THE SCARECROW RIDES (24 page)

'This is the Last Will and Testament of me, Mervin Ransom, Master
and Owner of the brig,
City of London
, trading between New
England and Port of London, who having no kith and kin to my knowledge,
bequeath what I possess to be divided equally amongst all and sundry
persons, with no respect of rank or class, who may be voyaging upon the
said brig at the time of my decease. The brig shall be broken up be it
that she survive me, and her materials sold, the money divided as
stated. I will not risk my brig having another master. She has known
only one, the man Mervin Ransom who built her. The figure alone shall
not be broken up, but let it be taken to some worthy shipyard or
boat-builder's and be left there for a memorial. But before carrying
this into effect let my beneficiaries take care for themselves to
remove the let-in block between the shoulder-blades. It is caulked in
securely and hidden by the folds of the cloak worn by old Gog the
London Giant. In the cavity thus revealed will be found a string of
pearls. As a young man I collected them myself, matching them
carefully. They were plentiful enough in those days if a man cared to
fare far and adventure a little. These I would not sell, but collected
them for her who I hoped would marry me on my return. My return was
postponed a long time, but when at last I made home she was dead. I
kept my gift in the body of the figure-head—a gift to my ship. Perhaps
in years to come these stones will adorn the neck of a beautiful woman.
I pray God that her mind be beautiful too, for she for whom they were
meant was perfect in beauty. But let the brig be broken up. That is the
solemn adjuration of Mervin Ransom. Signed in the presence of my 1st
and 2nd mates, who herewith affix their marks.'

Dr. Syn read the names and date. He was the sole survivor of the
brig. The captain and crew were all dead. The pearls were his. The
first thing to do was to discover in they were still there.

As he read the extraordinary document through again there came a
knocking at his door. Dr. Syn glanced at the clock. It was half-past
ten; Mrs. Fowey would have gone to bed. He got up, went across the hall
and opened the door, admitting Mr. Merry.

“Mipps said you wanted me,” he growled sullenly.

“You met him in 'The City of London', eh?” asked the vicar.

“No, I didn't then,” replied Merry hotly. “I met him at the 'Ship'.
I was talking to Mrs. Waggetts.”

“But you have been to 'The City of London' lately?” asked Syn.

“Well, I had to meet a man there one night last week. It was not my
fault.”

“You should have come to me for permission first,” said Syn sternly.
“Avoid it in future, Mr. Merry, and we shall be the better friends. And
for your punishment—”

“Punishment?” flashed out Merry. “For just going in to find a man—”

“Which was a breach of discipline, my friend, and that does not suit
me. For punishment, you will accompany me to Wraight's yard with a dark
lantern. Where is Mipps?”

“He left the 'Ship' on his way to Meg Clouder's tavern.”

“Go and fetch him.”

“But you said I was not to go there.”

“Not without permission, which I now give you. Was Josiah Wraight
with Mipps?”

“He left the 'Ship' before Mipps. He was going home to bed.”

“All the better. Very much more convenient for what we have to do.
We will give him half-an-hour to get to bed. You may go to 'The City of
London' and call Mr. Mipps from the door. You will say I want to see
him in half-an-hour, and you will wait outside for him. When he joins
you, you will tell him that I want him to bring his bag of tools.”

“It is raining. It is blowing half a gale,” grumbled Merry.

“It was blowing a full gale when you murdered the captain of the
brig,” replied Syn.

“Will you never stop reminding me of that?”

“Not while you are disobedient. Go. And remember. No drinking at
Meg's tavern. And don't forget the bag of tools.”

Merry slouched off into the night.

In less than half-an-hour he was back again with Mr. Mipps. They
found Dr. Syn waiting for them in his heavy black riding coat, his face
muffled in a scarf and his three-cornered hat pulled low on to his
forehead.

“I brought the bag o' tools, sir,” said Mipps, “but what's the game,
sir?”

“A little adventuring, Mr. Sexton. Just we three. Mr. Merry will
watch for us and warn us if anyone wakes at Josiah Wraight's, while you
and I climb up on to the roof of his shed.”

“And what are we going to do that for?” asked Mipps.

“We are going to pay our respects to old Gog, the figure-head of the
City of London
.”

So the three adventurers braved the weather towards the avenue of
trees outside Wraight's yard. There was little fear of disturbing old
Josiah, who slept on the other side of the house adjoining his yard,
but Dr. Syn took the precaution of placing Merry on that side, while he
and Mipps took one of the many ladders from the shed and mounted it
alongside the figure-head which had been fixed upon the corner of the
roof.

When they stood behind it, Syn took the dark lantern and opened the
shutter.

“There you are now, Master Carpenter,” whispered Dr. Syn, with a
grim smile. “You see that line. It is as neat a piece of caulking as
ever I saw, and it seems a pity to unpick it. It's got to be done,
though, and quickly. The trees are creaking loud enough to drown any
sound, but do it as quietly as possible. Get busy, Master Carpenter.”

“Right, Vicar,” grinned the mystified Mipps.

Syn held the light while Mipps, selecting a sharp tool suitable for
the purpose began uncaulking the tight seam of oakum. He had almost
completed the circle when he put his spare hand over the lantern.

“What is it?” whispered Syn.

“Why, that skunk Merry. He's left his post. He's watchin' us,”
whispered Mipps.

“I rather hoped he would. That's why I brought him along. I assure
you, the results of this night's work on the roof here will plague him
past all bearing. Get on with it.”

“Oh, then that's all right,” answered Mipps. “So long as it annoys
him
and not you, enough said. There, sir, it's uncorked.”

“Drive in a gimlet and pull,” said Syn.

Mipps found a gimlet, screwed it into the loosened block, and then
pulled it out. Syn put his hand into the cavity.

“Look out it ain't a snake or something,” cautioned Mipps.

“"Keep easy in your mind. I've got it, and it's what I expected.
Look!” By the lantern light Syn drew out of the cavity a string of
pearls. Both men knew something of stones, and it was obvious to both
that the pearls were exquisitely matched and highly priced.

“And how in the name of Captain Clegg did you know they was here?”
whispered Mipps. “Was our captain of the brig one of the Jolly
Brethren?”

Dr. Syn shook his head. He was still holding the pearl string
against the lantern's light.

“Listen,” cautioned Mipps. “I heard a man gasp for breath. It's
Merry watching. He knows what you have found.”

“I intended he should. Let us take him back with us to the vicarage
and give him the drink I refused him at 'The City of London'.”

Dr. Syn dropped the string of pearls into his side pocket and
descended the ladder, followed by Mipps who, after putting the ladder
back in the shed, went in search of Merry, who had quickly hurried back
to his post.

“You will accompany us to the vicarage, Mr. Merry, said Dr. Syn, as
they turned for the builder's yard on to the high road and set their
faces towards the village. “After your wait you will no doubt be glad
of a drink, besides, there is the question of a punishment, if you
remember.”

“There is also the question of my having something to say which you
will not relish,” replied Merry, with a note of cunning triumph.

“Oh, I am convinced that anything you say will be charming,” said
Dr. Syn.

“To me, but not to you,” growled Merry.

“Well, you shall say it over my brandy, Mr. Merry.”

Dr. Syn led them round to the back of the vicarage. He always went
to the stable to bid good night to his fat little pony.

“I have noticed, Mr. Mipps, he said, that periodically my stable
door is unlocked.”

“Really?” asked Mipps. “Well, there's always a remedy to that, sir.”

“You mean, lock it up again?”

“Right, sir. First shot, sir,” laughed Mipps.

“Unfortunately, the key seems to unlock the door and then disappear,
and strangely enough, every time it has happened I see a chalked cross
upon the lintel of the stable. Let us see if it is there now, shall
we?”

He led the way in, and approached the stall in which the fat pony
was munching contentedly.

“There you are,” he said, taking the lantern from Merry. “A white
cross. And if it happens as it has happened before on several
occasions, to-morrow morning that chalk mark will have gone from the
wood. What do you make of it?”

“What ever could one make of it, sir?” asked Mipps. “I'm sure I make
nothing. Door that opens and loses its key and lets in a chalk mark?
Does the key come back?”

“It has never failed yet,” answered the vicar.

“Very strange. Door opens. Key goes. Chalky cross comes. Chalky
cross goes, key comes back and door's locked. No, I make nothing of
that, sir.”

“I make a good deal,” growled Merry. “And so will a number of others
before very long. Open stable door, eh? You'll find every stable door
open to-night, not only here, not only on the Marsh, but far and away
over farms and manors as far away as Tenterden. And most of 'em ain't
the luck of the chalky cross neither.”

“Oh, it's lucky then, is it, that cross?” asked Dr. Syn.

“Aye. It means the party what owns that pony or that horse or that
donkey or mule is favoured.”

“Favoured?” repeated Dr. Syn. “By whom?”

“By shadows. It ain't healthy to say what them shadows are, is it,
Mr. Mipps?”

Mipps looked at Merry as though that gentleman was mad. “I never
went to school, Mr. Merry,” he said, “'cos I run away to sea and never
learnt no gibberish. Can't you speak King's English before the vicar?”

“I'll speak plain enough one of these days,” snarled Merry.

“You say that every stable door is open, eh?” asked the vicar. “It
would be illuminating to verify that statement. Let us take a look at
the squire's stables.”

When they reached the long grey stone building in which the squire's
magnificent horses lived, they found the door unfastened, and in going
in they found every stall empty, except a loose box on which they saw a
white chalked cross.

Dr. Syn held the lantern over the loose-box door, and recognised
Sirius, Charlotte Cobtree's favourite, on which she had ridden to the
hills that very day.

“Another favoured person—Miss Charlotte,” sneered Merry. “You see
all the other cattle have been taken, ladies' mounts and all. No doubt,
the grooms had orders to put this one in the loose-box.”

“Orders?” queried the vicar. “From whom, pray?”

“I think Mr. Merry is hinting at smugglers,” suggested Mipps.

“I said nothing,” growled Merry.

“I said 'hint' not 'said',” replied Mipps.

“But look at these empty stalls. Every animal gone, from Maria's
pony to the six coach horses. The squire's favourite hunter, too.” Dr.
Syn was angry.

“Oh, they'll pay compensation, and a hard run does a horse no harm.
It's good to exercise cattle. The squire won't be the loser.” Merry
grinned.

“You scoundrel, what are you hinting at?” demanded the vicar
fiercely. “Who will compensate whom? Speak plainly.”

“The 'shadows' who took the horses out will pay, and either the
squire or his grooms will be well paid.”

“Are you calling the honour of Sir Antony Cobtree in question, you
villain?” asked Syn.

“Oh, no,” replied Merry. “Honour is a question of law, therefore how
can a magistrate lose his honour? He'd never be blamed. No more would
his grooms. Did you notice that the yard is a mass of new straw? Them
cattle was taken out silently enough, you may depend—after the grooms
were gone to bed. No, there's no blame coming to them.”

“But the key—my stable key too? How did they manage that?”

“Stable keys ain't the most difficult keys to steal,” replied Merry.

“The squire must be informed of this,” exclaimed Dr. Syn. “Though
it's no use locking the stable doors till the horses return. But he
must be warned for the future.”

“Do you know what would happen if this door had not been
unfastened?” demanded Merry. “Well, the Squire of Bilsington could
answer that. He locked his stables five years back and slept with the
key under his pillow, and he awoke to the smell of roast horseflesh.”

“Do you mean to say that these scoundrels burnt his stables?”
exclaimed Syn, horrified. “They dared?”

“I mean to say that they'll dare anything,” replied Merry. “There's
some in this traffic who mean business, and not in it just for the fun
of it, like many.”

“I think I'll go round and have a look at some other stables,” said
Mipps.

“Not yet,” replied Dr. Syn. “I want you both in my study for a few
minutes.”

“Oh well, certainly, sir, but I don't like to think all this going
on, any more than you do, sir. We don't want to see any of our
parishioners feedin' the churchyard rooks.”

“Don't worry on that score. It won't happen yet,” replied Merry.
“The squire will look after the good name of his Marsh men. How long
he'll be able to do it, though, depends on various circumstances that
it's no business of mine to talk about.”

“And yet you said that you wished to make a statement,” remarked Dr.
Syn.

“Yes, over a drink which I can well do with,” replied Merry.