The Shadow of Dr Syn - Thorndike Russell - Страница 19
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Mr. Hyde sat down in the chair to which his host had motioned him and took the proffered glass, while Doctor Syn watched him as he lit his long churchwarden from a taper at the fire.
He saw a broad-shouldered, determined-looking man, who, dressed in the dark drab uniform of the Revenue, had about him an air of pugnacious expectancy and the questioning look of suspicion which was the stamp of his trade.
The Revenue man, feeling it was his duty to watch people and not to be watched, shifted uneasily under the Vicar’s penetrating glance. This was not at all what he had expected. His customary habit of generalizing both people and facts had failed. Here was no ordinary village parson in a humble Vicarage, but an elegant figure of fashion in a setting artistic and luxurious. So, realizing that he could not use his bludgeoning manner here, decided on different tactics, and awkwardly opened the conversation with a compliment.
‘This is an excellent brandy, Doctor Syn.’
‘I am glad you find it to your taste, sir,’ replied the Vicar, as he strolled completely at his ease to a chair at the refectory table. ‘The Squire sent over some half a dozen bottles, as he was dining with me tonight.’ Thereupon, seeing the other’s quick glance at the bottle, he continued: ‘Oh, you need have no professional qualms as to his credentials. He is our Chief Magistrate — Caesar’s wife, you know.’ Mr. Hyde, not being conversant with classical quotations, looked blank. So the Vicar added: ‘Yes, well, perhaps I am mixing my metaphors; Sir Antony hardly resembles a frivolous Roman matron, eh?’ Another blank look from the Revenue. ‘But perhaps you have not met the Squire? Your visit to Dymchurch is not connected with law-breaking? Gratifying indeed, Mr. Hyde? A personal matter? You come to ask me to publish the banns? You could not do better. Our Marsh girls are considered beauties, you know.’
Here at least was a statement that Mr. Hyde could understand and answer. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, Parson, but I am not a lady’s man. Let me be frank with you, sir, my visit to Dymchurch is strictly in keeping with my profession.’ Placing his elbows on the table, and leaning towards Doctor Syn, he added impressively: ‘I am here to lay that rascally Scarecrow by the heels.’
The Vicar, raising an eyebrow in surprise, asked him why he had not gone to the Squire, to which the Revenue man, begging his pardon, explained that he had been informed that Sir Antony Cobtree cared more for his foxhounds and his vintage port than he did for maintaining the Law, a Leveller of Marsh Scotts. The Vicar was about to expostulate, but Mr. Hyde cut him short with: ‘And anyone wishing to do business with him after a certain hour is more like to find him under the table than in his chair of office.’
At this the Vicar protested: ‘You do him an injustice, sir. The Squire of Dymchurch is moderate in all things; indeed, he is looked upon with great respect by his tenants.’
Mr. Hyde capped this derisively: ‘That’s as may be, sir, seeing the Squire’s known to wink the other eye.’
Doctor Syn rose, and in a reproving tone told the Revenue man that he would not allow a guest to remain under his roof who questioned the integrity of his benefactor. His attitude conveyed dismissal. Mr. Hyde, cursing himself for a clumsy fool and having no mind to go before accomplishing his mission, apologized as far as his nature allowed, and explained that he had no wish to offend but that suspicion being his trade, he must, of necessity, suspect anyone who could tally with the Scarecrow’s description, adding with conciliatory jocularity: ‘Why, I might even suspect you were you as good a rider as Sir Antony and not known to be one of the Scarecrow’s sworn enemies. Your sermons against this cunning rogue are highly spoken of, as is, indeed, your courage in delivering them; that is why I seek your assistance.’
At which the Vicar, having reseated himself as a sign that he had accepted the other’s apology, seemed amused, and enquired whether Mr. Hyde was suggesting that he should ride out with the Dragoons on their man-hunt.
Mr. Hyde snorted. ‘Man-hunt?’ he cried. ‘Devil-hunt, more like, for I begin to think the creature’s supernatural.’ Then his tone became confidential. ‘No, Parson, I am not asking you to do anything but give me such help as your calling allows. In a word, I want you to impart to me any information you may have heard, or any suspicions you may have, regarding the questionable activities of your parishioners.’
At this the Vicar seemed deeply shocked, as he replied in severe reproof: ‘Let us understand each other once and for all, Mr. Hyde. If I can be of any help to you be preaching more strongly against this evil, I most readily agree, but I should be a disgrace to the cloth were I to betray the sorry little secrets of my flock,’ adding devoutly that he considered it his bounden duty to respect the confidence of all — black sheep or white. He smiled as he explained himself more fully: ‘Revenue man and smuggler alike. A little more brandy, Mr. Hyde?’ The Revenue man was completely baffled; he felt he had not made the progress he had anticipated, so to gain time he accepted the brandy before replying: ‘You’re spoken of as a good man, Doctor Syn, but I venture to think that you have not been so closely connected with crime all your life as I have.’
With this the Vicar agreed. ‘Possibly not, Mr. Hyde. Possibly not. Possibly you could teach me a very great deal about crime.’ Then seeming suddenly to change his mind, he suggested that perhaps they should work together after all, adding with timid eagerness: ‘Do you really think we could catch this, er — rascally Scarecrow?’
This was the attitude that Mr. Hyde understood, and he replied bluffly: ‘All in good time, Parson, all in good time. Glad to see you’ve changed your mind, though if all goes well tonight, I may not need your help, for Major Faunce and his Dragoons are already combing the Marshes beyond Dungeness.’ Doctor Syn seemed most interested, and the Revenue man, flattering himself that he had subdued the parson, and was on the way to getting what he wanted, continued aggressively: ‘That infernal Scarecrow had the audacity to send me a note with details of tonight’s man-hunt — but I’ll fox the rascal. I have a special troop well hidden in Wraight’s Building Yard.’
The Vicar stared at him with astonished simplicity, and in a voice filled with admiration, said: ‘Dear me, Mr. Hyde, dear me. I fail to see how this rogue can ever hope to pit his wits against yours — remarkable foresight on your part. The Building Yard? Now whoever would have thought of the Building Yard? Indeed, you have quite convinced me, I cannot go wrong if I listen to you.’
Mr. Hyde was delighted and so full of self-satisfaction that he could hardly speak, and so Doctor Syn continued: ‘But should you not succeed tonight, do not fail to tell me how you next intend to trap him, and let us see if my poor brain can add anything to that.’
The Revenue man, seeing his object in sight, felt he could afford to be a little condescending, so he thanked the parson, adding: ‘They say two heads are better than one.’
Instantly the Vicar replied: ‘Dear me, do they? I find mine quite satisfactory. I should not like to lose it. It is as valuable to me as I should imagine the Scarecrow’s is to him.’
Mr. Hyde chuckled in confident anticipation. ‘His won’t be worth much by the time we’ve finished with him, eh, Master Parson?’ His object achieved, and by now thoroughly convinced that his first impressions of this old clergyman were wrong, and that he was, after all, just as simple as the rest of his class, he rose and said that he had better be about his business, for although he would not get much rest this night, there was no reason why he should keep Doctor Syn from his.
Doctor Syn, on his part, remarking that he was loth to see such an entertaining visitor depart, escorted him personally to the door, where the Revenue man bowed, saying: ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Reverend Sir, and good night.’
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