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

graves upon this quay.” Then turning to Duloge he added, “Let your men drive them back to their quarters.”

As the wretched prisoners were surrounded by the Frenchmen, who had thrown aside their ropes, they saw the

ensign being struck from the lugger’s peak, and the two spades shovelling in the earth upon the corpse.

No sooner had they gone, however, but the filling of the grave stopped at the Scarecrow’s orders, and the corpse

was lifted out and carried back aboard the lugger.

Then the grave was filled up and the board placed as a headstone. Turning to the play-acting officer the

Scarecrow whispered: “Very well done, my good Jimmie Bone. Admiral Troubridge might have spotted you, but to

the laymen you surely had the manner born.”

In the meantime, back in Dymchurch, Captain Blain’s men searched to no avail for the body of Handgrove. But

two days later they had their reward, for as Doctor Syn was supping with the Captain and describing his coach

journey down form London, Mrs. Fowey, the Vicarage housekeeper, burst into the dining-room with the dreadful

tidings that there was a body hanging from the gibbet outside the Court House.

“It must have got there after dark,” she said, “for as I passed the spot at twilight there was never a smell of a

corpse upon it.”

Rushing out to investigate, Parson and Captain cleared their way through a group of fascinated though fearful

villagers who were reading an inscription nailed to the post.

“THE SCARECROW’S COMPLIMENTS TO CAPTAIN BLAIN. IN FUTURE THE ADMIRALTY SHOULD

GUARD THEIR INFORMERS WITH MORE CARE, FOR DEAD MEN CARRY NO TALES.”

“I’ll get the Scarecrow for this,” cried the Captain.

“Dreadful,” muttered Doctor Syn, shaking his head and shuddering with horror. “Really, something should be

done.”

“Is shall be, Parson,” said the Captain. “Don’t lose heart. We’ll catch the rascal yet.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” sighed Doctor Syn, “I wonder if you ever can.”

8

THE DANDY SLEUTHS

Since that affair at the Admiralty, when the Scarecrow had prevented the informer, Handgrove, from collecting the

Government reward for betraying the secret base in France where his contraband boats were loaded, the Nightriders

of Romney Marsh became more than ever the topic of popular conversation amongst the London gossips. The

mysterious disappearance of Handgrove had not ceased to be the chief source of wonder at the scarecrow’s skill,

when the corpse was found hanging from the common gibbet outside the Court House in Dymchurch.

Amongst people of all classes a great fear had arisen concerning the Scarecrow. The average man, whether

regaling himself in a club of fashion, a coffee -house, or a tavern, declared that if ever he had the opportunity to

betray the Scarecrow, or his men, he would be too scared to do it, since what had happened to Handgrove might and

probably would be the lot of any other who was dangerous towards the Scarecrow’s schemes. However, this was

but the opinion of the average man. A thousand golden guineas, which was now the reward offered for the

Scarecrow alive or dead, was yet a great temptation to any man of courage who happened to be desperate for hard

cash.

And such a one was Sir Harry Sales.

A young bachelor, clever, well dressed and attractive in manner as in face and form, he loved the ladies so well

that he could never bring himself down to a one and only. His friends said of him that he would never marry in case

his lady wife made him give up his gambling habits. Not that he was skilled in cards or dice, but he loved the

excitement that they brought. He preferred to cut the pack for money, rather than to play a game of skill with them.

He liked to know quickly his gain or loss.

Having gone through a considerable fortune at the gaming clubs, he had retired to his country

Seat, meaning to cut his losses by quiet living. But after a few weeks the gloom of his rambling old house got on his

nerves, and the urge to return to the fashionable clubs of London compelled him to sell family pictures, jewelry and

plate. With the funds thus obtained he drove to London in order to try a last conflict with the Goddess of Fate.

At them Bucks’ Club in St. James’s he was received back with open arms. He had been missed for himself by

his real friends, and by others because he played for high stakes and lost gamely. What was more to the point of

pleasing them, he lost pretty persistently. Also he was over-generous and when the wine mounted to his brain,

which never made him quarrelsome, but the more jovial, he did not notice that he was doing all the paying.

His last funds sank as rapidly as he played. When luck was with him one night, it deserted him more disastrously

the next. But he stuck to his purpose, hoping that he would be the gainer at the last. The crisis came when he had

circulated the wine too freely, and his muddled, jolly head made a miscalculation of a thousand guineas. He cut for

his last thousand, as he thought, not realizing that he had lost it on the round of bets before. His opponent made him

see that he was wrong, after some argument in which high words were spoken. This attracted the interest of

Admiral Troubridge, who, with his brother the General, and two guests, was playing a simple round of backgammon

if they felt so disposed, though the younger members of the club wondered how they got any amusement from such

games.

The Admiral had know Sir Harry’s father, and had long grieved to see the son thus ruining himself. Thinking

now to save the young man from a squabble which he thought might turn into a stupid affair of honor, he excused

himself to his guests by saying that he wished to get the youngster out of an awkward corner which his so-called

friends had forced him into.

“ I’ll bring him over and introduce him to you, my good Doctor,” he said to the learned Vicar of Dymchurch,

who had been his dinner guest.

As the Admiral approached he heard young Sir Harry say: “Well, then you are right. Major, and I take your word

for it. Had I but kept a clear head I would not have always played for stakes that I could pay out of hand. I regret

that I must ask you not to accept my I O U. I will get round tomorrow and see what can be done.”

With a smile that thinly disguised a sneer, the Major replied: “I think you said that your stables were empty and

everything not entailed disposed of for cash. Perhaps you were only exaggerating. I hope so from my heart.”

The vicar of Dymchurch overheard and sized up the situation as the Admiral beckoned him to join the other

group.

“My good friend, Harry,” said the Admiral, “as your father’s dearest friend I want to have the pleasure of

introducing you to Doctor Syn, Vicar of Dymchurch, who also knew your father and would like to know his son.”

“I am honored to meet you, Reverend Sir,” replied Sir Harry. “Let me in my turn present you to my friends, who

are all acquainted with the Admiral. This is Mr. Briston, Captain Tandyshall, Lord Strathway, Sir Peter Hemminge,

and this Major Culland.”

Doctor Syn noted that the last name was given with a formality that carried no friendship with it. Also that the

other gentlemen seemed by their manner to hold the same view. It was obvious that his remarks about Sir Harry’s

stables being empty had offended their sense of decency. Even the Captain who served in the same regiment had

edged away from his superior officer after bowing to Doctor Syn.

Lord Strathway, by reason of rank and seniority, became the spokesman.

“It is indeed an honor to the Bucks’ Club to welcome you, Doctor Syn. Your name is on every one’s lips for the