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However, English or Irish, the mere fact of his being a judge doesn't prove that he's a man of what I call real eminence. I don't think the Major will let you have his best car cushions for some sleepy old gentleman who sits on a bench and makes silly jokes. There are lots of judges knocking about that rat-eaten car cushions would be too good for. What's your man's name?" "Hawkesby," said Doyle.
The judge must have imposed himself on Miss King, and induced her to receive him by means of threats. Such things have, no doubt, been done occasionally; though rarely by judges. People, especially women with doubtful pasts, are always open to threats of exposure, and may be induced to submit to blackmail. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby was evidently Meldon had ample evidence of this determined to fish.
"If you refer to yourself as a poor man," said Meldon, "you're simply telling a lie. You're rich, nobody knows how rich, but rich enough to buy up every other man in the town of Ballymoy." "And if I was itself, is that any reason why them that would be staying in my hotel should be hunted out of it?" "Are you talking about Sir Gilbert Hawkesby?" "I am," said Doyle.
But if you'd rather gorge down your food like a wild beast in a cavern without the civilising accompaniment of intellectual conversation, you can. I shan't mind. I may perhaps say, however, that everybody doesn't share your tastes. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby welcomed what I had to say about Milton at lunch to-day, and showed that he'd not only read 'Samson Agonistes, but "
Can you possibly have forgotten that Sir Gilbert Hawkesby was the judge who tried Mrs. Lorimer for the murder of her husband?" "Oh!" said the Major, "I had forgotten. I never took the same interest in that case that you did, J.J." "Well, he was. He was the very judge who summed up so strongly against the poor woman.
"The cushions in themselves are nothing, and less than nothing, but did you hear who he wants them for?" "Some judge or other, wasn't it? Salmon fishing." "Some judge! What judge?" "Did he mention his name? If he did I have forgotten it." "He did mention it," said Meldon. "It was Hawkesby Sir Gilbert Hawkesby.
You see she doesn't know that I've told you who she really is. She probably distrusts you as a magistrate. After the brutal way in which Sir Gilbert Hawkesby summed up against her, she would naturally be a bit shy of any one occupying any sort of judicial position. Of course if she knew that you were keenly interested in the death of Simpkins it would have been different.
They would perhaps have suspected him of obstinacy, the obstinacy of the inveterate prejudice of the country gentleman. They would not, unless they knew him, have given him credit for being a man of wide reading, and a judgment in literary matters as sound as his decisions in court. Sir Gilbert had spent nearly a week in the Bournemouth villa which he had taken for Lady Hawkesby.
She took it and the fishing attached to it; having bargained with her uncle, Sir Gilbert Hawkesby, that she was to be relieved of the duty of catching salmon, and that he should pay a considerable part of the heavy rent demanded by the local agent. These are a few things better managed in Ireland than in England, and one of them is the starting of important railway trains.
Beside her was a table littered with tea things. At her feet, on a rug, sat Major Kent, in an awkward attitude, with a peculiarly silly look on his face. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby sat upright, at a little distance, in another chair. He appeared to be delivering some kind of an address to Miss King and Major Kent. "This," said Meldon, "is awkward, uncommonly awkward.
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