ir Gilbert Hawkesby out of Ballymoy, he will
believe me at once and act in a sensible way."

"What do you mean to do to the judge when you catch him?"

"I don't mean to _do_ anything. I suppose you have some wild idea in
your head--"

"No ideas could be wilder than yours are, J. J."

"Some wild idea of my maiming the old gentleman, or bribing a man to
kidnap him, or sending him a bogus telegram to say that his wife is
dying. As a matter of fact, I'm going to do nothing except tell him
the simple truth."

"I don't believe you could do that, J. J. You've never had any
practice since I knew you."

"If you think that you will get me to reveal the details of my plan by
taunting me you're greatly mistaken. I can stand any amount of insults
without turning a hair. A man who is in the right, and conscious of
his own integrity--you recollect what the Latin poet says about that--"

"No. I don't. You know I don't read Latin poets, so what's the good
of quoting bits of them to me?"

"Very well. I won't. But I won't tell you my plan either. I'll say
no more than this: what the judge will hear from my lips to-morrow will
be the simple truth, the truth as Simpkins or any other unprejudiced
observer would tell it. But the truth in this particular case is of
such a land that I should be greatly surprised if he doesn't turn
straight round and go home again."

"Are you going to tell him that Mrs. Lorimer is here? Not that that is
the truth, but I'm really beginning to think you believe it is."

"No. I'm not going to tell him that. When I said I was going to tell
the truth, I didn't mean that I was going to sit down opposite that
judge and tell him all the truth I know about everything. It would
take days and days to do that, and he wouldn't sit it out. No, I'm
going to tell him one solid lump of truth which he will listen to--a
truth that O'Donoghue will back up; that you'd back up yourself if you
were there; that even Doyle would be forced to stand over if he was put
into a witness box on his oath. But I can't spend the whole day
explaining things to you. I must go in and hustle Simpkins a bit.
There's no reason in the world that I can see why he shouldn't go up to
Ballymoy House and propose this afternoon. Then I must see O'Donoghue
and make arrangements about to-morrow. I shall also, thanks to your
churlishness, have to borrow a bicycle for myself. Then I must look up
that doddering old ass Callaghan, a