The Shadow of Dr Syn - Thorndike Russell (библиотека электронных книг txt) 📗

Doctor Syn looked over Cicely’s shoulder and smiled at him. ‘’Tis all right, Mr. Mipps,’ he said, ‘Miss Cicely knows the worst.’ Mr. Mipps’s signals dwindled, and his mouth opened wide in surprise.

Cicely turned and, with the Vicar’s arms still round her, smiled at him too. ‘’Tis all right, Mr. Mipps,’ she said, ‘Miss Cicely knows the best.’

The situation was all too much for Mr. Mipps, but through his confusion one thought flashed out clear:

‘Oh, Cap’n, whatever have you done to the Vicar?’ he gasped. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, miss. But look at you standin’ about in your shirtsleeves with the curtains wide and Mr. Hyde on the prowl.’ He went to the window and closed the curtains, adding reproachfully: ‘It’s that there shark. Might catch a cold. It don’t like draughts. It ain’t had so much fresh air since we done it at Saratoga.’

The Vicar became more serious, though he still had something of the gay recklessness that Mipps feared, as he answered: ‘Thank ’ee, Master Carpenter

— you ever had a weather eye for danger. ’Twas careless of me, though tonight I care nought for all the King’s horses and Revenue Men.’

Mipps replied promptly, ‘No, but they care several aughts for you.’ This was worse than he had expected, and since it was the first time he had ever been called Master Carpenter in company, he concluded that Miss Cicely knew all. So he added reprovingly, ‘Looks like you’re remembering to forget.’

‘If you mean be that, Mr. Mipps, that I am forgetting my old slogan, “No petticoats aboard”, you need have no fear. Miss Cicely, Heaven be praised, is no petticoat.’

Suddenly, remembering the scene beneath the Vicar’s window that morning, much to his annoyance, Mipps found himself blushing violently, as the picture flashed before him of Miss Cicely in her dicky-cum-bobs. He was tongue-tied and stood miserably gazing at nothing….

But Cicely, seeing the little man’s embarrassment and knowing the reason for it, threw back her head and laughed. ‘Lud, I hate the things, but I’m forced to wear ’em, as in truth Mr. Mipps knows full well. Pray do not fret, Mr. Mipps, ’twas my fault for trespassing.’

He looked up at her gratefully as he felt the hot flush, giving up the search for his turnip-watch. ‘Come, give me your hand.’ Then, with her other clasped around Syn’s wounded arm, she took Mipps’s horny little hand in her cool firm one and cried, ‘Now we are indeed an unholy Trinity.’ Her battle was won — Mipps was vanquished. He knew now why she had always been his favourite in the Cobtree family.

‘Oh, Miss Cicely,’ he swallowed hard, feeling an unusual lump in his throat, ‘I always said that you was ship-shape. A1 at Lloyd’s and Bristol fashion. Thank you, miss, you are the only person I’d be proud to call “Mrs. Captain”, miss.’

Syn too had a huskiness in his throat as he watched with tender amusement the ease with which this girl had captured the tough little pirate — and experienced the relieved emotion of having two best-loved friends discover and like each other. He hoped the Sexton would not hold it against her, but see eye-to-eye with him in his decision to claim the pardon, and release himself from the shadow of the Scarecrow. He listened to her, saying that Mr. Mipps had paid her the nicest compliment she had ever had and thanking him for making her love Captain Clegg since childhood by telling her such wonderful stories about him.

‘Oh, those,’ replied Mipps. ‘You wait. I ’ad to shorten sail for them; but now you knows, we can cram on all the canvas — talkin’ of petticoats and that there shark — there was a girl in Saratoga —’

‘Mr. Mipps,’ warned Syn, though his eyes belied his severity, ‘remember to forget.’

Mipps’s eyes crinkled too as he nodded. ‘Oh, sorry, sir, remember to forget,’ repeating itlike a naughty school-child. ‘I must remember to forget,’ which suddenly reminded him of what he had indeed forgotten.

‘Knock me up solid!’ he cried. ‘Remember to forget, you says, but ’ere am I forgettin’ to remember. Jimmie Bone — I’ve just had a message — he done the false run — everythin’ lovely — all accordin’ to plan. He goes to the Ship Inn to meet your auntie, miss, accordin’ to plan. Goes to Aldington — ’as a look at the beacon — everythin’ lovely, all ready. Then what does he do but go and feel thirsty — that there Jimmie Bone. He’s up a gum tree — went into the “Walnut Tree” to ’ave one. Slap into a covey of Bow Street Runners wot come down special. Didn’t ’alf feel silly.’

‘Not caught?’ asked Syn sharply.

‘Oh no, not as silly as that — not in the “Walnut Tree” — lovely rabbit warren. But he can’t move, not while them Runners is yappin’ about outside

— got word to me in the usual way — said I was to tell you he didn’t ’alf feel a fool but he dursn’t come out — not after that little affair of the Dover coach.’

Doctor Syn broke in: ‘So he won’t be able to light the beacon…’ He thought for a moment, serious, alert. Cicely watching him, fascinated. Then orders were rapped out. ‘Slight change of plan, Mr. Mipps — instead of riding with me, you will lead the Bonnington gang from Jesson Flats to the hills. Take Vulture and Eagle, while Raven and Cormorant lead the circling of the Marsh. I will see to the beacon myself. The signal is from Double Dyke tonight. I can pick it up from this window. Have Gehenna here under the bridge.’

He turned to Cicely and asked her to forgive him for attending to business; then explained that when Gehenna was used from the house he came from a hidden stable beneath the bridge, and that he only had to be called to come out by himself so that the could drop into the saddle from where he was. He laughed and told her that the next riding lesson should be hers, upon Gehenna — and then added regretfully that soon they must get ready for the run and he would take her home.

It was while he held her cloak for her that there came a peremptory knocking at the front door. Mipps went to the grille and peeped through. Closing it again, he whispered urgently: ‘It’s that Revenue Man. What did I tell you — prowlin’ —’ Syn raised a warning finger and Mipps waited, while Cicely, eager to prove her right in belonging to this unholy trinity, was ready with his coat before he turned to fetch it. He slipped into it and quickly put his glasses on his nose — while she, sitting demurely onthe settle, patted the place beside her and whispered, ‘Spinster of the Parish — parochial affairs.’ The knock was repeated, louder than before, and Syn, smiling at Cicely, sat beside her and nodded to Mipps. The door was opened and Syn called out, ‘Who is it, Mr. Mipps?’

‘Don’t rightly know, sir,’ answered Mipps innocently, then in pretended surprise: ‘Why, it’s Mr. Hyde!’

The Revenue Man, with grave face, stepped into the room and bowed awkwardly. Doctor Syn rose and with some slight surprise welcomed him, then turning to Cicely presented him as — the new Revenue Officer from Sandgate. She was outwardly so calm that both Mipps and Syn were mentally applauding new partner, but she herself knew suddenly a quiet, cold fear that grew with every word this man uttered.

Her newly acquired intuition told her that in this thick-set, slow-brained brute was danger, resembling, as he did, some giant hound who, having caught the faintest spoor of a king stag, would bear down relentlessly until he tired his quicker-moving prey. Her feeling of thankfulness that she was now at his side turned her love into fierce animal protection, though Doctor Syn seemed to need nobody’s help. She listened to him parrying with fine ‘rapier’ speech the sabre weight of the Revenue Man’s conviction. His explanation for her presence alone and at this hour — that she was kindly doing one of his duties tonight, visiting a sick woman to free him for an errand of mercy elsewhere — called for the first heavy stroke from these convictions.

‘I have another errand for you tonight, Doctor Syn,’ he said flatly.