of Lympne signed. It contained an urgent appeal for the Captain to bring his men to the festivity, in case the
Scarecrow should be mad enough to make good his boast.
After many weeks of being baffled by the Scarecrow’s wits, Captain Blain would not agree with Doctor Syn that
the letter to Lympne was an idle piece of boasting. He pointed out that the rascal’s threats had always been carried
out, and he had every reason to think that this would be no exception, and he accepted the invitation to the castle on
that ground.
During the days before Christmas, the Captain saw but little of his host, who was busy every evening training his
Mummers in their parts behind the closed doors of the school house. Also the thick snow and severe wintry winds
blowing across the bleak Marsh necessitated the Doctor walking on his parochial visits, which meant that his. hours
were fully occupied. But for all that Doctor Syn was more than ever cheerful, and could be seen striding along
chuckling to himself as he went, over the merry quips and satirical jokes that were going to be good-humoredly
pronounced by his characters. Never before had the village play gone so well, or been more enthusiastically praised
by the critical ones as on that first performance at the Court House.
Even the victims of the many jokes laughed uproariously at their own expense. But it was the final scene that
caused the sensation. When Beelzebub entered shouting, “Here come I, old Beelzebub, and in my hand I carries my
club,” he was rigged out in rags similar to those worn by the Scarecrow. And when he claimed the hand of the
fairest lady in the room, and led hew away to the gates of hell, St. George, throwing off his white battle-cloak, was
seen to be dressed as an Excise officer. It was all voted grand foolery, though Mipps pointed out many an
ablebodied parishioner who seemed to be fearful at laughing too much at the Vicar’s attack upon the dread
Scarecrow. He affirmed that this was even more noticeable amongst the audience during the performance on the
next night at Lympne Castle.
He was right. Rumors of the Scarecrow’s threat to attend had spread abroad, and even those who were most
afraid were persuaded to attend out of curiosity and excitement.
The castle hall was packed. In the front sat Sir Henry Pembury, keeping an anxious eye upon his daughters, the
eldest of whom was sitting next to Captain Blain, and obviously very piqued at his lack of interest in her. At the
best of times the Captain was no man for the ladies, but the sight of Miss Fan, whom her detractors nicknamed the
Dragoon, embarrassed him confoundedly, especially when she patted him playfully upon the sleeve whenever a
flattering allusion was spoken about the King’s good men. Blain was having no truck with such a she-dragon.
Unfortunately for the lady the other seat next to her was reserved for Doctor Syn, who, as the author, kept leaving it
vacant in order to retire behind the great screens that backed the stage. But the last scene cheered her up. On the
entrance of Beelzebub, attended by two Nightriders, she giggled hysterically, especially when the masked devils
brought in a keg of brandy with No Duty chalked upon it, and made the Squire of Lympne take a glass with them.
“And who’s the brave man acting the Scarecrow, miss?’ asked Blain.
“I recognize his voice in spite of his disguise,” she whispered loudly. “It is the eldest Upton boy from
Dymchurch. Very well-looking, too. It is a pity he is masked so hideously. They are a very worthy family, as no
doubt you know.”
“The Scarecrow won’t approve of him,” growled the Captain. “He’ll be needing my protection I fancy.”
When this actor came to the front row and chose her as the fairest in the room, her delight and coyness knew no
bounds. Everyone knew that this was but a compliment to their host, but Miss Fan took it as a compliment to her
beauty. She accepted his hand and to the applause of the audience walked with him to the back of the stage so that
the Lord from darkness could salute her under the mistletoe. On their disappearance St. George came forward to
make his heroic speech, and was applauded for some minutes, and the audience could hear the actors behind the
screens whispering and asking for Doctor Syn.
After some minutes of an embarrassed wait the officious Mipps popped behind the screens to investigate. After
another wait he reappeared, craving the audience’s indulgence.
“The fact is, my lords, ladies and gentlemen,” he said solemnly, “our principal actor appears to have disappeared.
What’s more, he seems to have took off Miss Pembury with awaiting to step forward at the conclusion of his play
to accept your kind applause. He’s gone, too. Perhaps he’s a-chaperoning Miss Pembury, for the back door is open
on to the terrace.”
Suddenly Captain blain sprang to his feet. “Mr. Mipps,” he cried out, “who was acting the part of the Devil?”
“We ain’t supposed to tell,” replied Mipps, “but if you must know it was one of them Uptons. Good, too.”
“Was it?” replied the Captain. “Aye and he may be ‘was’ unless we’re quick. Sir Henry Pembury, I believe the
Scarecrow has kept his word. I believe he has carried off your daughter under our noses. Quick, men. Fall in and
follow me.”
There followed a general stampede of those brave enough to venture out of the door to the terrace. The King’s
men with drawn cutlasses pushed their way out, and the first sight that met their eyes was a dishevelled Miss Fan
lying in the snow on the terrace steps.
Captain Blain seized hold of her and gave her a rough shaking as he shouted, “Where did he go?”
Miss Fan pointed to a great tree at the foot of the terrace and then uttering a scream, fainted.
Leaving his heavy burden to be taken care of by others who were thronging out on to the terrace, the Captain,
followed by his men, ran down the steps, and stumbled through the thick snow to the tree in question, where they
found Doctor Syn and the eldest young Upton lashed to the trunk with coils of rope.
And away down the hill towards the Marsh they saw the hoof-marks of a horse.
Before the old Doctor could recover his speech, young Upton explained.
“We’ve been here for some minutes. We were seized, the Doctor and me, and dragged out here. It was Nightriders because we saw the great black horse, standing with three others which another Nightrider held. Presently
out comes the Scarecrow with Miss Pembury in his arms. He seemed to be disentangling himself from her arms
which were clutched round his neck. He finally got free of her and laid her in the snow, and then they all mounted
and rode off single file down towards the Marsh.”
When Doctor Syn recovered later in the castle, he smiled at Sir Henry and said: “You were right , sir. I was
punished for making fun of the Scarecrow. What I cannot make out though is how did the rascal play his part so
well according to you.”
“Most likely he watched it last night in the Dymchurch Court House,” suggested the Captain. “He was, in my
opinion, a better actor than poor young Upton.”
The next day Doctor Syn went out though the snow to visit a dying woman. On the way back, however,
unknown to anyone, he visited Jimmie Bone, the Highwayman, in the Scarecrow’s hidden stable.
“I hear, my good friend,” laughed the Doctor, “that your performance was magnificent. I hope you enjoyed it as
much as the audience.”
“My very revered Scarecrow,” replied the Highwayman, “had I known all, I fear I should not have obeyed you.