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Updated: June 19, 2025
Southward the eye took in the noble range of the Mourne mountains, running from east to west, from where, at Newcastle, the Irish sea comes to kiss the foot of the lofty Slieve Donard, towering in majesty over all his fellows rugged sentinels of the hills and vales of Down.
What I originally undertook to do was to remove Simpkins from Ballymoy. In that I have been entirely successful. He can't, simply can't, spend another week in the place. I mentioned to Doyle this morning that Simpkins intended to marry Miss King. Doyle evidently told several other people, for half the town was out to cheer us as we passed through on our way from Donard.
"Won't they make you?" said Miss King. She realised that she had found an unexpectedly early opportunity of studying the peculiarities of the Irish character, and determined to make the most of it. "Certainly not," said the clergyman. "The position is this. I have a through ticket I bought it yesterday which entitles me to travel on this railway to Donard.
Except the day when he went to meet you at Donard he has never missed paying me a visit." "About four o'clock, I suppose, is his regular hour?" "He has no regular hour," said Miss King. "He's quite unconventional. He may drop in for breakfast, or he may turn up suddenly while we're dressing for dinner." "I hope he'll do one or the other. I don't want to sit waiting for him all day.
It was his first visit to the part of Ireland he was travelling through, and he looked with keen interest at the bogs, the scattered cottages, the lean cattle, scanty pasture lands, potato fields, patches of oats, and squalid towns. At Donard Station, which is the terminus of this branch of the railway, and the nearest station to Ballymoy, he got out.
"As a matter of fact," said the Major, "I've seen her three times." "Twice." "No; three times. The third time " He paused. "Well?" "I spent the afternoon with her to-day," said the Major sheepishly, "while you were at Donard with the judge." "I don't wonder," said Meldon, "that you're ashamed of yourself. I begin to see now why Simpkins has behaved in the extraordinary way he has.
"I have had," said Meldon, "a long and particularly exhausting kind of day. I didn't get much lunch with the judge at Donard, and although I had a cup of tea with Sabina Gallagher at the hotel, I had so much to say to her that I didn't eat much. I hope dinner's ready." "Dinner," growled the Major, "has been ready for more than an hour." "Good," said Meldon. "I'm certainly ready for it. Come on."
"To-morrow," said Doyle; "to-morrow afternoon, and I told Sabina to kill a chicken to-day, for it's likely he'll be wanting a bit of dinner after the drive over from Donard. I thought if he had a chicken and a bit of boiled bacon, with a custard pudding after that " "Go into the coach-house at once," said Meldon, "and take any cushions you want. I can't talk any more to you this morning.
The Rickmers outside, Rhondda in the middle berth, and the neat little Slieve Donard inshore. At the start the Rhonddas came fair away from the German boat, but even at the distance we could see that the "Dutchmen" were well in hand. At midway the Rhondda was leading by a length, still going strong, but they had shot their bolt, and the green boat was surely pulling up.
Therefore Simpkins must have gone to play at some sort of club." "Unless it would be at Donard," said Doyle, "I don't know where there'd be a thing of the kind." "Right," said Meldon. "And, as a matter of fact, there is a club at Donard. I know that, because I was once invited to play there in a tournament. I think we may feel tolerably certain that Simpkins is there. Let me see now.
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