Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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With so much system and so quietly had this attack been made upon the
house of Sir Francis Varney--for the consequences of it now exhibited
themselves most unequivocally--that no one who had not actually
accompanied the expedition was in the least aware that it had been at
all undertaken, or that anything of the kind was on the tapis.

Now, however, it could be no longer kept a secret, and as the infuriated
mob, who had sought this flagrant means of giving vent to their anger,
saw the flames from the blazing house rising high in the heavens, they
felt convinced that further secrecy was out of the question.

Accordingly, in such cries and shouts as--but for caution's sake--they
would have indulged in from the very first, they now gave utterance to
their feelings as regarded the man whose destruction was aimed at.

"Death to the vampyre!--death to the vampyre!" was the principal shout,
and it was uttered in tones which sounded like those of rage and
disappointment.

But it is necessary, now that we have disposed of the smaller number of
rioters who committed so serious an outrage at the inn, that we should,
with some degree of method, follow the proceedings of the larger number,
who went from the town towards Sir Francis Varney's.

These persons either had information of a very positive nature, or a
very strong suspicion that, notwithstanding the mysterious and most
unaccountable disappearance of the vampyre in the old ruin, he would now
be found, as usual, at his own residence.

Perhaps one of his own servants may have thus played the traitor to him;
but however it was, there certainly was an air of confidence about some
of the leaders of the tumultuous assemblage that induced a general
belief that this time, at least, the vampyre would not escape popular
vengeance for being what he was.

We have before noticed that these people went out of the town at
different points, and did not assemble into one mass until they were at
a sufficient distance off to be free from all fear of observation.

Then some of the less observant and cautious of them began to indulge in
shouts of rage and defiance; but those who placed themselves foremost
succeeded in procuring a halt, and one said,--

"Good friends all, if we make any noise, it can only have one effect,
and that is, to warn Sir Francis Varney, and enable him to escape. If,
therefore, we cannot go on quietly, I propose that we return to our
homes, for we shall accomplish nothing."

This advice was sufficiently and evidently reasonable to meet with no
dissension; a death-like stillness ensued, only broken by some two or
three voices saying, in subdued tones,--

"That's right--that's right. Nobody speak."

"Come on, then," said he who had given such judicious counsel; and the
dark mass of men moved towards Sir Francis Varney's house, as quietly as
it was possible for such an assemblage to proceed.

Indeed, saving the sound of the footsteps, nothing could be heard of
them at all; and that regular tramp, tramp, would have puzzled any one
listening to it from any distance to know in which direction it was
proceeding.

In this way they went on until Sir Francis Varney's house was reached,
and then a whispered word to halt was given, and all eyes were bent upon
the building.

From but one window out of the numerous ones with which the front of the
mansion was studded did there shine the least light, and from that there
came rather an uncommonly bright reflection, probably arising from a
reading lamp placed close to the window.

A general impression, they knew not why exactly, seemed to pervade
everybody, that in the room from whence streamed that bright light was
Sir Francis Varney.

"The vampyre's room!" said several. "The vampyre's room! That is it!"

"Yes," said he who had a kind of moral control over his comrades; "I
have no doubt but he is there."

"What's to be done?" asked several.

"Make no noise whatever, but stand aside, so as not to be seen from the
door when it is opened."

"Yes, yes."

"I will knock for admittance, and, the moment it is answered, I will
place this stick in such a manner within, that the door cannot be closed
again. Upon my saying 'Advance,' you will make a rush forward, and we
shall have possession immediately of the house."

All this was agreed to. The mob slunk close to the walls of the house,
and out of immediate observation from the hall door, or from any of the
windows, and then the leader advanced, and knocked loudly for admission.

The silence was now of the most complete character that could be
imagined. Those who came there so bent upon vengeance were thoroughly
convinced of the necessity of extreme caution, to save themselves even
yet from being completely foiled.

They had abundant faith, from experience, of the resources in the way of
escape of Sir Francis Varney, and not one among them was there who
considered that there was any chance of capturing him, except by
surprise, and when once they got hold of him, they determined he should
not easily slip through their fingers.

The knock for admission produced no effect; and, after waiting three or
four minutes, it was very provoking to find such a wonderful amount of
caution and cunning completely thrown away.

"Try again," whispered one.

"Well, have patience; I am going to try again."

The man had the ponderous old-fashioned knocker in his hand, and was
about to make another appeal to Sir Francis Varney's door, when a
strange voice said,--

"Perhaps you may as well say at once what you want, instead of knocking
there to no purpose."

He gave a start, for the voice seemed to come from the very door itself.

Yet it sounded decidedly human; and, upon a closer inspection, it was
seen that a little wicket-gate, not larger than a man's face, had been
opened from within.

This was terribly provoking. Here was an extent of caution on the part
of the garrison quite unexpected. What was to be done?

"Well?" said the man who appeared at the little opening.

"Oh," said he who had knocked; "I--"

"Well?"

"I--that is to say--ahem! Is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well?"

"I say, is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well; you have said it!"

"Ah, but you have not answered it."

"No."

"Well, is he at home?"

"I decline saying; so you had better, all of you, go back to the town
again, for we are well provided with all material to resist any attack
you may be fools enough to make."

As he spoke, the servant shut the little square door with a bang that
made his questioner jump again. Here was a dilemma!

CHAPTER LI.

THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPYRE'S HOUSE.--THE STORY OF THE ATTACK.--THE
FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.

[Illustration]

A council of war was now called among the belligerents, who were
somewhat taken aback by the steady refusal of the servant to admit them,
and their apparent determination to resist all endeavours on the part of
the mob to get into and obtain possession of the house. It argued that
they were prepared to resist all attempts, and it would cost some few
lives to get into the vampyre's house. This passed through the minds of
many as they retired behind the angle of the wall where the council was
to be held.

Here they looked in each others' face, as if to gather from that the
general tone of the feelings of their companions; but here they saw
nothing that intimated the least idea of going back as they came.

"It's all very well, mates, to take care of ourselves, you know," began
one tall, brawny fellow; "but, if we bean't to be sucked to death by a
vampyre, why we must have the life out of him."

"Ay, so we must."

"Jack Hodge is right; we must kill him, and there's no sin in it, for he
has no right to it; he's robbed some poor fellow of his life to prolong
his own."

"Ay, ay, that's the way he does; bring him out, I say, then see what we
will do with him."

"Yes, catch him first," said one, "and then we can dispose of him
afterwards, I say, neighbours, don't you think it would be as well to
catch him first?"

"Haven't we come on purpose?"

"Yes, but do it."

"Ain't we trying it?"

"You will presently, when we come to get into the house."

"Well, what's to be done?" said one; "here we are in a fix, I think, and
I can't see our way out very clearly."

[Illustration]

"I wish we could get in."

"But how is a question I don't very well see," said a large specimen of
humanity.

"The best thing that can be done will be to go round and look over the
whole house, and then we may come upon some part where it is far easier
to get in at than by the front door."

"But it won't do for us all to go round that way," said one; "a small
party only should go, else they will have all their people stationed at
one point, and if we can divide them, we shall beat them because they
have not enough to defend more than one point at a time; now we are
numerous enough to make several attacks."

"Oh! that's the way to bother them all round; they'll give in, and then
the place is our own."

"No, no," said the big countryman, "I like to make a good rush and drive
all afore us; you know what ye have to do then, and you do it, ye know."

"If you can."

"Ay, to be sure, if we can, as you say; but can't we? that's what I want
to know."

"To be sure we can."

"Then we'll do it, mate--that's my mind; we'll do it. Come on, and let's
have another look at the street-door."

The big countryman left the main body, and resolutely walked up to the
main avenue, and approached the door, accompanied by about a dozen or
less of the mob. When they came to the door, they commenced knocking and
kicking most violently, and assailing it with all kinds of things they
could lay their hands upon.

They continued at this violent exercise for some time--perhaps for five
minutes, when the little square hole in the door was again opened, and a
voice was heard to say,--

"You had better cease that kind of annoyance."

"We want to get in."

"It will cost you more lives to do so than you can afford to spare. We
are well armed, and are prepared to resist any effort you can make."

"Oh! it's all very well; but, an you won't open, why we'll make you;
that's all about it."

This was said as the big countryman and his companions were leaving the
avenue towards the rest of the body.

"Then, take this, as an earnest of what is to follow," said the man, and
he discharged the contents of a blunderbuss through the small opening,
and its report sounded to the rest of the mob like the report of a
field-piece.

Fortunately for the party retiring the man couldn't take any aim, else
it is questionable how many of the party would have got off unwounded.
As it was, several of them found stray slugs were lodged in various
parts of their persons, and accelerated their retreat from the house of
the vampyre.

"What luck?" inquired one of the mob to the others, as they came back;
"I'm afraid you had all the honour."

"Ay, ay, we have, and all the lead too," replied a man, as he placed his
hand upon a sore part of his person, which bled in consequence of a
wound.

"Well, what's to be done?"

"Danged if I know," said one.

"Give it up," said another.

"No, no; have him out. I'll never give in while I can use a stick. They
are in earnest, and so are we. Don't let us be frightened because they
have a gun or two--they can't have many; and besides, if they have, we
are too many for them. Besides, we shall all die in our beds."

"Hurrah! down with the vampyre!"

"So say I, lads. I don't want to be sucked to death when I'm a-bed.
Better die like a man than such a dog's death as that, and you have no
revenge then."

"No, no; he has the better of us then. We'll have him out--we'll burn
him--that's the way we'll do it."

"Ay, so we will; only let us get in."

At that moment a chosen party returned who had been round the house to
make a reconnaissance.

"Well, well," inquired the mob, "what can be done now--where can we get
in?"

"In several places."

"All right; come along then; the place is our own."

"Stop a minute; they are armed at all points, and we must make an attack
on all points, else we may fail. A party must go round to the
front-door, and attempt to beat it in; there are plenty of poles and
things that could be used for such a purpose."

"There is, besides, a garden-door, that opens into the house--a kind of
parlour; a kitchen-door; a window in the flower-garden, and an entrance
into a store-room; this place appears strong, and is therefore
unguarded."

"The very point to make an attack."

"Not quite."

"Why not?"

"Because it can easily be defended, and rendered useless to us. We must
make an attack upon all places but that, and, while they are being at
those points, we can then enter at that place, and then you will find
them desert the other places when they see us inside."

"Hurrah! down with the vampyre!" said the mob, as they listened to this
advice, and appreciated the plan.

"Down with the vampyre!"

"Now, then, lads, divide, and make the attack; never mind their guns,
they have but very few, and if you rush in upon them, you will soon have
the guns yourselves."

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the mob.

The mob now moved away in different bodies, each strong enough to carry
the house. They seized upon a variety of poles and stones, and then made
for the various doors and windows that were pointed out by those who had
made the discovery. Each one of those who had formed the party of
observation, formed a leader to the others, and at once proceeded to the
post assigned him.

The attack was so sudden and so simultaneous that the servants were
unprepared; and though they ran to the doors, and fired away, still they
did but little good, for the doors were soon forced open by the enraged
rioters, who proceeded in a much more systematic operation, using long
heavy pieces of timber which were carried on the shoulders of several
men, and driven with the force of battering-rams--which, in fact, they
were--against the door.

Bang went the battering-ram, crash went the door, and the whole party
rushed headlong in, carried forward by their own momentum and fell
prostrate, engine and all, into the passage.

"Now, then, we have them," exclaimed the servants, who began to belabour
the whole party with blows, with every weapon they could secure.

Loudly did the fallen men shout for assistance, and but for their
fellows who came rushing in behind, they would have had but a sorry time
of it.

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob; "the house is our own."

"Not yet," shouted the servants.

"We'll try," said the mob; and they rushed forward to drive the servants
back, but they met with a stout resistance, and as some of them had
choppers and swords, there were a few wounds given, and presently bang
went the blunderbuss.

Two or three of the mob reeled and fell.

This produced a momentary panic, and the servants then had the whole of
the victory to themselves, and were about to charge, and clear the
passage of their enemies, when a shout behind attracted their attention.

That shout was caused by an entrance being gained in another quarter,
whence the servants were flying, and all was disorder.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the mob.

The servants retreated to the stairs, and here united, they made a
stand, and resolved to resist the whole force of the rioters, and they
succeeded in doing so, too, for some minutes. Blows were given and taken
of a desperate character.

Somehow, there were no deadly blows received by the servants; they were
being forced and beaten, but they lost no life; this may be accounted
for by the fact that the mob used no more deadly weapons than sticks.

The servants of Sir Francis Varney, on the contrary, were mostly armed
with deadly weapons, which, however, they did not use unnecessarily.
They stood upon the hall steps--the grand staircase, with long poles or
sticks, about the size of quarter-staves, and with these they belaboured
those below most unmercifully.

Certainly, the mob were by no means cowards, for the struggle to close
with their enemies was as great as ever, and as firm as could well be.
Indeed, they rushed on with a desperation truly characteristic of John
Bull, and defied the heaviest blows; for as fast as one was stricken
down another occupied his place, and they insensibly pressed their close
and compact front upon the servants, who were becoming fatigued and
harassed.

"Fire, again," exclaimed a voice from among the servants.

The mob made no retrogade movement, but still continued to press
onwards, and in another moment a loud report rang through the house, and
a smoke hung over the heads of the mob.

A long groan or two escaped some of the men who had been wounded, and a
still louder from those who had not been wounded, and a cry arose of,--

"Down with the vampyre--pull down--destroy and burn the whole
place--down with them all."

A rush succeeded, and a few more discharges took place, when a shout
above attracted the attention of both parties engaged in this fierce
struggle. They paused by mutual consent, to look and see what was the
cause of that shout.

CHAPTER LII.

THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE MOB AND SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.--THE MYSTERIOUS
DISAPPEARANCE.--THE WINE CELLARS.

[Illustration]

The shout that had so discomposed the parties who were thus engaged in a
terrific struggle came from a party above.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" they shouted a number of times, in a wild strain of
delight. "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

The fact was, a party of the mob had clambered up a verandah, and
entered some of the rooms upstairs, whence they emerged just above the
landing near the spot where the servants were resisting in a mass the
efforts of the mob.

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob below.

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob above.

There was a momentary pause, and the servants divided themselves into
two bodies, and one turned to face those above, and the other those who
were below.

A simultaneous shout was given by both parties of the mob, and a sudden
rush was made by both bodies, and the servants of Sir Francis Varney
were broken in an instant. They were instantly separated, and knocked
about a good bit, but they were left to shift for themselves, the mob
had a more important object in view.

"Down with the vampyre!" they shouted.

"Down with the vampyre!" shouted they, and they rushed helter skelter
through the rooms, until they came to one where the door was partially
open, and they could see some person very leisurely seated.

"Here he is," they cried.

"Who? who?"

"The vampire."

"Down with him! kill him! burn him!"

"Hurrah! down with the vampire!"

These sounds were shouted out by a score of voices, and they rushed
headlong into the room.

But here their violence and headlong precipitancy were suddenly
restrained by the imposing and quiet appearance of the individual who
was there seated.

The mob entered the room, and there was a sight, that if it did not
astonish them, at least, it caused them to pause before the individual
who was seated there.

The room was well filled with furniture, and there was a curtain drawn
across the room, and about the middle of it there was a table, behind
which sat Sir Francis Varney himself, looking all smiles and courtesy.

"Well, dang my smock-frock!" said one, "who'd ha' thought of this? He
don't seem to care much about it."

"Well, I'm d----d!" said another; "he seems pretty easy, at all events.
What is he going to do?"

"Gentlemen," said Sir Francis Varney, rising, with the blandest smiles,
"pray, gentlemen, permit me to inquire the cause of this condescension
on your part. The visit is kind."

The mob looked at Sir Francis, and then at each other, and then at Sir
Francis again; but nobody spoke. They were awed by this gentlemanly and
collected behaviour.

"If you honour me with this visit from pure affection and neighbourly
good-will, I thank you."

"Down with the vampyre!" said one, who was concealed behind the rest,
and not so much overawed, as he had not seen Sir Francis.

Sir Francis Varney rose to his full height; a light gleamed across his
features; they were strongly defined then. His long front teeth, too,
showed most strongly when he smiled, as he did now, and said, in a bland
voice,--

"Gentlemen, I am at your service. Permit me to say you are welcome to
all I can do for you. I fear the interview will be somewhat inconvenient
and unpleasant to you. As for myself, I am entirely at your service."

As Sir Francis spoke, he bowed, and folded his hands together, and
stepped forwards; but, instead of coming onwards to them, he walked
behind the curtain, and was immediately hid from their view.

"Down with the vampyre!" shouted one.

"Down with the vampyre!" rang through the apartment; and the mob now,
not awed by the coolness and courtesy of Sir Francis, rushed forward,
and, overturning the table, tore down the curtain to the floor; but, to
their amazement, there was no Sir Francis Varney present.

"Where is he?"

"Where is the vampyre?"

"Where has he gone?"

These were cries that escaped every one's lips; and yet no one could
give an answer to them.

There Sir Francis Varney was not. They were completely thunderstricken.
They could not find out where he had gone to. There was no possible
means of escape, that they could perceive. There was not an odd corner,
or even anything that could, by any possibility, give even a suspicion
that even a temporary concealment could take place.

They looked over every inch of flooring and of wainscoting; not the
remotest trace could be discovered.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," said one--"I can't see where he could have gone. There
ain't a hole as big as a keyhole."

"My eye!" said one; "I shouldn't be at all surprised, if he were to blow
up the whole house."

"You don't say go!"

"I never heard as how vampyres could do so much as that. They ain't the
sort of people," said another.

"But if they can do one thing, they can do another."

"That's very true."

"And what's more, I never heard as how a vampyre could make himself into
nothing before; yet he has done so."

"He may be in this room now."

"He may."

"My eyes! what precious long teeth he had!"

"Yes; and had he fixed one on 'em in to your arm, he would have drawn
every drop of blood out of your body; you may depend upon that," said an
old man.

"He was very tall."

"Yes; too tall to be any good."

"I shouldn't like him to have laid hold of me, though, tall as he is;
and then he would have lifted me up high enough to break my neck, when
he let me fall."

The mob routed about the room, tore everything out of its place, and as
the object of their search seemed to be far enough beyond their reach,
their courage rose in proportion, and they shouted and screamed with a
proportionate increase of noise and bustle; and at length they ran about
mad with rage and vexation, doing all the mischief that was in their
power to inflict.

Then they became mischievous, and tore he furniture from its place, and
broke it in pieces, and then amused themselves with breaking it up,
throwing pieces at the pier-glasses, in which they made dreadful holes;
and when that was gone, they broke up the frames.

Every hole and corner of the house was searched, but there was no Sir
Francis Varney to be found.

"The cellars, the cellars!" shouted a voice.

"The cellars, the cellars!" re-echoed nearly every pair of lips in the
whole place; in another moment, there was crushing an crowding to get
down into the cellars.

"Hurray!" said one, as he knocked off the neck of the bottle that first
came to hand.

"Here's luck to vampyre-hunting! Success to our chase!"

"So say I, neighbour; but is that your manners to drink before your
betters?"

So saying, the speaker knocked the other's elbow, while he was in the
act of lifting the wine to his mouth; and thus he upset it over his face
and eyes.

"D--n it!" cried the man; "how it makes my eyes smart! Dang thee! if I
could see, I'd ring thy neck!"

"Success to vampyre-hunting!" said one.

"May we be lucky yet!" said another.

"I wouldn't be luckier than this," said another, as he, too, emptied a
bottle. "We couldn't desire better entertainment, where the reckoning is
all paid."

"Excellent!"

"Very good!"

"Capital wine this!"

"I say, Huggins!"

"Well," said Huggins.

"What are you drinking?"

"Wine."

"What wine?"

"Danged if I know," was the reply. "It's wine, I suppose; for I know it
ain't beer nor spirits; so it must be wine."

"Are you sure it ain't bottled men's blood?"

"Eh?"

"Bottled blood, man! Who knows what a vampyre drinks? It may be his
wine. He may feast upon that before he goes to bed of a night, drink
anybody's health, and make himself cheerful on bottled blood!"

"Oh, danged! I'm so sick; I wish I hadn't taken the stuff. It may be as
you say, neighbour, and then we be cannibals."

"Or vampyres."

"There's a pretty thing to think of."

By this time some were drunk, some were partially so, and the remainder
were crowding into the cellars to get their share of the wine.

The servants had now slunk away; they were no longer noticed by the
rioters, who, having nobody to oppose them, no longer thought of
anything, save the searching after the vampyre, and the destruction of
the property. Several hours had been spent in this manner, and yet they
could not find the object of their search.