Page 75 of Slack Tide Kill

He led them past the old hand pump, past the helmets and black-and-white photographs of fire crews, into a side room where the ceiling dipped and the lighting was poor. Here the displays changed from fire service history to marsh life. Fishing nets. Model boats. Photographs of flooded fields.

At the far end stood a display case labelled SMUGGLERS, OWLERS AND THE SCARECROW LEGEND.

Inside were clay pipes, replica pistols, a dark lantern, an ancient map of Romney Marsh, yellowed and annotated, with waterways marked in blue and old churches dotted across it. There were also a slew of battered, yellowing paperbacks showing a dramatic figure wearing a scarecrow mask, riding a horse. All authored by Russell Thorndike. A mannequin in a black cloak and tricorn hat stood beside the display, one arm raised melodramatically, his face covered by a rough burlap sack mask.

THE FEARSOME DR. SYN, read a colorful sign.

"Dr. Syn," Sally muttered, thinking back. "I've heard that name."

"He's a scarecrow?" Liam asked.

"He only dressed as a scarecrow, young man. In Thorndike's books, he is the Robin Hood of Romney Marsh, a nightmarish specter for those who tread down the common man." Pike finished with a dramatic flourish.

Liam turned. "This is a history museum though, right?"

Pike sniffed. "Of course! The Owlers were very real. Dr. Syn himself may not be, but he epitomizes the period dramatically, and tourists require theatre. Any true student of history requires footnotes, which you will find here in abundance." He pointed at a small plaque beside the figure. "We compromise as much as necessary."

Sally stepped closer to the map. "Where would they hide?"

Pike frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Owlers. Smugglers. Men moving goods or people inland from the coast without being seen."

Pike's expression changed, tingeing with caution. "Ah. Is this about the murder?"

"We don't know yet. It may be about the men connected to it."

"The Rooks," Pike said.

"You know them?"

"This is Dungeness. Everyone knows of the Rooks. Most have the good sense not to know them personally, though I schooled all of the boys myself."

Sally took that on board. "You taught them all?"

"I did, for my crimes. Just missed teaching their father, too, though I always heard he was a tearaway, never in attendance." He sighed. "Those were different times, of course."

Sally looked at Liam. He nodded appreciatively.

"So you're ideally placed," she went on. "Did they care about this stuff? Dr Syn, Owlers, smuggler routes?"

Pike's mouth tightened, and a moment passed as he summoned old memories. "Roarke Rook was the leader. Always chasing anything that gave him a leg up on the other boys. Dr Syn, the Scarecrow, Owlers, Romney Marsh ghosts? He loved to dress up in the costume of all that history, using it to scare the rest. He never had the discipline to dig deeper, though."

"So where would they go?" Liam asked. "If they wanted to mimic the Owlers and hide out in the marsh?"

Pike looked at the old map for a long moment. "This map does show genuine Owler routes," he murmured. "But it is heavily outdated. They used to call it the fifth continent, it was such an alien place."

"The fifth continent?" Sally asked.

"Yes. Back in the early 19th century, only four continents were known well. It's an Ingoldsby line; the world divided into Europe, Asia, Africa, America and Romney Marsh. It's hard to picture it now, of course. Few truly wild patches remain. But back then?"

"It was a swamp?"

"Worse than a swamp," Pike said primly. "More like a killing ground. This entire region was, and remains, below sea level, so the marshes ran deep and unpredictably. Tidal influxes could drown a traveling party within minutes. There was the ague, too, a pestilence that inflicted any sufferer with feverish deliriums, left to wander the marsh alone."

"Basically malaria," Liam said.

Pike's eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed. A British variant carried by mosquitos, which were rife. There were quick bogs. Wolves. Shifting crossing points manned by ferrymen who'd as soon kill and rob you as fulfill their duty. Add to that the mists, the clouds, the impossibility of meaningful navigation?" His eyes took on a faraway look. "It was truly a land apart. A place for monsters, myths and madmen."