Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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"Are you men--fathers?--have you families? if so, I have the same ties
as you have; spare me for their sakes,--do not murder me,--you will
leave one an orphan if you do; besides, what have I done? I have injured
no one."

"I tell you what, friends, if we listen to him we shall all be vampyres,
and all our children will all be vampyres and orphans."

"So we shall, so we shall; down with him!"

The man attempted to get up, but, in doing so, he received a heavy blow
from a hedge-stake, wielded by the herculean arm of a peasant. The sound
of the blow was heard by those immediately around, and the man fell
dead. There was a pause, and those nearest, apparently fearful of the
consequences, and hardly expecting the catastrophe, began to disperse,
and the remainder did so very soon afterwards.

CHAPTER LXXXI.

THE VAMPYRE'S FLIGHT.--HIS DANGER, AND THE LAST PLACE OF REFUGE.

[Illustration]

Leaving the disorderly and vicious mob, who were thus sacrificing human
life to their excited passions, we return to the brothers Bannerworth
and the doctor, who together with Admiral Bell, still held watch over
the hall.

No indication of the coming forth of Varney presented itself for some
time longer, and then, at least they thought, they heard a window open;
and, turning their eyes in the direction whence the sound proceeded,
they could see the form of a man slowly and cautiously emerging from it.

As far as they could judge, from the distance at which they were, that
form partook much of the appearance and the general aspect of Sir
Francis Varney, and the more they looked and noticed its movements, the
more they felt convinced that such was the fact.

"There comes your patient, doctor," said the admiral.

"Don't call him my patient," said the doctor, "if you please."

"Why you know he is; and you are, in a manner of speaking, bound to look
after him. Well, what is to be done?"

"He must not, on any account," said Dr. Chillingworth, "be allowed to
leave the place. Believe me, I have the very strongest reasons for
saying so."

"He shall not leave it then," said Henry.

Even as he spoke, Henry Bannerworth darted forward, and Sir Francis
Varney dropped from the window, out of which he had clambered, close to
his feet.

"Hold!" cried Henry, "you are my prisoner."

With the most imperturbable coolness in the world, Sir Francis Varney
turned upon him, and replied,--

"And pray, Henry Bannerworth, what have I done to provoke your wrath?"

"What have you done?--have you not, like a thief, broken into my house?
Can you ask what you have done?"

"Ay," said the vampyre, "like a thief, perchance, and yet no thief. May
I ask you, what there is to steal, in the house?"

By the time this short dialogue had been uttered, the rest of the party
had come up, and Varney was, so far as regarded numbers, a prisoner.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, with that strange contortion of countenance
which, now they all understood, arose from the fact of his having been
hanged, and restored to life again. "Well, gentlemen, now that you have
beleaguered me in such a way, may I ask you what it is about?"

"If you will step aside with me, Sir Francis Varney, for a moment," said
Dr. Chillingworth, "I will make to you a communication which will enable
you to know what it is all about."

"Oh, with pleasure," said the vampyre. "I am not ill at present; but
still, sir, I have no objection to hear what you have to say."

He stepped a few paces on one side with the doctor, while the others
waited, not without some amount of impatience for the result of the
communication. All that they could hear was, that Varney said,
suddenly--

"You are quite mistaken."

And then the doctor appeared to be insisting upon something, which the
vampyre listened to patiently; and, at the end, burst out with,--

"Why, doctor, you must be dreaming."

At this, Dr. Chillingworth at once left him, and advancing to his
friends, he said,--

"Sir Francis Varney denies in toto all that I have related to you
concerning him; therefore, I can say no more than that I earnestly
recommend you, before you let him go, to see that he takes nothing of
value with him."

"Why, what can you mean?" said Varney.

"Search him," said the doctor; "I will tell you why, very shortly."

"Indeed--indeed!" said Sir Francis Varney. "Now, gentlemen, I will give
you a chance of behaving justly and quietly, so saving yourself the
danger of acting otherwise. I have made repeated offers to take this
house, either as a tenant or as a purchaser, all of which offers have
been declined, upon, I dare say, a common enough principle, namely, one
which induces people to enhance the value of anything they have for
disposal, if it be unique, by making it difficult to come at. Seeing
that you had deserted the place, I could make no doubt but that it was
to be had, so I came here to make a thorough examination of its
interior, to see if it would suit me. I find that it will not;
therefore, I have only to apologise for the intrusion, and to wish you a
remarkably good evening."

"That won't do," said the doctor.

"What won't do, sir?"

"This excuse will not do, Sir Francis Varney. You are, although you deny
it, the man who was hanged in London some years ago for a highway
robbery."

Varney laughed, and held up his hands, exclaiming,--

"Alas! alas! our good friend, the doctor, has studied too hard; his
wits, probably, at the best of times, none of the clearest, have become
hopelessly entangled."

"Do you deny," said Henry, "then, that you are that man?"

"Most unequivocally."

"I assert it," said the doctor, "and now, I will tell you all, for I
perceive you hesitate about searching, Sir Francis Varney, I tell you
all why it is that he has such an affection for Bannerworth Hall."

"Before you do," said Varney, "there is a pill for you, which you may
find more nauseous and harder of digestion, than any your shop can
furnish."

As Varney uttered these words, he suddenly drew from his pocket a
pistol, and, levelling it at the unfortunate doctor, he fired it full at
him.

The act was so sudden, so utterly unexpected, and so stunning, that it
was done before any one could move hand or foot to prevent it. Henry
Bannerworth and his brother were the furthest off from the vampyre; and,
unhappily, in the rush which they, as soon us possible, made towards
him, they knocked down the admiral, who impeded them much; and, before
they could spring over, or past him, Sir Francis Varney was gone.

So sudden, too, had been his departure, that they had not the least idea
in which direction he had gone; so that to follow him would have been a
work of the greatest possible difficulty.

Notwithstanding, however, both the difficulty and the danger, for no
doubt the vampyre was well enough armed, Henry and his brother both
rushed after the murderer, as they now believed him to be, in the route
which they thought it was most probable he would take, namely, that
which led towards the garden gate.

They reached that spot in a few moments, but all was profoundly still.
Not the least trace of any one could be seen, high or low, and they were
compelled, after a cursory examination, to admit that Sir Francis Varney
had again made his escape, despite the great odds that were against him
in point of numbers.

"He has gone," said Henry. "Let us go back, and see into the state of
poor Dr. Chillingworth, who, I fear, is a dead man."

They hurried back to the spot, and there they found the admiral looking
as composed as possible, and solacing himself with a pinch of snuff, as
he gazed upon the apparently lifeless form at his feet.

"Is he dead?" said Henry.

"I should say he was," replied the admiral; "such a shot as that was
don't want to be repeated. Well, I liked the doctor with all his faults.
He only had one foolish way with him, and that was, that he shirked his
grog."

"This is an awful catastrophe," said Henry, as he knelt down by the side
of the body. "Assist me, some of you. Where is Charles?"

"I'll be hanged," said the admiral, "if I know. He disappeared
somewhere."

"This is a night of mystery as well as terror. Alas! poor Dr.
Chillingworth! I little thought that you would have fallen a victim to
the man whom you preserved from death. How strange it is that you should
have snatched from the tomb the very individual who was, eventually, to
take your own life."

The brothers gently raised the body of the doctor, and carried it on to
the glass plot, which was close at hand.

"Farewell, kind and honest-hearted Chillingworth," said Henry; "I shall,
many and many a time, feel your loss; and now I will rest not until I
have delivered up to justice your murderer. All consideration, or
feeling, for what seemed to be latent virtues in that strange and
inexplicable man, Varney, shall vanish, and he shall reap the
consequences of the crime he has now committed."

"It was a cold blooded, cowardly murder," said his brother.

"It was; but you may depend the doctor was about to reveal something to
us, which Varney so much dreaded, that he took his life as the only
effectual way, at the moment, of stopping him."

"It must be so," said Henry.

"And now," said the admiral, "it's too late, and we shall not know it at
all. That's the way. A fellow saves up what he has got to tell till it
is too late to tell it, and down he goes to Davy Jones's locker with all
his secrets aboard."

"Not always," said Dr. Chillingworth, suddenly sitting bolt
upright--"not always."

Henry and his brother started back in amazement, and the admiral was so
taken by surprise, that had not the resuscitated doctor suddenly
stretched out his hand and laid hold of him by the ankle, he would have
made a precipitate retreat.

"Hilloa! murder!" he cried. "Let me go! How do I know but you may be a
vampyre by now, as you were shot by one."

Henry soonest recovered from the surprise of the moment, and with the
most unfeigned satisfaction, he cried,--

"Thank God you are unhurt, Dr. Chillingworth! Why he must have missed
you by a miracle."

"Not at all," said the doctor. "Help me up--thank you--all right. I'm
only a little singed about the whiskers. He hit me safe enough."

"Then how have you escaped?"

"Why from the want of a bullet in the pistol, to be sure. I can
understand it all well enough. He wanted to create sufficient confusion
to cover a desperate attempt to escape, and he thought that would be
best done by seeming so shoot me. The suddenness of the shock, and the
full belief, at the moment, that he had sent a bullet into my brains,
made me fall, and produced a temporary confusion of ideas, amounting to
insensibility."

"From which you are happily recovered. Thank Heaven that, after all, he
is not such a villain as this act would have made him."

"Ah!" said the admiral, "it takes people who have lived a little in
these affairs to know the difference in sound between a firearm with a
bullet in it, and one without. I knew it was all right."

"Then why did you not say so, admiral?"

"What was the use? I thought the doctor might be amused to know what you
should say of him, so you see I didn't interfere; and, as I am not a
good hand at galloping after anybody, I didn't try that part of the
business, but just remained where I was."

"Alas! alas!" cried the doctor, "I much fear that, by his going, I have
lost all that I expected to be able to do for you, Henry. It's of not
the least use now telling you or troubling you about it. You may now
sell or let Bannerworth Hall to whomever you please, for I am afraid it
is really worthless."

"What on earth do you mean?" said Henry. "Why, doctor, will you keep up
this mystery among us? If you have anything to say, why not say it at
once?"

"Because, I tell you it's of no use now. The game is up, Sir Francis
Varney has escaped; but still I don't know that I need exactly
hesitate."

"There can be no reason for your hesitating about making a communication
to us," said Henry. "It is unfriendly not to do so."

"My dear boy, you will excuse me for saying that you don't know what you
are talking about."

"Can you give any reason?"

"Yes; respect for the living. I should have to relate something of the
dead which would be hurtful to their feelings."

Henry was silent for a few moments, and then he said,--

"What dead? And who are the living?"

"Another time," whispered the doctor to him; "another time, Henry. Do
not press me now. But you shall know all another time."

"I must be content. But now let us remember that another man yet lingers
in Bannerworth Hall. I will endure suspense on his account no longer. He
is an intruder there; so I go at once to dislodge him."

No one made any opposition to this move, not even the doctor; so Henry
preceded them all to the house. They passed through the open window into
the long hall, and from thence into every apartment of the mansion,
without finding the object of their search. But from one of the windows
up to which there grew great masses of ivy, there hung a rope, by which
any one might easily have let himself down; and no doubt, therefore,
existed in all their minds that the hangman had sufficiently profited by
the confusion incidental to the supposed shooting of the doctor, to make
good his escape from the place.

"And so, after all," said Henry, "we are completely foiled?"

"We may be," said Dr. Chillingworth; "but it is, perhaps, going too far
to say that we actually are. One thing, however, is quite clear; and
that is, no good can be done here."

"Then let us go home," said the admiral. "I did not think from the first
that any good would be done here."

They all left the garden together now; so that almost for the first
time, Bannerworth Hall was left to itself, unguarded and unwatched by
any one whatever. It was with an evident and a marked melancholy that
the doctor proceeded with the party to the cottage-house of the
Bannerworths; but, as after what he had said, Henry forbore to question
him further upon those subjects which he admitted he was keeping secret;
and as none of the party were much in a cue for general conversation,
the whole of them walked on with more silence than usually characterised
them.

CHAPTER LXXXII.

CHARLES HOLLAND'S PURSUIT OF THE VAMPYRE.--THE DANGEROUS INTERVIEW.

[Illustration]

It will be recollected that the admiral had made a remark about Charles
Holland having suddenly disappeared; and it is for us now to account for
that disappearance and to follow him to the pathway he had chosen.

The fact was, that he, when Varney fired the shot at the doctor, or what
was the supposed shot, was the farthest from the vampyre; and he, on
that very account, had the clearest and best opportunity of marking
which route he took when he had discharged the pistol.

He was not confused by the smoke, as the others were; nor was he stunned
by the noise of the discharge; but he distinctly saw Varney dart across
one of the garden beds, and make for the summer-house, instead of for
the garden gate, as Henry had supposed was the most probable path he had
chosen.

Now, Charles Holland either had an inclination, for some reasons of his
own, to follow the vampyre alone; or, on the spur of the moment, he had
not time to give an alarm to the others; but certain it is that he did,
unaided, rush after him. He saw him enter the summer-house, and pass out
of it again at the back portion of it, as he had once before done, when
surprised in his interview with Flora.

But the vampyre did not now, as he had done on the former occasion, hide
immediately behind the summer-house. He seemed to be well aware that
that expedient would not answer twice; so he at once sped onwards,
clearing the garden fence, and taking to the meadows.

It formed evidently no part of the intentions of Charles Holland to come
up with him. He was resolved upon dogging his footsteps, to know where
he should go; so that he might have a knowledge of his hiding-place, if
he had one.

"I must and will," said Charles to himself, "penetrate the mystery that
hangs about this most strange and inexplicable being. I will have an
interview with him, not in hostility, for I forgive him the evil he has
done me, but with a kindly spirit; and I will ask him to confide in me."

Charles, therefore, did not keep so close upon the heels of the vampyre
as to excite any suspicions of his intention to follow him; but he
waited by the garden paling long enough not only for Varney to get some
distance off, but long enough likewise to know that the pistol which had
been fired at the doctor had produced no real bad effects, except
singing some curious tufts of hair upon the sides of his face, which the
doctor was pleased to call whiskers.

"I thought as much," was Charles's exclamation when he heard the
doctor's voice. "It would have been strikingly at variance with all
Varney's other conduct, if he had committed such a deliberate and
heartless murder."

Then, as the form of the vampyre could be but dimly seen, Charles ran on
for some distance in the direction he had taken, and then paused again;
so that if Varney heard the sound of footsteps, and paused to listen
they had ceased again probably, and nothing was discernible.

In this manner he followed the mysterious individual, if we may really
call him such, for above a mile; and then Varney made a rapid detour,
and took his way towards the town.

He went onwards with wonderful precision now in a right line, not
stopping at any obstruction, in the way of fences, hedges, or ditches,
so that it took Charles some exertion, to which, just then, he was
scarcely equal, to keep up with him.

At length the outskirts of the town were gained, and then Varney paused,
and looked around him, scarcely allowing Charles, who was now closer to
him than he had been, time to hide himself from observation, which,
however, he did accomplish, by casting himself suddenly upon the ground,
so that he could not be detected against the sky, which then formed a
back ground to the spot where he was.

Apparently satisfied that he had completely now eluded the pursuit, if
any had been attempted, of those whom he had led in such a state of
confusion, the vampyre walked hastily towards a house that was to let,
and which was only to be reached by going up an avenue of trees, and
then unlocking a gate in a wall which bounded the premises next to the
avenue. But the vampyre appeared to be possessed of every facility for
effecting an entrance to the place and, producing from his pocket a key,
he at once opened the gate, and disappeared within the precincts of
those premises.

He, no doubt, felt that he was hunted by the mob of the town, and hence
his frequent change of residence, since his own had been burnt down,
and, indeed, situated as he was, there can be no manner of doubt that he
would have been sacrificed to the superstitious fury of the populace, if
they could but have got hold of him.

He had, from his knowledge, which was no doubt accurate and complete, of
what had been done, a good idea of what his own fate would be, were he
to fall into the hands of that ferocious multitude, each individual
composing which, felt a conviction that there would be no peace, nor
hope of prosperity or happiness, on the place, until he, the arch
vampyre of all the supposed vampyres, was destroyed.

[Illustration]

Charles did pause for a few moments, after having thus become roused, to
consider whether he should then attempt to have the interview he had
resolved upon having by some means or another, or defer it, now that he
knew where Varney was to be found, until another time.

But when he came to consider how extremely likely it was that, even in
the course of a few hours, Varney might shift his abode for some good
and substantial reasons, he at once determined upon attempting to see
him.

But how to accomplish such a purpose was not the easiest question in the
world to answer. If he rung the bell that presented itself above the
garden gate, was it at all likely that Varney, who had come there for
concealment, would pay any attention to the summons?

After some consideration, he did, however, think of a plan by which, at
all events, he could ensure effecting an entrance into the premises, and
then he would take his chance of finding the mysterious being whom he
sought, and who probably might have no particular objection to meeting
with him, Charles Holland, because their last interview in the ruins
could not be said to be otherwise than of a peaceable and calm enough
character.

He saw by the board, which was nailed in the front of the house, that
all applications to see it were to be made to a Mr. Nash, residing close
at hand; and, as Charles had the appearance of a respectable person, he
thought he might possibly have the key entrusted to him, ostensibly to
look at the house, preparatory possibly to taking it, and so he should,
at all events, obtain admission.

He, accordingly, went at once to this Mr. Nash, and asked about the
house; of course he had to affect an interest in its rental and
accommodations, which he did not feel, in order to lull any suspicion,
and, finally, he said,--

"I should like to look over it if you will lend me the key, which I will
shortly bring back to you."

There was an evident hesitation about the agent when this proposal was
communicated by Charles Holland, and he said,--

"I dare say, sir, you wonder that I don't say yes, at once; but the fact
is there came a gentleman here one day when I was out, and got a key,
for we have two to open the house, from my wife, and he never came back
again."

That this was the means by which Varney, the vampyre, had obtained the
key, by the aid of which Charles had seen him effect so immediate an
entrance to the house, there could be no doubt.

"How long ago were you served that trick?" he said.

"About two days ago, sir."

"Well, it only shows how, when one person acts wrongly, another is at
once suspected of a capability to do so likewise. There is my name and
my address; I should like rather to go alone to see the house, because I
always fancy I can judge better by myself of the accommodation, and I
can stay as long as I like, and ascertain the sizes of all the rooms
without the disagreeable feeling upon my mind, which no amount of
complaisance on your part, could ever get me over, that I was most
unaccountably detaining somebody from more important business of their
own."

"Oh, I assure you, sir," said Mr. Nash, "that I should not be at all
impatient. But if you would rather go alone--"

"Indeed I would."

"Oh, then, sir, there is the key. A gentleman who leaves his name and
address, of course, we can have no objection to. I only told you of what
happened, sir, in the mere way of conversation, and I hope you won't
imagine for a moment that I meant to insinuate that you were going to
keep the key."

"Oh, certainly not--certainly not," said Charles, who was only too glad
to get the key upon any terms. "You are quite right, and I beg you will
say no more about it; I quite understand."

He then walked off to the empty house again, and, proceeding to the
avenue, he fitted the key to the lock, and had the satisfaction of
finding the gate instantly yield to him.

When he passed through it, and closed the door after him, which he did
carefully, he found himself in a handsomely laid-out garden, and saw the
house a short distance in front of him, standing upon a well got-up
lawn.

He cared not if Varney should see him before he reached the house,
because the fact was sufficiently evident to himself that after all he
could not actually enforce an interview with the vampyre. He only hoped
that as he had found him out it would be conceded to him.

He, therefore, walked up the lawn without making the least attempt at
concealment, and when he reached the house he allowed his footsteps to
make what noise they would upon the stone steps which led up to it. But
no one appeared; nor was there, either by sight or by sound, any
indication of the presence of any living being in the place besides
himself.

Insensibly, as he contemplated the deserted place around him, the solemn
sort of stillness began to have its effect upon his imagination, and,
without being aware that he did so, he had, with softness and caution,
glided onwards, as if he were bent on some errand requiring the utmost
amount of caution and discrimination in the conduction of it.

And so he entered the hall of the house, where he stood some time, and
listened with the greatest attention, without, however, being able to
hear the least sound throughout the whole of the house.

"And yet he must be here," thought Charles to himself; "I was not gone
many minutes, and it is extremely unlikely that in so short a space of
time he has left, after taking so much trouble, by making such a detour
around the meadows to get here, without being observed. I will examine
every room in the place, but I will find him."

Charles immediately commenced going from room to room of that house in
his search for the vampyre. There were but four apartments upon the
ground floor, and these, of course, he quickly ran through. Nothing
whatever at all indicative of any one having been there met his gaze,
and with a feeling of disappointment creeping over him, he commenced the
ascent of the staircase.