as Miss King. I'm much more familiar
with your other name. Everybody is, you know."
Miss King was mollified by the apology. She looked up from her
papers and smiled.
"How did you find me out?" she asked.
"By your picture in the papers," he said. "If you'll allow me to say so,
it's a particularly good likeness and well reproduced. Of course, in your
case, they'd take particular care not to print the usual kind of smudge."
Miss King was strongly inclined to ask for the papers. Her portrait had,
she knew, appeared in the Illustrated London News and in two literary
journals. She did not know that it had been reproduced in the daily
press. The news excited and pleased her greatly. She had a short
struggle with herself, in which self-respect triumphed. She did not ask
for the papers, but assumed an air of bored indifference.
"They're always publishing my photograph," she said. "I can't imagine
why they do it."
"I quite understand now," said Meldon, "why you're going down to
Ballymoy. You couldn't go to a better place for privacy and quiet;
complete quiet. I'm sure you want it."
"Yes," said Miss King. "I feel that I do. Now that you know who I am,
you will understand. I chose Ballymoy because it seemed so very
remote from everywhere."

She did not think it necessary to mention that she wanted to study the
Irish character. Now that Meldon was talking in an interesting way she
felt inclined to encourage him to reveal himself.
"Quite right. It is. I don't know a remoter place. Nobody will know you
there, and if anybody guesses, I'll make it my business to put them off
the scent at once. But there'll be no necessity for that. There isn't a man
in the place will connect Miss King with the other lady. All the same, I
don't think I'd stop too long at Doyle's hotel if I were you. Doyle is
frightfully curious about people."
"I'm not stopping there," said Miss King. "I have taken a house."
"What house? I know Ballymoy pretty well, and there isn't a house in it
you could take furnished, except the place that belonged to old Sir
Giles Buckley."
"I've taken that for two months," said Miss King.
Meldon whistled softly. He was surprised. Ballymoy House, even if let
at a low rent, is an