Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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"How did it happen?"

"I went by myself to watch in the room where the picture was in
Bannerworth Hall."

"Where the picture was!" said Henry; "where it is, you mean, do you not,
doctor?"

"No; where it was, and where it is not now."

"Gone!"

"Yes, gone away; I'll tell you all about it. I went there to watch, but
found nobody or nothing there; but suddenly a man stepped out from
behind the picture, and we had a fight over it; after which, just as I
was getting the worst of it, Jack Pringle came in."

"The dog!" muttered the admiral.

"Yes, he came in just in time, I believe, to save my life; for the man,
whoever he was, would not have hesitated about it."

"Well, Jack is a good man," said the admiral; "there may be worse, at
least."

"Well, we had a desperate encounter for some minutes, during which this
fellow wanted to carry off the picture."

"Carry off the picture?"

"Yes; we had a struggle for that; but we could not capture him; he was
so violent that he broke away and got clear off."

"With the picture?"

"No, he left the picture behind. Well, we were very tired and bruised,
and we sat down to recover ourselves from our fatigue, and to consider
what was best to be done; but we were some time before we could leave,
and then we determined that we would take the picture away with us, as
it seemed to be coveted by the robber, for what object we cannot tell."

"Well, well--where is the picture?"

"You shall hear all about it in a minute, if you'll let me take my time.
I am tired and sore. Well, we brought the picture out, and Jack helped
me carry it till he came within a couple of hundred yards of the
cottage, and there left me."

"The lubber!" said the admiral, interjectionally.

"Well, I rested awhile, and then taking the picture on my shoulders, I
proceeded along with it until I came to the wall, when suddenly I heard
a great shout, and then down came something heavy upon me, just as if a
man had jumped down upon me."

"And--and--"

"Yes," said the doctor, "it was--"

"Was what?" inquired the admiral.

"Just what you all seemed to anticipate; you are all before me, but that
was it."

"A man?"

"Yes; I had a struggle with him, and got nearly killed, for I am not
equal to him in strength. I was sadly knocked about, and finally all the
senses were knocked out of me, and I was, I suppose, left for dead."

"And what became of the picture?"

"I don't know; but I suppose it was taken away, as, when I came to
myself, it was gone; indeed, I have some faint recollection of seeing
him seize the portrait as I was falling."

There was a pause of some moments, during which all the party appeared
to be employed with their own thoughts, and the whole were silent.

"Do you think it was the same man who attacked you in the house that
obtained the picture?" at last inquired Henry Bannerworth.

"I cannot say, but I think it most probable that it was the same;
indeed, the general appearance, as near as I could tell in the dark, was
the same; but what I look upon as much stronger is, the object appears
to be the same in both cases."

"That is very true," said Henry Bannerworth--"very true; and I think it
more than probable myself. But come, doctor, you will require rest and
nursing after your dangers."

CHAPTER XCIII.

THE ALARM AT ANDERBURY.--THE SUSPICIONS OF THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY, AND
THE MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.

[Illustration]

About twenty miles to the southward of Bannerworth Hall was a good-sized
market-town, called Anderbury. It was an extensive and flourishing
place, and from the beauty of its situation, and its contiguity to the
southern coast of England, it was much admired; and, in consequence,
numerous mansions and villas of great pretension had sprang up in its
immediate neighbourhood.

Betides, there were some estates of great value, and one of these,
called Anderbury-on-the-Mount, in consequence of the mansion itself,
which was of an immense extent, being built upon an eminence, was to be
let, or sold.

This town of Anderbury was remarkable not only for the beauty of its
aspect, but likewise for the quiet serenity of its inhabitants, who were
a prosperous, thriving race, and depended very much upon their own
resources.

There were some peculiar circumstances why Anderbury-on-the-Mount was to
let. It had been for a great number of years in possession of a family
of the name of Milltown, who had resided there in great comfort and
respectability, until an epidemic disorder broke out, first among the
servants, and then spreading to the junior branches of the family, and
from them to their seniors, produced such devastation, that in the
course of three weeks there was but one young man left of the whole
family, and he, by native vigour of constitution, had baffled the
disorder, and found himself alone in his ancestral halls, the last of
his race.

Soon a settled melancholy took possession of him, and all that had
formerly delighted him now gave him pain, inasmuch as it brought to his
mind a host of recollections of the most agonising character.

In vain was it that the surrounding gentry paid him every possible
attention, and endeavoured to do all that was in their power to
alleviate the unhappy circumstances in which he was placed. If he
smiled, it was in a sad sort, and that was very seldom; and at length he
announced his intention of leaving the neighbourhood, and seeking
abroad, and in change of scene, for that solace which he could not
expect to find in his ancestral home, after what had occurred within its
ancient walls.

There was not a chamber but which reminded him of the past--there was
not a tree or a plant of any kind or description but which spoke to him
plainly of those who were now no more, and whose merry laughter had
within his own memory made that ancient place echo with glee, filling
the sunny air with the most gladsome shouts, such as come from the lips
of happy youth long before the world has robbed it of any of its romance
or its beauty.

There was a general feeling of regret when this young man announced the
fact of his departure to a foreign land; for he was much respected, and
the known calamities which he had suffered, and the grief under which he
laboured, invested his character with a great and painful interest.

An entertainment was given to him upon the eve of his departure, and on
the next day he was many miles from the place, and the estate of
Anderbury-on-the-Mount was understood to be sold or let.

The old mansion had remained, then, for a year or two vacant, for it was
a place of too much magnitude, and required by far too expensive an
establishment to keep it going, to enable any person whose means were
not very large to think of having anything to do with it.

So, therefore, it remained unlet, and wearing that gloomy aspect which a
large house, untenanted, so very quickly assumes.

It was quite a melancholy thing to look upon it, and to think what it
must have once been, and what it might be still, compared to what it
actually was; and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood had made up their
minds that Anderbury-on-the-Mount would remain untenanted for many a
year to come, and, perhaps, ultimately fall into ruin and decay.

But in this they were doomed to be disappointed, for, on the evening of
a dull and gloomy day, about one week after the events we have recorded
as taking place at Bannerworth Hall and its immediate neighbourhood, a
travelling carriage, with four horses and an out-rider, came dashing
into the place, and drew up at the principal inn in the town, which was
called the Anderbury Arms.

The appearance of such an equipage, although not the most unusual thing
in the world, in consequence of the many aristocratic families who
resided in the neighbourhood, caused, at all events, some sensation,
and, perhaps, the more so because it drove up to the inn instead of to
any of the mansions of the neighbourhood, thereby showing that the
stranger, whoever he was, came not as a visitor, but either merely
baited in the town, being on his road somewhere else, or had some
special business in it which would soon be learned.

The out-rider, who was in handsome livery, had gallopped on in advance
of the carriage a short distance, for the purpose of ordering the best
apartments in the inn to be immediately prepared for the reception of
his master.

"Who is he?" asked the landlord.

"It's the Baron Stolmuyer Saltsburgh."

"Bless my heart, I never heard of him before; where did he come
from--somewhere abroad I suppose?"

"I can't tell you anything of him further than that he is immensely
rich, and is looking for a house. He has heard that there is one to let
in this immediate neighbourhood, and that's what has brought him from
London, I suppose."

"Yes, there is one; and it is called Anderbury-on-the-Mount."

"Well, he will very likely speak to you about it himself, for here he
comes."

By this time the carriage had halted at the door of the hotel, and, the
door being opened, and the steps lowered, there alighted from it a tall
man attired in a kind of pelisse, or cloak, trimmed with rich fur, the
body of it being composed of velvet. Upon his head he wore a travelling
cap, and his fingers, as he grasped the cloak around him, were seen to
be covered with rings of great value.

Such a personage, coming in such style, was, of course, likely to be
honoured in every possible way by the landlord of the inn, and
accordingly he was shown most obsequiously to the handsomest apartment
in the house, and the whole establishment was put upon the alert to
attend to any orders he might choose to give.

He had not been long in the place when he sent for the landlord, who,
hastily scrambling on his best coat, and getting his wife to arrange the
tie of his neckcloth, proceeded to obey the orders of his illustrious
guest, whatever they might chance to be.

He found the Baron Stolmuyer reclining upon a sofa, and having thrown
aside his velvet cloak, trimmed with rich fur, he showed that underneath
it he wore a costume of great richness and beauty, although, certainly,
the form it covered was not calculated to set it off to any great
advantage, for the baron was merely skin and bone, and looked like a man
who had just emerged from a long illness, for his face was ghastly pale,
and the landlord could not help observing that there was a strange
peculiarity about his eyes, the reason of which he could not make out.

"You are the landlord of this inn, I presume," said the baron, "and,
consequently, no doubt well acquainted with the neighbourhood?"

"I have the honour to be all that, sir. I have been here about sixteen
years, and in that time I certainly ought to know something of the
neighbourhood."

"'Tis well; some one told me there was a little cottage sort of place to
let here, and as I am simple and retired in my habits I thought that it
might possibly suit me."

"A little cottage, sir! There are certainly little cottages to let, but
not such as would suit you; and if I might have presumed, sir, to think,
I should have considered Anderbury-on-the-Mount, which is now to let,
would have been the place for you. It is a large place, sir, and
belonged to a good family, although they are now all dead and gone,
except one, and it's he who wants to let the old place."

"Anderbury-on-the-Mount," said the baron, "was the name of the place
mentioned to me; but I understood it was a little place."

"Oh! sir, that is quite a mistake; who told you so? It's the largest
place about here; there are a matter of twenty-seven rooms in it, and it
stands altogether upon three hundred acres of ground."

"And have you the assurance," said the baron, "to call that anything but
a cottage, when the castle of the Stolmuyers, at Saltzburgh, has one
suite of reception rooms thirty in number, opening into each other, and
the total number of apartments in the and whole building is two hundred
and sixty, it is surrounded by eight miles of territory."

"The devil!" said the landlord. "I beg your pardon, sir, but when I am
astonished, I generally say the devil. They want eight hundred pounds a
year for Anderbury-on-the-Mount."

"A mere trifle. I will sleep here to-night, and in the morning I will go
and look at the place. It is near the sea?"

"Half a mile, sir, exactly, from the beach; and one of the most curious
circumstances of all connected with it is, that there is a subterranean
passage from the grounds leading right away down to the sea-coast. A
most curious place, sir, partly cut out of the cliff, with cellars in it
for wine, and other matters, that in the height of summer are kept as
cool as in the deep winter time. It's more for curiosity than use, such
a place; and the old couple, that now take care of the house, make a
pretty penny, I'll be bound, though they won't own it, by showing that
part of the place."

"It may suit me, but I shall be able to give a decisive answer when I
see it on the morrow. You will let my attendants have what they require,
and see that my horses be well looked to."

"Certainly, oh! certainly, sir, of course; you might go far, indeed,
sir, before you found an inn where everything would be done as things
are done here. Is there anything in particular, sir, you would like for
dinner?"

"How can I tell that, idiot, until the dinner time arrives?"

"Well, but, sir, in that case, you know, we scarcely know what to do,
because you see, sir, you understand--"

"It is very strange to me that you can neither see nor understand your
duty. I am accustomed to having the dinner tables spread with all that
money can procure; then I choose, but not before, what it suits me to
partake of."

"Wil, sir, that is a very good way, and perhaps we ain't quite so used
to that sort of thing as we ought to be in these parts; but another
time, sir, we shall know better what we are about, without a doubt, and
I only hope, sir, that we shall have you in the neighbourhood for a long
time; and so, sir, putting one thing to another, and then drawing a
conclusion from both of them, you see, sir, you will be able to
understand."

"Peace! begone! what is the use of all this bellowing to me--I want it
not--I care not for it."

The baron spoke these words so furiously, that the landlord was rather
terrified than otherwise, and left the room hastily, muttering to
himself that he had never come across such a tiger, and wondering where
the baron could have possibly come from, and what amount of wealth he
could be possessed of, that would enable him to live in such a princely
style as he mentioned.

If the Baron Stolmuyer of Saltzburgh had wished ever so much to impress
upon the minds of all persons in the neighbourhood the fact of his
wealth and importance, he could not have adopted a better plan to
accomplish that object than by first of all impressing such facts upon
the mind of the landlord of the Anderbury Arms, for in the course of
another hour it was tolerably well spread all over the town, that never
had there been such a guest at the Anderbury Arms; and that he called
Anderbury-on-the-Mount, with all its rooms--all its outbuildings, and
its three hundred acres of ground, a cottage.

This news spread like wildfire, awaking no end of speculation, and
giving rise to the most exaggerated rumours, so that a number of persons
came to the inn on purpose to endeavour to get a look at the baron; but
he did not stir from his apartments, so that these wondermongers were
disappointed, and even forced to go away as wise as they came; but in
the majority of cases they made up their minds that in the morning they
should surely be able to obtain a glimpse of him, which was considered a
great treat, for a man with an immense income is looked upon in England
as a natural curiosity.

The landlord took his guest at his word as regards the dinner, and
provided such a repast as seldom, indeed, graced the board at the
Anderbury Arms--a repast sufficient for twenty people, and certainly
which was a monstrous thing to set before one individual.

The baron, however, made no remark, but selected a portion from some of
the dishes, and those dishes that he did select from, were of the
simplest kind, and not such as the landlord expected him to take, so
that he really paid about one hundred times the amount he ought to have
done for what actually passed his lips.

And then what a fidget the landlord was in about his wines, for he
doubted not but such a guest would be extremely critical and hard to
please; but, to his great relief, the baron declined taking any wine,
merely washing down his repast with a tumbler of cool water; and then,
although the hour was very early, he retired at once to rest.

The landlord was not disposed to disregard the injunction which the
baron had given him to attend carefully on his servants and horses, and
after giving orders that nothing should be stinted as regarded the
latter, he himself looked to the creature-comforts of the former, and he
did this with a double motive, for not only was he anxious to make the
most he could out of the baron in the way of charges, but he was
positively panting with curiosity to know more about so singular a
personage, and he thought that surely the servants must be able to
furnish him with some particulars regarding their eccentric master.

In this, however, he was mistaken, for although they told him all they
knew, that amounted to so little as really not to be worth the learning.

They informed him that they had been engaged all in the last week, and
that they knew nothing of the baron whatever, or where he came from, or
what he was, excepting that he paid them most liberal wages, and was not
very exacting in the service he required of them.

This was very unsatisfactory, and when the landlord started on a
mission, which he considered himself bound to perform, to a Mr. Leek, in
the town, who had the letting of Anderbury-on-the-Mount, he was quite
vexed to think what a small amount of information he was able to carry
to him.

"I can tell him," he said to himself as he went quickly towards the
agent's residence; "I can tell him the baron's name, and that in the
morning he wants to look at Anderbury-on-the-Mount; but that's all I
know of him, except that he is a most extraordinary man--indeed, the
most extraordinary that I ever came near."

Mr. Leek, the house agent, notwithstanding the deficiency of the facts
contained in the landlord's statement, was well enough satisfied to hear
that any one of apparent wealth was inquiring after the large premises
to let, for, as he said truly to the landlord,--

"The commission on letting and receiving the rentals of such a property
is no joke to me."

"Precisely," said the landlord. "I thought it was better to come and
tell you at once, for there can be no doubt that he is enormously rich."

"If that be satisfactorily proved, it's of no consequence what he is, or
who he is, and you may depend I shall be round to the inn early in the
morning to attend upon him; and in that case, perhaps, if you have any
conversation with him, you will be so good as to mention that I will
show him over the premises at his own hour, and you shall not be
forgotten, you may depend, if any arrangement is actually come to. It
will be just as well for you to tell him what a nice property it is, and
that it is to be let for eight hundred a year, or sold outright for
eight thousand pounds."

"I will, you may depend, Mr. Leek. A most extraordinary man you will
find him; not the handsomest in the world, I can tell you, but handsome
is as handsome does, say I; and, if he takes Anderbury-on-the-Mount, I
have no doubt but he will spend a lot of money in the neighbourhood, and
we shall all be the better of that, of course, as you well know, sir."

This then was thoroughly agreed upon between these high contracting
powers, and the landlord returned home very well satisfied, indeed, with
the position in which he had put the affair, and resolved upon urging on
the baron, as far as it lay within his power so to do, to establish
himself in the neighbourhood, and to allow him to be purveyor-in-general
to his household, which, if the baron continued in his liberal humour,
would be unquestionably a very pleasant post to occupy.

CHAPTER XCIV.

THE VISITOR, AND THE DEATH IN THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE.

[Illustration]

About an hour and a half after the baron had retired to rest, and while
the landlord was still creeping about enjoining silence on the part of
the establishment, so that the slumbers of a wealthy and, no doubt,
illustrious personage should not be disturbed, there arrived a horseman
at the Anderbury Arms.

He was rather a singular-looking man, with a shifting, uneasy-looking
glance, as if he were afraid of being suddenly pounced upon and
surprised by some one; and although his apparel was plain, yet it was
good in quality, and his whole appearance was such as to induce
respectful attention.

The only singular circumstance was, that such a traveller, so well
mounted, should be alone; but that might have been his own fancy, so
that the absence of an attendant went for nothing. Doubtless, if the
whole inn had not been in such a commotion about the illustrious and
wealthy baron, this stranger would have received more consideration and
attention than he did.

Upon alighting, he walked at once into what is called the coffee-room of
the hotel, and after ordering some refreshments, of which he partook but
sparingly, he said, in a mild but solemn sort of tone, to the waiter who
attended upon him,--

"Tell the Baron Stolmuyer, of Saltzburgh, that there is one here who
wants to see him."

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the waiter, "but the baron is gone to
bed."

"It matters not to me. If you nor no one else in this establishment will
deliver the message I charge you with, I must do so myself."

"I'll speak to my master, sir; but the baron is a very great gentleman
indeed, and I don't think my master would like to have him disturbed."

The stranger hesitated for a time, and then he said,--

"Show me the baron's apartment. Perhaps I ought not to ask any one
person connected with this establishment to disturb him, when I am quite
willing to do so myself. Show me the way."

"Well, but, sir, the baron may get in a rage, and say, very naturally,
that we had no business to let anybody walk up to his room and disturb
him, because we wouldn't do so ourselves. So that you see, sir, when you
come to consider, it hardly seems the right sort of thing."

"Since," said the stranger, rising, "I cannot procure even the common
courtesy of being shown to the apartment of the person whom I seek, I
must find him myself."

As he spoke he walked out of the room, and began ascending the
staircase, despite the remonstrances of the waiter, who called after him
repeatedly, but could not induce him to stop; and when he found that
such was the case, he made his way to the landlord, to give the alarm
that, for all he knew to the contrary, some one had gone up stairs to
murder the baron.

This information threw the landlord into such a fix, that he knew not
what to be at. At one moment he was for rushing up stairs and
endeavouring to interfere, and at another he thought the best plan would
be to pretend that he knew nothing about it.

While he was in this state of uncertainty, the stranger succeeded in
making his way up stairs to the floor from which proceeded the bedrooms,
and, apparently, having no fear whatever of the Baron Stolmuyer's
indignation before his eyes, he opened door after door, until he came to
one which led him into the apartment occupied by that illustrious
individual.

The baron, half undressed only, lay in an uneasy slumber upon the bed,
and the stranger stood opposite to him for some minutes, as if
considering what he should do.

"It would be easy," he said, "to kill him; but it will pay me better to
spare him. I may be wrong in supposing that he has the means which I
hope he has; but that I shall soon discover by his conversation."

Stretching out, his hand, he tapped the baron lightly on the shoulder,
who thereupon opened his eyes and sprang to his feet instantly, glancing
with fixed earnestness at the intruder, upon whose face shone the light
of a lamp which was burning in the apartment.

Then the baron shrunk back, and the stranger, folding his arms, said,--

"You know me. Let our interview be as brief as possible. There needs no
explanations between us, for we both know all that could be said. By
some accident you have become rich, while I continue quite otherwise. It
matters not how this has occurred, the fact is everything. I don't know
the amount of your possessions; but, from your style of living, they
must be great, and therefore it is that I make no hesitation in asking
of you, as a price for not exposing who and what you are, a moderate
sum."

"I thought that you were dead."

"I know you did; but you behold me here, and, consequently, that
delusion vanishes."

"What sum do you require, and what assurance can I have that, when you
get if, the demand will not be repeated on the first opportunity?"