Littlestone Beach. The Captain had lapped up secret information that a landing was planned beyond Dungeness, and

the Revenue cutter would be patrolling that water, where they would be delayed by a decoy of three harmlessly

loaded luggers. Apparently the Night -riders had been cheated of many guineas for some time and were determined

to appoint another leader. All of which information delighted the five gentlemen, who on the departure of the

stranger became hilarious with joy, knowing that with a little dash and risk of burning they could win the almost

impossible wager.

Hearing their laughter, Mrs. Waggetts remarked to Mipps in the tap-room that they were hardly the breed to score

off the Scarecrow. The gentlemen, however, continued to drink and be merry, knowing that they were.

On the Friday afternoon Captain Blain , from information received, marched his men through the sea mists which

were encircling the Marsh some two miles beyond Dungeness, closing in towards the promontory as darkness fell.

They heard the signal gun of the cutter ordering the luggers to heave-to. For two hours they waited for the

revenue boat to report. At last it came grinding on to the shingle, and they learned that the luggers had nothing

aboard but stinking fish shipped for manure. The had heaved the stuff overboard expecting to find brandy kegs

beneath the cargo, and were now liable for heavy damages.

Meanwhile, Major Culland had seen the five gentlemen pass along the sea-wall, but when he tried to follow them

found that he was locked in his room, and his casement was too small to squeeze through. His hammering and

shouting were to no avail. For some reason he was being held from going after his club mates.

The five meantime saw much to astonish them. Their informer had been a man of his word. Hidden near the

oast house they heard the distant gun of the cutter echoing across the water from miles away. They saw the signals

from the landing-party flashed in the darkness, and then the string of pack-ponies, guarded by the wild Nightriders.

Then they saw the Scarecrow himself ride up on his great black horse and give his orders, which were dutifully

answered by many “Aye, aye, Scarecrow’s.”

In half an hour back came the loaded ponies from the beach, and then the Scarecrow himself. But this time,

instead of leading his men he was led by them. Bound and gagged beneath his hideous mask he was dragged from

his horse and hustled into the oast house. Out came the men again, and threw lighted torches into the building which

began to blaze. Then away they galloped, laughing.

Into the flames dashed the five, saw the Scarecrow tied to a post, freed him, and carried him out. They took him

up to the sea road, where a coach and riding horses were waiting, and putting him inside, under guard, with sir Harry

on the box seat and two others riding by the windows, they dashed back through Dymchurch, making for the

London road.

The next morning Doctor Syn was not at the Vicarage when the Squire called round to see him. The housekeeper

could give no information of where the Vicar was.

“Been out all night amongst his sick parishioners, no doubt,” thought Sir Antony Cobtree.

Now the news of Sir Harry’s wager had not been kept secret. Major Culland had seen to that, for he wished Sir

Harry and his friends to look foolish after so much boasting, and so at nine o’clock the card-room of the Bucks’

Club was packed with members and their friends.

As the clock of St. James’s chimed the hour a coach rolled up to the entrance. Two cloaked riders dismounted,

the doors were opened, and from the interior of the vehicle a queer great figure was carried by Mr. Briston, Lord

Strathway, Sir Peter Hemminge, Captain Tandyshall and Sir Harry Sales. Bearing their burden like a corpse they

mounted the grand staircase and entered the card-room, where they called for a chair and dumped the burden into it.

A dead silence fell in the room as all saw the weird dress and mask of the Scarecrow.

“Well, gentlemen, we have succeeded, and have kept our word,” cried Sir Harry. “You will now see the

Scarecrow unmasked. We took him at his work when the King’s men have been decoyed far away. Where they

failed we have succeeded.”

The mask was peeled from the head, and they saw a pale face gagged over mouth and nose,. But the gag did not

disguise the man. The Bucks’ Club were gazing open-mouthed at their most unpopular member, Major Culland.

Two men pushed through the crowd. Admiral Troubridge followed by doctor Syn of Dymchurch.

The Admiral, not sorry to find that others could be fooled by the scarecrow as he had been, roared with laughter.

“I’m glad you are here, Parson,” he laughed. “We are not the only ones the Scarecrow scores off.”

“I am disappointed,” said the Parson. “Do you know I came up to occupy the pulpit at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden,

tomorrow, and I dropped round here in the hopes of seeing our local celebrity. Do you know I nearly forgot my

preaching date in London, and only just caught the coach in time. I did not even say good-bye to the Squire or to

my servants. I sent them word though. I sent them word. I suppose this Major Culland is not really the

Scarecrow?” At which remark the whole club except the gagged member roared with laughter.

9

DOCTOR SYN’S CHRISTMAS MUMMERS

In the days when Doctor Syn was Vicar of Dymchurch-under-the-Wall in the county of Kent, Yuletide was observed

with the fullest ceremonial of ancient days.

Himself and Sir Antony Cobtree, the popular Squire and First Lord of the Level on Romney Marsh, had been

students at Queen’s College, Oxford, which has always maintained the Christmas ritual of the Boar’s Head, so that it

was not surprising to find in the hall of the Court House, the Squire’s residence, that this delightful custom was

carried out faithfully with the half-Latin, half -English carol, sung with due solemnity to the enjoyment of all the

Squire’s guests at Christmas dinner.

Both Squire and Vicar loved such curious whimsicalities, and perhaps the church choir who snag the carol,

headed by “Doctor Syn himself in the part of the Cantor with a cook’s cap upon his reverend head, and the great

dish held by the Squire’s servants above him at their arms’-length, was only eclipsed by the entertainment that

followed on Christmas night. This was a play given by the local talent of the parish, and performed much as the old

mummers had enacted if for generations upon other floors for stages than those on Romney Marsh. Doctor Syn,

with a great love of drama, made a point of coaching the parishioners himself. They had enacted under his direction

many old forms of Christmas Revels, but on the particular year when Captain Blain was guest at the Vicarage, and

his men were quartered for the festival in the Tythe Barn, the good Doctor was determined to give his audience a

more original entertainment that would in a spirit of Christmas fun hold out the finger of scorn at all the failings and

failures of the year. The rehearsals had been carried out with the utmost secrecy, and all actors had been put under

vow not to divulge anything of the matter to those not in the cast.

Now although the chief performance of the Dymchurch Mummers was the one presented at the Court House on

Christmas evening, there were others held on other nights by the same players in other great houses. Indeed all the

Lords of the Level extended Yuletide hospitality to their tenants, rich and poor, and the dates of such festivities were

fixed by the various hosts for the convenience of Doctor Syn’s Mummers who came to form the chief item of