Lady Cobtree's words were perfectly true. Merry had been responsible for many a crime which only needed evidence to hang him on the gallows beneath the rookery, and there were many men in Dymchurch who could have put him there, had they not feared to implicate themselves. Yet Merry knew that there was always a risk of one of his nefarious associates betraying him, for Sir Antony Cobtree had a devilish knack in using King's Evidence to clear up a mystery. Consequently, Merry held the squire in great dread, although while appearing to Meg in her imagination, he had been confronted by one whom he was doomed to fear more than any of his enemies, for his adventure on the sea-wall, all but accomplished with success beyond his highest hopes, had resulted in a situation which turned his blood to water. Merry was now in the power of a man against whom he had no counteracting blackmail. When Merry is spoken of as a coward, it should be noted that his cowardice was of the earth—earthy. That is, he shrank from physical discomfort. Moral cowardice he could he could hardly possess who had no morals. In plain words, he shrank from Jack Ketch who could hurt his neck, but did not give a brass button for God who could hurt his soul. As for the devil—well, he was so akin to him and all his works that the fireball which fell into Dymchurch Bay he welcomed as being likely to send God-fearing citizens scuttling to their homes, and so leaving him to gain what he could of such horrors. Merry recognised the fact that one thunderbolt in a million possesses the chance of striking a man dead, and the tidal wave that followed was taken by this gambler as a convenience that would probably lay a wealthy corpse at his feet. An iron mooring ring fixed into the wall secured his safety from drowning, just as sure as a hot brandy would secure him later against cold. Therefore, although soaked to the skin from salt water, it was a happy enough villain that adventured to peer out along the base of the sea-wall when the wave had receded.
The wicked elements favoured him, for the percussion of the thunderbolt had shifted the heavens and the black thunder clouds were rolling away across the Marsh to the distant heights of Lympne Hill, and their retreat from the sea uncovered the moon, which kept dodging in and out of fast-flying white vapours that were hard on the heels of the storm. The light of the moon showed Merry the dark huddled body of a man lying face downwards on the stones. The ghoulish wretch approached the body cautiously. He intended to find out first of all whether the man was dead. A knife wound would look suspicious if anyone discovered the body but he would run that risk if necessary. If, however, the man were dead, all the better, and no risk to run.
He perceived at once that the survivor was dressed as a sailor of rank, with long sea-boots, and his fingers were clasped around an oilskin package. Merry had some difficulty in wrenching it from him and when he had ripped open the waterproof case, found that it was no value to him, though of the greatest import to a conscientious captain, for it was the log book and bills of lading. The gallant captain of the brig had to the last preserved the good name of his ship.
A last wave of the full tide surged up and all but drew the body back with it, but Merry clung on, and when the water cleared, he dragged his find up the sloping stones beneath the shadow of the Wall. He then turned it over on its back, and in so doing heard the chink of gold. Of course, this would be the ship's money. With greedy fingers he unbuttoned the sea-coat and found, sure enough, a waist-belt fitted with many pouches. Fumbling for the buckle in order to transfer this to his own waist, the corpse of the captain, to his utter astonishment, opened his eyes and regarded him with an expression of wonder.
The captain was alive. What was more significant to Merry, the captain looked a man of iron, broad shouldered and with hands hard and hairy. It was no time to hesitate. His victim was recovering his senses, for with a protective gesture his hands moved to his belt. Better for him had he feigned death, for Merry flashed the knife out of his pocket and drove it into the captain's heart.
This cold-blooded murder did not upset Merry in the least, for what more likely than that the captain had been stabbed by a member of his crew. He drew out the knife and cleaned the blade upon the dead man's soaking clothes, and then, dragged the heavy belt from the corpse and fastened it securely beneath his own coat.
The tide having turned, it now occurred to the murderer to throw the corpse back into the sea, so that it would be carried out, and turning round to prepare for this new exertion, he saw to his delight that another body was lying a few yards away.
Leaving the captain for the moment in order to get busy with the other before being interrupted, he approached his second victim with every degree of caution. The body lay on its side with its face half-buried in the sleeve of an arm crooked under it.
Merry saw at once that this was a passenger, dressed in a suit of sober black. Despite the rough passage of the waves, this survivor had managed to keep on his shoes, which were fastened with handsome silver buckles. Beneath the heavy but well-cut top-coat, he saw long spindly legs in black hose and breeches. It seemed incredible to the murderer that this body had not only retained shoes but also a large imposing three-cornered hat, which fitting tightly to an intellectual forehead, had yet been tilted to a rakish angle during its journey across the stones.
With his left hand grasping his knife in case of accidents, Merry's right explored the corpse cautiously, raising its loose arm up and finding that it fell back into place, heavy, stiff and lifeless. To his great delight he found that this one had also a money belt, which by the size of its well-filled pouches promised a greater return than the one he had filched from the captain. He also noticed above the collar of the coat a lanyard, the ends of which disappeared beneath the white cravat, and wondering what valuable the man thus secured around his neck, he tugged it out and found a large, handsome silver key. That was no use to Merry, for it was no doubt the key of a sea-chest which would by now have been consumed in the hold fire. He then saw that a rope was fastened round one of the wrists. The other end was trailing in the water. The man had most likely been lashed to a spar which had broken loose.
On the whole, the belt interested Merry more than any other detail, but before transferring this to his own waist, a perverted sense of humour which this knowledgeable villain possessed, prompted him to a course of action which would save him the exertion of returning the bodies to the sea that brought them up. He resolved to stab this corpse as he had stabbed the other and then to lock them arm-to-arm upon the stones as though they had perished in a fatal fight.
He thereupon drew out his knife, and for greater caution glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that he was not being observed. That movement was his undoing, for as he turned his head he received such a violent crack over the skull that for some time he knew nothing.
