He would have no difficulty in recognizing him. Neither did he, for after three minutes’ vigil at the window, he saw
his man creeping through the archway. Turing abruptly from the window Doctor Syn walked briskly to the door,
and asked the petty officer acting as usher to order him a hackney coach. As he crossed the courtyard the
approaching Handgrove saw the petty officer salute the parson and dash away. As he mounted the steps of the main
entrance that led to the enquiryroom, the parson came down the steps to meet him.
“Your name is Handgrove, I believe,” said he in a quiet, pleasant voice. “You are here by appointment to lay
information before Admiral Troubridge concerning a certain party whom it is safer not to name. You may wonder
how I knew you, but before I was made Chapla in to the Admiralty here I was Vicar of Dymchurch. You
disappeared from my parish some eleven years ago, and were given out as dead. I am delighted to find you alive.”
“I am here to see the Admiral,” growled Handgrove sullenly.
“Who has appointed me to take you to him,” replied the parson. ‘It will be my duty to take your Bible oath upon
the truth of what you tell us. I shall then hand you this bag of guineas in advance of your reward, to show you our
good faith. The rest will be paid when we have proved your statement true.” Doctor Syn drew a money-bag from
his pocket, and Handgrove heard the chink of gold. “A hundred guineas, Handgrove, which you shall count after
taking your oath. You will then be detained under the protection of the Admiralty till your story is proved.”
“It’s true enough as a certain party will find to his cost,” snarled Handgrove. “I shall be glad when it’s over, and
hope the authorities won’t delay. Where’s this Admiral?”
“I am waiting for a coach to take us to him,” replied Doctor Syn. “It may interest you to know that a certain
party has sent him a threatening letter stating that if you enter the Admiralty you will be killed before you can utter a
word. The Admiral, knowing as I do from bitter experience, that this unnamed one never utters idle threats, has
commissioned me to take you to his private lodgings, and I think here is our conveyance.”
Handgrove saw a coach with a sailor on the box seat beside the driver enter the yard. The petty officer sprang
down and opened the door. Doctor Syn stepped in and told Handgrove to sit opposite him. He then called out,
“Lambeth Palace.”
“Lambeth Palace,” repeated the saluting petty officer, and the coach rolled out of the yard.
“Why there?” asked Handgrove.
Doctor Syn smiled. “Because it is not where we are going, and when we are clear of Whitehall I shall change
direction. We do not want to give information to the scarecrow’s spies, and no doubt there are many now about the
Admiralty, waiting for you.”
“But how could he know that I’ve escaped? Asked Handgrove.
“My good fellow, don’t ask me,” replied Doctor Syn. “I begin to think, as many do, that there is something
supernatural about him. I have striven against him in the past, just as the Admiral has, and if now you have it in
your power to overthrow this devil, the government will owe you much, and you will deserve the large reward.”
According to his changed direction the coachman at length pulled up his horses opposite the alleyway that led to
the secluded Mitre Inn. Paying the coachman, Doctor Syn ordered Handgrove to follow him, and led the way to an
upstairs sitting-room, where Handgrove saw a spread dining-table laid for three.
“The Admiral though it best for us to dine together here in private,” explained Syn.
“I have no wish to dine with gentlemen,” growled Handgrove.
“You will change your song when mine host brings in our covers,” laughed the Doctor. “Now while we wait for
the Admiral we will count these guineas.” He drew a Bible and the bag of guineas from his pocket. “Here is the
good Book ready for your oath, and here the guineas.” He laid the Bible on the table, and then poured out the
money on to the white cloth. “I have counted them at the Admiralty, but had better satisfy yourself. I will go and
see if the Admiral is in the common-room below.”
Closing the door behind him Doctor Syn beckoned to the waiting host of the ‘Mitre.’ You are sure you can do
it?” whispered the Doctor. “Remember I want him alive. You must strike carefully.”
Mine host nodded. “I have a heavy, lead-loaded, brass candlestick upon the sideboard behind his chair. I’ll not
kill him.”
“I took him from under their noses without suspicion,” chuckled Syn. “And good for us all that I did. If he had
reached the Admiral you and I and some hundred others would have had our necks stretched. The cellar is ready?
And the cellarmen?”
“Trust me, sir,” whispered the landlord.
“Then bring up the tree covers as soon as you will,” said Syn, “for if I have to look at that traitorous dog much
longer it will spoil my appetite. Mipps will be here by coach tonight, when we can shift the rogue from your celler
aboard the lugger in London Pool. Drunk sailors are a common enough sight upon the quays. We shall have no
trouble. But once again let me remind you not to kill. I wish him to take his last voyage alive.”
Doctor Syn re -entered his private sitting-room briskly. “The Admiral will join us in a moment, Handgrove. He
has ordered dinner and begs us to start. You will sit there. Myself opposite, and the Admiral here, Is the money
correct?”
“Aye. Ten piles of ten as you see,” replied Handgrove.
“And here is mine host with the covers. Master Bubukle, the Admiral has ordered us to start. I will ask a
blessing. ‘May we who eat this food be faithful unto Thee, loyal to the King, and steadfast to our fellows. Amen.’
Now, Handgrove, fall to with good appetite.”
Mine host lifted the cover in front of Doctor Syn, as he saw the steam mount up into Handgrove’s face. Then a
sickening thud, and Handgroves’s head was on the table.
“Took it beautiful,” chuckled the landlord. “Now a boozer’s hoist to the dellars, and my cellarmen will look to
him.”
Five minutes later Doctor Syn and mine host were doing full justice to the sucking-pig.
During that afternoon the Vicar of Dymchurch visited Lambeth Palace and took a dish of tea with the
Archbishop.
At five minutes to nine the same Vicar was awaiting the arrival of Admiral Troubridge at the Ship Inn of
Whitehall.
During those five minutes, for the Admiral was punctual at nine, Doctor Syn found occasion to leave a sealed
letter addressed to the Admiral on the hall table reserved for patron’s messages. That the Admiral was in a rage was
apparent, but it was not till the waiter had left them to their soup that he explained.
“The rascal never turned up, Doctor Syn. Do you know, I think the Scarecrow’s got him.”
The Parson lo oked incredulous. “Come, come, Admiral. That is surely impossible.”
The waiter brought the fish, and laid a letter by the Admiral’s plate. As he read the contents the old sea-dog
nearly had apoplexy. “It’s true,” he gasped. “I’m right! Read, read.”
Doctor Syn adjusted his spectacles and read quietly: “Handgrove cannot attempt to betray me again. Let his
fate be a warning to you and that meddlesome Parson of Dymchurch. I will not brook your interference.”
It was signed by a rough sketch of a scarecrow.
Later that night, at the Mitre Inn, the Vicar of Dymchurch whispered to Mipps: “We shall have no more mutinies
amongst our prisoners in France. I have a means of making Handgrove see to that. You will enjoy our next