‘How can he do it in time, Mr. Mipps?’ she cried. ‘The Court House may be full of men. ’Tis only a step but he must come here to see the flash and get his horse — he cannot do it in the time.’
Mipps would have liked to have treated her as he had done, when being quite young she had come to him with childish troubles, but now to allay the doubt that he had caught from her he had perforce to be stern.
‘Now look here, miss,’ he said, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. ‘If you’re going to be Mrs. Cap’n, you’ll ’ave to learn that orders is orders. I done it these twenty years and never known him wrong. He may be ready now
— bundle — window —’
He gave her the basket and told her to hurry. She thanked him and said she would, asking forgiveness for having been so foolish — and once again old Mipps was completely disarmed — he reproached himself for his sharpness and proceeded to make up for it:
‘There — I know just how you feel, miss,’ he comforted. ‘Ease your mind and listen for the signals. Remember, three cries of the curlew — three times, that means accordin’ to plan — and let’s hope you don’t ’ear no ’ootin’ of the owl.’
He opened the door and she went out, but half-way across the bridge she turned, came swiftly back and kissed him. Then she was gone, running like a young deer across the Glebe.
The Court House was dark. She thanked Heaven that Lady Caroline and Maria were abed. She crept to her own room, and extinguishing the candles flung the curtains wide.
In the opposite wing one window was lighted up and she could see into the room. She watched, fascinated and horrified, for there at a table with three Dragoons, his face toward her, looking shadowy in the thick tobacco smoke, was Doctor Syn. While yet another shadow passed across the window — darker and more ominous, and she heard the measured tread of a sentry in the yard below.
Chapter 22
The Shadow of the Scarecrow
Mr. Mipps was poring over Doctor Syn’s map of Romney Marsh, marking the distances from Jesson Flats to the hills, when a curious feeling in his jigger-staff told him that he was not alone. In a flash he realized when he had done, or rather what he had not done; for being at once both moved and worried about Miss Cicely, he had forgotten to lock the front door. Someone was behind him and he knew who that someone was. He stiffened, but gave no sign. Instead he leisurely rolled up the map and started to hum his favourite song. Determined that no prying eyes should look at the map he locked it in the cupboard beneath the lectern, and then started off round the room, tidying it casually. He passed the waiting figure twice, then suddenly pretended to notice it for the first time, and he jumped in feigned surprise. ‘Goodness gracious me, it’s our Mr. Hyde. Shrouds, plumes and crape — you did give me a fright, sir. What ’ave you come back for? Dropped something? You shouldn’t have come back to see if I was all right. I’m used to being alone.’
The Revenue Man looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Are you, Mr. Sexton?’ he sneered. ‘I wanted to make quite sure of that.’
‘There now,’ Mipps was almost indignant. ‘And I thought you was making sure that the Vicar was comfortable. You know, sir, you shouldn’t have taken him off like that without his slippers and his nightcap. Poor old gentleman. He’ll catch the ague dead-sure as coffin-nails. Now you stay here and I’ll slip ’em round to him.’
‘You’ll stay where you are,’ the Revenue Man growled, ‘and there’s no cause for anxiety about the Vicar. That “poor old gentleman” is being well cared for by three Dragoons and at the moment is enjoying himself hugely at a game of dice.’
‘’Ow,’ said Mr. Mipps. Then he started violently and looked at Hyde. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, did you say — dice?’
‘Yes, Mr. Sexton — dice.’
‘Oh — dice.’ Mipps answered as though he had not heard it the first time. ‘Dice.’ He then repeated, ‘Yes, Mr. Sexton — Dice,’ so many times under his breath that it turned into a sing-song chant, as he went casually to the desk. The drawer was open and empty and the words changed as he sang in delighted whispers:
‘The Vicar’s taken his dice-box: The Vicar’s taken his dice-box: Yes, Mr. Sexton, Dice.’
This annoyed the Revenue Man and he asked him what the devil he was saying.
‘Nothin’,’ said Mipps. ‘Only singin’ what you said.’
He then told Mr. Hyde that if he had come to stay the night he’d get out one of the Vicar’s nightshirts.
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ snarled Hyde. ‘Stay the night, I may, in this room. I just want to make sure there’ll be no run tonight.’
Mipps thought that he’d have some difficulty in preventing it, since the Vicar had taken his dice-box, which had never failed them yet.
His mind went back to the Chinese coast, where they had acquired this ingenious contraption. Carved out of ivory, the shaker had a false base and ordinary dice could be used, until such a time as its owner wished to get himself out of a tight corner. Then by pushing a spring hidden in the carving and shaking it downwards violently, small glass drops fell out and exploded on the table. Though no particle of glass was left to tell the tale they emitted such an odious nauseating stench, that all who smelt it were overcome with violent retching, and became incapable of offering any resistance. The effects wore off within the hour, by which time the joker, who was careful to protect himself with the antidote, would escape to play the jest elsewhere. For, after all, when indulging in a game of dice a generous amount of strong liquor is usually consumed, so the excuse could always be ‘over-indulgence.’ Mipps was jubilant — the only thing now was for him to elude Mr. Hyde and warn the Vicar of his presence. So, in order to put this plan into action, he said he was going to get on with his work.
‘Your work can wait,’ snapped the Revenue Man.
‘Oh no, it can’t,’ contradicted Mipps, ‘not Mrs. Wooley — any time now. Makin’ her a beautiful coffin — best pine — brass plate and all the trimmings — you wouldn’t be wanting one, would you, sir?’ Here Mipps produced a foot rule and his notebook and started fussing round him, and then as though taking a great interest in Mr. Hyde’s prospective funeral asked: ‘What wood would you think’ (he was going to say ‘best’) ‘— oak?’
The infuriated Revenue Man told him to leave him alone and to go and get on with his work if it was within doors.
Mipps replied that it was within the next door and that he’d bring her in and do her in here if he was lonely, and Hyde, who in spite of his own trade was not fond of coffins, told him abruptly that he did not want for company, and to get out, but remain within earshot.
‘Earshot,’ though Mipps. ‘Ear foxication,’ and he set to work in the next room to put this plan into action. By an elaborate system of knots, weights, and the clock’s pendulum, he rigged up a swinging hammer that was guaranteed to knock the side of the coffin until he came back to stop it. This done he was out of the back door into the enveloping darkness, all within some quarter of an hour.