No; Doctor Syn was the man to go to. He was kindly and patient, and would anyhow give one leave to speak without interruption. So, crossing the fields, so as not to pass by his grandparents’ windows, he struck out for the vicarage.
Just as he was skirting the churchyard he heard the tramp of feet, and the captain passed along the road, followed by the King’s men. Two of them were bearing a shutter. Then the murder was known already. They were going to get Sennacherib’s body. Yes, it most certainly was, for there was affixed to the church door a new notice. Jerry approached and read the large glaring letters:
A hundred guineas will be paid to any person, or persons, who shall directly cause the arrest of a mulatto, a seaman. White hair; yellow face; dumb; no ears; six feet high; when last seen wearing royal navy cook’s uniform. Necklace of sharks’ teeth around neck. Tattoo marks of a gibbet on right forearm; a cockatoo on left wrist; and a brig in full sail executed in two dyes of tattoo work upon his chest.
This man wanted by the crown for the murder of Sennacherib Pepper, Doctor of Physics and of Romney Marsh.
The writing on this notice was executed in most scholarly style, and Jerk knew the familiar lettering to be the handiwork of the murderous schoolmaster himself. This colossal audacity was quite terrifying to him. It looked as if it had been written in the blood of the victim; for the black ink was still wet.
As he gazed the church door opened and Doctor Syn came out. He looked pale and worried, as well he might, for indeed this shocking affair had already caused a most shaking sensation in the village.
“This is a bad business, boy,” he said to Jerk, who was still gazing at the notice.
“You may well say that, sir,” replied the boy.
“Poor old Sennacherib,” sighed the cleric. “To think that you went from my friend’s house to meet your death. Well,” he added hotly, shaking his fist across at the Marsh, “let’s hope they catch the rascal, for we will give him short shrift for you, Sennacherib.”
“Aye, indeed, sir,” replied young Jerk, “and let’s hope as how it’ll be the right ’un when they does.”
“The right what?” asked Doctor Syn.
“The right rascal,” said young Jerk, “for that ain’t him.”
“What do you know about it, my lad?” said the Doctor.
“The whole thing,” replied Jerk, “for I seed the whole of the ugly business. I seed the man with the yellow face last night. I seed him a-comin’ out of your front door with a weapon in his hand.”
“You saw that?” cried the cleric, his eyes shining with excitement. “You could swear that in the courthouse?”
“I could do it anywheres,” replied Jerk, “let alone the courthouse, and what’s more, I could swear that he never killed Doctor Pepper.”
“How can you possibly say such a thing?” said Doctor Syn.
“Because I seed the whole thing done, as I keep tellin’ you,” answered Jerk, “and it wasn’t him as did it.”
“How do you know?” asked the Doctor hastily. “Where were you?”
“Out on the Marsh,” said Jerk, “all night.”
“What!” ejaculated the vicar, looking at the boy doubtfully. “Are you speaking the truth, my lad?”
“The solemn truth,” replied young Jerk.
“You were out on the Marsh all night?” repeated the astonished cleric. “And pray, what were you doing there?”
“Dogging that schoolmaster,” replied Jerk with conviction.
“Come into the vicarage,” said Doctor Syn, “and tell me all about it.” And he led the boy into the house.
When he had finished his tale Doctor Syn took him into the kitchen and lit the fire, bidding him dry his wet clothes, for Jerk was still shivering with the cold of the dyke water. Then he boiled some milk in a saucepan and set it before him, with a cold game pie and a loaf of bread. Jerk made a hearty meal and felt better, his opinion of clergymen going up at a bound when he discovered that a strong dose of excellent ship’s rum had been mixed with the milk. “Rum’s good stuff, my lad, on occasions,” he said cheerily, “and I’ve a notion that it’ll drive the cold out of you,” and Jerry thought it a very sensible notion, too.
“And now look here, my lad,” the Doctor went on, when Jerry could eat no more, “what you’ve seen may be true enough, though I tell you I can hardly credit it. It’s a good deal for a thinking man to swallow, you’ll allow, what with the devil riders and all that. Besides which I can see no earthly reason for the schoolmaster committing the crime. As yet I really don’t know what to say, my boy. I’m beat, I confess it. I must think things over for an hour or so. In the meantime I must strongly urge you to keep this adventure to yourself. It is very dangerous to make accusations that you have no means of proving, and certainly you can prove nothing, for there is nothing to go on but what you thought you saw. Well, a nightmare has upset better men than you before now, Jerry, and it is possible that your rich imagination may have supplied the whole thing. Go back then, to your house, and get a couple of hours’ sleep, and then go to school as if nothing had happened. Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do, my lad: you come round here and we’ll
