water. He then realized that in the morning he had approached the barn from the other side which was the main

entrance. The open door faced the Marsh and not the village. The guard would therefore be outside the closed door

on the opposite side.

Percy stood still and listened. He could hear nothing but those whimpering moans, and thought it must be some

sick sailor left by himself in the barn while his fellows had gone out on duty. He tried to make up his mind what

was best to be done. In the morning the sailor on guard had taken in the buckets of water, saying that Percy was not

allowed abroad. The water cask was inside the barn, and it sounded as though the sick sailor would not have the

strength to take in the buckets, which Percy had no intention of leaving.

It looked therefore as though he must disobey the orders of the morning sentry, and go boldly in himself. It never

occurred to him to go round to the other side of the barn and find the sentry. But there was so much to be afraid of.

The Scarecrow, who was using him to carry messages, without asking his consent, and the sailors themselves. He

was water-carrier to the dragoons, too, and would it infuriate the Scarecrow that he was thus doing service to the

enemies of the Nightriders?

It was then that the groans rose into a pathetic squeal, like that of a trapped animal. Percy suddenly thought

about the story of the Good Samaritan which Doctor Syn had told them about in Sunday school. Christian charity

told him it was his duty to go and see if he could help this sufferer. Perhaps a drink of water would do him good.

He was just going in, on this resolve, when he was pulled up sharp by a voice which he recognized at once as

Captain Blain’s, and its very first sentence made him go weak at the knees.

“That’s enough for the moment, men, or he’ll faint, and an unconscious man cannot give information, and that

we have got to get.”

The relentless tone of that deep husky voice frightened Percy enough, but the words that followed brought a

sweat of panic on to his brow.

“Now, Fred Hart, if that’s your name as I understand, think well. The village thinks you dead. Why? Because

we stoved in your boat. If you persist in refusing to tell me what I wish to know, in the King’s name, I’ll have you

shipped aboard a man-of-war quicker than the Press gang, and no one here will be any wiser. Your conscience tells

you not to be disloyal to your fellows, eh? Well, it is better that you should be when is comes to proving yourself

loyal to your Kung. No man can be blamed for obeying the law of his country, and you have the fortunate

opportunity of being able to atone for your law-breaking by a full confession. If you do the right thing and follow

now the straight path of your duty, you will be accorded safety and reward. If you do not, I can either ship you to

sea, sell you to the Plantations, or, to save a lot of trouble, string you up to the yardarms as a member of this

Scarecrow’s gang. I’ll pledge you my word not to ask awkward questions concerning your own relations. That

bother of yours for instance, who is no doubt as implicated as you are. Blood is thicker than water as the saying

goes, and you should think of your wife and kid. Now then, am I to extract this information by ordering my men to

give you another dose of pain, or do you want to go home with money for your wife and kid? If it’s information got

from torture I warn you there will be no reward and no pardon. If you tell me now with freewill, I’ll see that no one

knows from whom I gained information.”

“The Scarecrow knows everything,” replied Hart’s voice, which, though very weak, Percy recognized.

“And you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you, eh?” retorted the Captain. “Well, I give you my word, he’ll not be

able to do a thing, for he’ll be swinging before he knows a thing against you. Now come along, Hart. You’ve

shown yourself a brave man, according to your lights, and I’ve no wish to duty, and I must do mine. No? Well your

damned obstinacy means good-bye to your wife, kid and home. Give him another, men.”

Whether they did nor not, Percy was not sure. The sharp squeal which Hart let out may have been due to a

horrible anticipation. But the squeal was short -lived and tailed into the sentence of, “I’ll speak and god help me.”

“Sensible fellow,” came the Captain’s voice in a kinder tone. “Now then, Hart, I must know first when and

where the next contraband is going to be landed.”

Percy listened to the weak voice almost whispering: “Tonight, sir, on Littlestone Beach at the low tide. The

Scarecrow will be there, and if you can discover who or what he is you’ll be wiser than any of his followers. Now

set me free in God’s name and let me go home.”

“When I know that your information is correct you will be let go,” replied the Captain’s voice in a tone of

triumph.

Just then Percy had a narrow escape.

A sailor swung out of the darkness and pulled up quickly in the doorway s he saw the unexpected water-carrier.

Percy knew that the agitation he had gone through over what he had overheard must show clearly on his face.

The sailor had every reason to suspect that he had been listening to the Captain interviewing Hart. But Percy was

too quick for him by doing nothing quickly. Very slowly he set the buckets down and unhooked the yoke, allowing

the pain written upon his face to appear as though it had been written there by fatigue.

“Water, sir,” he said wearily.

The whole bearing of the lad convinced the sailor that he had only just got to the door, but to make quite sure he

asked, “Been waiting long, lad?”

“You saw me put them down,” replied Percy, indicating the filled buckets. “P’raps some ‘ud hold ‘em standing

still, but I has enough of ‘em when walking. Shall I bring ‘em in?”

“You stay here.” Ordered the sailor. “I’ll take ‘em and show our Captain your clever dodge with them bits o’

wood. I was telling him how you prevent your legs from being splashed, but he didn’t see the buckets come abroad

this morning same as t he rest, and he’ll be interested.”

While waiting for his buckets to be returned empty, that live cell in Percy’s brain worked clearly for the good of

the parish. It told Percy that it had been the bits of wood that had enabled poor Fred to turn traitor against the

Scarecrow, and Percy knew that would mean the rope for anyone caught that night upon Littlestone Beach.

Now is the ‘landing’ was changed to the far side of Dungeness, thought Percy, the smugglers would be hidden by

the promontory. He remembered that two hearts stood for Dungeness Sou’west on the list,. If he changed the signs

it would at least be a warning to those concerned.

When Percy got an idea into his head he would carry it out with a stubbornness that showed grit, and so directly

he received back the buckets he hurried off to the Coffin Shop to find Mipps and to change the signs.

It so happened that Mipps was at the Vicarage, but the door of his store being open, Percy entered and went

straight to the shelf upon which stood Judy, the idol.

“Got to change ‘em, Miss Judy,” said Percy, as he picked up the two hearts in place of the club and diamond. “If

the Sexton was here I’d ask him, but as he ain’t, I asks you. As you’re a good Christian idol, please make the

Sexton know that I done it for the best. I’ll be glad of your good word, Miss Judy, and thankee.”

Percy continued his round to the cottages, and when he saw what a deal of surprise and runnings and whisperings

the two hearts in the buckets caused, he knew that his theory was right. But for his own inner satisfaction he