On a hot summer's afternoon of the day following the inquest held to inquire into the death of the exciseman, Mr. Mipps, sexton of Dymchurch, was digging a suitable grave. As undertaker to Romney Marsh, he had finished a suitable coffin that very morning, and the corpse was already screwed down awaiting burial.
Despite the heat and the hard work, Mipps was enjoying himself. The whole affair had worked itself out very nicely. Without question, the guilt had been fastened upon certain Sussex persons unknown, who were concerned in the nefarious pursuit of smuggling.
After stating how thankful he was that no suspicion could fall upon his own beloved village, the squire of Dymchurch shook his head sadly and said, 'Very reprehensible.' Mr. Mipps allowed himself the privilege of muttering 'Horrible!' quite audibly, and then added with a touch of burning zeal, 'Sussex didn't ought to allow such things.'
'May such transgressors be forgiven in the Later Day,' breathed Doctor Syn in solemn charity. He then expatiated upon the virtues, the manly virtues, of the deceased officer who had fallen so nobly in the exercise of his duty.
Recalling all this in his toil, Mipps worked cheerfully, for it meant not only money in his purse, but the end of one who could now make no more trouble.
He worked harder when he realized that one foot deeper would be sufficient, and that he could then cool himself in the Ship Inn by pouring good spirits down his parched throat. He worked harder still when he heard the voice of Doctor Syn humming a hymn as he strolled from the vicarage garden into the churchyard.
'Ah, Mister Mipps! Hot work I fear.' Mipps looked up from the grave at the tall thin parson above him, and nodded. 'Might have been hotter, sir,' he said with a wink. 'In matters of death, I says, one's better than lots!' Doctor Syn returned the nod sadly without the suspicion of a wink. 'It is expedient that one should die for the people. A scapegoat, eh?'
'Quite right, sir,' answered Mipps. 'Them elders of the people in the scriptures knew a trick or two, same as them Sussex smugglers do, by killing one to save the many.'
Doctor Syn placed his right foot upon the sexton's barrow, and, with his elbow on his knee, leant forward and peered into the grave. 'Sussex smugglers may sound well enough to a Dymchurch jury, Mipps,' he said, 'but I am thinking that the authorities elsewhere may suspect a closer connection with the Romney Marsh. In any case they will be expecting a quiet time. The death of an officer of the Crown is serious, and the smugglers of both counties will wait till this outrage is forgotten. That is what the authorities will be thinking, Mipps.' Doctor Syn dropped his voice to a whisper, and added, 'But the Scarecrow is not to be intimidated even though his followers may be. Pass the word at once that nothing is to be changed till after tomorrow, and then, well, perhaps a little rest would be healthy. I am now going to take a stroll upon the sea-wall, and then I hope the parish will leave me in peace for an hour or so, as I intend to pen a sermon for next Sunday morning.'
To Mipps this innocent sentence meant that the vicar would be alone in his study and ready to receive him, should he have anything urgent to report.
Mipps watched the vicar stride away towards the sea-wall, with his Bible in one hand and his brass telescope under his arm, and he told himself that his old master was still as cool a customer as he had ever been during the long years they had worked together. Then, finishing off the grave to his satisfaction, he climbed out of it, pulled on his coat and set out for the Ship Inn across the road.
He knew that the tap-room would be full by now, for it was just about the time which the Scarecrow had arranged for word to be passed, and it was Mipps who was responsible for the passing. The front of the Ship Inn faced the sea-wall and was built in a plain but stately style. The back, however, was homely, with innumerable little outbuildings, servants' cottages, stables and sheds. Whereas most of the patrons of the tap-room used the back entrance, Mr. Mipps preferred the front, for he liked to take a look at the sea-wall standing up against the sky across the broad field. It was there that the coastguards walked and swept the Channel fairway with their spy-glasses, and as often as not they would see the good vicar sweeping it too with his telescope, or Mipps peering out from under the shelter of his hand.
Mipps would explain to them that he watched the sea because he had spent his life upon it, whereas they watched it, so he would tell the coastguards, merely in the way of their duty. 'And a very good duty too,' he would say, 'looking after us so pleasant and keeping our nice coast clear of smugglers and such bad things.' The coastguards on their part were never quite sure about Mipps; for although he took their position very seriously, and showed an interest in their work, they were sometimes a little suspicious that he was laughing at them.
That smuggling went on upon the Marsh they were well aware, for the Scarecrow and his fearsome Night-riders had been seen by many in the dead of night, so that the winding paths that zigzagged along the dykes were avoided by those who were cautious. A cracked skull remembers little; a dead man in a dyke, nothing.
In front of the inn, Sir Antony Cobtree, astride a magnificent bay, was drinking ale from a pint tankard. As Mipps approached the squire was talking to an ostler, but, seeing Mipps, he broke off to ask him heartily what he would take, 'For I saw you digging away over yonder, and in such heat it must be thirsty work.'
'Thankee kindly, sir,' replied Mipps respectfully. 'Rum.' The ostler ran off to fetch it. Mipps did not tell the squire that digging a grave was such thirsty work that he always carried a bottle of rum into it, or that the bottle was now empty but would soon by replenished. He just hoped that the squire would not see the shape of it in the set of his capacious tailpocket.
'A very grievous thing, Mr. Mipps,' said the squire, 'this death of poor George Plattman. A very sound officer! He played his part well, but he did a foolish thing in riding so far by himself. He should have taken his men with him.' Mipps shook his head. 'No, sir,' he replied. 'If you will pardon the contradiction. But that would never have been George Plattman's way. He would have thought of our safety first, sir, as he did, and left his men to protect us here where they belong.'
'The Government should see that their officers are not so shorthanded,' said the squire.
'Aye, aye, sir,' agreed Mipps. 'They ought to have lots and lots more men, especially for patrolling on the Sussex border. Plattman often told me that it was there that the mischief went on. A very strong gang of desperate fellows from Rye, he thought, and he ought to have known. His only fault, if I may say so, was being just a bit too zealous to duty, what wasn't his duty at all. He should have been content to hide here where he was safe, instead of poking his nose into the doings of the next county. Very sad though, sir! He was very much liked too, sir. How he would have enjoyed the coffin I've made for him! I wish he could have seen it. He'd have scored me up a rum or two for all the trouble I've took.' The ostler brought out the rum, and took the squire's empty tankard. 'Your Honour's health,' said Mipps, and tossed it down. A noggin of rum was nothing to him; he preferred to drink from the bottle. So he was relieved when the squire said, 'Thankee, Mr. Mipps,' and turned his horse towards the Court House stables.
Mipps stood touching his forelock till the squire had ridden round the corner, and then he swaggered through the door, crossed the inn hall and so into the tap-room.
Now Mipps was perhaps the best-known man upon the Marsh, especially amongst those of his own class. The gentry treated him with deference above his station, by reason of a quizzical something about him which they failed to understand. They put him down as 'quite a character' and allowed him to give his opinions. He invariably got the truth out of people too, for when he asked a question he conveyed by a guarded reserve that, since he knew the correct answer, the other had best tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The vicar's high opinion of him went a long way to ensure his popularity, but even those who thought him comical admitted that there was a 'something about him'. A mysterious man! His own class understood him better, and would answer him with a wink, for they knew his language, and to know that was to understand the Scarecrow's orders, which, if obeyed, meant money in their pockets, but if disregarded, quick disaster.
Mipps had a system of wrapping up his master's orders in the simplest sentences, readily received by those in the know. A movement of the hand; higher or lower inflections of the voice; suddenly speaking vaguely with his eyes shut; the movement of his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other; these and a hundred other tricks stressed the important words of the sentence, and were easier to translate by those concerned than the learning of the alphabet.
So now when he entered the tap-room, the noisy welcome with which he was received very quickly died down into silence, so that he would be free to convey something to their advantage.
'A very nice warm day,' he said, 'and although the wiseacres predict a sudden change, I says THERE WILL BE NO CHANGE. Anyhow I says there'll be NO CHANGE TOMORROW.' He then turned to the landlady and nodded, 'Thankee, Mrs. Waggetts, rum if you please, ma'am.' she had it ready for him and he raised his glass saying, 'I drinks to the memory of the poor brave man whose grave I have just dug. This will be a serious business for some scoundrels. And if the weather breaks and we gets wet just now, you farmers will be having a serious time too with your crops. A QUIET TURN FOR A SPELL.' This innocent speech, being translated by the outward signs of the sexton's gestures, was as plain in its meaning to those who waited for it as it had been to Mipps when Doctor Syn had spoken to him by the grave, saying that although the murder was a serious matter, and the authorities would expect a quiet time from the smugglers, who would lie low for a while, the Scarecrow would not alter his plans for the run the next night, but that afterwards the business would be given a quiet turn for a spell. After any message had been thus delivered from the Scarecrow, it was customary for the whole assembly to break out into lively conversation and loud laughter, so that any important whisperings in explanation could not be noticed by a possible spy.
It was during this usual din, following the sexton's speech, that the mail coach rumbled up in front of the 'Ship' to deposit the letters for the village. It also deposited a traveller and his valises, who, never having visited Romney Marsh in his life, went to some pains in order to assure himself that there was no mistake about his destination.
'Do you mean to tell me that this is the place I am seeking?' he asked the guard, who, not used to having his word called in question, replied curtly, 'This is Dymchurch, sir, as I told you.'
'But it was Dymchurch-under-the-Wall for which I booked by seat,' retorted the passenger.
The guard was about to answer irritably, but, seeing the little fat gentleman blinking about him like a bewildered owl, he had a suspicion that he was not quite all right in the head, and should be humoured.
'Dymchurch-under-the-Wall is right, sir. This is the “Ship” o' Dymchurch, and that there thing yonder—that grassy bank hiding the sea—is the Wall. And if that there wall was to break, this village would be Dymchurch-under-the-Sea instead of under-the-Wall.'
'And a very neat way of putting it,' thought the guard.
The pompous little passenger, who had followed the direction of the guard's pointing finger, seemed still a bit doubtful. 'And you call that grass bank a seawall, do you?' he asked with a supercilious sniff. 'Now, where I come from—' This was too much for the guard, who cut in with, 'You wouldn't find such a good sea barrier as that. From the time of the Romans it has stood good friend to the Marshmen, and the sheep have nibbled its rich side from them days to these.'
'I dare say it's a good enough bank in its way—' argued the other.
Again he was interrupted. 'I tell you, sir, it's a wall. There's masonry enough on it sea side to warrant the name. Great fat boulders almost as big as your—' he was about to say 'belly', but thought the better of it and added 'you'.
The passenger frowned and gave a tug to his waistcoat. Then, turning from the distant sea-wall, he looked at the inn and frowned at that. 'Is this the best inn the village can boast?'
'It's the largest of the three, anyhow,' explained the guard. 'And since the Lords of the Level house their great china punch-bowl in her dining-room, I suppose it would be termed the best. Two other good ones though, sir.'
'Bring in my baggage then,' ordered the passenger, 'and I'll be taking a glass of something while I have a look.' Having made up his mind to enter the inn, the stranger seemed to shed his doubts though not his displeasure, and as he strutted into the hall and looked about him, the guard said to the driver, 'Thought he was an owl till now, but he's more like a pouter-pigeon. Well, he ain't my fancy, and I doubt that I shall earn the price of a drink for all the trouble I've took on the way down to interest him. He's close he is, and I should think he's down here on no good.'
'Pass that warning on to Mister Mipps,' answered the driver, 'and then all his no good won't do no harm. The little sexton's bound to be within, and he'll soon find out if the stranger is here to nose about under the wall.' Meanwhile the stranger in question, finding no one in the hall and seeing no one in the large dining-room, resolved to enter the tap-room, from which he heard shouts of laughter and high-pitched conversation. As he pushed open the door, the top of which was panelled with bottle glass, all he could see was a vast cloud of tobacco smoke. Although at first he could only see vague forms in the crowd, the draught from the door in which he stood cleared the smoke from him, and he was conscious that everyone was taking sudden and silent stock of him. Every voice had been cut off. Instead of the chattering babble and uproarious laughter, this resentful hush at his entrance made our traveller selfconscious. He knew that the silence was not meant for respect. As the smoke cleared further he saw that every settle, bench, chair, stool, and even tables, were occupied with sitting men who stared at him sullenly. His appearance had arrested their very movement. He saw some with their tankards half-way to their mouths, and he noticed four men who had been playing dice round a table, and he whose turn it was to cast still held the dice-box in his hand and was half-heartedly shaking it in mid-air, but with all his concentration was watching as the rest. Over the dice-box he fixed the stranger with a gimlet eye; then he pointed to the bar on the traveller's left.
As the stranger stared back at him haughtily, the man with the dice-box approached him, and in silence led him to the bar. 'Missus Waggetts,' he said in a hoarse whisper, and then by way of explanation added, 'landlady of the “Ship”.' He then turned to Mrs. Waggetts and with a gesture of introduction said, 'Mrs. Waggetts—a stranger. Nice gentleman named—?' Here he looked for the gentleman to give his name, but failing to get any reply, added, 'From?' Again he was disappointed, and it was obvious to the rest that although the stranger had accompanied his guide to the bar, he did not intend to be communicative.
Staring hard at his self-elected guide, the stranger saw a little man with thin wiry limbs, sharp-eyed, and with a long pointed nose that reminded him of a ferret. Despite his somewhat rusty black suit, which gave him a sombre dignity, there was a jauntiness about him, which he was unable to hide, and which smacked of the sea. His tarred queue, which stuck straight out from beneath his three-cornered hat, encouraged this nautical appearance. This curious individual, not being able to make the strange gentleman communicative, and knowing well that the eyes of the tap-room were upon him and expecting results, began a new attack, by being communicative himself.
Pointing to himself, and fixing the stranger with his sharp eyes, he said, 'Me? Mister Mipps. Sexton! Clerk! Undertaker! Verger! General Store-keeper! Carpenter! Blacksmith! And what's more, right-hand man in all matters spiritual and otherwise to the vicar. And now, sir. Just off the Mail Coach, I take it? And here's Edward the guard come in for his usual, I see.' With a 'How do, all?' the guard approached the stranger. 'Your baggage is all put together, sir.'
'Mrs. Waggetts, the strange gentleman can speak,' said Mipps in an audible whisper.
'Hall in the 'all,' explained the guard.
'And we'll be hall and hall the better for a drink,' said Mipps, imitating the guard's speech with a wink to the stranger. 'You'll excuse Edward, sir. Very casual with his aitches. Not so me. Have to come in first with the Amens you see, and the vicar is very particular.'
'Queer sort of parish clerk, I must say,' said the stranger. 'You look to me far more fitted to the lower deck of a ship, than to the lower deck of a threedecker.'
'Funny you should say that!' replied Mipps, looking pleased. 'Was a sailor most of my life. Captured by pirates I was too, and pressed to become their carpenter. But the Lord delivered me from the jaws of the lions and once more I became a carpenter on one of His Blessed Majesty's ships o' war. But belay there, Mipps, for you're keeping the gentleman from his drink. Now sir!' Rattling the dice, he threw a four and a three upon the bar, swept the dice back and handed the box to the guard.
Edward threw a five and a three.
'And last, but I hopes not least, hand it to the gentleman, Edward,' ordered Mipps.
The stranger felt that he could do nothing else but throw, and out rattled a double six.
'Now I never did!' said Mipps with a sigh. 'Them dice ought to have better manners towards a stranger. The honours are yours, sir. On Romney Marsh a double six means “doubles” all round. Ill luck indeed, sir!' Though he failed to see the justice of this Mr. Mipps and his dice-box, the gentleman produced a guinea from his pocket, threw it on the counter and nodded to the landlady.
'Give them whatever they take, my good woman,' he said, allowing a smile to creep into his face for the first time. 'A traveller must abide by the customs he encounters, although I doubt the justice and truth of this one, Mister Mipps.'
'Everyone's entitled to his own opinion, sir, and no offence took,' answered Mipps generously. 'And the best of health to you, sir.' He drank off the double rum which Mrs. Waggetts had supplied to him before the rest, and pushed it back to make room for the glass of sherry which the gentleman had ordered for himself. He knew that the landlady would fill it up again when the gentleman's back was turned.
The stranger looked round the room, and holding up his glass in salute, said, 'I fear I have interrupted your merriment. Please take your drinks and continue your talking. This silence is disconcerting to me, and makes me think that I may not be welcome.'
'As to that, sir,' put in Mipps, 'we can hardly tell, not knowing who or what you are. You may be one of them Parliament troublers for all we know.'
'And what trouble do you suppose I could cause down here?' asked the stranger.
'That's right, sir, you couldn't,' said Mipps in a tone of relief. 'We're independent on the Marsh. Our own laws, sir, from the time of William the Third. Dymchurch has its own Court House, sir, and whatever you do don't go stealing sheep, 'cos our squire can hang you for that out of hand. In the sheep trade, sir? Ah, there's good wool here, second to none.' Ignoring the inquisitive sexton once more, the stranger turned to the landlady and asked, 'Is there a smaller inn than this? I do not yet know how long I shall be staying, but I like quiet, and it seems that your good house here is too busy for my liking.'
'Meg Clouder of the “City of London” has a spare room,' said Mrs. Waggetts. 'She might accommodate you, sir, to your liking.' The stranger made a note of the name in his pocket-book, and asked, 'Is she married?'
'Been widowed twice, poor girl,' explained the landlady. 'But she takes the name of her first husband, who was a good man, and not that of her second, who was so bad that God struck him down. She's a good young person and a good cook too, and I would never grudge her custom. Mr. Mipps will, I am sure, run round your baggage on his burrow. If she cannot take you in, I can show you my quietest room upstairs, for fault of nothing better.'
'That is kind. I will see it now to save time,' said the stranger, finishing his wine and picking up his change.
There was silence as he followed the landlady from the tap-room, but no sooner had the door closed upon them than a general babble of speculation broke out, which was quickly silenced by Mipps jumping to the middle of the room and addressing the assembly in a hoarse whisper.
'Now then. Orders, gentlemen. Who is he? As close as a hermit crab, and that's all we knows. Now you, Edward. You've seen him on the coach. Did he book from London?' Edward nodded.
'And what did you make of him on the way down, Edward?'`` 'Same as you. Hermit crab.'
'There you are then,' replied Mipps emphatically. 'No good, I'll be bound.
Bow Street Runner most like.' But at this Edward shook his head. 'No! I knows all them Runners.'
'Well then, he may be something worse,' said Mipps, 'and till we knows what, he'd best be lodged here so that we can keep an eye on him handy-like.
We'll make it up to Meg Clouder, but Mrs. Waggetts should never have suggested such a thing. I kept frowning at her too. But we can stop him from going there. Off with you now, all of you, to the “City of London”. Fill Meg's bar, and when I fetches him alongside see that none of you stops talking. Make a hell's din. You, Murrain, tell 'em that your sheep has the best wool on the Marsh, and if that don't start 'em all shouting I'll be surprised. Be noisier than what you was here when he come in first. He won't stop there, and I'll then take him along to the “Ocean” by the road, and when we've gone, you all skip out by the sea door and run along to the “Ocean” tap under cover of the seawall, and see that you're making more noise there. Then he'll make the best of it and come back here and we'll soon find what he's after.'
'Smugglers, no doubt,' said Farmer Murrain.
Mipps nodded. 'That's my opinion. He's got “lawyer” writ all over him.
And I don't like his accent. It's kind of queer. Now, where have I heard it before?'
'It's the lingo of Wales,' explained Murrain. 'My wife was Welsh, a Jones, and her brother talks just the way of this man.'
'That's it,' said Mipps. 'It's your wife. Knew I'd heard someone who pops up at the end of a sentence. Well, we'll take it then he's a Welshman, and that's something, and it'll take more than a Welshman to find smugglers on Romney Marsh.'
'He's seen the Government reward for the Scarecrow's capture, more like,' argued another, 'and he thinks it worth while trying his hand at it. Well, we don't know nothing about the Scarecrow, nor smuggling neither, so he won't get no help from us.'
'P'raps he's after looking into the death of poor George Plattman,' said Mipps. 'But no. He'd have gone to Sussex then. Unless he thinks the murderers would be sort of compelled to attend the funeral. He may be Plattman's lawyer.'
'Whatever he be you'll measure him up with that coffin rule of yours,' laughed Murrain.
'Aye, we'll know his secrets before night,' agreed Mipps, 'and now off with you from the back door and I'll be waiting with his baggage at the front.' By the time the stranger had returned to the hall after his inspection, Mipps was piling up the baggage outside the inn. There was a delay while the sexton went for the barrow which was in the churchyard shed, and this gave the villagers ample time to reach the other inn unseen by the stranger.
'Then if Mrs. Clouder's is not to my liking I will return here,' he said.
Mipps bestowed a secret wink on the landlady and set off with the barrow, followed by the stranger.
Three times during the walk through the village Mipps contrived to upset the baggage. This occasioned enough delay to satisfy Mipps that his cronies were at their post.
When he set down his barrow at last, it was the back door of the 'City of London' which he chose, for the door of the tap-room opened upon the street while the front door and bar parlour were facing the sea on a higher level of the wall, and Mipps knew that his friends could creep up the stairs and out of the front door to reach the sands, which would take them along to the Ocean Inn without being seen.
'Here we are, sir,' said Mipps. 'I'll come in with you and tell Meg who you are. What name was it?'
'I'll go alone,' replied the stranger. 'You remain here and keep an eye on my baggage.'
'No one won't touch it,' retorted Mipps. 'This 'ere village is the honestest in Kent.'
'For all that,' replied the other, 'you will kindly stay and watch it.'
'Well, be as brisk as you can, sir,' said Mipps. 'I happens to be particular busy today.'
'I have seen no sign of it,' replied the stranger drily. 'Unless you call tilting drink down your throat being busy.'
'I calls being busy having to get ready for a funeral tomorrow,' explained Mipps gravely. 'Got to bury the excise officer what was murdered by Sussex smugglers.' The stranger looked grave, as he repeated the two words, 'murder', 'smugglers'.
'Not here,' added Mipps. 'Sussex. But he was our very own good officer, so is to be buried here.' At the tap-room door, the stranger turned to Mipps and said, 'This sounds a noisier inn than the last.'
'Oh, Meg does a good enough trade,' remarked Mipps casually.
The stranger, with another 'Stay here', entered the 'City of London'. In a few seconds he was out again. 'The Tower of Babel would be quiet to it. Is there no other inn?'
'The old “Ocean” at the further end of the village,' replied Mipps.
'Take me there,' ordered the stranger. 'And since you are so busy, look lively.' Mipps had taken the precaution of removing the valises from the barrow to the pathway during the few seconds that the stranger had been out of sight. He now busied himself with restacking them on to the barrow. He could plainly hear the crowd of villagers mounting the stairs in order to leave by the front door. He tried to detain the stranger, but unfortunately that gentleman had impatiently walked to the corner of the inn, and looked up an alleyway of steps which separated the 'City of London' from the next cottages. These steps were the means of a short-cut up to the sea-wall, and the stranger was able to see the whole crowd go by at the run.
'The rest of the village seem busy too,' he remarked drily.
'Aye, they would be just now,' explained Mipps. 'The tide will be just right for the fishing boats. Most of the village is concerned with fish. Well, we shall find the “Ocean” quiet, I expect.'
'I hope so,' snapped the stranger.
Once more Mipps waited outside with the baggage when they reached the Ocean Inn. Here, however, it seemed that the crowd was greater than ever, and Mipps began to congratulate himself upon his clever ruse. He was to find that the stranger was no less clever. At all events he proved that he had sharp eyes and could put two and two together.
'We will return to the Ship Inn,' said the stranger rejoining Mipps. 'I will stay there. It is strange to me why these villagers go from inn to inn before us. It seems they are desirous of crowding me out. I believe them to be the same crowd, for I recognized the fellow with a sack over his shoulders in each bar, and there were certainly half a dozen others who drank with me at the “Ship”.
If they are bent upon spying in order to find out my business, they will find it none so easy.'
'Spying?' repeated Mipps with scorn. 'And why do you suppose they should do that? If a man thinks he's being spied upon, he should keep it to himself, for it shows he has some good reason for thinking so. I mean to say, sir, that a spy don't like being spied. I don't know what is on your conscience, that keeps you so close with your name and business, but just because some of the lads can shift quick from tavern to tavern there's no call for the word “spy”. They likes to give custom all round. It's a busy village, and we has to step lively even in our drinkings, and if they likes to go from inn to inn in the way of fairness to all, I don't see anything suspicious in that. Well, it's back to the “Ship", is it?'
The other nodded and started off at a brisker walk. Mipps trotted after him, and went on talking.
'You'll find it more comfortable there, sir. Mrs. Waggetts keeps a good table. But don't be too free with your “my good ma'ams” or London Town oglings 'cos the poor woman is very much in love with here husband what lies in the churchyard.'
'She will not suffer from my attentions, I assure you,' replied the stranger.
'Glad to hear you say so, sir,' said Mipps. 'She's a lone widow, and if she's a bit free with me, it's because I was a good friend of her old man's and knocked him up solid with my own hands. Lovely bit of wood I gave him, and the handles were best brass. I took 'em off, though, after the funeral, as it seemed a sin to bury 'em and they was not paid for, only lent.' They were passing the churchyard and Mipps pointed out the grave of the late Waggetts. The stranger asked, 'What is the name of your doctor here?'
'Pepper,' replied Mipps. 'Doctor Sennacherib Pepper. And if you wants a blood-letting, there's no better man. But he's the very spit of you, sir, in one respect. He's suspicious. You know, sir; fond of poking his nose about. He's got a bat in his belfry about smugglers, just as our poor dear late-lamented customs officer had. Smugglers over in Sussex, yes. But here, no! It was Doctor Pepper, now, who was the first hereabouts to swear that he had seen the Scarecrow, who is supposed to ride at the head of a wild gang of devils.
Nonsense, I say. Just cast your eye, sir, over that there marsh. Ain't it as innocent a piece of land as ever God made? And so it is, I says; but Pepper, he says, “Avoid the Marsh at night. It ain't healthy", he says.'
'A doctor goes out at nights, Mr. Mipps,' returned the stranger. 'No doubt he sees more than the rest of you. Now, I know a good deal more than most concerning smuggling. Perhaps the very innocent look of the landscape gives it an advantage.'
'My advice to you, sir, is to go and get blood-let from old Pepper,' snapped Mipps. 'You'd get on remarkable between you, sir.'
'An advantage,' replied the stranger, 'that I do not mean to take. I have no interest in Doctor Pepper, though there is another doctor whom I am most anxious to meet. Tell me, where does Doctor Syn practise? Ever heard of him?'
'Now don't go upsetting him with your tales of smuggling,' cried Mipps.
'He'd be very grieved to hear your suspicions. He practises from that there house beyond the Court House.'
'Is he the chief doctor here?' asked the stranger. 'Perhaps he and Pepper are partners?'
'Oh ah,' said Mipps with a wink. 'Old Pepper kills 'em and Doctor Syn reads the burial service over 'em. Doctor Syn is a curer of souls, sir. Doctor of Divinity, vicar here and my master. If you wants to see him, sir, you'd better tell me your business, me being his right-hand man, so to speak.'
'So Doctor Syn is a parson and lives there, eh?' said the stranger. 'Very well, then. You may deposit my baggage at the inn, and go then to this Doctor of Divinity and inform him that I have important business with him.'
'And what name shall I tell him and what nature of business?' asked Mipps.
'Since my name would convey nothing to him, why send it?' asked the other. 'As to my business, well, you can say that since I have travelled from the north of Wales to divulge it, it must obviously be of sufficient interest for him to grant me an interview. Now let me hear you convey that message.' Mipps closed his eyes and amused himself while annoying the other by repeating it like a school-child. 'Old gentleman who knows all about smuggling has come from the north of Wales to divulge a bit o' business. Will you have the time within the next few days to grant him an interview? He's staying at the “Ship”.'
'No, no!' corrected the stranger. 'You will ask him to see me this very evening.'
'And no name, eh, sir?' asked Mipps. 'You'll be required to give your name at the Ship Inn. Our squire is very particular that he shall know who stays in the village. Especially strangers, like yourself.'
'I'll give my name at the proper time, and to the proper people,' returned the other sharply. 'You will now carry my baggage to my room, while I tell the landlady about supper. You will then go over and deliver my message to the vicar, thereby earning the double drink which I bestowed upon you.'
'What?' cried the disgruntled Mipps. 'Nothing more for pushing your baggage on a grand tour of the village?'
'You will remember,' said the stranger reprovingly, 'that I bestowed drinks upon the whole parish at your instigation.'
'It wasn't my insta-something,' retorted Mipps. 'It was the dice.' It was a very disgusted Mipps that carried the baggage up to the room, saying that if it was not for helping Mrs. Waggetts he would not do it at all. When he came down again the stranger was waiting for him in the hall, and Mipps was hailed with, 'Now then! Get along please!'
'I'm going along for my own convenience, and for the safety of the parish.
And at once,' said the sexton firmly. 'And let me tell you, sir, that we are not used to being ordered about on Romney Marsh. We are independent, sir, we are. But since both squire and vicar likes to know when suspicious strangers enter the village, I'll lay the information. Stranger with no name, who won't tell his business. Sounds queer.'
'As I told you, my business with the vicar is of the utmost import, and what perhaps will interest him is the fact that it may be very much to his advantage.'
'That will be for the reverend gentleman to decide when he hears it,' replied Mipps. 'So you stay here and I'll come back and tell you at what hour and on what day he can see you.' To the sexton's astonishment the stranger drew a crown piece from his pocket and, handing it to him, said almost pleadingly, 'I trust you will be able to arrange it for this evening, since the matter which concerns us both is pressing.' Mipps trotted off to the vicarage, and gave Doctor Syn a full account of the peculiar stranger.
After listening to a lengthy version of the gentleman's brusqueness and queer behaviour, Doctor Syn did not fall in with the sexton's suggestion that he should refuse the interview till he knew the cause. 'Well, my good Mipps, I confess I am curious, and at least he is not the only man I have met who refuses to give his correct name.'
'Ah yes,' nodded Mipps, 'but this is no gentleman of fortune like yourself and Jimmie Bone.' Syn put his long thin finger to his lips quietly. 'Hush, my good friend! We cannot be too careful.'
'Just what I'm pointing out to you, sir.'
'Oh, but I am going to be very careful, I assure you. I shall have you on hand, never fear. The stranger will sit there, so that I can get the evening light upon his face from that window. I shall receive him standing behind this highbacked chair, so that I can grasp my pistol from beneath that cushion, if need be. We have rope and gags in that cupboard, and if the gentleman is as you describe him, and no virile young giant, I think you and I can deal with him.
Your part will be to leave him in the hall while you announce him. You can walk on tiptoe, saying that I am preparing a sermon. As he enters he will find me letting you out through the garden door. At least so he will think. In reality you will be hidden behind the alcove curtains there behind his chair. It is better that we should hear his business before he tells it to anyone else. He may be here to ask awkward questions. Fetch him from the inn, and if I like the gentleman he shall sup with me here. But if we dislike him too much, Master Carpenter,' and Syn's face grew hard and grim, 'well, who knows? There may be another corpse found across the Kent ditch.' Before he finally dismissed his lieutenant, Doctor Syn looked to the priming of two duelling pistols, one of which he gave to Mipps, while the other he laid carefully upon the flat top of the right ear-flap of his tall embroidered armchair. Over the weapon he carefully laid a cushion.
'You will cover him from the curtain, Mipps,' he ordered, 'and I can throw down this gun-trap if necessary. Quite like old times, Master Carpenter.'
'From the looks of the gentleman,' replied Mipps, 'I thinks it will be, and little danger to us. We can manage him.'
'Then go and fetch him,' said the vicar.
Mipps departed on his errand, and the vicar sat at his table and continued the penning of his sermon for the following Sunday morning, dismissing the coming interview entirely from his mind.
