THE SCARECROW RIDES (25 page)

“Come along, then, both of you.” And the doctor led the way to the
vicarage.

From a corner cupboard in his study the vicar produced glasses and a
bottle.

“Draw up a chair, Mr. Merry, and dry yourself by the fire,” he said
cheerily. “Oh, and please take off your heavy coat.”

“I'll keep it on,” replied Merry.

“No. No, indeed, you shall do nothing of the sort. It is wet.”

Having poured out three glasses of neat brandy, Dr. Syn, who had
thrown off his own top-coat, crossed to Merry and politely but firmly
drew off his sullen guest's wrap-rascal.

“There, this can be drying while you drink,” he said, placing it
over the back of a high chair close to the fire. “Pick up your glasses
and drink.”

Both men did not need a second invitation, for they were wet to the
bone. Mipps, with a 'best respects' swallowed his cheerfully at a
draught, while Merry, with a grunt, drank his slowly.

His drink, however, was doomed to be interrupted, for suddenly
seeing that Dr. Syn's hand was deep in the pocket of the drying coat,
Merry slammed his glass down on the table, and with an oath took a step
towards the vicar.

His threatening attitude was arrested by the vicar whipping from the
pocket he was searching an ugly sharp knife.

“A very formidable weapon, Mr. Merry, as I live,” remarked the
vicar. “Mr. Mipps, I take it that a carpenter can always find service
for a good blade. Put this amongst your tools.”

“You leave it where it is,” exploded Merry. “I bought it. What right
have you to rob me of it?”

“The right of a good citizen in defending the next wreck on
Dymchurch Wall, my friend,” replied Dr. Syn. “You were told distinctly
enough that you were not to provide yourself with a weapon when I
robbed you of the knife that committed murder. Oh, you need not start
like that. I'll be honest with you. Mr. Mipps knows all about Captain
Ransom's death. You see, he is my confidential servant is Mr. Mipps—”

“That's right,” nodded the gratified Mipps, as Syn filled his glass.

“And,” continued the vicar, replenishing Merry's glass, “I thought
it best that in case of any accident happening to me, that you should
not be free to laugh at your deliverance from the murder charge. Now,
what is it you have to say?”

“Why,” replied Merry firmly, as the brandy gave him courage, “I have
broken three of your high-handed orders. First, I have approached Meg
Clouder—yes, and with an offer of marriage. What though she refuses,
she won't always. She's lonely, and a woman only has to be besieged
long enough. Secondly, I have carried that knife for my own protection,
and I tell you there's reasons enough for me being on my guard against
a good number of these Dymchurch hypocrites, and lastly, I've disobeyed
you again to-night. Do you guess how?”

“Of course I do,” said Syn with a tolerant smile. “You left your
post at Josiah Wraight's, as I knew you would, and you saw me take
these from the figure-head, and put them in my pocket. I wanted you to
see me do it. That's why I took you along.”

“Why did you want me to see?” asked Merry. “I can bring an
unpleasant charge against you if I have any more of your high-handed
nonsense.”

This threat the vicar ignored and contented himself with answering
the question. “I told you that you deserved a punishment. Do you know
anything about pearls? I suppose not.” He took the string of pearls
from his coat pocket. “Well, let me assure you that these are so god
that they could be sold in London for several thousands of pounds. I
wanted you to realise that had you murdered me as well as the captain
you would have got away with these as well as my sea-chest full of
gold, not to mention the little matter of the captain's money belt. You
managed the business very badly that night.”

“I wouldn't have known that there was pearls inside that
figure-head,” argued Merry.

“Oh yes, you would, for their hiding place was revealed in the
captain's log-book which you threw aside as useless.”

“Very well then, I am no longer your slave to be ordered about just
as pleases you,” returned Merry. “Accuse me of murder, if you like, and
you'll not be a very creditable witness. They'll want to know why you
kept your mouth shut so long about it, and when I tell them about the
pearls, there will be your motive, especially when I say that I saw you
kill the captain, and have kept my mouth shut out of charity. Mind you,
I'm not above coming to terms. Every man for himself in this world.
Give me the pearls and we'll say no more about it.”

“Give
you
the captain's pearls?” repeated the doctor in
amazement. “Now, why ever should I do that?”

“Because I want them,” replied Merry promptly. “I don't know so much
as a practised thief like yourself about pearls, but I can see they're
good, and I'll take your word for it as to their worth. I want Meg
Clouder, and it seems to me that any woman would marry the devil
himself if he dangled a gift like that in his wooing. So hand 'em over,
Mister Parson Thief.”

“I take it you can read, Mr. Merry?” asked the vicar pleasantly.

“Oh, I can read and write too, as you'll find if you force me to
send a statement to the authorities,” said Merry.

“Very well then. Read this. No. I cannot allow you to touch it. The
documentary evidence is too valuable to be destroyed and I must show it
to the squire before I present these pearls to his daughter. It is her
twenty-first birthday to-morrow, Mr. Merry, and I am quite sure that
the captain you murdered would approve of my bestowing his legacy to me
in that direction. Perhaps I will read it for you.”

And removing the book from the table on which he had placed it, Dr.
Syn read to Merry and the delighted Mipps every word of Mervin Ransom's
pathetic testament.

“And now, Mr. Merry, that you can see I am no thief except perhaps
in the matter of robbing you of your knife, which I should advise you
to keep to yourself, I further recommend one more glass of brandy and
then home to bed.” Saying which, he refilled all glasses and pronounced
the toast: “To our mutual understanding in the future.”

Whereupon Merry was handed his coat and dismissed, while the
favoured sexton was detained to drink another glass.

“You have clipped a vulture's wings to-night, Vicar,” chuckled
Mipps.

“I believe so,” replied Dr. Syn, “but there is one thing that
worries me, and I venture to suspect that the unmitigated rogue who has
just left us will do what he can to increase that worry.”

“What is the worry, sir?”

“I am worried about many good people for whom I have a great
affection,” replied the vicar, “and I worry because they are living in
a neighbourhood in which stable doors are, upon occasion, left open at
nights. Keep your eyes open, Mr. Mipps, and let me know what is going
on. Perhaps you know something already. Come, sit down here before the
fire, light that old pipe of yours and let us hear.”

Mr. Mipps looked exceedingly down in the mouth at this suggestion,
which was strange, for as a rule there was nothing he enjoyed more than
sitting up late with the vicar and, in his company, chuckling about old
times. Besides, Dr. Syn's liquor was very choice.

“You hesitate, my good fellow,” exclaimed the vicar. “Is it possible
that you have no wish to discuss the question of smuggling with your
old friend?”

Mipps put on a quizzical look and scratched his head. “You see, sir,
we can discuss it any of these nights and perhaps get no further. But
to-night now, we have seen the stable doors open, and perhaps that
means that something of the kind is actually afoot. Let me get out and
about then without any more delay, and to-morrow, no doubt, I'll have a
good deal of information to tell you.”

Dr. Syn seemed to think this a happy notion and dismissed his sexton
with one more drink.

Mr. Mipps repaired as fast as his legs would carry him to the
parlour of the 'Ship Inn', where he was welcomed by Mrs. Waggetts and
the company.

Seeing that Merry was drinking by himself in a far corner, Mipps
approached him and in a tone low enough to ensure not being overheard
said: “The vicar told me to find you out. He says: 'You tell Merry from
me,' he says, 'to forget about them stable doors.' And if ever a
Dymchurch lad gets put in the dock for assisting with a keg or two
through information laid by you, he says: 'You tell him from me that
he'll be put in the dock at the next Assizes,' he says, 'for bloody
murder. Aye, bloody murder,' he says, so don't forget it, and I'll send
you over a brandy to help you to remember.”

All of which, though not the truth, seemed to Mipps to meet the case
when leading with a scoundrel like Merry, for since the Dragoons were
known to be up in the hills scouring after Grinsley, the ingenious
little sexton had seen a wonderful opportunity for a safe 'run' upon
the Marsh, and as the usual signals had been passed a fully-loaded
lugger was already lying outside the bay waiting for the final signal
to put in for a landing.

But Mipps, having laid all his plans, saw that not a whisper went
round the 'Ship' parlour of the intended 'run', for the Preventive man
might have set Merry to get information. So he went from group to
group, keeping the conversation to the topic of the murder. Where
was
Grinsley? What had become of his horse?

“I'll lay a guinea he's still on Aldington Fright,” he said. “For
all the burning and the beating they give it, he knows that wild common
and the soldiers don't. Besides, ain't he well mounted? Well, it don't
take a man like him much navigation to steer clear of a few lumbering
Dragoons. I'd like to see him caught though, for getting the district a
bad name.”

When he had finished with the 'Ship', he repaired to 'The City of
London', following the same policy of discussing the Grinsley affair,
and he then repeated the same at the 'Ocean Inn', for outside this
tavern on the bank of the great sluice the rendezvous had been fixed.

For some minutes after Mipps had left the vicarage, Dr. Syn thought
of the open stable doors and was worried. It would be a lamentable
thing, he told himself, were any of the Dymchurch men to be involved in
smuggling with the Dragoons in the neighbourhood. Suppose the offence
were too flagrant for the squire in his capacity as magistrate to hush
up? Well, Mipps would gain information, no doubt. Suppose Mipps were
implicated himself? It would be quite in his nature to dabble in such
adventures. A leopard cannot change his spots. Yes, the vicar was
worried about those stable doors. Who were these smugglers? No doubt,
he knew a number of them personally. Of course he did, and his heart
warmed towards them at the thought of those white crosses. They had
more affection for him than for the squire. The little white pony had
been excused. And yet the little fellow would have been useful. It was
perfectly fit, and could carry tubs with the best. Its white colour
would not matter to the smugglers, for one morning Sennacharib Pepper's
light grey mare had been found in his stable bedaubed with black paint
to make her the more invisible. No, he was favoured by the smugglers,
whoever they were, and they had shown their respect by leaving the
white pony, when they were not above borrowing the physician's only
mount.

But what made his heart warm towards them even more, was the fact
that they had left Charlotte Cobtree's magnificent animal when they had
swept the rest from the squire's stables. Thus he fell to thinking of
Charlotte. The next day was her twenty-first birthday, and he would
give her Captain Ransom's legacy. There was every excuse for such a
gift. Was he not her godfather? Was she not the very woman to fulfil
Captain Ransom's wish? And the pearls were worthy to be given to a
queen.

Dr. Syn found pleasure in thinking out how he would present them. He
went to his sea-chest and drew out the scarlet velvet coat that he had
discarded for ever. With his scissors he cut off the two
gold-embroidered pocket flaps, and these he sewed together with needle
and thread from his old sea days housewife. He then removed enough gold
braid from the coat to form the letters 'C.C.' and when he had dropped
the pearls into their velvet pocket and locked them for the night in
his sea-chest, he felt he had spent a good hour, before going up to
bed.

His labour of affection had banished all worry about the smugglers.

Worry was the last thing that entered Mr. Mipps' head as he saw the
kegs being carried ashore from the lugger. He was safe. He had two men
watching the Preventive man's lodgings, who would stop any informer
reaching him, and if he were to issue forth on his own initiative, they
were to play informers themselves and lead him in the other direction
towards Hythe, while the landing was in reality taking place on
Knockholt beach.

But one man did worry. Captain Faunce went from patrol to patrol up
in the region of Aldington. Not a sign of Grinsley. On reaching the
last patrol at Bonnington and receiving the same dispiriting report, he
bade the Bonnington party fall in behind the visiting patrol and then
re-visiting every picket and patrol he had posted, he once more reached
Aldington Fright, and further swelling his force with the troopers he
had left there, he took the whole regiment behind him, and as though he
had some definite plan in his head, which he afterwards confessed he
had not, he trotted off towards the Knole. Dismounting, he climbed the
hill with only a sergeant attending him.

Beneath them was stretched out the whole map of the Marsh. It was
difficult at first to see just where marsh joined beach and beach the
sea, for clouds of mist drove along beneath them. For some minutes,
they watched the white vapours rushing along over the flat surface.
Mist clouds that seemed to rise from the white ribbons of dyke water
and joining others in their mad and windy stampede. In the distance
they could hear the grinding of the waves and now and then the sea
would show through a blown rift of these ground clouds.