Текст книги "The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN "

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same signal as had been given from the beach.

“All’s well and away,” he chuckled to Mipps, “ and the worth of some three thousand pounds crossing the Marsh

already. I think our lads will all be a-bed before the King’s men realize they have been fooled. I fancy my guest

will not be in the best of tempers in the morning.”

“And not a smell of powder from the revenue cutter, neither,” replied Mipps. ‘And to think it were all through

that looney Percy disobeying my orders. But you know, sir,” he added, “although the idiot has saved us from a

pitched battle on Littlestone Beach, and without knowing it kept many a tough skull uncracked, I’ll have to belt him

for all that.”

“For my part,” said Doctor Syn, “I am glad to find that it was but the work of an idiot, and not the clever

officiousness of one of our o wn men. I should deal gently with him and not give him the chance to do such a thing

again. I would be highly dangerous. You must keep that set of signs away from his fingers in future.”

“You mean I’m not to belt him?” asked Mipps.

“You can discover if you can what induced him to do it,” went on Syn. “But I doubt whether he’ll know by

tomorrow. We must bear in mind that the poor lad is simple.”

As they galloped after the cavalcade across the Marsh, Syn instructed Mipps to find out whether any of the

Nightriders had heard news of the missing fisherman, Hart. “We must remember, Mipps, that he is not only one of

my parishioners, but also a Scarecrow’s man, and the more I think of that stove boat, the more I suspect foul play.

Now Fred had no enemies. He was a good companion to all. But the Scarecrow has plenty, and there is always the

possibility that one or more of them, unable to get at the scarecrow, are trying to do so through one of his followers.

It is significant that it should happen immediately upon the arrival of Captain Blain. If my guest knows anything of

the matter he’ll be hard put to it to conceal his knowledge from me. That is the advantage of having him at the

vicarage.

“We’ll get Jimmie Bone to keep his ears open,” returned Mipps. “He has a rare knack of picking up information.

His ‘orrid trade of a robber has taught him that.”

“Aye, tell him we must know what has happened to Fred Hart,” said Syn. “Until we can question him alive, or

examine his dead body, we shall not know who has done this thing, and we have enough dangers to cope with,

without the greatest one, which is Uncertainty. Find out what you can.”

In spite of the added forces against them, with the coming of the Navy men, all concerned congratulated

themselves that there had never been a landing run to the hills more smoothly, for by the time the goods had been

dispersed amongst the ‘hides,’ and horses and pack-ponies had been returned to their various stables there was not a

sore head that sought its pillow, two hours before the dawn. Not a blow had been struck, except a mighty one

against the pride of Captain Blain, who did not reach his bed without an unpleasant storm of derision from the

soldiery.

“I think in future, sir,” Major Faunce had remarked icily, “that we had better work separately, or with a fuller

confidence together. How you got your information of a landing upon Littlestone Beach I do not know. Had you

thought fit to tell me I might have been able to see that it was but a red herring drawn across the trail by the

Scarecrow’s order. You forget, sir, that I have had a pretty good experience of his cleverness, and as you can now

see for yourself, the clue that lured you to Littlestone was just to ensure that you were there, wasting your time.

Until we realize that the Scarecrow is a good deal cleverer than we are, we shall get nowhere.”

“It will not be very long, Major Faunce,” retorted the captain, “before I invite you to attend the Scarecrow’s

hanging. I have never been the man to give up a fight because my opponent has the advantage of me in the first

round, and I have not yet begun to fight the Scarecrow. I promise you that he will not fool the senior service while I

represent it, as he has fooled the junior o ne.”

“Your manner, Captain Blain,” retorted the Major, “suggests a challenge, which I am perfectly willing to take up.

You say that you will invite me to the scarecrow’s hanging. Personally I confess that I have no great faith that either

of us will catch him, much less hang him. You forget that we are dealing with a person who was once imprisoned in

a cell at the top of Dover Castle, and yet managed to fly out of the window and float through the air like a witch on a

broomstick. At least this was vouched for by members of the Castle staff and the sentries. However, hopeless as I

take our task to be, I’ll yet wager you a hundred guineas that I will catch this criminal before you do. Let it be a

rivalry between us. If one of us succeeds, well, it will be all the better for the Marsh.”

“I doubt that indeed,” responded the Captain. “The prosperity of this little village is not due to the munificence

of the Squire, with whom you lodge, but to the good money which is slipping through the fingers of the Revenue.”

When the village woke to work the following morning, everybody seemed to know that there was open friction

between the two camps ranged against the scarecrow.

But the same capacity for gleaning information which Dymchurch seemed to possess, had as yet no news

concerning the missing Fred Hart, for Percy was late at the Coffin Shop, fearing to tell Mipps that he had changed

the signs, and when he eventually did so, Mipps kept the information for only the ears of Doctor Syn.

When Percy sheepishly entered the Coffin Shop with the two hearts in his buckets, he saw to his horror that Judy

was standing upon the coffin lid, and as he blinked guiltily at the idol he was aware that the Sexton was unstrapping

the thick belt that held his breeches. He shuddered as he saw the great brass buckle, and imagined it cutting into his

flesh, especially as Mipps was demanding sharply what he meant by changing the floats without permission.

Fear made him drawl out a lie which his simple brain told him might be a good excuse.

“I asked her about it,” he stammered. “You was out, or I’d have asked you, Mister Mipps. I wanted to.”

“But why did you do it?” demanded the angry Sexton.

“I done it out of respect to the old Harts,” he drawled. “They was always good to me, same as you, and I thought

s how it would please ‘em what with their Golden Wedding, and them not having lost poor Fred after all, as yet”

“What’s that?” snapped Mipps. “As yet? What do you mean by, ‘As yet’?”

Thereupon Percy recounted what he had overheard outside the barn, and all he had done after it, adding as a great

confession of guilt: “And I stole a pinch of snuff from your tin up yonder. I done that to cure myself of the snivels,

what come when I heard about the Hart boat, I come back here as I told you to get the two hearts, I did. I was wrong

about the snuff. I didn’t mean to be a thief, but you can belt me for that if you please.”

“You keep your mouth shut, now,” replied Mipps, “and don’t tell no one what you’ve told me, and then no one

won’t be the wiser. I don’t think I’ll have to belt you, seeing as how you did what you thought best, but I’ll have to

go and ask the Vicar what he thinks.”

Doctor Syn had an amusing breakfast watching the disgruntled Captain, who was in the worst of tempers, and

could not be led into conversation.

It was while preparing to read Matins that he met Mipps in the vestry, and heard the news dragged out of Percy.

He took a serious view of the fact that Fred Hart had betrayed them and was still a prisoner.

“He’ll get no mercy now from Captain Blain,” he said. “But we cannot see him hang, for the sake of his wife and

him, and then deal with his case. As to Percy, I agree with you, Mipps, that your belt would be a scurvy thanks, and

it occurs to me that anyone who can look such a fool and yet act so promptly should be enrolled on the scarecrow’s

pay list. I’ll leave you to deal with him, while I devise a scheme for snatching Fred Hart from the Captain’s guard.”

3

THE SCARECROW RUNS UP HIS FLAG

In the bedroom of a little white-washed cottage tucked away under the sea-wall, Doctor Syn sat one morning reading

the Scriptures to a young mother propped up with pillows nursing her new-born son. Her beautiful face was stained

with tears, for despite the fact of the comforting presence of the Vicar, whom all the parish of Dymchurch knew as

the holiest of men, she had black despair in her heart. For three days she had received no news of her husband, alive

or dead. The boat in which he had been fishing had been washed into Dymchurch Bay, capsized and badly holed.

Mrs. Hart could not believe that her Fred had been picked up by some ship outward bound, which was the only

comfort held out to her by sympathetic villagers. Four Dymchurch men, however, knew that he was alive and near

at hand: the Vicar, the Sexton, the Highwayman and the water-carrier. Captain Blain from the guard Ship at Dover

knew it too, and so did his sea-dogs who were billeted for the time being in the Tythe Barn during their search for

smugglers. But Blain saw to it that his men kept the knowledge to themselves when talking to the villagers.

He had kept Fred Hart a close prisoner in the barn and had by mental and physical torture compelled him to

confess that he had not only worked for the scarecrow and his gang of smugglers, but had made him betray the place

of landing for the next cargo. Unfortunately for the traitor, the scarecrow had been warned in time by Percy, the

half-witted water-carrier, and so it appeared to the Captain that Hart had deliberately lied, and he determined to

show him no mercy. Neither had he any intention of putting his young wife out of her misery.

Doctor Syn was more merciful, and although he could not impart knowledge that he had gained as the Scarecrow,

he resolved to drop a hint to the wife that she was not yet a widow.

With this end in view, he selected for his reading such passages from Holy Writ, that dealt with God visiting

mankind in dreams as a means of giving warnings, orders or comfort.

“And now, my daughter,” he said kindly as he closed his bible, “perhaps you are wondering why I have read

about so many God-sent dreams. I will tell you. The age of such miracles is not yet over, for last night I dreamed a

dream, which may be full of comfort to you. I seemed to see your husband riding with the Scarecrow’s men, and

when I upbraided him for thus breaking the law, he told me that he had done so in order to make more money for

your happiness. The scene then changed and I saw him fishing in the Hart boat. Captain blain and his men hailed

him from the beach, and when he rowed ashore they fell upon him and then until he betrayed the Scarecrow. I

awoke with the feeling that this was true, and while we keep this to ourselves I will try to find out the truth. Perhaps

this very day I may discover where he is, and then I will do what I can to restore him to you.”

Leaving the young woman with this ray of hope, Doctor Syn proceeded to the Coffin Shop for a word with

Mipps, whom he found busy at his bench.

“Any more news about Hart, my good Mipps?” he asked.

“Only a bit of guesswork, Vicar,” replied the Sexton, “which I takes to be as good as news. If Hart was ever in

the Tythe Barn as a prisoner, which according to Percy is a fact, well then, there he is still, ‘cos I’ve had both doors

watched as you ordered, and no one but the King’s men have gone out or in. Even Percy ain’t allowed inside when

he carries round the water-buckets from the well. Why? ‘Cos they don’t wish him to know that Hart’s alive and in

their power. One comfort is that he don’t know nothing that can harm the Scarecrow, and if you was to leave him to

his fate, well it might be hard on his wife, but no more than he deserves for having tried to betray us.”

“If we leave him to his fate, my good Mipps,” said the Vicar quietly, “he’ll be shipped to the Plantations, and his

wife will never hear of him again. We must be merciful to her, and thwart this Captain Blain. Besides, it touches

the reputation of the scarecrow. Anyone betraying him must be judged by him. I have settled how to punish Fred

Hart, but to carry out the punishment he must first be rescued from the Captain. And for that end, my friend, I want

you to cut me a strong wooden wedge from the outside of the Captain’’ room at the Vicarage.”

“I was wondering when you was going to batten him down,” chuckled the sexton. “Been a bit awkward having

had him on top of us, so to speak.”

“It had had its advantages, too,” replied the Vicar. “I billeted him at the Vicarage for two reasons. First that he

would have no suspicions that I could be connected with the scarecrow, and secondly, so that I could keep an eye on

him, and an ear, too. I confess that he’’ s close an oyster as ever I met, for not even in his cups can I make him talk

about his plans. He confines his conversation to naval gossip concerning our old friend Admiral Troubridge, and to

the family history and qualities of his junior officers abroad the Dover Guard ship. I know all about them, but of his

plans, nothing.”

By this time Mipps had fashioned a neat wedge which he handed to his master, saying, “Whether the Captain

snores or no, I should put that in his door whenever things move at night on the Marsh.”

Doctor Syn put it in his pocket. “Thank you, I will, for the Captain’s snores are no longer reassuring to me.

They sound convincing enough, but last night during his nasal trumpetings I heard the squeak of his shutter’s hinge

as he crept to look out of the casement. I know now that the Captain does not snore when asleep, but only when

he’s very much awake. I shall therefore wedge his door when I am ready to join the Nightriders at the Oast House

at Doubledyke’s. You have passed the word for arms and horses?”

Mipps nodded. “thirty, s you ordered, with a spare horse. I suppose now that the extra mount is for Fred hart,

and that we attack the barn.”

Doctor Syn nodded back. “In the meantime continue the watch on the doors, although I think the Captain will

not attempt to move his prisoner in daylight, since it is against his interest to let anyone know that hart is alive.

Keep watch though, all the same.”

Later, at dinner, Doctor Syn tested Captain Blain by asking whether he would be attending the memorial service

to Fred Hart which would be held for the parish if no one brought news that he was alive.

“I think, Vicar, that there can be no doubt as to his death, and that it is quite right to hold the service. I dare say

some of my men would like to attend. I shall come myself out of respect to his widow.”

For which piece of hypocrisy Doctor Syn scored up another mental black mark against his guest.

Earlier than usual that night Doctor Syn suggested retiring to bed. “One of my flock is very ill,” he explained.

“and Doctor Pepper tells me the crisis is at hand, so I must hold myself in readiness for being awakened in the night.

I have also told the Hart family to summon me should poor Fred’s wife need spiritual comfort. We must do what

little we can.”

“I applaud you for taking your duties so seriously, Parson,” replied the Captain.

“I suppose you are right, and that Hart is dead,” went on Doctor Syn, “but what mystifies me is not that such a

good fisherman should be capsized, which might happen to the best, but that the boat should have been so savagely

holed when there is but sand in Dymchurch Bay. The nearest rocks, and they are not dangerous , are Sandgate one

way and Littlestone the other. As you must know, they are flat shelves and amply covered at high tide for a fishing

boat. Neither was there a high sea running that night, they tell me.”

“The revenue cutter reported a high wind and something of a swell,” explained the Captain. “His boat may have

been dropped on to some ugly piece of wreckage.”

“I think that unlikely,” returned the Vicar. “Do you know, I have been wondering whether there was any foul

play, though I can find no reason to suppose that the young man had enemies.” The Vicar sighed. “I would give a

lot to be able to hold out some hope to that poor girl.”

“Your suggestion of foul play, Parson has made me wonder whether he might not have been murdered by this

Scarecrow’s orders, for we know him as an unscrupulous rascal.”

Doctor Syn looked shocked. “Surely you have no grounds for any suspicion against young Hart? You do not

suggest that he has been a law-breaker? I have always looked upon him as loyal to both Church and Government.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, since he has gone to his account,” replied the Captain. “After all, you knew the

man, and I did not.” And for this lie Doctor Syn registered another black mark to be dealt with in his dealings with

the Captain.

That night the sailors in the Tythe Barn turned in sooner than usual, for Mipps had taken round two barrels of

rum with the compliments of Mrs. Waggetts, landlady of the Ship Inn, and with their own allowance the Bos’n and

his men were drunker than ever. Even the man on watch allowed himself to sit down, and was soon nodding over

his drawn cutlass that rested on his knees.

Their awakening was surprising and alarming. A clattering of hooves; the cry of the awakened sentry as his

cutlass was struck from his grasp; and then the sharp orders from a terrible figure who had ridden a great black horse

into the barn. Behind him were a score of other mounted figures masked hideously and carrying Jack-o’-Lanterns.

These devils on horseback were all armed, and their leader was crying out to the Bos’n to get out of his hammock,

while all the rest were to remain where they were, or be shot as the Scarecrow’s enemies.

“We are here, Master Bos’n,” said the Scarecrow, “to take from you the person of one Fred Hart, held here as

your prisoner. Deliver him over to us at once.”

“He ain’t ‘ere,” replied the sea-dog, with what courage he could muster.

“Search the barn, some of you,” ordered the Scarecrow. “He was here and must be still since I have had the barn

watched day and night. Unless you tell me where he is within the next thirty seconds I shall employ the other half

minute in hanging you from the rafters.”

“There’s no harm in telling you,” faltered the Bos’n. “The prisoner is abroad the Revenue cutter. He was took

under escort some three hours back. And that’s truth, so ‘elp me.”

“Who watched the barn three hours back?” demanded the Scarecrow of his men.

“I and Curlew,” came the prompt answer from one of them. “And so ‘elp me none come out but four of these

dirty king’s men. One had a drawed cutlass and the rest carried bundles.”

“And ‘cordin’ to Captain’s orders, one of ‘em was this Fred ‘Art, dressed up in poor Joe’s kit, and there’s Joe

been shiverin’ ever since in a blanket.”

“There’s no signs of the prisoner here, Scarecrow,” said one of the search party. “We’ve turned over the straw,

and the barrels are all empty.”

“Very well, replied the Scarecrow. “Then we’ll tear a leaf from the clever Captain’s book. Collect all these

men’s clothes and bring ‘em along, and you, Hellspite, put a dozen or so six-inch nails through the door bars when

we’ve closed these rascals in for the night.”

The Scarecrow’s men worked quickly, and within a few minutes the captured piled arms of the King’s men had

been thrown into the Glebe Field Dyke, and behind nailed-up doors in the dark the party of disconsolate sailors

shivered and cursed, as they listened to the departing horsemen who had taken their clothes and were galloping back

to the Oast House, from which they had set out.

The Scarecrow and Hellspite remained behind, promising to rejoin the Nightriders within a few minutes.

“What now?” asked Hellspite in a whisper.

“Hold Gehenna, Mipps,” replied the Scarecrow. “I have no time to ride to the Mother Handaway’s to change my

clothes to Doctor Syn, so I must leave them for the moment in the hidden stables. Fortunately for my plan, Captain

Blain is a careless drinker when in cups, and slops his wine upon his uniform. Mrs. Fowey, taking it as her duty to

clean them, insists that he leaves them outside his door at night for here collection early in the morning. So, my

good Mipps, I can collect a uniform which will fit me. Despite slopping his wine, he is a man who likes to be trim

on duty, so he also leaves his wig to be freshly powered. I venture to think that I can close my left eye and stare

with the right as he does. We are of a height, too, and it will be dark enough aboard the cutter. We may take our

prisoner therefore without bloodshed.”

Thus it was that Doctor Syn entered his Vicarage quietly as the Scarecrow and in ten minutes emerged in the

uniform of Captain Blain. Luck had been on his side, since his guest had left his sword in the hall with his cloak and

hat, and every other night he had taken his sword to his room. He had also listened at the Captain’s door and had

heard deep breathing, but no snores.

On rejoining Mipps, the little Sexton grinned. “I knows you better than most,” he whispered, “but you ain’t the

Vicar, you ain’t the Scarecrow, but you are Captain Blain, one eye and all.”

On reaching the Oast House, Mipps superintended the Scarecrow’s orders being carried out, picking twenty to

dress in the sailor’s kits they had stolen. The Bos’n uniform gave him an extra one for himself. “The Revenue

cutter carries a crew of twenty men, a petty officer, and a captain. Well, the Scarecrow is the Captain, I’ll be petty

officer, and you the crew. The ten who remain as Nightriders will see to the horses getting back to stables from the

beach at Littlestone, where we shall board the lugger and sail for the Revenue cutter to capture the traitor, Fred

Hart.”

An hour later, Mipps entered the cabin of the lugger where Doctor Syn sat alone, and reported that they were

half-way between Sandgate and Dover and that the cutter lay ahead anchored.

“Run us alongside, Mister Bos’n,” ordered Syn, “and Captain Blain will speak to the officer of the watch.”

Doctor Syn climbed out of the cabin and strode along the dark deck, till level with the companion-ladder. “Is

Mister Swinnerton in charge?” he demanded in Blain’s deep and husky voice. He had got the name from Blain

himself.

“Speaking, sir,” came the answer promptly.

‘Plans are changed, Mister Swinnerton,” went on Doctor Syn. “The prisoner, hart, is to be tried at the

Dymchurch Court House, and I have come to escort him back on this lugger which I have requisitioned. Put him

abroad.”

“Sorry, sir,” replied the officer, “but your orders have been carried out. Hart is in irons abroad the Guard Ship in

Dover harbour. We have only just returned and piped the men below.”

“I was afraid of that,” went on Doctor Syn. “Well, my men are fresh and the cutter is faster than this old tub.

We’ll change over crews and you may lie anchored aboard here, while I go and fetch Hart from the Guard Ship. I’ll

come aboard.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the unsuspecting officer, and as Syn climbed on to the cutter’s deck, he sang out the

necessary orders.

“Make fast, Bos’n, and send our men aboard,” growled Syn.

“Aye, aye, sir,” sang out Mipps.

Before the first man rolled out of the fo’c’sle curing, Syn’s men were at the ropes. Canvas was spread and

anchor weighed, while the workers kept sullen backs to the awakened sleepers. Keeping away from the ship’s

lanterns Syn strode the deck, curing Swinnerton for not driving his men harder, so that in a few minutes the last of

the cutter’s crew was aboard the lugger, and Syn gave a curt good night to the officer as he followed his crew aboard

the unsavoury lugger. As he went over the side with a salute, Swinnerton said, “We’ll stand by you at anchor here,

sir.”

“Right. And between ourselves, Mister Swinnerton, was mister Rowton drunk as usual when you reported

aboard the Guard Ship?”

“Well, sir,” replied the young officer diffidently, “he was not altogether pleasant, but he seemed put out that the

Admiralty have superseded Admiral Troubridge for Admiral Chesham, who I believe is to take over the command.”

“I know Chesham well,” chuckled Syn. ‘He’ll make us jump for him.”

As the cutter drew away into the fairway they heard the anchor being dropped aboard the lugger.

On the way to Dover, Mipps and two others who had served aboard a man-o-war trained the crew as to their

bearing, and in the meanwhile Syn having sent for white paint and tar, and procuring a flag from the locker,

bedaubed a white scarecrow on a black ground. “The adventure has so far been a joke with no bloodshed. With

luck it may so continue, Mipps,” he laughed, “and I have a mind to run this flag up on the guard Ship peak-head.”

The cutter entered the harbour and came alongside the guard Ship without suspicion. The officer of the watch

saluted Syn. “I was appointed here, sir, since you left for shore duty.”

“Name?” growled Syn.

“Osmund, sir.”

“Mister Rowton below?”

“Yes sir.”

“In his cups, too, I’ll be bound.”

“I couldn’t say, sir,” replied the tactful midshipman.

“Order two men to put the prisoner Hart aboard the cutter. I am taking him ashore for trial.”

“Yes sir. Shall I take the order to Mister Rowton, sir?’

“No. Take me to him. I’ll make it clear to him. Have the prisoner put aboard at once. Rowton’s in my cabin?:’

“No, Captain Blain. Admiral Troubridge has been ashore for two nights and Mister Rowton is preparing the

quarters for Admiral Chesham.”

“Very well. Get the prisoner aboard.”

Syn closed the door of the Admiral’s cabin behind him, and called a very drunk officer asprawl across a chart

table to attention.

“Mister Rowton,” he said sharply, “I shall have you suspended for this. I come unexpectedly to escort the

prisoner Hart back to shore trial, and I find you drunk on Admiral’s liquor. Get to bed and you’ll hear that

tomorrow which will surprise you.”

Suddenly the drink seemed to drop from Rowton’s eyes. “What’s all this? “Just a minute. Who the hell are

you? You’re like Blain, but I’ve served under that devil for years, and you ain’t him. Who are you?”

Syn strode towards him, saying, “An officer whom no subordinate shall insult.”

With a terrific blow on his chin Rowton went down on the cabin floor. There was a knock at the door and young

Osmund announced, “Prisoner’s being taken aboard, sir.”

“Mister Rowton has fallen over drunk. When I’ve sailed come back here, pour a bucket of water over him and

let him sleep. And take example. Don’t drink on duty if you wish to get on in the Service.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” replied Osmund.

On deck Syn saw Hart being hustled below on the cutter. Leaning over the side he called, “Got the Admiral’s

flag there?”

“Yes sir,” replied Mipps. “Shall I bring it aboard.”

“Throw her up.”

The rolled flag fell on the deck. “Do you know how to break a flag, Mister Osmund?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then let’s see you run up Admiral Chesham’s.”

“He’s not aboard, you know, sir.”

“Obey orders, and don’t try to teach me regulations,” snarled Syn. “If the new Admiral wishes his colours to be

seen in the morning as though he were aboard, that’s his look-out and mine, not yours.”

As Syn stood once more on the cutter he saw the black bundle mounting to the peak, and then with a convulsive

twitch break out into t he breeze. “You strike that at Admiral Chesham’s orders, and see that Mister Rowton does

not tamper with it.”

The next morning there was fine to-do when the Scarecrow’s flag was seen waving above the flagship. There

was more to-do when the cutter was discovered run on Dymchurch sands with all her brass guns, fourteen in all,

shining below the water, and a hue and cry for Fred Hart who was shipped over to France that night for internment

in the Scarecrow’s secret port.

Meanwhile the Captain’s uniform and wig were brought to his room neatly brushed and powdered, and doctor

Syn, in the clothes that Mipps had brought to him from the hidden stable, went out before breakfast to give comfort

to Mrs. Hart.

“I will see that you join your husband as soon as you are well enough to cross the Channel,” he said. “He is alive

and well, having escaped from the jaws of death through the skill of the mysterious Scarecrow. How I came to this

information I may not say, and for the sake of your husband’s safety we must not speak of it. But you see, my

daughter, it was as I thought. My dream was a visitation from God.”

As to Captain Blain, he had a lot to puzzle him, and he vowed to be revenged upon the Scarecrow.