THE SCARECROW RIDES (29 page)

So she tied the bouquet with white ribbon, and Dr. Syn, with Captain
Ransom's log-book in his side pocket and the scarlet velvet sachet of
pearls in his breast, walked gaily through the back way to the
squire's.

This led him past the stables, where to his secret amusement he saw
all the Court House grooms busy rubbing down the squire's horses.

The grooms looked sheepishly at the doctor as he watched them.

“It seems by their coats that the squire's cattle have been worked
hard,” he remarked.

The nearest ostler shook his head. “It's amazin', sir, how some
horses will sleep dirty. Now I take my oath that we ain't had most of
these animals out since yesterday morning and then we rubbed 'em clean.
But to look at 'em you'd think they'd been careerin' the Marsh in last
night's storm.”

“You would indeed,” replied Syn seriously, though he chuckled to
think that in some respects the Romney Marsh smugglers were not so ill
organised. It was obvious that the squire's grooms were keeping their
mouths shut.

“Are all horses as dirty then in their stables? I would never have
credited such a thing,” said Syn.

“No, sir, they ain't,” replied the ostler. “But we seems fair cursed
with 'em here. There's only one in these stables what is clean in the
stall and that be Miss Charlotte's hunter. As silky a coat as when I
locks the stables last night.”

“Splendid,” thought Syn. “He even pretends that he locked the
stables. I see that I shall not have to teach these fellows the virtue
of secrecy.”

With a pleasant nod he passed on into the squire's garden, and
stepping to the open french window greeted the family at breakfast.

“My dear Charlotte, I have picked a few flowers from my garden,” he
said, “with an old man's blessing on this important birthday.”

“Oh I am entirely spoilt,” laughed Charlotte, who ran round the
table, took the flowers, pressed them to her face and curtseyed. “I
accept the lovely gift, but not the description you give with it. An
old man's blessing. Why, my dear godfather, I never saw anyone look
more sprightly. No, don't go hunching your shoulder up and trying to
look old.”

“But I want to look old in order to claim an old man's privilege, my
dear,” he said smiling. “I should like to be the first outside the
family to salute you, and also I claim the privilege of a godfather to
give you a gift that will be more to your liking than a few Marsh
flowers.”

“Nothing could be more to my liking, believe me, and please let me
kiss you for them,” she answered.

So, much to the amusement of her sisters and mother, Charlotte
kissed Dr. Syn and then asked him to kiss her.

“Well, here is the gift,” he said, laughing, and handed her the red
sachet.

“Oh and my initials on it,” cried Charlotte. “Oh, Doctor, did you
work this? No. It is too neat for a man's sewing.”

“Bless you, I'm an old traveller. I had to learn to sew after a
fashion. But open it, please.” Dr. Syn watched her face as she bent
down towards the sachet.

The beauty and obvious value of the pearls set everyone gasping,
including the delighted Charlotte.

Cicely chuckled. “You are not going to tell us that you value the
Marsh flowers as much now, I hope.”

“Flowers and jewels are both beautiful,” answered Charlotte, “and I
value them both for themselves and for the kind heart that gives them.”

When Dr. Syn had confided the history of the pearls and had hung
them round Charlotte's neck with his blessing, he handed the log-book
to the squire.

“Well, there's no doubt,” exclaimed Sir Antony, “that Charlotte
lives up to your dead captain's hopes. Let us quote what he says:
'Perhaps in years to come, these stones will once more adorn the neck
of a beautiful woman. I pray God that her mind be beautiful too.' Well,
I think we agree that, despite her looks, Charlotte's mind is at least
beautiful, and that because she has been well brought up.” His eyes
twinkled. He winked at Dr. Syn who added:

“And standing there I think we can claim perfect beauty of face and
figure. Look at her holding those poor but fortunate flowers. Tony, you
are a lucky fellow to be the father of such a perfect picture.”

“Oh, pooh,” laughed the squire. “Flowers and jewels and a pretty
frock work wonders in a girl. Besides, her mother is beautiful, and
with a beautiful mother and a handsome father, what can you expect?
Praise her parents, not her.”

“Well, well, we will not quarrel,” chuckled Dr. Syn. “Her mind is at
least her own, and that, as you say, is beautiful. We will give her the
credit for that.”

“Her mind can be dashed obstinate at times,” added the squire. “But
since you are her advocate, we'll allow then that she deserves the
pearls. Secondly, there is no doubt that you, Doctor, by virtue of
being the sole survivor of the captain's brig, become his lawful heir.
Therefore, since this book comes under my jurisdiction and as
magistrate I am responsible for returning it to Lloyd's shipping house,
I decide on cutting out this last page, which we will keep. It gives
you right of ownership and therefore every right to give them to
Charlotte if you so wish. Besides, the absence of the page will insure
that we are not drawn into legal dispute. Lloyd's ask for the log-book.
Well, we send it to them.”

“So,” thought Dr. Syn, “my worthy Tony is a cautious magistrate
where his own people's interests are concerned. He would rather keep
things to himself than run the risk of losing. He is as close as his
own grooms appear to be under similar circumstances. All of which bodes
well for the scheme I have to direct. He might even be induced to come
in with us.” Dr. Syn looked at the squire and wondered. He watched him
fingering the pearls that hung round Charlotte's neck and patting her
lovingly on the cheek. And it was then that Dr. Syn ruled out the
notion of implicating the squire. “He is her father and Charlotte must
be kept out of anything like that.”

All that day the village seethed with excitement over Grinsley's
death. Perhaps it was natural that the news was received and handed on
amidst lively discussions that had in them no trace of sorrow. Indeed,
there was no attempt made to disguise the utter relief which the
murderer's death caused. So obvious was the general feeling of
jubilation that Mipps, who was working with Merry in the church,
thought fit to give his views on the subject to Dr. Syn and the squire
as they passed by him arm-in-arm.

“Good news, gentlemen, that this rascal is dead, eh?” he remarked.

“Faith, the village seems all agog as though it were on holiday,”
answered the squire. “They seem mightily glad that the hangman has
missed his commission.”

“Now that, I dare swear, sir, ain't entered none of their heads,”
returned Mipps in defence of the villagers, for he felt that their
attitude night reasonably be received with suspicion. “Now, my opinion
of their opinion's this—I don't think it's so much glorying over
Grinsley's death as being joyful that the Sandgate riding-officer is
avenged. He was very beloved that there officer was, as they says in
the Psalms.”

“I never knew a riding-officer beloved yet,” was the squire's sharp
comment.

“You shouldn't judge Customs people, sir, by our Preventive man,”
said Mipps reprovingly. “Gloomy, he's called, gloomy he is, and
suspicious of innocent men. But that Sandgate late lamented was a
pleasant man, fond of his wife and children and very regular attending
church. No wonder everyone bears a grudge against Grinsley for giving
him that broadside.”

“It ain't that at all,” growled Merry, “touching his cap to the
gentlemen in a grudging manner. “The villagers are glad Grinsley's dead
because he's dead without coming to trial. If he'd got in the dock he'd
have informed against 'em, and well they know it. But there's only one
man besides me as would own it, and that's the Preventive Officer, and
you can ask him if you doubt me, 'cos here he comes.”

Preceded by the beadle ringing his bell, and followed by a crowd of
gaping school children, the Preventive Officer, carrying a very soiled
parchment, proceeded to the foot of the gallows tree, which was
fortunately barren of fruit, and signing to the beadle to cease ringing
his brass bell, himself began intoning and crying “Oyez” in a
lugubrious voice.

“Whereas it is a common practice in Romney Marsh to cause wool to be
transported to France in exchange for contraband of rum, sundry spirits
and silks, for the future be it enacted that all persons so concerned
may be held in close custody at His Majesty's pleasure to be tried on a
capital charge. God save the King.”

To avoid the clanging of the bell and the indignity of being stared
at by the school children, the squire had led Dr. Syn through the
little iron gate in the wall that shuts off the Court House shrubbery
from the main road.

Such other adults who happened to be lounging or passing by the
immediate vicinity, for other reasons best known to their own
consciences also made themselves scarce, so that the reading of His
Majesty's Proclamation was given for the benefit of Mipps, Merry and
the children.

The Preventive Officer ignored everyone but Mipps, and while
pronouncing blessing upon King George the Third, he looked from his
parchment straight at the sexton in a somewhat sinister fashion.

Mipps, however, was not at all perturbed at this, but appeared very
interested. He strolled across to the officer and thrust his long nose
into the parchment which he read through as though to make sure that
the officer had not left anything out or made any mistake.

“Yes. That's what it says, sure enough,” he nodded.

“Aye,” replied the officer, and under cover of the noise of the
bell, which the beadle had once more set ringing, he added: “You've
heard and read. Well, my advice to you is to profit by it, or you may
find you're measuring yourself for a coffin.”

“Don't know no one as could do it better,” replied the sexton, “but
what exactly might you be drivin' at?”

“A friendly warnin'. You've seen this parchment. Don't it convey
something to you?”

“Oh, yes,” nodded Mipps with great conviction.

“It means something to you, eh?”

“Certainly it do,” replied Mipps with another serious nod.

“What?” barked out the officer, above the clanging of the bell.

“That it's got very dirty. Now, own up. It is dirty, ain't it? They
tells me bread crumbs is a very good thing, and also wash your hands
now and again.”

Mr. Mipps then turned on the beadle. “Here. Enough of that noise.
Come and have a drink at the 'Old Ship', but don't go waking up old man
Waggetts with that bit of brass, or he'll start telling us how when he
was a boy there used to be smugglers in Dymchurch. I'm tired of tales
of smugglers, straight, I am. Coming, Gloomy? No? Oh, well, then I'll
drink with the beadle.”

And while Mipps led the beadle, nothing loath, towards the back door
of the “Old Ship Inn,' the Preventive Officer and Merry put their heads
together and talked in whispers.

As for the school children, they followed the man with the brass
bell, especially as he was talking and walking with their hero, Mr.
Mipps.

All through the day little knots of villagers met here and there, in
inn parlours, at street corners or leaning upon the sea-wall, and when
they spoke of what might have been, had Grinsley been taken alive, many
a face looked troubled. And the mysterious appearance of the second
scarecrow was openly discussed. Who could it have been? To most of
these inquiries came the answer so subtly suggested by Mipps. For who
could ride so fearlessly as Jimmie Bone, the highwayman? Certainly, no
one on the Romney Marsh, where he was so often in hiding.

Despite Charlotte's important birthday, which was naturally a great
event in the Cobtree household, the squire was also troubled. He knew
well enough that his stables had been used the night before, and the
knowledge irritated him, especially as he was quite certain that he
would hold his tongue and appear to his grooms as an easily-deceived
owner, for when Dr. Pepper came bursting in with the news that his
horse had been requisitioned the night before on illegal business, the
squire retorted: “Of course they take your horse, because you won't
leave 'em alone. Now, I say there is no smuggling going on. Well, I've
never seen a sign of it, and therefore, you see, my horses are no more
used than Dr. Syn's pony.”

“Well, he's a gull and no mistake, with all respects,” remarked a
young ostler to the squire's head coachman.

“Maybe he's not so blind as you think, youngster,” reproved the
coachman. “He's a wise man is the squire, and a wise man don't go
stirring up for trouble as that Dr. Pepper does.”

But although the whole village from the squire down seethed with
excitement that day, an exception must be made of Dr. Syn. The events
of the night before seemed to interest him not at all. He spent the day
largely in the pleasant company of Charlotte Cobtree, for, as he put
it, “a twenty-first birthday is a very great occasion.' The dinner hour
having been postponed till a late hour that day, the early evening
found the doctor on his white pony riding beside Charlotte, and
although many times upon the ride he had entreated her not to bother
about his slow jogging but to enjoy a gallop, she resolutely refused to
ride from him.

“You have sacrificed your whole day for my happiness,” she said.
“You have remembered every minute that it is my day, when even the
family have quite unconsciously, bless them, put off further
festivities till dinner time. Therefore, if I wanted to gallop away
from you, I couldn't, but you see, I do not want to.”

“Well, you are twenty-one, Charlotte,” replied Dr. Syn. “You have
every right to please yourself. Thank you very much.”