Their plans completed and the maps put away they had a hasty meal, washing down an excellent cold collation with fine red wine from Burgundy.

‘And will you be needin’ Buttercups tonight?’ asked Mr. Mipps.

‘Yes, indeed, Mr. Mipps,’ returned Dr. Syn. ‘And the panniers packed. You know I go a-visiting.’

‘Visitin’ my — ’Ave some more cheese, sir? Old Mother ’Andaway, o’ course. Worst of these false runs, which I owns is necessary for the foxification¹ of authorities, is that you has the same dangers but hasn’t the happlause what goes with the openin’ of a cask. Oh well, we’ll stow away now. By the way, sir, what about them you-know-whats? When are you goin’ to fetch ’em from you-know-where?’

‘That’s all settled Bristol fashion, Mr. Mipps,’ replied the Vicar as the Sexton refilled the glasses. ‘I found occasion to visit our old friend Captain Pedro whose vessel lay in London Pool. He will by this time have already sailed and is expected across Channel.’

‘Why, blow me down! That takes you back. Pedro, me old amigo. Remember what he done up in Tremadoc Bay?’ And Mipps plunged back to reminiscences of this old and trusted member of the Brotherhood. Indeed they became so engrossed that it needed three cries of the curlew to bring them to their feet. Mipps to the stables to saddle the Vicar’s fat white pony, Buttercups, while Jimmie Bone handed back the old Scotch lassie’s jewels and took his leave, after settling his rendezvous for the following day. Doctor Syn went up the first flight of stairs where on the landing stood his old sea-chest. From this he took a selection of queer garments, strange comforts for the sick old body he was about to visit, anyone might have thought who could have seen him later filling the baskets that hung on either side of his pony’s saddle. Thus it was that the Vicar of Dymchurch on his fat white pony, followed by his Sexton astride the churchyard donkey, Lightning, ambled along the Marsh road, bidding a cheery good night to a picket of Dragoons, who marvelled at the old gentleman’s fortitude when they themselves were feeling none too courageous as they watched for any signs of the Scarecrow’s ghostly riders through the shifting curtain of sea-cloud. Indeed, such courage as they had completely left them when but a few minutes after the fearless old gentleman and his whimsical follower had disappeared, there came upon them suddenly, out of the encircling mist, a wild apparition-hideous face gleaming with a phosphorescent glow — it seemed to be one with the fiendish black fury it rode. In a panic, the terrified Dragoons leapt into the nearest dyke, while thundering hooves skimmed their submerged heads, and unearthly cries screamed away into the night.

¹ Mipps’s own word for being fooled.

Chapter 6

In which Lord Cullingford Gains More Than He Loses

Upon leaving the Vicarage where he had been not a little irritated by the feigned stupidity of that odd-looking servant with the ridiculous name, who, he felt, knew more than he cared to impart concerning the Vicar’s return, Lord Cullingford, forced by hunger, betook himself back to the Ship Inn. Indeed, he had eaten nothing all day, having spurred his horse to its extreme limit to reach Dymchurch before Captain Foulkes. So feeling low not only in body but in spirits, he walked the short distance through the village and was conscious that all eyes were upon him. It was extremely disconcerting as he passed by cottage windows to know that the curtains were being furtively peeped through, and that his presence was being discussed by the invisible inmates. His feeling of discomfiture increased, however, when upon gaining the fastness of the ‘Ship’ and getting no attention in the coffee room, he had, perforce, to go into the bar parlour which up to the moment of his entrance had sounded like a veritable Tower of Babel. On his appearance this noise suddenly stopped, as again every eye was upon him, and our fine gentleman, wishing that he could vanish through the floor, had to shoulder his way through closely knotted groups of yokels who watched him with stolid amusement, whilst those who had any liquor left in their tankards emptied them quickly, hoping by this to convey their meaning to this finely dressed gentleman who, they felt, should buy his intrusion with a free round of drinks.

Scanty as his purse was, the same idea had occurred to Lord Cullingford, who by this time was feeling the dire necessity not only for a drink himself but for a few words of cheer, so with an authority he did not feel, he called loudly to the stout lady on the other side of the counter. Whereupon the crowd seemed to surge round him the closer, tankards were thumped on the bar and many voices cried out, ‘Missus Waggetts. Wanted. Gentleman’s orders.’

‘Comin’! Comin’! ’Ere I be,’ and the enormous proprietress bustled to that end of the bar and began filling innumerable tankards, which operation, taking considerable time, it was not for ten minutes that Mrs. Waggetts, almost as an afterthought, asked if there was anything he required for himself. So, not wishing to be thought superior, he ordered a tankard of the same, and upon tasting it found that it was heavily laced with brandy, which though not displeasing on his own account, being the very thing that he needed, was, he thought, taking his generosity a trifle for granted. However, putting a good face on it, he flung a guinea on the counter, and making sure that this time he would not be misunderstood, he ordered himself another glass of brandy with a request that the food should be served to him as soon as possible in the coffee room. But half an hour later Mr. Mipps, overcome by his insatiable curiosity regarding the Vicar’s unusual visitor, walked into the bar parlour himself and found Lord Cullingford still indulging his newly acquired taste for beer and brandy.

‘Why, blow me down and knock me up solid!’ exclaimed Mipps, ‘who would have thought we’d meet again so soon?’ But he did not mention that he had come there expressly for the purpose, having been told that the young dandy was in the bar parlour at the ‘Ship’ and was pushing out the boat, which indeed Lord Cullingford, must to his surprise, found that he had been doing steadily since his first order. By this time, however, having grown somewhat reckless, he had thrown caution to the wind, several other guineas on the counter, and again to his surprise discovered he was enjoying himself. So greeting Mr. Mipps almost as a long-lost friend he called to Mrs. Waggetts to supply him with a good measure. Mr. Mipps winked at Mrs. Waggetts. Mrs. Waggetts winked back and served him with a double noggin of brandy neat, which the Sexton tossed down in one, and pushed the glass forward for another, apologizing for his undue haste and remarking that he seemed to be a bit behind the others.

As soon as he had caught up to his satisfaction Mipps paused, and, after surveying Lord Cullingford attentively, remarked: ‘Well, well, now whatever should bring a fine young gentleman like yourself down to the seaside at this time o’ year? If you’re thinkin’ of indulgin’ in that there new-fangled bathin’, you’ll find it ’orrible cold. Or was it fishin’ you was thinkin’ of? Our Dover soles is famous.’

‘If it’s fishin’ he’s thinkin’ of,’ chortled an old crony, ‘he’ll be after something bigger than them Dover tiddlers, I’ll be bound. I do ’ear tell that several London gentlemen ’ave a mind to go a-fishin’ for our Scarecrow. ’Tis a tidy reward they’d get, and p’raps London ain’t so full of guineas as they wouldn’t want to earn it.’ Which remark being exceedingly pertinent to his lordship, warned him to keep his own counsel, so he did not rise to the bait, and fortunately enough, before the inquisitive yokels could question him further, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a Sergeant of Dragoons with half a dozen troopers, who came in for the probing badinage and facetious heckling which otherwise might have been directed towards him.