The next day the weather broke and the Marsh lay wet under a fine drizzle.
Doctor Syn, in spite of late nights at work in his study, was an early riser. He had long since trained himself to need little sleep. Directly he came downstairs he would step out into his porch and survey the weather. Like his master, Mipps, too, needed little sleep, and the vicar was amused to see him crossing the churchyard to the open grave, shouldering spade and pick.
But Mipps was not the first there. The Welsh lawyer, in a heavy coat against the rain, was gazing into the deep cavity.
Doctor Syn, who, much to the anxiety of his housekeeper, was impervious to the dirtiest weather, strolled from beneath the porch without hat or top coat.
Crossing into the churchyard, he overheard the following conversation.
'You are out early, sir,' remarked Mipps to the lawyer. 'Interested in graves? You'd not be if you'd dug as many as I have.'
'Likely not,' replied the lawyer. 'I had a curiosity to see the haunted bone you spoke of last night. But it is not there.'
'Ain't it?' said Mipps, assuming an astonishment he did not feel. 'Well, now, where's it got to? Back in its old haunt no doubt.' He peered into the grave. 'Are you sure it ain't there? No, you're right, sir. And I'm not surprised when I comes to think of it. It's no use trying to regulate that old bone. It's just set on aggravating me.'
'Good morning,' said the vicar cheerfully, 'though I fear it is a wet one. A funeral is a sad and a bad business in the best of weather, but in the rain—most miserable. Have you come to dig in your old enemy, the bone, Mr. Mipps?'
'It's gone, sir,' replied the sexton. 'Spirited itself away. Some might say a dog has took it, but dogs don't care for jumping in and out of graves. No, the old bone has gone of its own accord. I had a notion it wouldn't take kindly to lying under George Plattman's coffin.'
'Are you sure you dropped it in?' asked the vicar.
'Heard it go “plop", sir,' returned Mipps emphatically. 'Very strange.'
'Might be the rooks,' suggested Doctor Syn, looking up at the colony of cawing birds above him.
Mipps shook his head. 'What would they want now with an old dried bone? They'd pick us, but not that. No, sir, I believes in ghosts and such things, and ain't ashamed to say so. The Marsh out there for instance. There's no one can tell me that she ain't haunted by “things" what comes out of every dyke at night. All a-dripping too. Ugh!' Mipps performed a convincing shudder which secretly amused the vicar.
'Ever seen any of these “things”?' asked the lawyer.
'Yes, I has,' retorted Mipps indignantly. 'And them what laughs, wouldn't if they could see what I've seen. Ghosts? Ain't there? There is. It's their happy hunting ground. All this tale of smugglers what some folk believes in is nothing but “them” at their horrid pranks. I've seen the spectral horsemen of Romney Marsh, I has, and on nights too when I have not took so much as half a noggin, and what's more Doctor Pepper can bear me out in it, and who should know better, him crossing the Marsh at all hours of the night a-visiting the sick?'
'But the vicar does that too,' objected the lawyer, 'and he tells me he has seen nothing of them.'
Mipps looked disgusted and answered, 'The vicar's an 'oly man. They couldn't appear to him.'
'Well, we will not make the morning gloomier than it is,' laughed the vicar.
He turned to the lawyer and asked, 'I hope, at any rate, sir, that you slept free from ghosts and such disturbances?'
'The Ship Inn is comfortable enough, sir, and I should have slept uncommon well in compliment to all the excellent drinks you gave me, reverend sir. But to speak truth, I hardly slept at all, but lay awake listening.'
The lawyer looked grave. 'Whistles first and then whisperings. Some of them in the passages not far from my door too. And then a long hushed conversation immediately below my window. Whoever they were, they were foolishly prodigal about being overheard.'
'Them ostlers talking horses, that's all, I expects,' suggested the sexton.
'They gossips away all night like a Mothers' Meeting. Mrs. Waggetts has complained about 'em enough.'
'I cannot say who they were,' went on the lawyer. 'But slowly their conversation began to interest me, and I crept from my bed and listened. Men should be careful when they talk against the Government.'
'They were talking about the elections no doubt,' said Mipps.
'It certainly had to do with the Government,' returned the lawyer dryly, 'but all I heard was against it. I'll tell you what it was, and no doubt you, sir' (this to Doctor Syn) 'will take immediate steps against it. There is definitely some sort of smuggling activity going forward, and planned for tonight. I heard words over and over again such as “pack-ponies", “Night-riders", and the “Scarecrow”. Then something about all the stable doors being left open.'
'Dear, dear, I trust you were mistaken,' returned Doctor Syn, looking very distressed. 'I can hardly credit it, sir, with poor George Plattman as yet unburied. However I do not feel confident that should such a thing have been planned, the words that I shall speak in my funeral address against lawbreakers will turn all Marsh parishioners from their evil ways. But I see my housekeeper looking out for me, as I have not yet breakfasted, and if you are in the same case, sir, perhaps you will do me the honour of joining me?'
'I have not yet eaten,' returned the lawyer.
'Then Mipps will go to the inn and tell them not to lay cover for you; you shall eat with me. Come along.' Doctor Syn turned to Mipps and added, 'I think it wise not to make any mention of what this gentleman has told us. I will go to the coastguards this morning and warn them privately. I will also inform the squire. And if you will take my advice, Mr. Jones, you will also keep mum about this. Being a stranger, you will readily fall under the suspicion of the villagers, for you must remember that nobody but I knows your business here. I will not pretend to deny but there are desperate men about. For instance there is a highwayman at large with a large reward upon his head. He is popular with those who know him, otherwise he would have been betrayed. It would go hard with any man if the villagers thought he was on the trail of Gentleman James.'
'Is that what the rascal calls himself?' laughed the Welshman.
'Ay, Mr. Jimmie Bone has that high opinion of himself,' explained the vicar, as he led the Welshman out of the churchyard. 'There were some who thought him to be the Scarecrow, but that has been disproved. Like most of his trade, he spends money freely when he has made a hold-up. Do you know, the rascal has the humorous effrontery to pay his tithes.'
'Which you refuse, of course,' retorted the lawyer.
'Which I accept, of course,' corrected Doctor Syn. 'I see no reason for denying his dues to the parish. If he robs a coach, the Sick and Needy fund is benefited. It is better than letting the money be spent in the taverns.'
'No doubt you are wise to take the broad-minded view,' said the lawyer.
'But to change the subject, from our notorious highwayman to yourself,' said Syn, 'I think it would be wise of you to let the folk at the Ship Inn know that you are a lawyer, and are down here on private family business with me.
Otherwise they may put wrong construction on your sudden appearance here, which might well prove dangerous to you.'
'I am not one to be frightened, sir,' replied the lawyer stiffly.
'Well, to be frank, sir,' replied the doctor, as he led his guest into the house, 'I was somewhat wondering about that, because it strikes me that this Dolgenny of yours was able to frighten you down south.'
'Not through fear of my own skin, but for love of my niece,' exclaimed the lawyer. 'There would be none so pleased as I, if Dolgenny could be brought to book, and had he not cast a favourable eye upon my niece, I should have defied him openly, and no doubt paid the penalty ere now.'
'Well, as I hinted to you last night,' said the doctor, 'it is a long time since I had a vacation. I suggest that I may persuade the squire to release me for some weeks, in order that we may establish our joint claims to the Tontine at the Edinburgh bank. We could visit your mountains on the way back and, who knows, break a lance or two against your local villain. Is he a good swordsman, by the way?'
'The finest I ever saw,' exclaimed the lawyer, 'and he'll quarrel with anyone at the slightest provocation, for he prefers to kill openly so that he may be sheltered by the so-called gentlemanly rules of duelling, and the death he gives, though deplored by all honest folk, can in no way touch his liberty.
Besides, there is no gaol in North Wales that would hold him. He's a wizard.
No, sir, if we are to win against him, we must do it with subtlety and not with force. Certainly not with an open quarrel.'
'I may beg to differ there,' said the vicar, smiling. 'I allow that you see in me just an ordinary country parson, helping you to breakfast. But it may surprise you to know that I have killed my man.'
'I have seen some proof of your shooting,' laughed the lawyer, 'but the sword needs youth and strength, and both of these Dolgenny has.' Doctor Syn shrugged his shoulders. 'The sword needs a strong wrist, sir, with a brain directing it. It needs an agile body, not necessarily a youthful one. I once killed a noted duellist when I was at the University of Oxford. He was older than I, but a fine swordsman. I had the youth certainly, but it was not that which beat him. He lost at last because he could not stay the course. It was a long fight, but his body had been pampered. Now, despite my age, I have never given in to it. I think I am as agile as ever I was. I know I have more knowledge, and that only comes from experience. I have always had the knack of knowing what my antagonist will do next, and one that knowledge I act. I have ever had a liking for pretty sword play, and have never considered myself too old to keep in practice.' After breakfast Mipps brought the news that the revenue officers from Sandgate and Dover had arrived at the Coastguard Station. They had bespoken dinner at the 'Ship', and it was their intention to attend the funeral first.
'See that they are received well, my good Mipps,' ordered the vicar. 'Keep an eye on their comfort yourself.' Mipps knew from this that he was to keep an eye upon them and not upon their comfort.
The funeral, despite the rain, was attended not only by all the Dymchurch folk, but by people of all classes from the Marsh villages. The little church was full, and a good crowd gathered in the churchyard around the grave, while others waited to follow the coffin when it was lifted out from the Coastguard Station. In front of the coffin walked the beadle, the squire, the Lords of the Level, and the Clerk of the Court. The mourners followed. Now the coffin, draped in a flag, was to have been placed upon a boat's launching wheels and drawn by six coastguards, but at the last moment this arrangement was altered by one of the revenue officers, who, after a whispered consultation with the beadle, ordered a covered wagon to be substituted for the wheels. The mourners, thinking that something must have gone wrong with the boatlaunching wheels, took little notice of the alteration. Nor did they see that the beadle handed a large key to the officer, who, as it afterwards transpired, had a very good reason for his action.
Although it was still raining, Doctor Syn did not deliver his address inside the church, where the first part of the service was held. He wished everyone to hear what he had to say, and so postponed it till after the committal.
Then he raised his voice and spoke to the assembly. After praising George Plattman's strict adherence to duty and the Crown, he bade his listeners take to heart the dreadful lesson which some recreants had brought before them that day. 'Although the good things of this world are given to us by a kindly Providence for our comfort and delight, we must always bow to the authorities set over us, who, for the good of our country's revenue, have placed lawful taxation upon certain commodities. It is not the consumption of these commodities or use of them that is sinful, but the evading of their legal dues.
The money which such evasion brings in to private individuals is a sore temptation to those who do not scruple to cheat the Government and such cupidity is apt to turn to violence, hatred, and base deceits. A man who fears the gallows of justice must needs become desperate. The agents of the devil are amongst us, ever seeking to win over men of weak and covetous characters. I thank God that there are none such in my parish. If the crime of smuggling is ever carried on amidst the dykes and beaches of our blessed and prosperous Romney Marsh, I could take my oath that surely the criminals are of foreign soil, and not respected folk who live and toil upon our pasture lands. These wretches may come and go in the night when honest folk are asleep. Some say that they do. I know not. And yet, it has been my privilege to minister here for many years, and no one knows everyone hereabouts as well as I, and certainly there is no one whom I can think of who could be so smooth a hypocrite as this spectral rider who calls himself the Scarecrow. Man or devil, I feel confident that he does not belong to us. That such a creature exists, some doubt. To those I say that I have on this day of sorrow received a letter from him. My good housekeeper discovered it beneath a pile of new-laid eggs in her collecting basket. It is an arrogant threat to me, as your vicar, that if I speak against him at this solemn service, it will be the worse for me. One cannot allow such a one to stop the mouth of God's church. I shall therefore speak. I solemnly denounce him here before you all as a miscreant, and let him do his worst to me, if it is God's will that he should have the power to harm me. I adjure you to avoid him, my brethren. Say unto him and unto all his tribe, “Get thee behind me, Satan”. And let the example of brave George Plattman in this grave steel our hearts against all such wickedness; and even at the risk of our lives, let us stamp out this outrage of smuggling from our midst, which can only lead eventually to the scaffold and hell-gates.' Mipps, leaning on his spade, looked at the inspired face of the vicar as his grand voice thundered out to the rain-soaked mourners. He looked round, too, at the faces of the villagers he knew so well. They all appeared to be absorbed by the saint's address, and in full agreement with his brave exhortation. Mipps chuckled in his heart, knowing that those who wore the holiest expression on this sad occasion rode beside him with the Scarecrow's Night-riders, or walked at night with the long cavalcade of pack-ponies. At the conclusion of the service, the first to thank the vicar for his brave and patriotic words were the revenue officers. He showed them the Scarecrow's warning he had received, and they in turn showed it to the Clerk of the Dymchurch Court, hoping he might get a clue from the writing. But it was obviously a hand disguised. The Clerk said so, and Doctor Syn shared his opinion; and who knew better than he who had written it himself the night before and placed it in the basket that very morning behind his housekeeper's back? As the crowds slowly disbursed, Doctor Syn noticed that the Welshman had got into conversation with the two revenue officers, who were strolling with him towards the Ship Inn.
'I want you in the vestry, Mr. Mipps,' said the vicar. 'Were you going to fill in this grave at once?'
'Better do it soon, sir,' replied the sexton. 'With all this rain about, poor George is like to be flooded out.'
'Come to the vestry first, however,' ordered the vicar.
The squire, before returning to the Court House, asked Doctor Syn to join him there as soon as possible for a glass of sherry before dinner. He had heard of the Welshman's arrival, and had noticed him at the funeral, and wished to know what the vicar knew of him.
'I will follow you, Tony,' said the vicar. 'I can tell you strange news about this Welshman, but I must first sign the register of burial for Mr. Mipps.' The vicar closed the vestry door and looked at Mipps, who helped him to divest himself of his Geneva gown in which he had been officiating.
'As I am going to the squire's,' he said, 'perhaps you will take this to the vicarage to be dried?'
'Aye, sir,' replied Mipps. 'It's as wet as we used to get on the poop in a seastorm.'
'That Welshman may talk,' went on Syn. 'Find out whether those revenue fellows ask him to dine at their table. He refused my offer to introduce him to the squire at dinner, saying he was for eating by himself at the “Ship”. If he does talk, in spite of my asking him not to, and I think it likely that he will, we shall have those two officers to deal with on the “run” tonight. We may as well know beforehand.'
'Aye, aye, vicar,' replied Mipps. 'I'll first take your wet gown to be dried.
Then I'll take a look at the “Ship” and them gentlemen, and after that fill in the grave. If them revenue men comes “out” tonight, and we has no choice but to deal with 'em the same as poor Plattman, I take it that they'd not be buried here, but one in Sandgate, and one in Dover.'
'Aye,' nodded Syn. 'And I noted that the officer from Hythe was there too.
He was standing at the edge of the crowd, and I have no doubt but that these three birds of ill-omen will now be gathering together. I expect he went to the “Ship” to wait for them. He would be buried in Hythe. I fear you will not get any commission for coffins from them, should the worst happen.' Mipps grinned. 'Well, we don't want no more funerals in this sort of weather. In fact, I feel so cold that I think a little something warming will be sensible.'
'They say rum is an excellent medicine against the cold,' replied Syn, smiling.
Having signed the register and bidden Mipps lock up the book, the vicar put on his top coat and walked from the church to the Court House.
This building, which was the official residence of the squire as chief magistrate, was a fine rambling old mansion, and contained the Court Room and offices connected with the ruling of Romney Marsh, besides housing the beadle, in rooms above the cells, and quarters for the Clerk of the Court.
During his lifelong friendship with Sir Antony Cobtree, Doctor Syn had free access to the house at all times. His own position as chaplain to the Court gave him a key to all the official rooms, and to their own private apartments the Cobtrees never expected him to be announced, but just to walk in when he was so disposed. He therefore opened the front door and, crossing the flagstoned hall, proceeded to the library.
Here he found the squire in a state of great excitement talking angrily to the revenue officer from Hythe. Doctor Syn was very surprised to see him in the squire's library, for as he had told Mipps, he expected that the three officers would be together at the 'Ship'.
The two men, whose heated argument he had interrupted, presented a marked contrast. The squire, very popular in the district, was hearty in manner as a rule, but though he still rode to hounds, his face and figure were already showing signs of good living, and the heartiness for which he was famed was banished from his florid face only when he was suffering from irritating twinges of gout. On entering the room, Doctor Syn thought that the exposure from the funeral had brought on one of these attacks. On seeing the vicar, the squire immediately stopped speaking, though he still glared angrily at the officer, a stolid, serious-looking man of forty, with a weather-beaten face, dark hair tied back in a neat queue, dark eyes, hard and penetrating, and a hooked nose. His limbs might have been framed from gnarled oak, and there was a tenacity of purpose about him which had raised him from the ranks of customs' men to the post of an officer of some importance. Doctor Syn wondered what had brought him to the squire. By his friend's rage he gathered it to be something unpleasant.
'I hope there is nothing wrong,' he said with a sympathetic smile.
'Well, yes,' admitted the squire, still glaring at the officer, who sat stiffly on a high-backed chair without arms.
'Oh, for heaven's sake,' exploded the squire, 'get into a more comfortable seat! The sight of you sitting there on that unarmed contraption brings on my gout. There are plenty of good armchairs as you can see, without choosing that thing.'
'It is quite to my liking, sir,' replied the officer. 'But if it pleases you, I will change, since I am your guest.'
'Let the good fellow sit where it pleases him, Tony,' reproved the doctor.
He then added with a smile, 'You need not look at him, if the sight of his chair gives you the gout.'
'I'll have the chair taken out of here for good, when he's gone,' replied the squire testily, as he poured himself out another glass of sherry and tossed it down.
'My dear friend,' laughed Doctor Syn, 'when you have remembered your manners and given your guests a glass of your excellent wine, perhaps you will tell me what is wrong. I think you said there was something wrong?'
'So there is. So there is,' grumbled the squire. 'As ever there was.' He poured out a glass of wine and handed it to the vicar, who was about to pass it to the officer when the squire stopped him with: 'Oh, I offered him one, but he wouldn't have it any more than he will have a comfortable seat.'
'And yet I have seen you drinking at the “Ship", sir,' said Doctor Syn.
'Aye, sir. Off duty, but not on it as now,' replied the officer curtly.
'So you are here on duty, eh?' inquired the vicar. 'Not come to arrest the squire, I hope. Indeed, you could not have the authority in Dymchurch.'
'It's almost as bad,' exploded the squire again. 'I'll tell you.' There was an interruption, however. A discreet tap on the door, and the squire shouted, 'Come in.' The door opened slowly and Mipps looked round it, touching his forelock to the squire. Mipps shared with Doctor Syn the right of entry to the Court House at all times.
'Begging your pardon, squire,' said the sexton, and then he saw the officer and broke off with, 'Oh, there you are!'
'Are you looking for this man?' asked the squire. Then, realizing that the man in question was a commoner who had risen from the ranks, he now occupied an honoured post, he amended his question with, 'Are you looking for this gentleman? Have you business with him?'
'Not business, sir. Oh dear no!' replied Mipps. 'Just a message which I undertook to deliver to this er—gentleman. He's wanted.'
'By the customs,' said Mipps significantly. 'Not only are you wanted by the Sandgate officer, but by the Dover one too. At the “Ship”. So when the squire's finished with you, go quiet and don't let Mrs. Waggetts have no scene.' No doubt the squire should have reproved this facetiousness, but he was always amused by Mipps and invariably encouraged him to be funny.
'Well, don't stand there, jambed in the door,' ordered the squire. 'Come in and take a glass of wine. I think at least that you are not squeamish like this gentleman, who refuses to drink on duty.'
'I'll drink in most places, sir, duty or no,' replied Mipps, coming into the room and closing the door. Then, turning to the vicar, he added, 'Except on holy ground or in holy buildings.'
'Not even in the crypt, you rogue?' laughed the squire, who was already getting over his temper.
'Sometimes, sir, in the crypt or vaults if they smells dankish,' replied the sexton. 'I then takes something not to drink, but as medicine to keep out the cold vapours.'
'Aye, rum is a good medicine for that,' said the squire with a wink. 'But sherry is none so bad either,' and he handed the sexton a glassful.
'But what is this bad news you were about to tell us, Sir Antony?' asked the vicar. 'I take it you can speak before our sexton?'
'The news is not bad at all, sir,' said the officer emphatically. 'Merely a piece of routine which can be adjusted no doubt to please all parties.'
'It will not please me unless it goes to my way of thinking,' retorted the squire, getting angry once more.
'Aye, that was ever your way,' laughed Doctor Syn.
'If the Squire of Dymchurch tries to impress you that I have brought him ill news,' went on the officer, addressing the vicar, 'I venture to think that you will agree with me that I have brought him very good news. In fact, sir, the best news not only for my humble purse, but for the bettering of this neighbourhood.
In short, reverend sir, I have caught and arrested Gentleman James, the some time prize-fighter, better known as Jimmie Bone the highwayman.' Mipps shot a quick glance at the vicar, and saw that he showed no reaction to this staggering piece of news, except to raise his eyebrows in mild surprise.
The officer went on. 'In twelve hours the reward of five hundred pounds will be in my pocket, and when I use certain methods which seldom fail to make the strongest squeal and speak, I may add another thousand for information which will lead to the arrest of the Scarecrow. That is my good news, sir, and I hope you agree that it is so. The Church supports the law, I know.'
'The Church preserves the law, sir,' corrected the vicar. 'We gave it to you in our translation of the Bible. But now that we have heard your good news, what is the bad? But first where is this highwayman guarded?'
'That is the whole point, reverend sir, of what the squire calls “bad” news,' continued the officer. 'He is in the cells here of the Court House, and no one knows of it save this present company, the coastguards whom I have bound to silence, and the beadle from whom I got the key. I think you will admit that I carried out the arrest in the neatest way. This scoundrel is very popular, like anyone who is free with their money. But in his so-called generosity, he overreached himself. He had heard of an old woman who was dying in poverty in Hythe. Her case was desperate, though she had not applied to the parish for help, through mistaken pride. This Bone heard of her distress, and since she had once done him a service, he sets off like a fool in broad daylight to carry her money and nourishment. I got the information from a neighbour who had visited the invalid. She heard the old woman mumbling her thanks to God and to this scoundrel.'
'And informed you, yes?' put in the vicar.
The officer nodded. 'Now I could have arrested him in that house. I suppose a too cautious officer would have done so. He would then have been locked up in the cells at Hythe. But it occurred to me that if I could find his hiding-place I mighty be able to recover a haul of what he had robbed. I and six of my men waited for him to come out of the house, and sure enough he presently comes out.'
'Was he masked?' interrupted the vicar. 'I ask because I have been told that no one has ever seen his face.'
'No,' went on the officer. 'But he was well muffled up, which was excusable, against the driving rain. He sets off through the town towards the Marsh. I followed him. At the end of the High Street I signalled to my men, who were hidden in a covered wagon. This was at the corner by the “Red Lion”. We kept behind. So long as he kept to the road we were sure of him, and I was hoping that his hiding-place would be one of the lonely cottages beneath the sea-wall. Whether he felt suspicious of our wagon crawling in his wake, I don't know, but when we reached the sea-wall and had gone a few hundred yards in its shelter, he turned right and crossed a plank bridge on to the empty Marsh. It was impossible for us to drive after him, so I gave up the idea of tracking him to his lair, and ordered by men out of the cart. His suspicions were aroused then, for he began to hurry, glancing behind him. I sang out to him, asking the way to Dymchurch. I saw him slip his hands into his side pockets, feeling for his pistols. He evidently knew that we had recognized him, for I presume he knows me well enough as his enemy. He pulled up his mask, which was under his cravat, and started to run. For such a big fellow, he was as fleet as a deer. I ordered my men in pursuit, sending two of the best runners out like a fan to hedge him off. I think he would have got away but for a mishap which was his undoing. He ran down a dyke bank to cross the water, caught his foot in some bulrushes, and down he went with a sprained ankle and his head under water. By the time he had extricated himself we were on him. His pistols both missed fire from the damp, and I flung my heavy cudgel, which struck him on the forehead and knocked him out. After that it was easy to pull him unconscious from the water and lash him up. We carried him to the road and lifted him into the wagon. Blood had stained his mask, and I thrust my 'kerchief beneath it, which staunched the wound. But I took one peep beneath the mask to see if I could identify him. I had seen him once before in a Hythe inn and had been told he was a grain merchant from Maidstone. It was good fortune that he could not come riding into Hythe on that famous horse of his.'
'But how did you bring him here without attracting attention?' asked the squire.
'You'll never guess,' laughed the officer.
'Must have been very clever,' put in Mipps, who, taking the lead from Doctor Syn, was striving to hide the dismay upon his face. 'Gentleman James is very popular. You'd never have got him to the cells without some of that mob attending the funeral trying to rescue him. He's been good to the poor, they say.'
'It was clever,' said the officer. 'I warrant, too, it will raise a laugh in court.'
'I think I see how it was done,' remarked the vicar. 'You brought him in the wagon that carried the coffin?' The officer grinned and nodded. 'Told my colleagues that orders had been changed and that the coffin was to be taken to the churchyard in our horse wagon. I'd taken the precaution to gag the highwayman's mouth while he was unconscious, which he was till we got him into the cell.'
'You might have suffocated the man,' said Doctor Syn.
'I think a hempen rope will do that, sir,' replied the officer. 'When the coffin was lifted out I drove the wagon past the Court House and backed it up against the entrance to the cells. The mourners were too interested in the funeral to trouble about us. We lifted the body out screened from view by the wagon, and when Jimmie Bone came round he was lying on the floor of the cell. That is, you will agree, good news.'
'Certainly,' nodded Doctor Syn readily, to the great astonishment of Mipps, who had expected his master to plead for their close colleague. Mipps, in fact, was badly frightened at the turn of events. He knew very well that Jimmie Bone would never willingly betray what he knew, but a man under torture is not always master of his will. Doctor Syn continued, 'But what is the bad news that has so upset the squire?'
'Why, sir,' replied the officer, 'I intend taking the prisoner to a stronger cell. To Hythe, I hope, where I can keep an eye on him. The alternatives are Dover or Sandgate Castle. But since he is my captive, I am for Hythe. I wish to break his spirit in my own way.'
'But no one can move a prisoner once put into my cells,' burst out the squire. 'He is there and it will be my duty to try him at the Dymchurch Court House.'
'That is Romney Marsh law, certainly,' agreed the vicar. 'I must go and see him. At least I may be able to bring him to a better frame of mind by a confession.' The officer nodded. 'Aye, a parson might get something out of him.' Mipps also nodded, but with an effort repressed the grin which he felt was about to spread over his face. If his master had words with Jimmie Bone, it meant that he had already formed some plan of effecting their friend's escape.
'If he talks to me,' went on the vicar, 'I must of course reserve the right of keeping silence according to the dictates of my conscience.'
'You need have no conscience against upholding the full rigour of the law.
The man is a proscribed scoundrel.' Doctor Syn looked at the officer and said, 'Perhaps. We shall see. But the man has not yet spoken. As to the advisability of removing him elsewhere, it might be for the peace of our parish to encourage it, Tony. In any case he would have to be moved secretly, and, I should suggest, at night. I fancy Mipps is right, and that there are many who would attempt a rescue, and I should loath to see any of my flock mixed up in such an adventure against the law. It would make them accomplices. I fear, sir, that your success is robbing not only the poor of a good friend, but of considerable tithes which he sends me after each robbery.'
'You mean you accept it?' gasped the officer.
'Certainly,' replied the vicar innocently. 'I am not to know it is stolen money, though of course one suspects it. But I always ease my conscience by thinking it is better in the funds of the sick and needy than either being spent in the taverns by Mister Bone, or in the pockets of the rich for dicing and cards.
You will please arrange, sir, that I visit the prisoner.'
'Well, sir,' said the officer, 'I suppose I have no authority to stop you if you wish it, since you are chaplain to the Court. But I think you will have to bide a little. He recovered his consciousness all right, but refused food and asked for brandy. I provided this for him at my own expense, seeing that he would earn me a good deal more than the price of a bottle. I sent the beadle for it, and when he returned the prisoner had the effrontery to drink half the contents in one long swallow. He then offered it to me, and when I refused as being on duty, down he tilts the other half. It would have killed some men, but not Bone, who said he was plaguey sleepy and would like to be rid of my company.
Whereupon he curls himself up on the floor, and falls into an immediate and drunken sleep.'
'Then when he wakes from it you will have the goodness to send for me,' said the vicar. 'I shall be dining here with the squire, but afterwards I shall be working at the vicarage.' The officer bowed to the squire, who returned the courtesy distantly; and Doctor Syn, followed by Mipps, accompanied the officer to the front door. 'I am fully in agreement with you, sir,' said the vicar, 'over the question of removing the prisoner from Dymchurch. But, as I said, it must be done very carefully and under the strictest secrecy.'
'The squire was very indignant at the idea,' replied the officer.
'Well, he is naturally jealous of his rule here,' explained Doctor Syn. 'His position is somewhat unique, since he holds it direct from the Crown. But I fancy I can persuade him to our way of thinking. By the way, how is your prisoner guarded? Not by your coastguards, I hope? for then the news will be all over the village.'
'No, sir, for I thought the same,' replied the officer. 'Besides, the squire forbade it, and pointed out that although Bone was a law-breaker, he was a highwayman and not a smuggler. Of that I have my own opinion, and shall, I think, discover more later. No, sir, my prisoner is guarded at the moment by an empty bottle of brandy which will keep him quiet for a long time, a crack on the head, a sprained or strained ankle, an oak door with strong bolts, and your beadle. That is enough for me to be able to snatch a morsel of dinner at the inn.'
'But will you let me know when I can visit him?' asked the vicar.
'Are you really determined to?' asked the officer. 'It is not without danger.
However, I shall be there and armed.'
Doctor Syn shook his head. 'That I will not permit. You may stand outside the door if you will, but inside I insist on privacy. I go there as a parson, and I hope to get a confession from a penitent. It is my duty to visit any prisoner in the Court House cell, and I always see them alone.'
'I warn you against it, reverend sir,' said the officer.
'I am in the Lord's hands, who will deliver His servants from the wicked,' said the vicar solemnly.
The officer shrugged his shoulders and strode away.
Doctor Syn imitated his shrug, and looked at Mipps, who realized that the gesture in the officer's case meant contempt for the parson's faith in God's protection; but he also knew from past experience that when the vicar used the gesture of shrugging his shoulders and looking at him with wide-open eyes as he had then done, they were both called upon to crack a very hard nut.
Mipps sighed. 'Poor James! Now what did he want to go airing his charity for on a day like this, full of Preventive men thinking of poor George's funeral? He's tied a rope round his neck this time.' Doctor Syn closed the front door quietly behind him and strolled with Mipps towards the churchyard wall. 'I rather think our friend is not worrying about that,' he said softly. 'He trusts us to untie it for him, and so, like an experienced soldier, he is snatching a good sleep before his is called by us into action.'
'What's the orders then, sir?' asked Mipps. 'For I see no way out of it.
According to plans we need Jimmie tonight. In fact, without him the “run” will be marred, and we'll have to signal the boats back to France.'
'We'll do nothing of the kind,' replied Syn. 'To get James out of the cells will not be so difficult as my own escape which I managed from Dover Castle, but it will be something after that fashion. I shall need my Geneva gown and a good length of cord to tie beneath it. A gag, too. Well, Jimmie is wearing a 'kerchief. That will serve. It should be simple if our luck holds.' Mipps grinned. 'And I suppose you thought that out directly you heard the news, eh, sir? You never turned a hair, and I owns I was badly frightened.' He then looked solemn and added, 'There's that officer, though. He could hardly miss, if he thought anything was wrong.'
'But if he does think so and attempts to fire,' said Syn, 'you as a good churchman, Mipps, could naturally be horrified at bloodshed, which would be an excuse for spoiling his aim.' Mipps grinned again. 'I'm glad I'm to be there, sir.'
'Of course. With the beadle and officer, while I enter the cell. Jimmie will lash me up, and put on my gown and wig, and the moment he knocks and the beadle unlocks the door, you must attract the attention of the officer. He will cover his face as he comes out as though in prayer. Should the officer recognize him, while your arm turns his aim, he can use his fists, I hope. There's no heed to be taken of the beadle. I never knew him to look for trouble yet. Now, I shall be back in the vicarage within the next two hours, for I have much to talk over with the squire. You must fill in that grave, but give orders that ears are to listen at the “Ship”. I wish to know whether my Welshman holds conversation with the excise men.'
'And if he does, you wish to know what it's about, eh?' Doctor Syn nodded. 'I will find out from Jimmie Bone if anyone else saw his face when he was taken. If so that person or persons will, I fear, have to accompany the Hythe officer upon a very long journey.' Anyone noticing Doctor Syn at that moment as he spoke to his sexton with such a gentle, saintly smile upon his face, would have imagined that he was but talking upon parochial matters. No one would have suspected that he had just pronounced a grim sentence of death.
With a respectful, 'Aye, aye, sir,' Mipps strolled away towards the Ship Inn.
Doctor Syn watched him and listened to a nautical air that the little sexton was whistling, and forgetting for the moment the predicament the highwayman was in and forced them all to share, he said to himself, 'There goes a curious piece of humanity if ever there was one. As faithful as a dog; as useful as a horse; as brave as a mongoose; as sly as a monkey; as fierce as a rat; as gentle as a lamb, and as wise and as foolish, according to requirement, as an owl. We've been through more together than the average, that's certain. Battle, murder, and sudden death. We came here at length for a quiet life, and what have we gained? Battle, murder, and sudden death all over again. And so it will go on till the end of one of us.' When Mipps had disappeared into the coaching-yard of the 'Ship', Doctor Syn took a quick look towards the cells; then he opened the Court House door, and rejoined the squire in the library. The latter, unlike the rest of the neighbouring gentry, had a sneaking regard for the audacious highwayman.
True, he had never suffered at his hands, which was, of course, entirely due to the fact that Jimmie Bone, knowing that Sir Antony was Doctor Syn's old college friend, had always let the squire's coach go by in peace. Certainly the squire had often fumed outwardly against the highwayman for daring to break the laws upon his own Romney Marsh, but since his irritation a few minutes before against the Hythe officer, he began to range himself on the prisoner's side, and confessed as much by saying, when Doctor Syn came back, 'I could almost wish that the rascal would escape.'
'What, Jimmie Bone the highwayman?' cried Doctor Syn, astonished.
'He's also known as “Gentleman James",' corrected the squire. 'And, plague take him, he was certainly arrested doing a gentlemanly action. Besides, I admire the way the fellow accepted defeat and asked for a bottle of the best.
'I must say that I should not care to be in your seat when you condemn him to death,' answered the vicar sadly. 'He is a man much loved by the poor, and for them he does as much good in his way as you do in yours. But you will be able to do nothing less than condemn him, of course. General Troubridge has never forgiven him for holding him up in the Archbishop's coach.'
'Troubridge will not dictate to me,' exploded the squire. 'No, my friend, not in my own Court Room.'
'But we must not deceive ourselves,' went on the vicar persuasively. 'This man Bone has frequently robbed His Majesty's mails. Even the Chief Magistrate of the Marsh could hardly overlook that. There would certainly not be one of the Lords of the Level who would support you in leniency, which could only appear to them as high treason. No, Tony, you know as well as I do that death or the plantations would be the only sentence you could pass.'
'You are in the right of it there,' exclaimed the squire. 'And I must own that when you put it like that I should be unpopular either way. Not that I give a fig for old Troubridge or what he thinks! He has a grievance against the rascal. But if he can't look after himself, it's his own fault. The highwayman has never attacked me, and I travel about a good deal. I think I would far sooner lose the regard of that blustering old dragon than my popularity with the poor.'
'Aye, you have ever been the father to your parish, Tony. But they will take this arrest badly, and I could wish that you would allow this Hythe officer to take him elsewhere to be tried. It would not then be laid to your door. Besides, we know that Bone is an ingenious rascal. The more he is moved from prison to trial, the better chance he has to escape.' Suddenly the squire began to chuckle. He was about to speak, but seemed to think better of it and poured out more sherry instead.
'Well, highwayman or no,' said Doctor Syn, 'he is a game fighter, and I for one never regret having fought against such a magnificent specimen.'
'And remember it was you who helped him escape that time,' laughed the squire.
'My conscience is easy on that score,' replied the vicar. 'The dragoons pursuing him were no parishioners of mine, whereas Bone has always had the humour to pay his tithes. Besides, as he told me that day, he has never robbed a parson.'
'Nor a good squire,' said Sir Antony. 'And now perhaps you guess the reason for my chuckling just now.' The vicar shook his head. 'Well, no, Tony, I picture a fine figure of a man like this Bone swinging in chains, and I see no cause for levity in it.'
'Christopher, you old fool,' whispered the squire, and his eyes twinkled with mischievous merriment, 'I dislike that Hythe officer, and I will not say that for the highwayman. Suppose someone—a man like Mipps might do it— but suppose someone let it leak out that the popular highwayman was being removed tonight from Dymchurch to another prison. Suppose that someone— and I still suggest Mipps, as he can be as secret as the devil when he likes— anyway this someone hinted that it meant the rope. Are there brave enough spirits, think you, in Dymchurch, who in sufficient body and under cover of disguises and the darkness would effect a rescue? We would know nothing of it, of course, though we should be secretly glad the highwayman was free, and I confess that I should like to see that Hythe officer, who will not drink on duty, looking even sillier than he did on that chair.' The butler came in to announce dinner.
'Take that chair out into the hall,' ordered the squire. 'It is too stiff for a comfortable library.'
The two friends passed into the dining-room, Doctor Syn continuing in a matter-of-fact tone, 'Yes, Tony, I think something of the sort might be arranged, and I dare swear Mipps might know the man to do it.' Throughout the meal the butler noticed that the squire continued to chuckle, and after the most sedate remarks from the good vicar too. Once when Doctor Syn had been telling him of some poor invalid who would appreciate an early visit from Lady Cobtree when she returned from London, the squire so far forgot himself as to let out a loud and hearty chuckle.
'Whatever amuses you in that?' asked the vicar. 'I tell you that the old body is in need of the comfort which Lady Cobtree can give so well.'
'My thoughts were straying back to that excise officer and how damned silly he was to refuse my good sherry,' explained the squire. Syn, however, was glad to know that if Jimmie Bone escaped, the squire would not be displeased.
When the butler had left the gentlemen to their port, the vicar told the squire what he had heard from the Welshman concerning the Tontine.
'Now that is strange,' said Sir Antony. 'It must have happened. I could not have dreamt it, but many years ago when you were lost to us in America, I had a letter from a banker in Edinburgh, asking whether I could tell him anything of your whereabouts, should you be alive. That I was unable to do. I had given you up for dead, though in my reply I said that we had every hope that you would one day return to us. I asked my correspondent if there was anything I could do, and might I know the nature of the business. His reply was that there was no immediate urgency, and that the matter might never benefit you, but being a secret matter he could give me no details. You may depend it was this Tontine.'
'Very likely,' replied the vicar.
'And you say this Welshman is the only other claimant?' asked Sir Antony.
'That appears to be so,' replied the vicar.
'Then let us hang him instead of Mr. Bone,' laughed the squire. 'What are you going to do about it?' Doctor Syn smiled, fingering the stem of his glass, then leaned across the table. 'Were I not a parson and a man of honour, I could easily find a means of removing the Welshman, without being directly stained by his blood, for he tells me quite seriously that there is a wild smuggler in his home mountains, who wishes not only to murder him, but me as well. In fact, this Welsh lawyer was sent by this gentleman to lure me to Wales for that very purpose!'
'If only he murders him and not you,' laughed the squire, 'the long journey might be worth the making, and, by God, Christopher, I have a mind to accompany you. It would make you a very wealthy man, and all we have to do is to let him murder the lawyer and then fasten a quarrel on the smuggler and kill him in revenge.'
The vicar shook his head. 'We could hardly both be spared from Dymchurch, Tony. Not at the same time. But I must own to a curiosity which prompts me to this journey north. In fact, I proposed to the lawyer that, as rivals for this money, we should cry quits, visit Edinburgh and each draw half the Tontine.'
'And his answer to that?' inquired the squire.
'That the banker is obstinate. In fact, he would not advance one guinea on the Tontine's security, because he had not got proof positive of my death, and it was to obtain this proof that the lawyer has journeyed here to find out for himself. As to his tale of the smuggling rascal up there, well, it sounds fantastic to me.'
'I should not be happy to see you go with him,' said the squire. 'It might be easy enough to arrange an accident in the Welsh passes which might be very convenient to him. How do you know whether the fellow can be trusted?'
'I have ever had a way of looking after myself,' replied the vicar. 'But we will both of us size up this man's character before I start.'
'And you could take Mipps with you,' said the squire. 'Just so soon as the affair of Mr. Bone is settled, we will discuss this seriously. In fact, you had better bring this lawyer to me, and I will hear what he has got to say. Only, after your experience of him, see that he does not carry artillery in his pocket. I have no love for people who point pistols at me.'
'I can promise that he will not make such a fool of himself again,' laughed the vicar.
A few minutes later, Doctor Syn left the Court House for the vicarage.
Mipps was already awaiting him.
'Is there any sign of Jimmie Bone awaking from his drunken sleep?' he asked.
'Not yet, sir,' replied Mipps. 'The Hythe officer left the cell some quarter of an hour ago, and instead of coming here, as I expected, he went to the Ship Inn.'
'Now I wonder why he went there?' said the vicar.
Mipps winked. 'Dirty work which I can't fathom. The Welshman has been very mateyfied with them excise officers. He dined with 'em. I took a drink at the next table, but they talked in whispers. I listened hard, according to your orders, sir, but all I could gather was that they was connecting poor Jimmie Bone with the Scarecrow.'
'Our Welsh friend needs watching, then,' said Doctor Syn. 'I am in the mind to put his courage to the test tonight. I shall know then how far we can depend upon him, for certainly the way he bungled the pistol business did not increase my good opinion of him.'
'But you see, sir, you shot first,' said Mipps with a grin. 'He'd have to be quick indeed who could shoot quicker than Clegg.'
'We will leave the name of that old pirate out of it,' said Doctor Syn. 'I think we agreed to forget that such a man ever lived.'
'Well, sir, it's difficult to remember to forget when you keeps that old harpoon of his hanging above your fireplace.' Syn looked up at the weapon in question, and chuckled. 'I had forgotten that,' he said. 'Now listen, Mipps, I am going to visit Jimmie Bone, and I have thought of a way for his escape. He will put on my robes and come out as me. It must be your part to see that he is not detected. Follow him to the church, and I will give him the keys of the crypt. There are hiding places there, as we know.
Then tonight we will smuggle him to Mother Handaway's and the “run" can go forward as planned.' Mipps rubbed his hands with relief, just as a man passed the study window.
'It is the Hythe officer,' warned Doctor Syn. 'Our friend is evidently awake at last. I shall need the cord around my waist, and it will be hidden under my Geneva gown.'
'Here they are, sir, and there's that rascal knocking on the door.' Doctor Syn took off his clerical coat quickly, and wound the cord which Mipps had produced from a cupboard securely around his waist. Mipps then helped him into his gown, which fell in full folds, concealing all sign of the cord.
'Have you your blunderbuss, Mipps?' whispered the vicar.
'All loaded, sir, and I'll take care to aim at whoever is stopping Jimmie Bone's escape. And whoever that he won't take me out shooting rabbits with him.'
'Now open the door,' ordered Syn. 'Find out first if the prisoner be awake.
Then come and tell me in here.'
Mipps did as he was ordered, admitted the Hythe officer, who told him that the prisoner was awake and very amused to hear that he was to be visited by the parson. 'A scoffing sinner, Mister Mipps, and so you can tell your master. I will await you outside.'
'Just as you please,' replied Mipps. 'I'll tell the vicar.' The officer strolled out into the front garden, and looked across at the low wall of the churchyard. What he saw, or rather what he did not see, seemed to give him satisfaction, for the six good coastguards he had posted there were lying completely hidden in the grass the other side of the wall. Another coastguard he could see, smoking a pipe and sitting upon a mounting block at the corner of the 'Ship' yard, and he knew that despite the man's appearance of unconcern, he was keeping a sharp lookout and was ready to signal to his mates beneath the wall if he saw any danger of the prisoner being rescued.
Doctor Syn handed Mipps a loaded pistol. 'If Jimmie Bone is suspected, present this at his head, and I'll warn him to grab it. You will let him take it.
He may need it to fight his way out.'
'Aye, aye, sir, and after he's fired it, a pistol butt in his hand is a good weapon. He'll use his fists too. He wasn't named “Gentleman James” for nothing.'
'Should he not be detected as he comes out,' went on the vicar, 'never mind.
You will then keep the pistol hidden and accompany Jimmie to the church. I shall not move till the beadle looks in on me, and by that time I hope Jimmie will be safely hidden.' Saying which, Doctor Syn picked up his Bible, and, followed by Mipps, joined the officer in the garden. All three went towards the cells.
Fat and pompous, the beadle was there ready to unlock the cell door.
'Has he given you any trouble?' asked the officer.
'I have not given him the chance, for I have not been inside,' replied the beadle. 'I have my own skin to think on, and since you unlashed his legs because of his sprained ankle, and then his hands so that he could swill himself in good brandy, I have been taking no chances with Gentleman James. He could still hold his own in the ring, and could break me with ease, though he cannot break this door.'
'Well, open it,' demanded the officer, 'and I will inform him that the chaplain is visiting him.' So saying, the officer entered the cell alone and closed the door behind him.
The prisoner was lying on a heap of straw that was piled in the corner behind a rough table. A stool completed the furniture. He lay covered by his overcoat, and as he peeped over the edge of it, he groaned with disgust on recognizing his visitor.'
The officer paid no heed to this, but said civilly enough, 'I am allowing you to see the parson, Doctor Syn. Do you wish to see him?'
'I have no respect for revenue officers,' answered the highwayman, 'but strange as it may seem to you, I have a regard for parsons, for they are on the whole friendly disposed towards the sinner condemned by the law. That is why I have never robbed one in my life. You need have no fear, therefore, that I shall be dangerous. I would like to see this Doctor Syn. I was wrong to scoff at the idea when you first told me he would visit me. I rather fancy I shall confess my sins to him: aye, and in all humbleness; whereas to you and your kind, you hangmen, I'd just glory in 'em.'
'Then the parson will be more welcome than I am,' retorted the officer. 'I wish he would allow me to stay in the cell, but he refuses, and I have no power to go against his authority in that. But if your love of parsons is feigned, and you offer him any violence, be sure that I shall be at hand, and armed, so you had better behave yourself.'
'Oh, I'll behave,' answered Jimmie Bone. 'I'll not risk having you come in more than necessary, believe me! Besides, if you think I'd confess my sins in front of you, you're mistaken. I have my pride.'
'Then I'll send in the parson,' said the officer, opening the door and beckoning to Doctor Syn, who stood in the passage, which was fortunately very dark.
'The prisoner will see you, sir,' he said, and as Doctor Syn entered he added, 'And as I hoped, he will confess.'
'Not to you. Only to the parson,' cried Jimmie Bone. 'I wants therefore to see him alone, and I has the rights of a prisoner so to do. I know I'm for Jack Ketch; you'll see to that, and with the shadow of death upon me, I'll make no peace with you, though with the reverend gentleman I will.'
'You certainly may, my poor fellow,' said Doctor Syn sympathetically, as he laid his Bible on the table. 'How dark this cell is, to be sure. That little grating up yonder only makes it seem the darker.'
'It is for ventilation, not for light, reverend sir,' explained the officer.
'I think every prison cell should allow the inmate to see the blessed sun,' replied Syn reprovingly. 'Besides, a prisoner should be allowed to read the Holy Writ. What is the use of a grating that looks on to a wall like that? I must speak to the squire about it.'
'And he'll say what I says,' returned the officer. 'A cell is a place of punishment, and the darkness is a fitting reminder to the condemned man of the eternal darkness he is about to enter.'
'I cannot hold with that, sir,' retorted the vicar sharply. 'There is no eternal darkness in the Hereafter, but only eternal light, though perhaps to the wicked man of no penitence the first darkness of death may last longer. Besides, this poor fellow has not yet come to trial, so is not condemned now.'
'But he will be,' laughed the officer, 'and I ain't here to discuss the Hereafter. That's your department.'
'Then go and see to yours,' snapped the prisoner. 'Go and find the rope and skip with Ketch. One day he may fix it round your own neck. I hope he does.'
'A revengeful spirit is no fitting preparation to confession,' rebuked the vicar. Then, turning to the officer, he ordered him to leave them and to lock the door on the outside. 'When I wish to withdraw, I will knock three times.' The officer went out, closing the door, which he ordered the beadle to lock.
As the key turned and the lock creaked home, Doctor Syn winked at the highwayman.
'I have tested this cell with Mipps,' he whispered. 'We often thought one of our fellows might be prisoned here, and I consequently made sure that a whispered conversation could not be heard through that door. Now quickly! Listen to what I have to say. First of all is your ankle too painful for walking?'
'I made it out worse than it was, thinking it might put them off their guard,' said Bone. 'But I can walk on it, for better a strain on the foot than a stretch round the neck. What's the plan?' Doctor Syn had taken off his wig and laid it on the table. He then pulled off his Geneva gown and ordered Jimmie Bone to put it on. 'And keep mumbling a pretended conversation while we get ready.'
'I have been a bad and wicked man,' said the highwayman aloud, as Doctor Syn unwound the cord from around his waist.
'Go on,' he urged, 'you're doing splendidly,' and as the prisoner launched into a great recital of his many crimes upon the highway, Doctor Syn between many loud ejaculations of 'poor fellow', 'my poor sinner', gave his whispered orders.
'Lash me up tight. But first let me adjust my wig on your head. It fits well enough. Now my hat pulled down over your brow. So! I took care to wear it that way on purpose, and it hides the gash on your forehead, which we will attend to later with any luck. It is quite dark in the passage. If the officer suspects you, he may fire, but Mipps is there to turn his aim. Mipps will then present a pistol at you, which he will let you grab from him. Then use your discretion. Fire if you must, though a good blow would be better than using a weapon. It is a mistake to fire against an officer of the law, for that the law does not forgive easily.'
'But if I am caught, how do I explain the rope I am supposed to have tied you with?' asked the prisoner. 'I was searched when I was taken, and there was no rope then.'
'A sympathizer or accomplice let it down through the grating,' explained Syn. 'You can say that you pretended to be drunk for the purpose. That will clear me.'
'And what do I do if I get clear of the outer door?'
'Walk with Mipps to the church, and he will hide you in the crypt,' said the vicar. 'We will free you when it is time for taking horse tonight. Can you ride with that ankle?'
'My ankle is nothing. I could run on it to get away if I had to.'
'You will only have to walk, I think,' replied Syn. 'Now go on with your confession, while you tie me up, and be quick. Gag me with your 'kerchief. Put your mask in your pocket. You may need that tonight. As you leave, keep your hands over your face as though in prayer. And take comfort, for should this escape fail, we have another planned for tonight, when you will be moved from here to be taken to the cells at Hythe. You will be rescued, never fear. But such necessity will be a pity, since it will mean changing many of our settled plans.' All through this conversation, Jimmie Bone had been busy tressing up his master with the cord.
'Tie it tighter; tighter,' Syn ordered. 'That's better. Now gag me with your 'kerchief. Then tie my mouth tight with your neck-cloth. Then cover me with your overcoat, and when you are ready to go knock three times upon the door.' Jimmie Bone, acting his part well, talked in a high-pitched whine of penitence, while he obeyed. After looking at the prostrate parson, and testing the cord which looked very convincing, he covered him over with his great riding coat. He then went to the door and beat three times upon it with his fist.
Both men in the cell heard the key creak in the lock, and the beadle opened the door for the officer to enter.
'Are you finished, reverend sir?' he asked.
Jimmie Bone with head bent and one hand covering his face as though overcome with emotion, nodded gravely, and passed the officer out of the door.
'Glad to see you safe and sound, sir,' remarked Mipps, feigning unutterable relief in his voice.
'Aye, it was a risky thing to do,' said the beadle. 'The vicar should have thought of the value his good life is to the parish, and not have risked it with such a villain.' The officer, having glanced across at the prostrate figure in the dark corner, shrugged his shoulders and said, 'You are in your sulks, I see, because I am here, but believe me I have no wish to see you till I accuse you in the Courts.
You'll be moved out of here tonight and taken to a safer place where there will be no chance of a rescue. Till then I shall not trouble you.' He went out, ordering the beadle to lock the door. Mipps was then climbing the stairs behind the black-robed parson. The officer followed.
'Did he make a confession of his various crimes, reverend sir?' he asked.
The figure of the parson did not turn nor answer, but continued to mount the steps. It was Mipps who turned round and said, 'Leave the vicar alone, for goodness' sake! This sort of thing upsets him. He takes others' misfortunes to heart and don't lick his chops over Jack Ketch as you do.'
'Is that any reason why he cannot answer me?' returned the officer.
'Call up him later on,' advised Mipps. 'Whenever he gets a spiritual turn like this 'ere one, he goes into the church and has a bit of communing with himself. What the prisoner confessed—and it may be murder, and oh, don't you hope it is, you old vulture!—is a matter for the vicar to decide upon and deal with. It don't concern you. Nothing spiritual concerns you. Only got to look at your face to know it simply couldn't. So leave the vicar alone and have respect to the church, is my advice to you, my man.'
'The church must have respect for the law then,' replied the officer. 'I say I have the right to know whether or not the prisoner confessed. Not that I don't know his crimes well enough. I do. But his own confession helps the prosecution and helps the prisoner too.'
'You talk of help,' echoed Mipps. 'You wouldn't help your own greatgrandmother out of a horse-pond, you wouldn't. No hypocrisy now!' At the top of the steps the parson was waiting for the beadle to unlock the outer door. The officer hurried after them unsuccessfully to brush past Mipps.
Failing to do so, he called up, 'Just a moment please, reverend sir.'
'Didn't I tell you that the vicar is communing with himself?' snapped Mipps over his shoulder. 'Come to the vicarage in half an hour if you must, and wait for him. Then p'raps he'll tell you what the prisoner said, or p'raps he won't. I don't know. You must let him commune about it first.' Mipps, having reached the top of the steps, thrust his head past the officer towards the beadle who was too fat to pass. 'You'll never squash yourself to the floor. Give me the key.' Jimmie Bone waited patiently, muttering, 'Poor fellow! Poor fellow!'
'Don't take it so to heart, sir,' pleaded Mipps, as he stooped and unlocked the outer door. He then swung it open and the figure of the parson with his back towards the officer was framed in the light of the evening sun.
'Mind the stone jamb of the door, sir,' warned Mipps.
Unused to walking in a long gown, Jimmie Bone lifted it in order not to stumble over the step in question. The action showed the officer a muddy boot, and he remembered distinctly that Doctor Syn had worn buckled shoes.
Pulling his pistol from his belt and cocking it, he cried, 'Stop!' Like lightning Mipps struck the weapon from his hand, saying sharply, 'Don't point that thing at the vicar.'
'It's not the vicar! It's Bone, you fool!' roared the officer, trying to push past Mipps in his anger. Unable to do so, for Mipps stood his ground firmly, and being a step above the officer had every advantage, the officer whipped a whistle attached to his uniform by a lanyard to his lips and blew it shrilly.
'Here, you ain't Bone, are you, vicar?' cried Mipps, pointing his own pistol at the prisoner.
Bone turned and wrenched it from his hand, as agreed, and then, with his left, he struck the officer under the jaw with all his mighty force. Down went the officer backwards with the whistle still between his teeth. The beadle, who had retreated a few steps at this alarm, was unable to stand the weight of the falling officer who crashed on to his back, and with a gasp he fell headlong down the steps with the officer on the top of him.
'Attempt to follow me, you rats, and I'll shoot,' hissed Bone, pointing his pistol down the steps.
'Don't let him fire!' stammered the beadle.
'Keep where you are, for pity's sake,' whined Mipps, 'or he'll kill us all.'
'Keep your mouth shut, you dirty little sexton,' snarled Bone, 'or I'll treat you worse than I've done the vicar.'
'Oh, he's killed the poor vicar,' moaned Mipps. 'Kill me then, for I can't live without my beloved vicar. Oh, my poor master! You villain!'
'Shut your mouth or I'll put a bullet down your throat to stop your tongue.' And with this warning, uttered to clear Mipps in the mind of the officer, the highwayman passed out into the full light, pulling the door behind him.
He hurried across the Court House drive towards the churchyard gate. He did not dare to run, in case anyone should be watching from the road.
Meantime Mipps kept moaning in the darkness, 'Oh, my poor wrist! The villain has near broken it, snatching my pistol away.'
'Don't clutch hold of me,' cried the officer from the darkness below, for the frightened beadle was gripping him tightly as a shield for his own body in case the prisoner fired.
'Hi, you sexton,' went on the struggling officer, 'pick up my pistol, open the door and fire at him. This fool won't let me up. Fire the pistol outside the door.
I have men who will hear the alarm and help you.' Mipps opened the door, and by the light picked up the fallen pistol. 'I'll get him. Have no fear,' he said bravely, and out he went, not forgetting to pull the door to behind him, in order that the others should be hampered by the darkness. Nor did he wish their cries to be overheard, for the officer was cursing the terrified beadle loudly.
It was at this moment that the squire happened to step out of his front door to take the air, for he had drunk much port and wished to clear his head.
Seeing, he thought, Doctor Syn hurrying towards the church, and wishing to know how he had fared with the prisoner, he called out to him to stop.
'Hi, vicar! Doctor! Christopher!' he called, and was puzzled that the parson did not turn. 'Doctor! Doctor Syn!' he shouted.
What followed astonished his fuddled brain the more, for as the black-robed figure passed the churchyard gate, six customs men rose up from behind the wall and surrounded the 'parson'.
'What was that whistle for?' asked their leader. 'Something wrong?' His answer was a smashing blow on the chin which sent him sprawling.
This was followed by the flash of a pistol which brought down another with a bullet in his leg, as the figure of the 'parson' jumped in leaps for the church door. One of the others fired and missed, while the other three rushed after the figure, who, hampered by his bad ankle, was overtaken and tackled in the porch. Bone flung his empty pistol in the face of one, but the other two gripped him, and they fell in a struggling mass on the pavement.
Mipps, who had run past the squire, reached the porch, just as one of the antagonists managed to press his knee upon the prisoner's bad ankle, causing him to let out a howl of pain and rage. Seeing that the odds were now against his friend, Mipps decided that for the moment they must accept defeat, especially as the two men were astride is friend's back and lashing his wrists up tight with a cord. When this was done one of them asked, 'What happened, sexton?'
'Goodness knows,' replied Mipps. 'I thought it was the beloved vicar. Then suddenly he knocks the officer and beadle down the steps. I pulled out my pistol, but he was too quick for me. Seized it, he did, and gets away. I didn't know it was Jimmie Bone till he did that. I just thought it was the saintly vicar who had got sudden bats in his holy belfry.' By this time the squire had joined them and had listened to the sexton's recital. 'Then where's the vicar?' he demanded.
'Dunno, sir,' replied Mipps. 'Horrible nightmare, the whole thing. Oh what a wicked, desperate villain! He must have killed the vicar and left the body in the cell after stealing his holy robes.'
'We must hurry there at once,' exclaimed the squire. Then, turning to the two men, he added, 'Bring back you prisoner, and, Mipps, come with me.' The squire ignored the groaning man who had been shot in the leg, merely saying to Mipps, 'This is a bad business.' Mipps gathered that the squire was disappointed that the prisoner had been re-taken, and had no fear that the vicar had been injured by him. Meanwhile the wounded man lay groaning with his mate sitting beside him nursing his jaw. It was no joke to be struck by Gentleman James, ex-pugilist.
As the squire and sexton reached the Court House they met the officer coming out of the cell door.
'Have they got him, sir?' he demanded.
The squire did not answer, but asked, 'Where is the vicar, you bungler? It will be well for you if he is safe, but otherwise—'
'He's in the cell. Tied up,' interrupted the officer. 'Where is my prisoner?'
'To hell with your prisoner!' exploded the squire. 'I am a magistrate, not a gaoler. Why did you not release the poor vicar?'
'The beadle is attending to him,' retorted the other. 'I was against the reverend gentleman going to the cell alone. It is on his own head, and of the two of us, I need more attention, since that rascal has nigh broken my jaw. He struck me with my whistle between my lips as I was blowing the alarm.'
'You'll find another of your fellows with a broken jaw, and one with a bullet in him,' said the squire. 'You should have attended to the vicar yourself, since it was all your own bungling.'
'I have my duty to do first, sir,' snapped the officer. 'Ah, but I see that they have got my prisoner. I think there is no doubt now that Gentleman James's next fight will be with the hangman, and the rope will hang him up who has held up so many.'
The squire showed honest indignation on his face and turned to Mipps with, 'Come, we will attend upon the vicar.' The outer door of the cells was open and as they groped their way down the steps they heard a prodigious groaning.
'I care little for the groans of the revenue men, but this distresses me,' said the squire.
'Trust Doctor Syn to be more or less all right, sir,' remarked Mipps.
'Jimmie Bone would never want to do damage to him, and even if he did, the good vicar has a way of looking after himself.' As they entered the cell, the door of which was open, their eyes, growing accustomed to the darkness, made out by the filtering light of the grating the bulky figure of the beadle sitting on the stool with his head between his hands.
The groaning was coming from him and not from the trussed figure of the parson, who lay on his back staring over his gagged nose and mouth.
'My poor Christopher!' exclaimed the squire. Then, turning upon the beadle, he vented his rage by saying sharply, 'Why have you not attended to the vicar? Don't sit there blubbering, man!'
'I tried to attend to him, sir, but the knots was too tight,' replied the wretched man. 'I am in much pain too. I was knocked all the way down the steps with that officer on top of me. The vicar had no rougher passage than that, I swears.'
'Every male baby should be sent to sea, I says,' said Mipps scornfully.
'Then they'd learn how to tackle knots. Besides, you wouldn't have been so fat and lazy neither.' Despite the gloom, it took Mipps little time to unfasten the cord, and to help Doctor Syn to his feet.
'That's better!' said the vicar, rubbing his wrists, and stretching himself.
'What an adventure, Tony! But did the prisoner get away?'
'No, he got caught in the church porch, sir,' explained Mipps, not quite able to hide the disappointment in his voice. 'Revenue men was hiding behind the wall. Six of 'em. But Gentleman James gave a very good account of himself.
Them as hasn't been too smashed up will no doubt be bringing him along.
They've tied him up, so he can't escape again.'
'Then let us get into the air,' said Doctor Syn. 'I have had enough of this place.'
'And as for you, sir,' said the squire to the beadle, 'you can stay here and groan, as they will need you to lock up the cell when the prisoner is brought back. But how did this all happen, Christopher?'
'Very quickly,' replied the vicar with a smile. 'In fact, so quickly that I hardly know what did happen. But I hear them coming. We had better wait for them.'
Despite his bad ankle, which was now paining him considerably, the prisoner was forced to walk down the steps with the revenue men behind him.
As he entered the little cell first, he saw the parson and laughed. 'As I told you I had never robbed a parson, sir,' he said, 'I thought I had better make good my words, and have come back on purpose to return you your gown, wig, and hat. I allowed these poor fellows to bring me back, for they ain't much good at fighting, and I was sorry for 'em. No fun knocking down skittles.'
'There is no explanation necessary, James Bone,' returned the parson coldly. 'Neither do I wish to hear your excuses, which only spring from your wounded vanity. True, you were outnumbered, but that is no reason for belittling these men who have done their duty and done it well. As for myself and your rough treatment of me, I will point out that I was only trying to help you, and you took unfair advantage of it. However, I am still willing to help you, only I warn you that when I visit you in a stronger prison than this, I shall be closely guarded, for you are to be taken away secretly tonight to a place where you will be kept in safe custody till you stand your trial. In that place I will do what I can to bring your mind into a fitter state, so that should you be called upon to meet your final Judge suddenly, you may appear before Him in true penitence.'
'And I intend to find out who dropped that cord through the grating,' said the officer. 'I'll have that rascal in the dock beside you. And now take off the vicar's things and let the reverend gentleman make himself respectable.'
'I'll be delighted,' replied Jimmie Bone. 'But you must first undo my hands.
Pity to cut this beautiful gown off with a knife.' The officer gave orders for his hands to be freed, but took the precaution of standing in the doorway to prevent any further escape. Two of his men fumbled with the knots, which again irritated Mipps. He stepped forward with a 'Ain't none of you been to sea? Let me,' quickly untied the cord, and then, having removed the hat and wig from the highwayman's head, pulled the gown off, and helped the vicar to robe.
'Now, Bone,' the officer said, 'who let down that rope?'
'I am unlike you, sir, in this respect,' replied the smiling Bone. 'For I have many a good friend in spite of the fact that I am a rascal. As it happens, I could not tell you who it was, so torture would not be able to get the information out of me.'
'Now, vicar, we'll get out of here,' said the squire.
The beadle locked the door, then escorted the party up the steps, and having locked the outer door, waited till the others were out of sight and then trotted off to the Ship Inn for a little medicine to stay his shaken joints.
Doctor Syn, having refused the squire's invitation to play a game of backgammon on the plea that he had important parochial matters to discuss with his sexton at the vicarage, which the squire knew would have to do with a further attempt at rescuing the prisoner, then persuaded the officer to have a covered wagon at the Court House door by eleven o'clock, when the prisoner could be removed secretly to Hythe. He also advised the escort of two riding officers and two armed men in the wagon with the prisoner.
Syn and Mipps went off to the vicarage, entering the study by the garden door.
'Well, you took all that very cool, sir,' remarked Mipps.
'I must own that I thought he had got away,' replied the vicar. 'I heard the crash as the officer and the beadle fell, and I chuckled. Then to my disappointment, the officer looked in on me as I lay groaning, and said, “I have men hidden behind the wall. I have taken precautions.” Then I confess I was a little frightened.'
'What!' echoed Mipps. 'Well, you didn't appear to be frightened at all.'
