When Mipps called at the vicarage for orders that morning at the usual hour of nine, he was informed by the housekeeper that the reverend gentleman had breakfasted in his bedroom, as he had been out all night visiting a sick woman, but that Mr. Mipps was to go up.
The sun was streaming through the open casement, but the curtains of the bed were close-drawn.
“That you, Mipps?” asked the voice of Dr. Syn.
“Yes, Vicar,” replied the sexton.
“Find the bottle behind the books. I have replenished it. Help yourself.”
While Mipps carried out this excellent command, Dr. Syn pulled back the curtains of the bed and gave him a detailed account of the Scarecrow's ride.
“And there'll be a fearful ghost story told this day by that captain of Dragoons,” he chuckled, “for he'll never realise that there were two scarecrows on black horses riding the hills last night. It was a piece of luck that it was I who made Grinsley break cover from that wood. Hardened sinner though he was he had enough religion in him to make him believe in the Devil. I could see by the fright in his eyes that as we met face to face in the glade, he thought I was Satan come for him. I have never seen a strong man so scared. He forgot everything but his endeavor to get away from me, for I rode neck to neck with him up the glade, laughing in his face and clawing the air for him with my hand, till round he swung in a panic, galloped out of the wood, only to find the Dragoons in full cry after him.”
Dr. Syn chuckled again. “But, my faith, that Captain Faunce wanted some shaking off. I began to think that, short of using my pistols, I should never change my horse for my pony before the dawn, and for half an hour I had the uncomfortable feeling that I had made a grave mistake in not allowing the captain to gallop after his men and the real Grinsley.”
“Why, did you get such a chance?” asked Mipps.
“Aye, that I did,” went on Syn, “and at Grinsley's first break away from the woods, for the captain heard his men hallooing and dashed off in the direction. I was then governed entirely by a philanthropic reason—”
“A how much reason, sir?” asked Mipps.
“I thought of others, Mr. Mipps,” exclaimed Dr. Syn. “I put the interests of my erring parishioners before my own safety. I knew that, better mounted than his men, the captain would the more speedily overtake the murderer and, thought I, the chase may be ended all too soon, for the rascal Mipps to get his kegs into hiding. I realised that some delay was necessary, so I galloped after the captain, who in his astonishment at finding the murderer, as he thought, pursuing him, struck his helmet against an overhanging branch and lost it, as he turned to fight. But I had turned already and waiting till he was all but at sabre's length I led him a chase away from his men, to whom he shouted in vain. It was a gallant run we had.”
“But how were you quit of him at last?” asked Mipps.
“I led him at length to the Warrens, where I found that my newly-acquired beast had a miraculous instinct for avoiding the rabbit holes. My friend's charger was not so blessed, and although his luck held good for a time, down he came at length, and finished as far as a good rider could allow. I tell you I had much ado to keep my face when the captain spoke of it, for all that I was grieved at his horse's laming. And now, my friend, tell me. When is the next run likely? For I think that I had best lend a hand.”
Mipps grinned. “No compunction about being a parson now, sir?”
“My good sexton, I am pledged to look after my flock. Well, if they must smuggle, I really must see that they do it properly.”
“And a very praiseworthy sentiment, Vicar. Does you credit,” said Mipps.
“And to do it properly,” continued Syn, “involves a lot more trouble than you have hitherto found necessary. First of all, where you have used one lugger, I will have ten, and the cargo must be hidden with neat contrivances. We'll carry brandy in tanks beneath live or stinking fish. We'll send back wool packs under false planks with a cargo of dung on top. We'll see if these Custom officers have delicate noses. We'll have hollow masts, sunken rafts, tobacco twist ropes put inside hawsers. When we have a great run in commission, we'll sacrifice a few kegs as a sop to the Preventive men. Abandon a boat-load in a panic, my friend, on one beach while we land a fleet's cargo on another. Oh there are ways—many ways, but it wants the brain behind it. And no robbers like Grinsley shall be employed. No extortion monies. We sell at high prices off the Marsh, but here we give what we get and so build up a local popularity. And meantime I must thunder against the smugglers in the pulpit, for that will keep us on the side of the Customs. Let me think. Let me work, and there will be no repetition of last night's business.”
“Where would we be without you, sir, now, I trembles to think,” exclaimed Mipps.
“Well, don't tremble, but pass the bottle,” ordered Syn.
“Having taken a pull, he nodded at the sexton facetiously, which brought the tassel of his night-cap over one eye.
“Like old times,” he added. “Here's to the Scarecrow, the Demon Rider of Romney Marsh. Aye, it's like old times, Master Carpenter.”
“Yessir,” replied the gratified Mipps, “but with this difference. Clegg is dead. Long live the Scarecrow.”
“Aye,” muttered Syn to the bottle, “Clegg is dead and so is the Master Carpenter.”
“Aye, sir, he's dead, too, so it's long live—who?” asked Mipps. “Hellspite is a good name, ain't it? For I'll serve the Scarecrow same as I did Clegg in spite of hell.”
“Hellspite then,” replied Syn, drinking to the sexton, and as he passed the bottle he began to sing in a soft voice:
“Oh, here's to the feet what have walked the plank—
Yo-ho For the dead man's throttle.
And here's to the corpses afloat in the tank
