The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN - Thorndike Russell (книги онлайн полные TXT) 📗

now that he will never be taken.”

“You think so, eh?” chuckled the admiral. “You think also that I have abandoned you? No. Doctor Syn. I am

expecting a visitor this very day who can give me information which will enable me to smash the Scarecrow’s

organization at the very source. I am to learn full details of his secret harbour in France. I shall be able to bottle up

his ships before they enter British waters. Then what can he do?”

“That would indeed be a master-stroke, sir,” was the Doctor’s enthusiastic reply. “By the way, sir, I am

expecting one of the Archbishop’s servants to wait upon me here within the next quarter-hour. May I have you

permission to wait for him in your enquiryroom?”

“Certainly, Doctor,” said the Admiral. “You may come and go as you please. I will give orders for you. In the

meantime read that.” He threw a note across the table. Doctor Syn picked it up and read:

You may remember my name. I betrayed two of the Scarecrow’s men to you, Admiral Troubridge, eleven years

ago. You think I am dead. No sir, I have lived a living death as a prisoner of the Scarecrow. He was too clever for

me and for you, sir, and the Navy. But now I can get my revenge and give you yours. I have escaped from his base

in France. I can show you, just as soon as you have paid me the reward for such, the very spot in France he loads

his ships with French contraband. When you pay me in golden guineas I will take you to the spot. A condition is a

free pardon to certain Romney Marsh smugglers who fell foul of the scarecrow. They are not dead, as supposed.

They are prisoners with their wives and children. It has been their lot and mine to load the contraband fleet. For

my information, I demand the reward and a rescue for my unfortunate colleagues. Your honor may remember my

name.

Your Servant,

One Handgrove.

“This should prove most valuable,” exclaimed Doctor Syn. “Through it I have no doubt but that you will take the

Scarecrow himself. May I wait upon you later in the day?”

“We will sup together,” said the Admiral. “By that time I may have something to tell you. Shall we say the Ship

Tavern in Whitehall? At nine o’clock this night?”

“I shall be delighted,” agreed Doctor Syn. “But if you will excuse me now, I will go and await the servant from

Lambeth Palace. You expect this Handgrove today?’

“Aye, and he’ll be here, too,” explained the Admiral, “because a verbal message was given to me by his

messenger who brought this note. He asked for an early appointment, and by the clock he should be in the enquiryroom within the next ten minutes. Do you remember Handgrove? Eleven years ago he was one of your flock.”

“One of its blackest sheep, I fear, Admiral,” replied the Vicar. “I recollect him well, though I doubt whether he

would know me. He was not given to attending church.”

“Why not stay and hear what he has got to tell me,” suggested the Admiral.

Doctor Syn shook his head. “My presence would embarrass him. Besides I am awaiting the messenger from

Lambeth, who is to tell me where I am to meet the Archbishop.”

“Then I will not detain you,” said the Admiral, ringing a bell, which was promptly answered by a petty officer.

“Conduct Doctor Syn to the enquiry room,” he ordered. “He is expecting a messenger.” The Admiral shook

hands with his guest a nd added, “Nine o’clock, then, Parson, at the ‘Ship’ in Whitehall.”

Doctor Syn found the enquiryroom a lively place. Groups of officers awaiting appointments with their Sea

Lords, were renewing old acquaintances, and exchanging gossip of His Majesty’s ships. Taking the elegant parson

for a chaplain of the fleet they bowed politely as he made his way to the window overlooking the front courtyard.

He knew that Handgrove must come in that way and be directed by the sailor on guard to the enquiry -room.

Although Handgrove had not set eyes on the Vicar of Dymchurch for eleven years Doctor Syn had seen him

many times, and recently from behind the Scarecrow’s mask when the smuggling business had taken him to France.

He would have no difficulty in recognizing him. Neither did he, for after three minutes’ vigil at the window, he saw

his man creeping through the archway. Turing abruptly from the window Doctor Syn walked briskly to the door,

and asked the petty officer acting as usher to order him a hackney coach. As he crossed the courtyard the

approaching Handgrove saw the petty officer salute the parson and dash away. As he mounted the steps of the main

entrance that led to the enquiryroom, the parson came down the steps to meet him.

“Your name is Handgrove, I believe,” said he in a quiet, pleasant voice. “You are here by appointment to lay

information before Admiral Troubridge concerning a certain party whom it is safer not to name. You may wonder

how I knew you, but before I was made Chapla in to the Admiralty here I was Vicar of Dymchurch. You

disappeared from my parish some eleven years ago, and were given out as dead. I am delighted to find you alive.”

“I am here to see the Admiral,” growled Handgrove sullenly.

“Who has appointed me to take you to him,” replied the parson. ‘It will be my duty to take your Bible oath upon

the truth of what you tell us. I shall then hand you this bag of guineas in advance of your reward, to show you our

good faith. The rest will be paid when we have proved your statement true.” Doctor Syn drew a money-bag from

his pocket, and Handgrove heard the chink of gold. “A hundred guineas, Handgrove, which you shall count after

taking your oath. You will then be detained under the protection of the Admiralty till your story is proved.”

“It’s true enough as a certain party will find to his cost,” snarled Handgrove. “I shall be glad when it’s over, and

hope the authorities won’t delay. Where’s this Admiral?”

“I am waiting for a coach to take us to him,” replied Doctor Syn. “It may interest you to know that a certain

party has sent him a threatening letter stating that if you enter the Admiralty you will be killed before you can utter a

word. The Admiral, knowing as I do from bitter experience, that this unnamed one never utters idle threats, has

commissioned me to take you to his private lodgings, and I think here is our conveyance.”

Handgrove saw a coach with a sailor on the box seat beside the driver enter the yard. The petty officer sprang

down and opened the door. Doctor Syn stepped in and told Handgrove to sit opposite him. He then called out,

“Lambeth Palace.”

“Lambeth Palace,” repeated the saluting petty officer, and the coach rolled out of the yard.

“Why there?” asked Handgrove.

Doctor Syn smiled. “Because it is not where we are going, and when we are clear of Whitehall I shall change

direction. We do not want to give information to the scarecrow’s spies, and no doubt there are many now about the

Admiralty, waiting for you.”

“But how could he know that I’ve escaped? Asked Handgrove.

“My good fellow, don’t ask me,” replied Doctor Syn. “I begin to think, as many do, that there is something

supernatural about him. I have striven against him in the past, just as the Admiral has, and if now you have it in

your power to overthrow this devil, the government will owe you much, and you will deserve the large reward.”

According to his changed direction the coachman at length pulled up his horses opposite the alleyway that led to

the secluded Mitre Inn. Paying the coachman, Doctor Syn ordered Handgrove to follow him, and led the way to an

upstairs sitting-room, where Handgrove saw a spread dining-table laid for three.

“The Admiral though it best for us to dine together here in private,” explained Syn.