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The captain received him at the door of the i
There he unburdened his mind to the lawyer, stating all his suspicions and clearly showing how he had arrived at them. By the end of the morning they
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thoroughly understood each other, the lawyer returning by coach to Rye with orders to the governor of the castle to prepare accommodation for a large number of prisoners and to see to it that there were chains enough to hang em to. But, strange to relate, that lawyer in bottle green never reached the little town of Rye, for his coach stopped at a certain farmhouse beyond Romney. Here he alighted to make room for another lawyer, a real lawyer, a man of sixty-five, who had left Rye that very morning to consult with a certain Captain Collyer residing at the Ship I
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The blindfolded lawyer had been scared out of all knowledge, especially by the sound of the voice of a certain man known as the Scarecrow. This terrible ruffian had told the lawyer that if on returning to Rye he breathed a word of what had happened they would most certainly catch him again and do away with him, adding that there was no place more convenient than Romney Marsh for the hiding of a body. So with the exception of telling his awful experience to his wife, whom he feared nearly as greatly as he feared the Scarecrow, Antony Whyllie, attorney-at-law, held his tongue, being only thankful that the rascals had let him off so easily. The coachman, who was so muddled with drink and with falling off his box at least a dozen times on the way back, never even remembered what had happened or to whose kind offices he was indebted for the privilege of becoming so gloriously drunk. So the affair passed unheeded by the public, and the gentleman in bottle green, having changed his clothes, might that very afternoon have been seen going toward the church of
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Dymchurch. Down into the crypt he went, and there, at a dirty table lighted by a candle set in a bottles neck, he aided two other men to work out certain accounts that were spread before them in a book marked Parish Register of Deaths. But there were no deaths registered in that book. It was full of figures accounting for cargoes of wool, full of receipts for coffins loaded with spirits. candle set in a bottles neck, he aided two other men to work out certain accounts that were spread before them in a book marked Parish Register of Deaths. But there were no deaths registered in that book. It was full of figures accounting for cargoes of wool, full of receipts for coffins loaded with spirits.
Sexton Mipps and the gentleman who had worn the bottle-green coat then unlocked an old chest and took out certain money bags which they emptied on the table. The third gentleman, whom they addressed as the Scarecrow, helped them to sort the coin, French in one pile, English in another, and then referring to a list of names in the register, the three managers of the secret bank proportioned out their servants wages. When this was accomplished the gentleman who had worn the bottle-green coat presented his little account, which was promptly paid in golden guineas, and he left them, saying that he
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was very sorry that it was the last time that he could draw so many Georges from the bank.
Yes, the bank closes accounts to-day, said the Scarecrow, striking his name off the list, though perhaps some day we shall open it again. Who knows?
Lets hope so, said the other, shaking hands with the Scarecrow and the sexton, and lets hope we meet again. Good-bye. And he was gone, Mipps locking the door behind him.
Its all right to a pe
Hooray! I calls it, chuckled Sexton Mipps, rubbing his hands together. Ill get this little lot of coinage nailed up in a coffin and sent to Calais, and old Whats-his-name wots just gone up the stairs has arranged with the Calais people to get it transferred to the Bank of Lyons, so you can get at it yourself from Marseilles, cant you?
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Yes, were all square now. Everything shipshape. Mother Waggetts Ive settled with, and Imogene gets the iron-bound casket. Ive seen to it all. But its time I was off. Ive a certain gentleman to see before nightfall.
Whos that? asked Mipps.
The squire, replied the Scarecrow, laughing as he tied up the money bags.
And I have a gentleman to visit, too, said Mipps.
Whos that? asked the Scarecrow.
Parson Syn, Doctor Syn, the worthy vicar, replied Mipps, winking, at which the Scarecrow laughed and went out of the crypt.
Mipps, after locking up the money in the chest, followed leisurely, and as he crossed the churchyard he saw Doctor Syn ringing the front door bell of the Court House.
Well, murmured Mipps to himself, Ive met one or two of em in my time, but hes a blinkin marvel.
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Chapter 30
Doctor Syn Has a Call
Do you mean to say that youre going to leave Dymchurch? The squire was positively angry, a thing he had never been with Doctor Syn in all the years that he had known him. You are undoubtedly pulling my legthats what youre doing. God bless my soul, sir, theres precious few fellows can do that, and precious few that dare try; but thats what youre doing, isnt it? Im afraid not, Sir Antony. My dear squire, my good friend, I am afraid that for once in my life I am most dreadfully in earnest.
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But what dont you like about the place? Is it something Ive done? Do you want your stipend raised? Damme, Ill treble the blessed thing, if its that. Oh, its that rascally son of mine thats been putting you out. Its that Denis scamp, who never took to his books and never will. But Ill make him. Ill take my riding whip to the young whelp if he causes you pain. It is he! Hes at the bottom of it. My soul and body, Ill give the young puppy a shaking up. He doesnt know a good tutor when he sees one. The impertinent young popinjay! Doesnt appreciate anything. No! God bless my soul, why hes no more respect for me than a five-barred gate. Hes always doing something to jar me. Why, do you know, that the cool-faced malefactor a
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Imogene, that serves and waits and does i