Cicely went to her father and, putting her arm through his, told him not to worry about how they had travelled, since the important thing was that they were safe, and they had been in great danger. She pointed out to him that though it had been easy to get there for her, it was a different matter when they had tried to leave, because Maria was escaping and she was an aristo. ‘Oh, I know what you are thinking, Papa,’ she said. ‘Damme, sir, they would not dare to touch a Cobtree.’ Here she did such a perfect imitation of Sir Antony himself that even he had to laugh. But she went on seriously, explaining that they would most certainly have dared, that being a Cobtree only heightened the danger since she was an English aristocrat. Being that, of course, the teasing girl had refused point blank to disguise herself as she did in dirty rags, insisting on wearing her latest gown. Indeed they had been followed several times, and on one occasion had been recognized by a dangerous friend of Maria’s treacherous husband. They would have been denounced had it not been for their good friend here. This gentleman had seen to everything. Each time they were in difficulties he appeared. Their papers — the horses — the right word at the Barriers. Oh, she realized now that she could not have done it alone. Going to the Scarecrow, Cicely held out her hands. ‘How best can I thank you, sir?’ she asked. ‘It seems by imploring you to leave; each moment you remain is but adding to your danger.’
At last Sir Antony realized just how much this man had done for his daughters and the danger into which he had placed himself, and he said impulsively: ‘Ay, Cicely, you’re right. The place is littered with Dragoons, and I warrant that confounded Revenue man will not be in a pretty mood when he’s received your present. As my daughter says — the best way to thank you is to ask you to go. So go, sir, and good luck to you, and mind you don’t get caught or I shall lose my thousand guineas.’ Then pulling himself together — remembering that after all he was the Chief Magistrate, he added: ‘Though, mind you, tomorrow I shall have to put out another Proclamation for your arrest.’
The Scarecrow thanked him for his warning and said he would study the new Proclamation carefully — for his own neck told him that he had no wish to see Sir Antony lose his thousand guineas.
‘As to my leaving upon the minute — that I cannot, for I must stay here until the Vicar returns. I have to pay him my tithes. Tonight it will be a considerable sum, since my latest cargo was such a valuable one.’ The last remark was directed to Cicely.
Then, addressing the Squire, he suggested that the ladies must be in need of rest and it would be as well if he escorted them home.
Cicely had been watching him for some time, and with a curious little smile she asked: ‘Could I not stay? Above all things I should like to see a meeting between the Scarecrow and our Doctor Syn.’
‘I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Miss Cicely,’ he replied, ‘for this is business. Tithes are a tenth of what one is worth, so if you are good at reckoning you might too easily calculate my estimation of your value.’
The Squire, pleased to get back on familiar ground, said that tithes were tithes and all honest men should pay ’em; then realizing that he had said the wrong thing, coughed loudly and prepared to take his leave, waking Maria who was asleep upon the settle.
Bowing with a ‘Your servant, sir,’ he led the sleepy Maria to the door while Cicely, lingering behind, said with a look of amusement which failed to hide the alert expression in her eyes: ‘I am almost certainly going to ask our dear old Doctor Syn to stop preaching his horrid sermons against you.’
Then, turning swiftly, she followed the others and he was left alone.
Cicely crossed the bridge that led from the front door on to the sea-wall. She saw that her father was taking the short cut down the steps and across the Glebe Field. In her present mood she had no mind for more questionings. Nor, indeed, to be whined at by Maria. So she made no haste to catch them up. Standing for a while in the moonlight, she felt almost sad to be at home again though her instinct told her that she should feel differently, because what had made her happy in France was also here in Dymchurch. Her discovery filled her with an exultation she hardly understood. Turning, with her back to the sea, she faced the dark, familiar outline of the Vicarage, standing clear before the ragged silhouette of the rookery, while, brooding over all, the Beacon Knoll of Aldington. This shadowed sky-line seemed to come to life and claim her, as though at this moment it saw her for the first time, and beckoned to her.
And then she knew that she could find the answer to the riddle that it set, just as she knew that now she must follow where that answer led. So, challenging the shadows, she flung her gauntlet gloves down into the Vicarage garden. Then going swiftly down the sea-wall she raced across the Glebe and overtook the others.
‘So here you are, Miss,’ said the Squire. ‘Maria wanted to get home, and I knew if you could find your way to France and back you’d be abel to make the Court House from the Vicarage.’
‘I’m sorry, Papa,’ answered Cicely. ‘’Tis such a lovely night, and it’s so good to be home. I was on the sea-wall.’
It was when they were going through the Lych Gate that Cicely stopped. ‘Oh Lud, I do declare I must have lost my gloves. Now where did I drop them? I’ll run back and look, for they were such a lovely pair. I may have left them in the Vicarage. So you two dears go on. Do not wait for me.’ And so saying, she sped back again.
While Cicely was crossing the Glebe field for the second time, Mr. Mipps in his capacity of Parish Clerk was crossing the hall of the Vicarage with an enormous tome, marked Dymchurch Tithes. ‘The Tithe Book, sir, for your settlement with the Vicar.’ He spoke apparently into thin air for the room seemed to be empty. As he walked he elongated himself as if trying to make himself taller.
‘You seem to have acquired a stiff neck, Mr. Mipps.’ The voice came from behind the lectern. ‘’Tis not the Marsh ague, I hope? Or has your blushing ear been getting you into trouble again?’
Mister Mipps was all indignant, and snapped: ‘’Tain’t nothin’ to do with my inflamed ear, and I hain’t hacquired a stiff neck neither. I’m hendeavouring to hacquire a few hinches, halludin’ to me as if I was a dwarf. “Little man.” In front of others, too.’
He put the book down on the side of the lectern nearest to him with a slam, and in his own phraseology he ‘beanstalked’ acros the room to get ink and quill.
Mr. Mipps was so busy with his lack of inches that he did not notice that the front door had opened quietly and around it peeped the face of Cicely.
The voice from behind the lectern continued: ‘You ability for acquiring knowledge of current affairs, Mr. Mipps, would make me respect you were you a giant.’ This was too much for Mr. Mipps and he retorted quickly:
‘And your ability for making yourself laugh may get us all in a trouble, and I weren’t at no key’ole when I ’eard that. Miss Cicely called her a goose, but I can think of a adjective; in front of them Dragoons too. Now look ’ere, Cap’n, if you persists in rollin’ up your sleeve, we’re sunk.’
It was then that Cicely decided to knock upon the door, causing Mr. Mipps to turn round as if he had been shot. Upon seeing her he relaxed, and when she beckoned to him he went quickly towards her.
‘Mr. Mipps,’ she whispered, ‘has Mr. Scarecrow gone?’ He was delighted to see her. He grinned. ‘Yes, miss,’ he nodded assuredly. But was this the right answer? He hadn’t looked behind the lectern. Was it Doctor Syn or the Scarecrow? He decided on a middle course. ‘I don’t know, miss.’ Oh, better be definite. ‘No, miss.’ Oh dear, he was still doubtful. ‘Yes, miss.’ Oh, better not to have heard at all. ‘What, miss? What did you say, miss?’
‘I said I’d lost my gloves, Mr. Mipps.’ What a relief, perhaps he hadn’t heard right after all. ‘Oh, your gloves, miss,’ he said with complete understanding. ‘Did you, miss? I’ve not seen them, miss.’ He began to look round hopefully. ‘Where did you drop ’em, miss?’