That night Doctor Syn and his guest talked late, for after they had consumed a quantity of good port and brandy, the vicar mixed a pungent bowl of punch, and as they consumed it, he extracted from the Welshman many stories of Tarroc Dolgenny's smuggling activities. He then entertained his guest by narrating some of the daring adventures of the mysterious Scarecrow.
'And you have no sort of notion who this fellow is?' asked the Welshman.
'I have been over the Marsh many times at night visiting the sick,' replied the doctor, 'but I have never yet seen this Scarecrow. I have, however, had frequent warnings not to venture out on certain nights, but of course I have taken no heed of them when duty has called. It is strange, too, that my poor little pony has never been commandeered by his Night-riders, whereas the horse belonging to our physician has very often been missing from his stable, just as the squire's horses have. Perhaps our mysterious smuggler has a soft spot for the old parson.'
'Well, there's some good in most wicked men,' returned the Welshman, 'though I never found any in the leader of our smugglers. Tarroc Dolgenny has nothing to recommend him but a devilishly handsome face and a quick and daring brain. He is not even a faithful leader when his own interests are like to be thwarted, and he would as soon murder a follower as any enemy. The strange part is that, knowing his character, his men remain faithful to him.'
'Is it known that he is a smuggler,' asked Syn, 'or just suspected?'
'The rascal works openly enough for anybody with eyes and ears,' went on the lawyer. 'At night you can hear his horses galloping through Portmadoc, on a wild rush to Black Rock a mile or so away. No one informs against him. He is too feared, and the new excise officer had better first look to his own safety rather than a warrant. Besides, what can one man do against Dolgenny's crew?'
'Aye, it is the same here,' said Doctor Syn sadly. 'True, we sometimes are billeted with dragoons, but in the usual way what can one lone excise officer do who tries to lay the elusive Scarecrow by the heels? It means death to him. Not that I think any of our Marshmen had a hand in it, though they say the Scarecrow is of Kent, but the scoundrels from Sussex got him. I shall deliver an address tomorrow over his coffin and pray God that the Government will see fit to strengthen our coastguards and revenue men!' It was nearly midnight when Mipps called at the vicarage once more, bringing back the vicar's keys and a message from Mrs. Waggetts that she was waiting up to let the lawyer in before closing. The vicar asked Mipps to escort the gentleman with a lantern, whereupon Mipps began to rub his sides very vigorously, and at each rub he let out a groan of pain.
'Have you had a fall or something, my good Mipps?' asked the vicar.
Mipps grinned and shook his head. 'It's come out again from the churchyard wall, sir. Honest! It was waiting for me in the dark. And it got me on the thigh as I passed. Very vicious it got me too, sir.'
'What was it? A dog?' asked the Welshman.
Doctor Syn chuckled. 'You mean the bone?' Mipps nodded again and answered ruefully, 'Aye sir. As I always has maintained its the “worrumps” what pushes it. They'll work it right out on to the road one of these fine nights and then some dog will get it.' Doctor Syn turned to his guest and explained, 'Mr. Mipps has a great trouble with this bone in question. It is a thigh-bone, human of course, and it manages to work its way out through a crack in the churchyard wall. He is of the opinion that the ghost owner of the bone is trying to trip him up. My advice to you, Mipps, is to bury it some fathoms deep, and let it rest in peace.' Mipps wagged his head. 'Aye, aye, sir. I'll drop it into the excise officer's grave in the morning. He should keep it in order, should poor George Plattman.
'By the churchyard wall at the north-east corner,' answered Mipps.
'Go and put it into the open grave,' ordered the vicar. 'You can dig it in tomorrow before the funeral. Then go and tell Mrs. Waggetts that my guest will not keep her for longer than ten more minutes. We will finish this brew, sir, before you turn in, and upon your return, Mipps, I will indulge you with a night-cap.'
Now although the lawyer was highly amused at the sexton's misadventure with the bone, Doctor Syn knew very well that it was all a fabrication, and for his benefit, being in other words the private language of the men of Dymchurch to pass a message. It meant that Jimmie Bone, the highwayman, was waiting to have words with him at the north-east corner of the churchyard wall. Mipps in his turn understood, from Doctor Syn's order about placing the bone in the grave, that he in turn was to tell Mr. Bone to take hiding in the open grave prepared for the excise-man's coffin. Mipps therefore departed towards the 'Ship', telling the waiting highwayman to get into the grave for hiding, until he had escorted the Welshman to the inn; then he and the vicar would join him in the churchyard. Bone found it well to be extremely careful in his goings and comings, for although it was not known by any save the Scarecrow and Hellspite that the highwayman sometimes rode in the Scarecrow's name, he was a proscribed thief of the highway, with a large reward offered for his capture alive or dead.
On this particular night, he had come to the vicarage on foot, so not having his horse to look to, he was glad of the open grave as a hiding-place. Mipps told him he would not have to wait long, and that as soon as the Welshman was safe, he would be released. A few minutes later, having delivered his message to Mrs. Waggetts, and accepted a noggin of rum for his pains, Mipps returned back to the vicarage, where Doctor Syn poured him out a glass of hot grog.
'Did you put the bone into the grave?' asked the vicar.
'I did sir. All safe down deep,' and from the sexton's reply Syn knew that Jimmie Bone was tucked out of the Welshman's sight.
A quarter of an hour later Doctor Syn carefully closed the vicarage door behind the tall, masked highwayman and little grinning Mipps. With his finger on his lips to ensure silence, he led them to his study, and produced another bottle of brandy.
'And how goes your business, Mister Bone?' asked the vicar.
'A coach-load last week, as no doubt you heard, sir,' replied the gentleman of the road. 'Since then nothing at all, sir, what couldn't proceed in peace was not worth the holding, which no doubt has been a good thing, as it has been well for me to lie low.'
'I shall need you to ride tomorrow in my place, Jimmie,' said Syn. 'There is a Welsh lawyer staying at the “Ship", who has been telling me the adventures of a smuggling leader in his mountains, and in my own conceit I have a mind that he should see the Scarecrow's men at work. I warrant he will then not be quite so full of his local hero, who by the way seems to be a scoundrel of the first order. Also I have a mind to test the courage of this Welshman, and for my own protection, since my immediate future may be bound up with his.'
'Will you ride as the Scarecrow at all?' asked Bone.
'No. I shall be on the Marsh as myself, though no doubt I shall find opportunity to give orders should anything go wrong. I shall be visiting Mother Handaway as the vicar, and I think the Welsh lawyer, Mr. Jones, will accompany me. I will arrange with you where to take us by surprise, for I wish you to capture us both, and after threatening to take our lives, you will lash us back to back to the signpost at the corner of Mipps's coffin shop. An uncanny spot will be good for our stranger. I will prepare a notice for you to nail up over my head, which will give the reason for my punishment.'
'And what will the reason be?' asked the highwayman.
'Why, you see, at the funeral tomorrow I shall take the opportunity of condemning lawbreakers,' explained Syn. 'I shall in particular attack the Scarecrow, and so that gentleman, or devil, resenting the meddlesome parson, will show his authority too.'
'Aye, I understand,' replied Bone. 'Much such a game as we played before.' Syn chuckled at the remembrance and nodded. 'It is well for people to know that I am an enemy of the Scarecrow. But we must be careful of our playing this time, for, unless I am mistaken, our Welsh friend is not such a fool as he looks.
But now let us arrange the route to be taken by the pack-ponies. The cargo will be landed beyond Dungeness, while the decoy boats make a false landing at Littlestone. If the revenue cutter appears, which I do not anticipate, the decoys will lead her in a running fight towards Sandgate. The pack-ponies will take the Brooklands way, and we shall use the “hides” at the “Royal Oak”. Mipps will see that the sign of the Scarecrow is chalked on all stable doors, so that the ostlers will leave them unbarred.'
'Has the word been passed to all concerned?' asked Mr. Bone.
'All concerned,' nodded Mipps.
'And the Night-riders will assemble on Aldington Knoll,' continued Doctor Syn, 'and when the flare is shown from the boats, they will ride down to the lower level. The pack-ponies will be at the foot of the Knoll and will cross the marsh to the sea-wall under cover of the dyke mists. You will arrest the Welshman and myself at Mother Handaway's. Mipps, as Hellspite, will take the parson up behind his horse, and Curlew shall take the lawyer. On reaching Dungeness you will put it to the vote with pebbles—two pebbles death; one pebble life. You will announce the votes are equal, so that you will have the casting vote yourself. You will read me a homily against meddling in affairs which do not concern me, and you will tell me to be better-mannered in future when preaching. You know the line to take, Jimmie. And by the way, Mipps, this lawyer. He sleeps light, he tells me. See to it that the stable boys talk beneath his window, which he keeps open. I wish him to stumble on news of the “run” for tomorrow night. And now let us go over the details before parting.' After some two hours' survey over Doctor Syn's great map of the Marsh, Gentleman James, or Jimmie Bone as he was known amongst his intimates, took leave of the vicar with Mipps, and, left to himself, Doctor Syn trimmed his quill pen, and chuckled as he wrote out his address for the funeral.
An hour later, the contents of the brandy bottle consumed, he climbed up the stairs to bed, well satisfied that he would be able to be in two places at once upon the next night, for on Hellspite's horse he would ride with Mipps alongside the false Scarecrow, and be able to give such orders as might be necessary, while in the eyes of the Welsh lawyer he would be nobody except a very ill-used old parson, who in the exercise of his duty had stumbled upon a misadventure.
