The Squire, who had forgotten all about the Major in this confusion, did not catch the tone of suspicion in the soldier’s voice, so he introduced his daughters, and looked appealingly at Cicely to help him out, which she did with, ‘Pray, sir, forgive our unladylike arrival at this evening party.’ Then, turning to her father, she said in a whisper loud enough for Major Faunce to hear, ‘Papa, pay no attention to Maria — I told you she was hysterical, poor pet.’ Then once again, but this time looking round the room, she changed the subject. ‘But where is your host? Where is our beloved Doctor Syn?’

The Major was quick with his reply. ‘He was called out to visit a sick woman. But I am afraid this is not an evening party, Miss Cicely. I am here on business. The only invitation we have had tonight is from the scoundrel whom your sister has just been talking about. In the King’s name, I must ask you to tell me more about this French Scarecrow.’

The Squire indignantly retorted to this: ‘Nonsense, Major Faunce. I’ll not have my daughters questioned at this hour, and after all they have gone through.’ Then added as if he had just thought of it: ‘Now, Cicely, child, tell your father all about it.’

Cicely went over to her father, and upon seeing that the dear soul was wearing the expression of a bewildered bloodhound, kissed him and asked to be forgiven for having caused him so much anxiety. But she explained: ‘You recollect how anxious we all were about Maria. I did not tell you I had planned to go and help her, for I knew you would not let me go. Oh, ’twas easy enough to get there. Bribes and a fishing-smack. And ’twas easy enough to get to Paris. All I had to do was to make myself the complete sansculotte and shout and scream with the mob. It was nothing. I know the language. Thanks to you, Papa. And as you know, I had friends there, though now heaven knows what has happened to some of them. As to the man Maria talks about, well, there were so many wild characters I fear she must be confused. Indeed, poor goose, she scarcely recognized me. There she was, cowering all alone in that great house. Hadn’t been out for days, all the servants fled.’

This awakened in Maria fresh memories of the departed glory of her married life, and she let out a howl of anguish. ‘All right, Maria my lamb, ’tis over now,’ said Cicely, who continued to talk with her father. ‘It is a terrible thing they are doing, Papa. We were forced to witness ghastly scenes. And all the time the mob was getting nearer to Maria’s home. We would have been in more danger had we stayed.’

All this was too much for the Squire. He just did not begin to understand what Cicely had been doing. Any more than he had understood why Maria had gone and married a Frenchman. All he could stammer out was: ‘It’s deuced confusin’. Two girls — alone. Someone must have helped you. Was it this French Scarecrow?’

Major Faunce cut in with: ‘Sounds more like our English Scarecrow to me. There’s his signature on the barrels.’

Cicely replied to this with spirit that since he had not been in France, how could he know anything about it? ‘Everyone in Paris these days looks like a scarecrow. They’ve all gone mad — wild. Scarecrow! L’Épouvantail! they all shout. But it might mean anyone. They might have meant me, for a looked scarecrow enough.’

‘They did not mean you, Miss Cicely!’ The voice came from the dark shadows by the front door. Harsh, impersonal, yet with a hint of humour, as it continued: ‘Your revolutionary clothes suited you admirably.’

All had turned suddenly upon the sound, and there was no mistaking who it was. There he stood, masked and mysterious, the dreaded Scarecrow himself — with two thousand guineas for his capture. No one could move, for he held two heavy pistols in his hands, and bowing said: ‘L’Épouvantail, at your service.’

This movement caused Major Faunce’s hand to fly to his belt, but the harsh voice rapped out: ‘Don’t move! I have you covered, gentlemen.’ And thereupon, seeing Mr. Mipps, who indeed appeared to be terrified, he ordered him to disarm the red-coats. ‘A wise precaution,’ laughed the Scarecrow, ‘since I see the Major’s fingers twitching to be at his belt. It would be foolish to disobey, and we don’t want to rob the Revenue man of the little surprise I have prepared for him. I must ask you, gentlemen, to oblige me by stepping into those barrels.’

Mr. Mipps had rapidly removed both swords and pistols from the soldiers, and at the moment resembled a miniature arsenal.

The Scarecrow spoke to him, ordering: ‘Here, you, little man. Assist the gallant red-coats into those convenient casks.’

A brave man, the Major’s first instinct was to refuse, but the Scarecrow went on inexorably: ‘Come, come, Major, if the ladies can use these to travel across the Channel, surely you will not mind a little trip along the sea-wall. Why, I envy you the experience of seeing Mr. Hyde’s face when he opens them. I dislike being kept waiting, Major. Make haste!’

There was nothing for it. The reluctant soldiers had to squeeze themselves into the barrels as best they could. Mr. Mipps having put down all the weapons save one, almost seemed to be enjoying prodding the Major in with his own sword, as with oaths and protests they disappeared, as Mr. Mipps, putting on the specially constructed lids, encouraged them to stay snug and have a nice trip.

The Scarecrow went swiftly to the door and opened it, calling three times the eerie cry of the curlew, and from the shadows came four masked and hooded figures. Upon swift orders from the Scarecrow they went to the barrels, waiting whilst he changed the wording on each, so that the chalked message now ran:

To Nick Hyde, Rev. Man, With Comps. From Scarecrow.

Then, lifting the barrels, they carried them to a covered cart that waited on the sea-wall. When all was ready to move, the Nightriders mounted their wild steeds and escorted the strange cargo swiftly and silently along the straight coast track to Sandgate.

Chapter 12

In which Cicely Forgets Her Gloves and Doctor Syn Forgets to Remember

Maria sat sulking — a forlorn heap — on the settle by the fire. She was tired and dispirited, with a head that throbbed from her cramped voyage. She was no longer the centre of interest and she resented it. Here she was, home and safe after her terrible experiences, only to find that the ghastly creature had followed them here. She couldn’t understand it. And what was more, Papa seemed to be amused, for there he was at the window laughing and watching the Scarecrow giving his dreadful orders. Maria felt that he should be paying more attention to his miserable daughter. As for Cicely — there she was looking as fresh as though she had just left her own bedroom at the Court House to go a-riding. Sitting astride the long, low fire-stool, in the most unladylike manner, she too seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, looking up to the window and laughing. Maria could not laugh when she thought of that poor Major, and was annoyed because she would have liked to have seen more of him. He was really quite attractive; she wished she had not looked so dreadful. This thought plunged her into tears again, and it was then that the Scarecrow returned, closing the door, and sweeping them with a low bow.

‘I must apologize, ladies, for my somewhat crude sense of humour,’ he said, ‘but I fear I could not resist playing the eel to those elephants. You need your papers, of course, Sir Antony.’

The Squire looked surprised. Now where had he heard those words before? He tried to remember, but his mental efforts were interrupted by the Scarecrow saying: ‘May I express my gratitude, Miss Cicely, for your admirable attempt to keep my identity a secret?’

Cicely got up from the stool and went over to him boldly. Maria thought she went too close, and turned her head away disgusted.