Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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"I can give you no such assurance, perhaps, that would satisfy you
entirely; but, for more reasons than I choose to enter into, I am
extremely anxious to leave England at once and forever. Give me the
power to do so that I require, and you will never hear of me again."

[Illustration]

The baron hesitated for some few seconds, during which he looked
scrutinizingly at his companion, and then he said, in a tone of voice
that seemed as if he were making the remark to himself rather than to
the other,--

"You look no older than you did when last we parted, and that was years
ago."

"Why should I look older? You know as well as I that I need not. But, to
be brief, I do not wish to interfere with any plans or projects you may
have on hand. I do not wish to be a hindrance to you. Let me have five
thousand pounds, and I am off at once and forever, I tell you."

"Five thousand! the man raves--five thousand pounds! Say one thousand,
and it is yours."

"No; I have fixed my price; and if you do not consent, I now tell you
that I will blazon forth, even in this house, who and what you are; and,
let your schemes of ambition or of cupidity be what they may, you may be
assured that I will blast them all."

"This is no place in which to argue such a point; come out into the open
air; 'walls have ears;' but come out, and I will give you such special
reasons why you should not now press your claim at all, that you shall
feel much beholden to me for them, and not regret your visit."

"If that we come to terms, I no more desire than you can do that any one
should overhear our conversation. I prefer the open air for any
conference, be it whatever it may--much prefer it; and therefore most
willingly embrace your proposition. Come out."

The baron put on his travelling cap, and the rich velvet cloak, edged
with fur, that he possessed, and leaving his chamber a few paces in
advance of his strange visitor, he descended the staircase, followed by
him. In the hall of the hotel they found the landlord and almost the
whole of the establishment assembled, in deep consultation as to whether
or not any one was to go up stairs and ascertain if the stranger who had
sought the baron's chamber was really a friend or an enemy.

But when they saw the two men coming down, at all events apparently
amicably, it was a great relief, and the landlord rushed forward and
opened the door, for which piece of service he got a very stately bow
from the baron, and a slight inclination of the head from his visitor,
and then they both passed out.

"I have ascertained," said the man who came on horseback, "that for the
last week in London you have lived in a style of the most princely
magnificence, and that you came down here, attended as if you were one
of the first nobles of the land."

"These things amuse the vulgar," said the baron. "I do not mind
admitting to you that I contemplate residing on this spot, and perhaps
contracting a marriage."

"Another marriage?"

"And why not? If wives will die suddenly, and no one knows why, who is
to help it. I do not pretend to control the fates."

"This, between us, is idle talk indeed--most idle; for we know there are
certain circumstances which account for the strangest phenomena; but
what roaring sound is that which comes so regularly and steadily upon
the ear."

"It is the sea washing upon the coast. The tide is no doubt advancing,
and, as the eddying surges roll in upon the pebbly shore, they make
what, to my mind, is this pleasant music."

"I did not think we were so near the ocean. The moon is rising; let us
walk upon the beach, and as that sound is such pleasant music, you shall
hear it while I convince you what unpleasant consequences will arise
from a refusal of the modest and moderate terms I offer you."

"We shall see, we shall see; but I must confess it does seem to me most
extraordinary that you ask of me a positive fortune, for fear you should
deprive me of a portion of one; but you cannot mean what you say."

While they were talking they reached a long strip of sand which was by
the seashore, at the base of some cliffs, through which was excavated
the passage from the coast into the grounds of Anderbury House, and
which had been so expatiated upon by the landlord of the inn, in his
description of the advantages attendant upon that property.

There were some rude steps, leading to a narrow arched door-way, which
constituted an entrance to this subterraneous region; and as the
moonlight streamed over the wide waste of waters, and fell upon this
little door-way in the face of the cliff, he became convinced that it
was the entrance to that excavation, and he eyed it curiously.

"What place is that?" said his companion.

"It is a private entrance to the grounds of a mansion in this
neighbourhood."

"Private enough, I should presume; for if there be any other means of
reaching the house, surely no one would go through such a dismal hole as
that towards it; but come, make up your mind at once. There need be no
quarrelling upon the subject of our conference, but let it be a plain
matter of yes or no. Is it worth your while to be left alone in peace,
or is it not?"

"It is worth my while, but not at such a price as that you mentioned;
and I cannot help thinking that some cheaper mode of accomplishing the
same object will surely present itself very shortly."

"I do not understand you; you talk ambiguously."

"But my acts," said the baron, "shall be clear and plain enough, as you
shall see. Could you believe it possible that I was the sort of person
to submit tamely to any amount of extortion you chose to practise upon
me. There was a time when I thought you possessed great sense and
judgment when I thought that you were a man who weighed well the chances
of what you were about; but now I know to the contrary; and I think for
less than a thousand pounds I may succeed in ridding myself of you."

"I do not understand you; you had better beware how you tamper with me,
for I am not one who will be calmly disposed to put up with much. The
sense, tact, and worldly knowledge which you say you have before, from
time to time, given me credit for, belongs to me still, and I am not
likely easily to commit myself."

"Indeed; do you think you bear such a charmed life that nothing can
shake it?"

"I think nothing of the sort; but I know what I can do--I am armed."

"And I; and since it comes to this, take the reward of your villany; for
it was you who made me what I am, and would now seek to destroy my every
hope of satisfaction."

As the baron spoke he drew from his breast a small pistol, which, with
the quickness of thought, he held full in the face of his companion, and
pulled the trigger.

There can be no doubt on earth that his intention was to commit the
murder, but the pistol missed fire, and he was defeated in his intention
at that moment. Then the stranger laughed scornfully, and drawing a
pistol from his pocket, he presented it at the baron's head, saying,--

"Do I not bear a charmed life? If I had not, should I have escaped death
from you now? No, I could not; but you perceive that even a weapon that
might not fail you upon another occasion is harmless against me; and can
you expect that I will hesitate now to take full and ample revenge upon
you for this dastardly attempt?"

These words were spoken with great volubility, so much so, indeed, that
they only occupied a few very brief seconds in delivering; and then,
perhaps, the baron's career might have ended, for it seemed to be fully
the intention of the other to conclude what he said by firing the pistol
in his face; but the wily aspect of the baron's countenance was, after
all, but a fair index of the mind, and, just as the last words passed
the lips of his irritated companion, he suddenly dropped in a crouching
position to the ground, and, seizing his legs, threw him over his head
in an instant.

The pistol was discharged, at the same moment, and then, with a shout of
rage and satisfaction, the baron sprang upon his foe, and, kneeling upon
his breast, he held aloft in his hand a glittering dagger, the
highly-polished blade of which caught the moonbeams, and reflected them
into the dazzled eyes of the conquered man, whose fate now appeared to
be certain.

"Fool!" said the baron, "you must needs, then, try conclusions with me,
and, not content with the safety of insignificance, you must be absurd
enough to think it possible you could extort from me whatever sums your
fancy dictated, or with any effect threaten me, if I complied not with
your desires."

"Have mercy upon me. I meant not to take your life; and, therefore, why
should you take mine?"

"You would have taken it, and, therefore, you shall die. Know, too, at
this is your last moment, that, vampyre as you are, and as I, of all
men, best know you to be, I will take especial care that you shall be
placed in some position after death where the revivifying moonbeams may
not touch you, so that this shall truly be your end, and you shall rot
away, leaving no trace behind of your existence, sufficient to contain
the vital principle."

"No--no! you cannot--will not. You will have mercy."

"Ask the famished tiger for mercy, when you intrude upon his den."

As he spoke the baron ground his tenth together with rage, and, in an
instant, buried the poniard in the throat of his victim. The blade went
through to the yellow sand beneath, and the murderer still knelt upon
the man's chest, while he who had thus received so fatal a blow tossed
his arms about with agony, and tried in vain to shriek.

The nature of the wound, however, prevented him from uttering anything
but a low gurgling sound, for he was nearly choked with his own blood,
and soon his eyes became fixed and of a glassy appearance; he stretched
out his two arms, and dug his fingers deep into the sand.

The baron drew forth the poniard, and a gush of blood immediately
followed it, and then one deep groan testified to the fact, that the
spirit, if there be a spirit, had left its mortal habitation, and winged
its flight to other realms, if there be other realms for it to wing its
flight to.

"He is dead," said the baron, and, at the same moment, a roll of the
advancing tide swept over the body, drenching the living, as well as the
dead, with the brine of the ocean.

The baron stooped and rinsed the dagger in the advancing tide from the
clotted blood which had clung to it, and then, wiping it carefully, he
returned it to its sheath, which was hidden within the folds of his
dress; and, rising from his kneeling posture upon the body, he stood by
its side, with folded arms, gazing upon it, for some minutes, in
silence, heedless of the still advancing water, which was already
considerably above his feet.

Then he spoke in his ordinary accents, and evidently caring nothing for
the fact that he had done such a deed.

"I must dispose of this carcase," he said, "which now seems so lifeless,
for the moon is up, and if its beams fall upon it, I know, from former
experience, what will happen; it will rise again, and walk the earth,
seeking for vengeance upon me, and the thirst for that vengeance will
become such a part of its very nature, that it will surely accomplish
something, if not all that it desires."

After a few moments' consideration, he stooped, and, with more strength
than one would have thought it possible a man reduced almost, as he was,
to a skeleton could have exerted, he lifted the body, and carried it
rapidly up the beach towards the cliffs. He threw it down upon the stone
steps that led to the small door of the excavation in the cliff, and it
fell upon them with a sickening sound, as if some of the bones were
surely broken by the fall.

The object, then, of the baron seemed to be to get this door open, if he
possibly could; but that was an object easier to be desired than carried
into effect, for, although he exerted his utmost power, he did not
succeed in moving it an inch, and he began evidently to think that it
would be impossible to do so.

But yet he did not give up the attempt at once, but looking about upon
the beach, until he found a large heavy stone, he raised it in his arms,
and, approaching the door, he flung it against it with such tremendous
force, that it flew open instantly, disclosing within a dark and narrow
passage.

Apparently rejoiced that he had accomplished this much, he stopped
cautiously within the entrance, and then, taking from a concealed pocket
that was in the velvet cloak which he wore a little box, he produced
from it some wax-lights and some chemical matches, which, by the
slightest effort, he succeeded in igniting, and then, with one of the
lights in his hand to guide him on his way, he went on exploring the
passage, and treading with extreme caution as he went, for fear of
falling into any of the ice-wells which were reported to be in that
place.

After proceeding about twenty yards, and finding that there was no
danger, he became less cautious; but, in consequence of such less
caution, he very nearly sacrificed his life, for he came upon an
ice-well which seemed a considerable depth, and into which he had nearly
plunged headlong.

He started hack with some degree of horror; but that soon left him, and
then, after a moment's thought, he sought for some little nook in the
wall, in which he might place the candle, and soon finding one that
answered the purpose well, he there left it, having all the appearance
of a little shrine, while he proceeded again to the mouth of that
singular and cavernous-looking place. He had, evidently, quite made up
his mind what to do, for, without a moment's hesitation, he lifted the
body again, and carried it within the entrance, walking boldly and
firmly, now that he knew there was no danger between him and the light,
which shed a gleam through the darkness of the place of a very faint and
flickering character.

He reached it rapidly, and when he got to the side of the well, he,
without a moment's hesitation, flung it headlong down, and, listening
attentively, he heard it fall with a slight plash, as if there was some
water at the bottom of the pit.

It was an annoyance, however, for him to find that the distance was not
so deep as he had anticipated, and when he took the light from the niche
where he had placed it, and looked earnestly down, he could see the
livid, ghastly-looking face of the dead man, for the body had
accidentally fallen upon its back, which was a circumstance he had not
counted upon, and one which increased the chances greatly of its being
seen, should any one be exploring, from curiosity, that not very
inviting place.

This was annoyance, but how could it be prevented, unless, indeed, he
chose to descend, and make an alteration in the disposition of the
corpse? But this was evidently what he did not choose to do; so, after
muttering to himself a few words expressive of his intention to leave it
where it was, he replaced the candle, after extinguishing it, in the box
from whence he had taken it, and carefully walked out of the dismal
place.

The moonbeams were shining very brightly and beautifully upon the face
of the cliffs, when he emerged from the subterranean passage, so that he
could see the door, the steps, and every object quite distinctly; and,
to his gratification, he found that he had not destroyed any fastening
that was to the door, but that when it was slammed shut, it struck so
hard and fast, that the strength of one man could not possibly move it,
even the smallest fraction of an inch.

"I shall be shown all this to-morrow," he said; "and if I take this
house I must have an alteration made in this door, so that it may open
with a lock, instead of by main violence, as at present; but if, in the
morning, when I view Anderbury House, I can avoid an entrance into this
region, I will do so, and at my leisure, if I become the possessor of
the estate, I can explore every nook and cranny of it."

He then folded his cloak about him, after pulling the door as closely as
he could. He walked slowly and thoughtfully back to the inn. It was
quite evident that the idea of the murder he had committed did not annoy
him in the least, and that in his speculations upon the subject he
congratulated himself much upon having so far succeeded in getting rid
of certainly a most troublesome acquaintance.

"'Tis well, indeed," he said, "that just at this juncture he should
throw himself in my way, and enable me so easy to feel certain that I
shall never more be troubled with him. Truly, I ran some risk, and when
my pistol missed fire, it seemed as if my evil star was in its
ascendant, and that I was doomed myself to become the victim of him whom
I have laid in so cold a grave. But I have been victorious, and I am
willing to accept the circumstance as an omen of the past--that my
fortunes are on the change. I think I shall be successful now, and with
the ample means which I now possess, surely, in this country, where gold
is loved so well, I shall be able to overcome all difficulties, and to
unite myself to some one, who--but no matter, her fate is an after
consideration."

CHAPTER XCV.

THE MARRIAGE IN THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY ARRANGED.

[Illustration]

After the adventure of the doctor with regard to the picture about which
such an air of mystery and interest has been thrown, the Bannerworth
family began to give up all hopes of ever finding a clue to those
circumstances concerning which they would certainly have liked to have
known the truth, but of which it was not likely they would ever hear
anything more.

Dr. Chillingworth now had no reserve, and when he had recovered
sufficiently to feel that he could converse without an effort, he took
an opportunity, while the whole of the family were present, to speak of
what had been his hopes and his expectations.

"You are all aware," he said, "now, of the story of Marmaduke
Bannerworth, and what an excessively troublesome person he was, with all
deference, to you, Henry; first of all, as to spending all his money at
the gaming-table, and leaving his family destitute; and then, when he
did get a lump of money which might have done some good to those he left
behind him--hiding it somewhere where it could not be found at all, and
so leaving you all in great difficulty and distress, when you might have
been independent."

"That's true enough, doctor," said Henry; "but you know the old
proverb,--that ill-gotten wealth never thrives; so that I don't regret
not finding this money, for I am sure we should have been none the
happier with it, and perhaps not so happy."

"Oh, bother the old proverb; thirty or forty thousand pounds is no
trifle to be talked lightly of, or the loss of which to be quietly put
up with, on account of a musty proverb. It's a large sum, and I should
like to have placed it in your hands."

"But as you cannot, doctor, there can be no good possibly done by
regretting it."

"No, certainly; I don't mean that; utter regret is always a very foolish
thing; but it's questionable whether something might not be done in the
matter, after all, for you, as it appears, by all the evidence we can
collect, that it must have been Varney, after all, who jumped down upon
me from the garden-wall in so sudden a manner: and, if I the picture be
valuable to him, it must be valuable to us."

"But how are we to get it, and if we could, I do not see that it would
be of much good to anybody, for, after all, it is but a painting."

"There you go again," said the doctor, "depreciating what you know
nothing about; now, listen to me, Master Henry, and I will tell you.
That picture evidently had some sort of lining at the back, over the
original canvas; and do you think I would have taken such pains to bring
it away with me if that lining had not made me suspect that between it
and the original picture the money, in bank notes, was deposited?"

"Had you any special reason for supposing such was the case?"

"Yes; most unquestionably I had; for when I got the picture fairly down,
I found various inequalities in the surface of the back, which led me to
believe that rolls of notes were deposited, and that the great mistake
we had all along made was in looking behind the picture, instead of at
the picture itself. I meant immediately to have cut it to pieces when I
reached here with it; but now it has got into the hands of somebody
else, who knows, I suspect, as much I do."

"It is rather provoking."

"Rather provoking! is that the way to talk of the loss of Heaven knows
how many thousands of pounds! I am quite aggravated myself at the idea
of the thing, and it puts me in a perfect fever to think of it, I can
assure you."

"But what can we do?"

"Oh! I propose an immediate crusade against Varney, the vampyre, for who
but he could have made such an attack upon me, and force me to deliver
up such a valuable treasure?"

"Never heed it, doctor," said Flora; "let it go; we have never had or
enjoyed that money, so it cannot matter, and it is not to be considered
as the loss of an actual possession, because we never did actually
possess it."

"Yes," chimed in the admiral; "bother the money! what do we care about
it; and, besides, Charley Holland is going to be very busy."

"Busy!" said the doctor, "how do you mean?"

"Why, isn't he going to be married directly to Flora, here, and am not I
going to settle the whole of my property upon him on condition that he
takes the name of Bell instead of Holland? for, you see, his mother was
my sister, and of course her name was Bell. As for his father Holland,
it can't matter to him now what Charley is called; and if he don't take
the name of Bell I shall be the last in the family, for I am not likely
to marry, and have any little Bells about me."

"No," said the doctor; "I should say not; and that's the reason why you
want to ring the changes upon Charles Holland's name. Do you see the
joke, admiral?"

"I can't say I do--where is it? It's all very well to talk of jokes, but
if I was like Charles, going to be married, I shouldn't be in any joking
humour, I can tell you, but quite the reverse; and as for you and your
picture, if you want it, doctor, just run after Varney yourself for it;
or, stay--I have a better idea than that--get your wife to go and ask
him for it, and if she makes half such a clamour about his ears that she
did about ours, he will give it her in a minute, to get rid of her."

"My wife!--you don't mean to say she has been here?"

"Yes, but she has though. And now, doctor, I can tell you I have seen a
good deal of service in all parts of the world, and, of course, picked
up a little experience; and, if I were you, some of these days, when
Mrs. Chillingworth ain't very well, I'd give her a composing draught
that would make her quiet enough."

"Ah! that's not my style of practice, admiral; but I am sorry to hear
that Mrs. Chillingworth has annoyed you so much."

"Pho, pho, man!--pho, pho! do you think she could annoy me? Why, I have
encountered storms and squalls in all latitudes, and it isn't a woman's
tongue now that can do anything of an annoying character, I can tell
you; far from it--very far from it; so don't distress yourself upon that
head. But come, doctor, we are going to have the wedding the day after
to-morrow."

"No, no," said Flora; "the week after next, you mean,"

"Is it the week after next? I'll be hanged if I didn't think it was the
day after to-morrow; but of course you know best, as you have settled it
all among you. I have nothing to do with it."

"Of course, I shall, with great pleasure," returned the doctor, "be
present on the interesting occasion; but do you intend taking possession
of Bannerworth Hall again?"

"No, certainly not," said Henry; "we propose going to the Dearbrook
estate, and there remaining for a time to see how we all like it. We
may, perchance, enjoy it very much, for I have heard it spoken of as an
attractive little property enough, and one that any one might fancy,
after being resident a short time upon it."

"Well," said the admiral; "that is, I believe, settled among us, but I
am sure we sha'n't like it, on account of the want of the sea. Why, I
tell you, I have not seen a ship myself for this eighteen months;
there's a state of things, you see, that won't do to last, because one
would get dry-mouldy: it's a shocking thing to see nothing but land,
land, wherever you go."

From the preceding conversation may be gathered what were the designs of
the Bannerworth family, and what progress had been made in carrying them
out. From the moment they had discovered the title-deeds of the
Dearbrook property, they had ceased to care about the large sum of money
which Marmaduke Bannerworth had been supposed to have hidden in some
portion of Bannerworth Hall.

They had already passed through quite enough of the busy turmoils of
existence to be grateful for anything that promised ease and competence,
and that serenity of mind which is the dearest possession which any one
can compass.

Consequently was it, that, with one accord, they got rid of all yearning
after the large sum which the doctor was so anxious to procure for them,
and looked forward to a life of great happiness and contentment. On the
whole, too, when they came to talk the matter over quietly among
themselves, they were not sorry that Varney had taken himself off in the
way he had, for really it was a great release; and, as he had couched
his farewell in words which signified it was a final one, they were
inclined to think that he must have left England, and that it was not
likely they should ever again encounter him, under any circumstances
whatever.