The Shadow of Dr Syn - Thorndike Russell - Страница 36
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‘’Tis well to know the background of the lives of people you work with,’ remarked the Scarecrow as he placed the documents in his breast pocket. ‘There is but one thing more, I think. How do I get in contact with this Barsard, since he is already over there? In case of a mistake which might prove fatal to our schemes, I must ask you for his dossier too, for whatever credentials he may offer, I shall feel safer if I can put questions to him — dates, places, any fact that he must answer in detail, so that I can know he is your man.’
Robespierre nodded and went to a cabinet, as he answered: ‘I rejoice to see that my Lieutenant-General in England is so thorough.’ He selected a paper and handed it to the Scarecrow, adding: ‘There, citizen, read this with the others at your convenience. You will find there a most original career — a character that you would hardly credit in fiction. He is a man I should not choose to be an enemy.’
The last drop of the Knife for that day sounded outside the window, and a howl of enthusiasm mixed with disappointment that the curtain had fallen. The Scarecrow jerked his head in the direction. ‘The Citizen Robespierre has a quick answer to any enemy. I think you need not trouble yourself on any such score. I will now leave you this promise — that you shall hear of quick results upon this matter’ — and he touched the outside of his breast pocket in which the papers were concealed. ‘And what you hear will make you say, “That Citizen L’Epouvantail accomplishes all that he sets out to do”.’
Then, after drinking a toast to the success of this same citizen, Robespierre graciously accompanied his mysterious guest as far as the postern gate.
Having me the three who were to ride with him from Paris at a little tavern off the Rue St. Honore, and in which a good dinner was served, the Scarecrow ordered the others to mount and await him, for he had a little private business of his own to attend to with the proprietor, who for many years had been one of the Cognac procurers for the contraband supplies. This merry rogue, after receiving his next order, whispered: ‘Two of those Robespierre agents are but dull dogs, citizen, bred in the Paris sewers until they saw there was a profit in being able to speak the English tongue. Oh, they’re useful enough, if throats are to be cut, but their intellects are not enlightening. The other is a different proposition. He was once a favourite at Versailles. Amusing. He will make you laugh.’
‘Robespierre has told me of him,’ chuckled the Scarecrow. ‘A pleasant-spoken rascal. I think you’re right. No doubt his history will make me laugh.’
It was this Citizen Decoutier whom the Scarecrow chose to ride beside him, while separating the others to prevent them talking, one ahead to rouse the Barrier guards and one behind. Decoutier certainly was amusing in a grim fashion, but his humorous anecdotes, in which he figured as the central figure, proved him to be a most depraved and despicable character. Indeed the Demon Rider of Romney Marsh could not have been accompanied by three worse fiends had he been the very Devil himself, and when they reached the rendezvous on the banks of the Somme the other three proved every bit as evil. This, as it happened, did not distress the Scarecrow. He was glad of it. It made his plan the easier to carry out. Though when he met his own Lieutenant, the engaging giant Dulonge who organized the fleet of luggers from the secret harbour on his own territory, the Scarecrow confessed that it was good to drink good brandy with another rascal who could lay claim to an honest humanity.
The Scarecrow found that the Revolution had not changed this old friend of his one whit. Like Robespierre and Decoutier, he did not fear to show he was something of a dandy, but in his case no one could criticize, for his huge frame carried an arm that could kill an ox, and such strength could never be concealed beneath lace ruffles.
To him the Scarecrow unfolded Robespierre’s plans and his own. He agreed on every point. They went together to the quay and made arrangements with the captain of the Two Brothers to take the six aboard and feed them, Dulonge vowing he would not spoil his own appetite by sitting down with such villainous characters. ‘For,’ he cried, ‘they all look as though they would rather eat their own grandmothers than my good saddle of lamb.’ The two friends sat down alone, and over their meal served in his spacious ancestral dining-hall they planned their future policy and how to pass quicker news of the movements of the ships of war so active now in the Channel. Certain of one thing, however, that so long as Robespierre’s interests were served their lugger fleet need have no fear from the French Navy.
After this meal they both went to the prison building on the quay, where Pedro welcomed Doctor Syn. Here were housed all those traitors who at some time or other had tried to betray the Scarecrow. ‘I think friend Barsard will not lodge here,’ said Dulonge, ‘for you will deal with him, and if he comes my way I’ll silence him.’
The Two Brothers was ready for sea, and the Scarecrow, after a farewell to Dulonge and Pedro, went aboard, and the voyage began. At the mouth of the river a shot was fired across their bow by a French frigate, and at the Scarecrow’s order the captain hove to and allowed an officer to come aboard. ‘No one may leave home waters,’ said this officer. ‘The British fleet is out and our ships will give battle.’
‘Cast your eye on this, my little citizen,’ replied the Scarecrow, showing him his passport from Robespierre. ‘The arm of La Guillotine can even stretch to sea, as any of your officers will find who hinders the Two Brothers. Tell your captain to put to sea and keep the English from us.’
The officer apologized profusely. He hoped indeed he had not detained the Citizen Captain, who sailed in the Republic’s interest, and he was rowed back to his frigate, where he did not scruple to frighten his captain with what the strange L’Epouvantail had said about La Guillotine.
This incident showed the Scarecrow that so long as Robespierre was all-powerful he had a letter of safety from the French. His only fear of serious interception was therefore from the British. In spite of his secret plan he realized that the presence of French spies aboard would look black for the captain of the Two Brothers and worse since the other passenger (himself) was a notorious malefactor wanted by the Crown. So on this voyage the Scarecrow decided not to be a passenger. He took the tiller. He took command, and in the dark hours before the dawn, no lanterns showing, he ran the gauntlet of a British line of men-o’-war. But these giants were watching for bigger fish to tackle than this swift clipper, that appeared and vanished like a ghost. It was the old Clegg that navigated the Two Brothers to Dungeness. It was here that the six Frenchmen huddled on the deck, close together for warmth, were badly frightened, for the Two Brothers was hailed in the darkness by a voice proclaiming the authority of the Sandgate Revenue cutter. ‘Name your vessel,’ cried the officer. ‘The Twin Sisters, fishing,’ sang back Doctor Syn. ‘We’ll come aboard, and see your catch,’ called out the officer. The Scarecrow had crept forward to the for’ard gun. There was a loud report, a flash of flame, and then the splintering fall of wood. He had unstepped their mast.
Over went the tiller, and the Two Brothers shot out again before the wind, tacked back and then, instead of landing to the west of the long nose of shingle, she crept into the Bay. The three hoots of the owl were heard and answered by the scrape of stones. The Frenchmen did not understand this, but the Scarecrow did. Twelve men, under the command of one called Hellspite, were hurrying across the pebbles with back-stays1 on their feet. The Two Brothers was heading for the land end of the Ness where the old Marsh town of New Romney nestled. Here the horses were ready, and six stalwart fishermen in masks carried the Frenchmen to the shore. They neither asked nor knew what men these were, except that they were landlubbers who feared to wade in the dark. Ashore all they saw in the swinging lantern light were six more Scarecrow’s men, just like themselves — hooded and masked.
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