told the Sexton that in his opinion the Scarecrow ought to be most grateful for his initiative.
“And what’s more, Mister Sexton,” he went on, “you must see to it that the scarecrow is told the full facts at
once, so that he will not be caught out with that cargo of bones. He’ll find some means of stopping it, I’ll be bound,
‘cos he’s clever, just like what he’ll say I be, when you tells him the true facts same as I’ve told you.”
Mipps replied that the Scarecrow could always be trusted to thwart the Revenue men, and although he must
himself decline to discuss this matter, which was the Scarecrow’s business, he would promised that their mysterious
leader would receive the information.
Directly the man had gone, Mipps sought out Doctor Syn and told him what he had heard, adding: “And no
doubt, sir, this rascal is expecting a good reward for his zeal. What do we do?”
“Tell Percy to carry the two aces of clubs in his buckets this very evening, so that the Nightriders may meet at
the Oast House tonight. Pass the word for an hour after midnight, Mipps.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Mipps.
“I have always objected to any member acting violently without my express orders,” went on the Vicar. “For
that type of man becomes a menace to us all. And what is more that man must be punished.”
“Death?” inquired Mipps with relish. “Well, I ain’t sorry. Never took to him myself, I didn’t.”
“I am not at all sure that I should not bring in the same ruling against those like you, Mipps, who think violently
without orders,” replied Doctor Syn.
“Very well, sir. Sorry,” replied Mipps promptly. He looked like a saint receiving a halo, which amused the
Vicar, who promptly poured him out a drink with a sorry shake of his head. Then he smiled genially and added,
“What a comical old rascal you are, Mipps,” and his tone had a note of real affection, “I believe no one delights in
violence so much as you.”
“I drinks your very good health, Vicar,” returned the Sexton, with a grin. “I think we have both had our moments
of violence on certain occasions that must be nameless.”
Percy wa s duly sent out with the summons to attend at the Oast House. Everyone concerned noted the sign of
two aces of clubs that floated in his water-buckets.
That night the Captain sat long over his drinks, and was more chatty than usual. As the clock struck midnight he
still showed no signs of wishing to turn in, though the Vicar made a gallant show of suppressing his yawns that he
was far from feeling. He presented a brave show of the polite host. In reality the Vicar was very anxious for the
Captain to bid him good-night, in order that he might safely fasten his door from the outside against any possible
exodus upon the Marsh. He had no wish for the Captain to take it into his head that an investigation outside the
house might put a stop to some activity on the part of the Scarecrow’s men.
Whether the Captain suspected that some such thing was planned for the night, the Vicar could not rightly
determine.
To ask him deliberately to turn in would be to arouse unnecessary suspicion in his guest’s mind, and yet to turn in
himself, asking the Captain to turn out the lamp, and extinguish the candles, in no way suited his plan.
As a matter of fact, no sooner did the grandfather clock in the hall strike midnight than the Captain proposed this
himself. He said pleasantly: “I see that you are most politely stifling your yawns, my good Parson. Now I happen
to be finding this book most diverting, and as I never make a rule of reading in bed, which I take to be a most
damnably dangerous practice so near the bedclothes, I should like to stay up and read a little further, if you have no
objection?”
Doctor Syn bent down and glanced at the back of the volume which the Captain was reading. He then looked up
at the space in the bookshelf, as though to verify the name of the volume. “Lawrence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy, eh
Captain?” he queried. “Well now, as a tutor I have ever had a quick eye for the student. I could always tell when
some young student at the University was really reading or out making a pretence at it, and I rather think that I have
caught you out this night. I can tell you that Sterne would be very disappointed at the desultory attention you have
bestowed upon his pages. I rather think that it is just that you have no desire to go to bed. Perhaps you wish for
another drink, eh?”
The Captain laughed. “You mean that half the time I have been reading I have been chatting about matters that
have nothing to do with the opinions of Shandy, eh? Well, in a sense you may be right. If so it is small compliment
to the author, eh? On the other hand, I should like to point out that our author has gripped me in spite of my
inclinations and I should certainly like to finish this passage of Corporal Trim’s account of the sick lieutenant.”
The Vicar nodded with appreciation. “Well, I confess to being a little sleepy myself, but I will further encourage
Morpheus to give me a sound night by fetching another bottle of brandy from the cellar. Any excuse is better than
none, eh? If you will excuse me but for a minute we will both be at an advantage.”
The suggestion pleased the Captain, since it meant detaining the Doctor a little longer before retiring. At least so
thought the vicar, as with candle in hand he crossed the hall and entered the servants’ quarters. Here he found
Mipps anxiously awaiting him, sitting in the dark close to the rum cask, and with a handy pannikin clasped tightly in
his fingers.
Doctor Syn smiled, and laid a warning finger to his lips. He then whispere d: “The Captain is for sitting up,
damn him. He is, in fact, pretending to read. His manner the whole evening has aroused my suspicions, and yet it is
time that we started for Mother Handaway’s. I am taking in another bottle of brandy to encourage his sleepiness that
shows as yet no signs of appearing. Give me but ten minutes or so, and then come round to the front door quietly
and knock violently. I will admit you, and you can say in a loud voice that poor old Fletcher is dying, which I think
will be no lie since Pepper told me this evening that his patient cannot be expected to last much longer. In fact, I
will call upon alibi in case the Captain makes some awkward inquiries. Indeed we will set out that way, and then
make a detour across the Marsh to the stables. It is necessary that we are at the Oast House by one o’clock>”
As he whispered Doctor Syn had been selecting the bottle of brandy from his bin. He then repeated his
instructions. “Ten minutes’ time, Mipps,” and went back to the library with candle and bottle. On his return he
found the Captain pretending very well to be engrossed with his book, though on his host’s entrance he sprang up
and insisted upon drawing the cork for his host.
“Now I am just going to have one glass, and one lass only,” said the vicar, “and then go straight up to bed. If I
took more I might have to ask your assistance and disturb your reading, which I should be loath to do. I would
sooner leave you to finish both the bottle and the book.”
“I am a slow reader, Parson,” said the Captain, “and I could finish more of your excellent brandy than the
excellent reading set out upon your shelves. But in my own defense I must boast that I do remember what I read,
and that is a thing that all students cannot say.”
“Sow, but very sure, eh?” nodded the Vicar. “Well, let us hope that such a method enables you to catch our