The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN - Thorndike Russell - Страница 50

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damn him. He is, in fact, pretending to read. His manner the whole evening has aroused my suspicions, and yet it is

time that we started for Mother Handaway’s. I am taking in another bottle of brandy to encourage his sleepiness that

shows as yet no signs of appearing. Give me but ten minutes or so, and then come round to the front door quietly

and knock violently. I will admit you, and you can say in a loud voice that poor old Fletcher is dying, which I think

will be no lie since Pepper told me this evening that his patient cannot be expected to last much longer. In fact, I

will call upon alibi in case the Captain makes some awkward inquiries. Indeed we will set out that way, and then

make a detour across the Marsh to the stables. It is necessary that we are at the Oast House by one o’clock>”

As he whispered Doctor Syn had been selecting the bottle of brandy from his bin. He then repeated his

instructions. “Ten minutes’ time, Mipps,” and went back to the library with candle and bottle. On his return he

found the Captain pretending very well to be engrossed with his book, though on his host’s entrance he sprang up

and insisted upon drawing the cork for his host.

“Now I am just going to have one glass, and one lass only,” said the vicar, “and then go straight up to bed. If I

took more I might have to ask your assistance and disturb your reading, which I should be loath to do. I would

sooner leave you to finish both the bottle and the book.”

“I am a slow reader, Parson,” said the Captain, “and I could finish more of your excellent brandy than the

excellent reading set out upon your shelves. But in my own defense I must boast that I do remember what I read,

and that is a thing that all students cannot say.”

“Sow, but very sure, eh?” nodded the Vicar. “Well, let us hope that such a method enables you to catch our

Scarecrow.”

“Ah yes, indeed,” replied the Captain sincerely.

For a few minutes Doctor Syn made a show of tidying up his table of papers which he had been poring over.

Parochial papers, of course. He then replaced certain volumes from the table to their allotted shelves. He also took

some appreciative sips from his glass of brandy.

He then bade the Captain a good-night, and was just opening the door when there came a violent knocking from

the hall.

“Now who on earth can that be at such a time?” he asked, showing a deal of disappointment. “Are you expecting

a midnight report from that excellent Bos’n of yours?”

The Captain shook his head. “No, sir. I should be very disgruntled if he came to fetch me out now upon the

Scarecrow’s business. It would have to be a very important circumstance that would persuade me out at such an

hour. No, Parson, I hate to depress you, but I rather fancy that this is a summons for the cure of souls.”

“I must confess that I fear so, too,” said Syn sadly. “There are of course plenty of sick folk upon the Marsh, but

only one that I know of who is in danger of passing, and that is p oor old Fletcher, whom I think I told you about

during supper.”

“Ah yes, indeed,” replied the Captain. “Eighty-nine, isn’t he? Well, perhaps it is his happy release knocking

upon your door.”

“Good gracious,” exclaimed the Vicar, as a further pounding sounded upon the front door, “here I stand

conjecturing when by opening the door I can find out the worst. How very stupid once becomes upon occasions.”

“I should never accuse you of stupidity,” said the Captain.

“But if I let that knocking continue, I shall be very stupid, for my old housekeeper will be aroused, and then we

shall both suffer for it tomorrow with bad cooking.” Saying which the Vicar went out of the library, crossed the hall

and opened the door.

“Oh, it’s Mister Mipps, is it?” he said in a loud voice. “Well, I presume I am right in my guess. Is it Fletcher?”

“It be,” replied the Mipps promptly.

“Gone?” inquired the Vicar with a tone of anxiety.

“No, but just a-goin’,” replied the Sexton.

“Dear, dear,” exclaimed the Vicar. “Have you been over there?”

“No, sir, but young Jim was coming round to fetch you, but seeing as how I had my light on in the shop, since I

was getting his old grand-dad’s coffin ready just in case, I sends him back so as to be in at the death, which he

wouldn’t want to miss, being such a very dutiful grandson, sir.”

“Come along in then, Mipps,” ordered the Vicar, “and while I get ready you can take a glass of something to

keep out the Marsh agues.” So saying he led the Sexton into the library.

As Doctor Syn poured out a glass of brandy for the Sexton he told the Captain that his guess was correct and that

it was indeed old Fletcher who was passing away, adding that he must set out immediately.

“I can’t offer to go for you,” laughed the Captain, “though I should welcome the chance of such courtesy to my

good host. But I know that my uniform would scare the poor old fellow into his grave the quicker. I presume,

however that he is too old to be one of the Scarecrow’s active followers?”

Doctor Syn allowed himself to look pained at the joke. “Fletcher has ever been a very good parishioner. He will

be sadly missed from his seat in church. His family occupies a whole pew, and has done ever since I have been in

charge here. Is Doctor Pepper with him, my good Mipps?”

“No, sir, he ain’t, and more shame to the old curmudgeon, I says,” replied the Sexton. “Young Jim called around

there before coming to me, and old Pepper said as how there was nothing he could do, so it was useless to turn out.

Jim told him too as how it was the end, seeing that the old boy keeps on asinging a funeral hymn at the top of his

voice which he says sounds very rattley.”

“Their place is something of a distance too,” went on the Vicar, “and it is essential that I get there in time for the

end. I think you had best saddle up the pony if you will, Mipps.”

“Certainly, sir, and then we can start at once.”

“No, there’s no need for you to accompany me, Mipps,” said the Vi car.

“As to that, sir, I beg leave to disagree,” replied the Sexton. “This hour of the morning ain’t very healthy upon

the Marsh. What with mists and agues that rise with ‘em, to say nothing of the bad characters that roams about at

such hours. In fact, sir, I’ve come on old Lightning, and bought my loaded blunderbuss.”

“To take a pot at the March agues or at the bad characters, eh?” laughed the Vicar.

“Whatever presents itself first, sir.” Replied the Sexton seriously. “There’s them sailors, too, of the Captain’s. I

hear tell that they gets very nervous when on night-guards, and that they flourishes cutlasses at you, however

innocent. Well, there’s nothing like a blunderbuss for stopping that sort of behaviour. So I’ll come with you, if you

please, sir. Besides, I can’t very well disappoint the old Lightning after having saddled him up. He’ll want a

canter.”

“You meant that old donkey?” laughed the Captain. “Does it ever canter?”

“Does it? Why should it be called Lightning then?” responded the disgusted Sexton.

“Well, then, we’ll get along together,” said the Vicar. “I’ll be glad of your company and you can look after the

animals while I am in the cottage. Hurry then, Mipps.”

In a few minutes the pony and donkey were carrying their masters along the Marsh road. The Captain watched

them from the front door, and listened to the noise of the hoofs when there was nothing to be seen but the wreaths of

mist into which the riders had disappeared.

“As queer a pair as ever I clapped my eyes on.” He said to himself. “A couple of characters whatever they may

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