Doctor Syn made light of this, saying that the London air always made him too a trifle testy, for the noise and bustle, to say nothing of the late hours, were apt to fray the nerves, but that now, he hoped, the Captain was feeling more invigorated after his little rest-cure in their humble corner of the world. ‘For,’ he continued, ‘did you not say that you were visiting the coast for your health? No, no, of course, you had another reason. How foolish — my poor old brain. It all comes back to me — your wager. You were coming down to rid us of our Scarecrow. Is that not so, sir? Yes, of course, that’s why you need the weapon. That was the only reason for your visit, was it not?’
The Captain appeared to be relieved at this question, for indeed he had been wondering how to broach the subject, and having selected a sword to his liking (Doctor Syn noting with amusement that he had chosen the finest in his collection), he went on to say that in truth there was something else — that he had come to the Vicar for advice and assistance. Doctor Syn replied that it was a curious coincidence, for but yesterday morning another member of Crockford’s ahd called for the same purpose, and he understood that the young gentleman had been an acquaintance of Captain Foulkes. ‘Now what was his name?’ he said. ‘Dear me, my memory. Oh yes, Lord Cullingford. Quite a charming boy — if a trifle misguided, but I rather think I succeeded in bringing another stray lamb into the fold. It appeared that the poor youth was somewhat in debt, and,’ he continued confidentially, as though they, as older men, knew the ways of the wicked world, ‘I lent him some few hundred guineas from parochial funds. Oh, I have no fear of not getting it back, for he seemed to me the soul of honour, and told me he fully intended quitting his extravagant life to join the Colours. I had succeeded, you see, in persuading him that to try to catch this rascally Scarecrow single-handed was in my mind only asking for trouble, since the Army, the Navy, and the Revenue alike have never succeeded in catching him, and that the chance he had of winning the two thousand guineas reward was remote indeed. He then admitted that in the Captain’s case it was a different matter, as of course he had heard that Captain Foulkes was such a brilliant swordsman, if indeed he was lucky enough to meet the Scarecrow, and he wondered, having also heard of the Captain’s offer to meet the Scarecrow in open duel, whether his challenge could be accepted, adding wistfully that there was a fight he would like to see.’
Foulkes was not a little annoyed when he heard that Lord Cullingford had stolen this march upon him, and then had turned ‘so mighty pious’, and he vowed that he would attend to the young puppy at his convenience, though at the moment his own affairs were too pressing to worry further upon the subject, and the Vicar had somewhat mollified him by his flattery. So he admitted that though he had come to Doctor Syn for advice about the Scarecrow, that also was not the only reason. Then, flattering in his turn, he said that he had heard Doctor Syn was such a good man that even the miscreants of his parish were not afraid to approach him for guidance, and that in truth they even paid him their tithes. So he wondered if it would be possible for him to convey a message to that confounded highwayman who had put him to such inconvenience. ‘For,’ he went on, ‘not only did he take my sword and boots, but he deprived me of something on which I set great sentimental value, in short, my wallet, given to me by a dear friend. If he would return it I am willing to pay a large reward, as well as allowing him to keep such money as he found inside it, without complaint to the Authorities or personally seeking redress.’
To this the Vicar replied that it was a very grave matter and he could not promise Captain Foulkes an assured satisfaction, for he never knew when these naughty rogues were going to ‘bob up next’, though as a rule they were punctilious in paying their tithes. Then, looking somewhat apologetic, he said: ‘I fear I very stupidly refused to take my tithes from Mr. Bone due for his latest misdemeanour, because of his gentlemanly gesture in returning to me all the valuables which you saw him take from Miss Agatha Gordon. He told me himself that he had never been privileged to rob such an aristocratic, charming old Scots lassie, and asked me to give them back with his apology. Why, he even sent her a little personal gift, in lieu of her forgiveness. Quaint fellow,’ he chuckled, ‘romantically inclined, though I suspect ’tis the first time Gentleman James has played the gallant to a lady of her years. But there, I fear all this must be very annoying for you, having lost something of such great sentimental value. Your dear friend — passed on, no doubt?’ Then seeing that the Captain’s expression was blank, went on: ‘No? Oh, and a wallet too. Most irritating. All one’s private papers. So intimate. I feel for you most strongly and will certainly do my best.’
Once again the Captain had that curious feeling that he was being laughed at, and felt the same qualms of doubt concerning the Vicar’s sincerity. But stifling these feelings as he still hoped to make use of the Vicar, he thanked him and, summoning up an uneasy laugh, he suggested: ‘I merely thought, sir, that if this highwayman is so prompt to pay his tithes, the same thing may apply to this Scarecrow, and were you to be so — “fortunate”, shall we say?
— as to meet him, I would be exceedingly grateful if you would convey a message to him too.’
Doctor Syn once again became the Shepherd of his Flock, as without the hint of a double meaning he assured his visitor that, though he would not betray the confidences of a black sheep any more than he would of a white, at least he would do his best. ‘You see, sir,’ he went on, ‘I do not feel so uneasy about you as I did about poor young Cullingford, so if I am successful in arranging this meeting, perhaps you will do me the honour of allowing me to be your “second”.’
The Captain looked a little surprised at this last remark, but before he had time to reply the Vicar continued. ‘It is none of my business, I know,’ he said with deference, ‘but I must say I am a little perplexed, for apart from what I am sure will be an exhilarating fight, I am at a loss to know your motive in calling him out, for a gentleman of your means can surely not be in need of such a paltry sum. A personal matter, no doubt? Some slur upon your character? I quite understand. Pray forgive me for my impertinence.’
The Vicar appeared to be so understanding and so genuinely concerned about the matter that Foulkes, all suspicions swept away, was encouraged to go still further, and told the Vicar, very confidentially, that his challenge to the Scarecrow was in reality a blind; that he had no wish to kill him but to meet him, as he was entrusted with a very special proposition from a certain gentleman called Barsard. Adding that he felt sure the Scarecrow would not refuse his offer as it would be very lucrative, and came from a man who had unlimited power. ‘Indeed,’ the Captain now seemed to be playing his trump card, ‘he will not dare refuse when he learns from me certain information gleaned from the distant Caribbean Seas.’
If these words meant anything to Doctor Syn, he did not show it. Indeed he appeared not to understand, and his bewildered expression drew the Captain still further, as with a condescending smile he said: ‘I see my meaning has escaped you, sir, for your way of living and your holy mission during your travels would not have brought you into contact with the uncivilized tyrants of the Caribbean Sea, and one in particular, Clegg, the famous pirate.’
The Vicar appeared to be most amazed, as he asked, ‘But what have the mortal remains of Captain Clegg, which in truth lie buried in our churchyard, to do with what you have just been telling me about?’
‘Because,’ replied the Captain triumphantly, ‘through certain knowledge of this Clegg’s activities, and what I have since learned about the Scarecrow, I would stake my last card that they are one and the same. You look astounded, sir, but I had no difficulty in convincing a gentleman I met last night. A very disgruntled gentleman, who had just been put to great indignity and shame by the Scarecrow and his gang, and when I had expounded my theory to this officer of the Dragoons he told me that his brother many years ago had had the same suspicions, but nothing came of it. Nothing may come of this, if the rogue does what I ask him.’