THE ALTERCATION BETWEEN VARNEY AND THE EXECUTIONER IN THE HALL.—THE
MUTUAL AGREEMENT.
There was certainly a loud wrangling in the Hall, just as the doctor
finished his most remarkable revelation concerning Sir Francis Varney,
a revelation which by no means attacked the fact of his being a vampyre
or not; but rather on the contrary, had a tendency to confirm any
opinion that might arise from the circumstance of his being restored to
life after his execution, favourable to that belief.
They all three now carefully approached the windows of the Hall, to
listen to what was going on, and after a few moments they distinctly
heard the voice of the hangman, saying in loud and rather angry
accents,—
“I do not deny but that you have kept your word with me—our bargain has
been, as you say, a profitable one; but, still I cannot see why that
circumstance should give you any sort of control over my actions.”
“But what do you here?” said Varney, impatiently.
“What do you?” cried the other.
“Nay, to ask another question, is not to answer mine. I tell you that I
have special and most important business in this house; you can have no
motive but curiosity.”
“Can I not, indeed? What, too, if I have serious and important business
here?”
“Impossible.”
“Well, I may as easily use such a term as regards what you call
important business, but here I shall remain.”
“Here you shall not remain.”
“And will you make the somewhat hazardous attempt to force me to leave?”
“Yes, much as I dislike lifting my hand against you, I must do so;
I tell you that I must be alone in this house. I have most special
reasons—reasons which concern my continued existence.
“Your continued existence you talk of.—Tell me, now, how is it that you
have acquired so frightful a reputation in this neighbourhood? Go where
I will, the theme of conversation is Varney, the vampyre! and it is
implicitly believed that you are one of those dreadful characters that
feed upon the life-blood of others, only now and then revisiting the
tomb to which you ought long since to have gone in peace.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes; what, in the name of all that’s inexplicable, has induced you to
enact such a character?”
“Enact it! you say. Can you, then, from all you have heard of me,
and from all you know of me, not conceive it possible that I am not
enacting any such character? Why may it not be real? Look at me. Do I
look like one of the inhabitants of the earth?”
“In sooth, you do not.”
“And yet I am, as you see, upon it. Do not, with an affected
philosophy, doubt all that may happen to be in any degree repugnant to
your usual experiences.”
“I am not one disposed to do so; nor am I prepared to deny that such
dreadful beings may exist as vampyres. However, whether or not you
belong to so frightful a class of creatures, I do not intend to leave
here; but, I will make an agreement with you.”
Varney was silent; and after a few moments’ pause, the other exclaimed,—
“There are people, even now, watching the place, and no doubt you have
been seen coming into it.”
“No, no, I was satisfied no one was here but you.”
“Then you are wrong. A Doctor Chillingworth, of whom you know
something, is here; and him, you have said, you would do no harm to,
even to save your life.”
“I do know him. You told me that it was to him that I was mainly
indebted for my mere existence; and although I do not consider human
life to be a great boon, I cannot bring myself to raise my hand against
the man who, whatever might have been the motives for the deed, at all
events, did snatch me from the grave.”
“Upon my word,” whispered the admiral, “there is something about that
fellow that I like, after all.”
“Hush!” said Henry, “listen to them. This would all have been
unintelligible to us, if you had not related to us what you have.”
“I have just told you in time,” said Chillingworth, “it seems.”
“Will you, then,” said the hangman, “listen to proposals?”
“Yes,” said Varney.
“Come along, then, and I will show you what I have been about; and I
rather think you have already a shrewd guess as to my motive. This
way—this way.”
They moved off to some other part of the mansion, and the sound of
their voices gradually died away, so that after all, the friends had
not got the least idea of what that motive was, which still induced the
vampyre and the hangman, rather than leave the other on the premises,
to make an agreement to stay with each other.
“What’s to be done now?” said Henry.
“Wait,” said Dr. Chillingworth, “wait, and watch still. I see nothing
else that can be done with any degree of safety.”
“But what are we to wait for?” said the admiral.
“By waiting, we shall, perhaps, find out,” was the doctor’s reply; “but
you may depend that we never shall by interfering.”
“Well, well, be it so. It seems that we have no other resource. And
when either or both of those fellows make their appearance, and seem
about to leave, what is to be done with them?”
“They must be seized then, and in order that that may be done without
any bloodshed, we ought to have plenty of force here. Henry, could you
get your brother, and Charles, if he be sufficiently recovered, to
come?”
“Certainly, and Jack Pringle.”
“No,” said the admiral, “no Jack Pringle for me; I have done with him
completely, and I have made up my mind to strike him off the ship’s
books, and have nothing more to do with him.”
“Well, well,” added the doctor, “we will not have him, then; and it is
just as well, for, in all likelihood, he would come drunk, and we shall
be—let me see—five strong without him, which ought to be enough to take
prisoners two men.”
“Yes,” said Henry, “although one of them may be a vampyre.”
“That makes no difference,” said the admiral. “I’d as soon take a ship
manned with vampyres as with Frenchmen.”
Henry started off upon his errand, certainly leaving the admiral and
the doctor in rather a critical situation while he was gone; for had
Varney the vampyre and the hangman chosen, they could certainly easily
have overcome so inefficient a force.
The admiral would, of course, have fought, and so might the doctor,
as far as his hands would permit him; but if the others had really
been intent upon mischief, they could, from their downright superior
physical power, have taken the lives of the two that were opposed to
them.
But somehow the doctor appeared to have a great confidence in the
affair. Whether that confidence arose from what the vampyre had said
with regard to him, or from any hidden conviction of his own that they
would not yet emerge from the Hall, we cannot say; but certain it is,
he waited the course of events with great coolness.
No noise for some time came from the house; but then the sounds, as
if workmen were busy within it, were suddenly resumed, and with more
vigour than before.
It was nearly two hours before Henry made the private signal which had
been agreed upon as that which should proclaim his return; and then he
and his brother, with Charles, who, when he heard of the matter, would,
notwithstanding the persuasions of Flora to the contrary, come, got
quietly over the fence at a part of the garden which was quite hidden
from the house by abundant vegetation, and the whole three of them
took up a position that tolerably well commanded a view of the house,
while they were themselves extremely well hidden behind a dense mass of
evergreens.
“Did you see that rascal, Jack Pringle?” said the admiral.
“Yes,” said Henry; “he is drunk.”
“Ah, to be sure.”
“And we had no little difficulty in shaking him off. He suspected where
we were going; but I think, by being peremptory, we got fairly rid of
him.”
“The vagabond! if he comes here, I’ll brain him, I will, the swab. Why,
lately he’s done nothing but drink. That’s the way with him. He’ll go
on sometimes for a year and more, and not take more than enough to do
him good, and then all at once, for about six or eight weeks, he does
nothing but drink.”
“Well, well, we can do without him,” said Henry.
“Without him! I should think so. Do you hear those fellows in the Hall
at work? D—n me, if I haven’t all of a sudden thought what the reason
of it all is.”
“What—what?” said the doctor, anxiously.
“Why, that rascal Varney, you know, had his house burnt down.”
“Yes; well?”
“Yes, well. I dare say he didn’t think it well. But, however, he no
doubt wants another; so, you see, my idea is, that he’s stealing the
material from Bannerworth Hall.”
“Oh, is that your notion?”
“Yes, and a very natural one, I think, too, Master Doctor, whatever you
may think of it. Come, now, have you a better?”
“Oh, dear, no, certainly not; but I have a notion that something to eat
would comfort the inward man much.”
“And so would something to drink, blow me if it wouldn’t,” said Jack
Pringle, suddenly making his appearance.
The admiral made a rush upon him; but he was restrained by the others,
and Jack, with a look of triumph, said,—
“Why, what’s amiss with you now? I ain’t drunk now. Come, come, you
have something dangerous in the wind, I know, so I’ve made up my mind
to be in it, so don’t put yourself out of the way. If you think I don’t
know all about it, you are mistaken, for I do. The vampyre is in the
house yonder, and I’m the fellow to tackle him, I believe you, my boys.”
“Good God!” said the doctor, “what shall we do?”
“Nothing,” said Jack, as he took a bottle from his pocket and applied
the neck of it to his lips—“nothing—nothing at all.”
“There’s something to begin with,” said the admiral, as with his stick
he gave the bottle a sudden blow that broke it and spilt all its
contents, leaving Jack petrified, with the bit of the neck of it still
in his mouth.
“My eye, admiral,” he said, “was that done like a British seaman? My
eye—was that the trick of a lubber, or of a thorough-going first-rater?
first-rater? My eye——”
“Hold your noise, will you; you are not drunk yet, and I was determined
that you should not get so, which you soon would with that rum-bottle,
if I had not come with a broadside across it. Now you may stay; but,
mark me, you are on active service now, and must do nothing without
orders.”
“Ay, ay, your honour,” said Jack, as he dropped the neck of the bottle,
and looked ruefully upon the ground, from whence arose the aroma of
rum—“ay, ay; but it’s a hard case, take it how you will, to have your
grog stopped; but, d—n it, I never had it stopped yet when it was in my
mouth.”
Henry and Charles could not forbear a smile at Jack’s discomfiture,
which, however, they were very glad of, for they knew full well his
failing, and that in the course of another half hour he would have been
drunk, and incapable of being controlled, except, as on some former
occasions, by the exercise of brute force.
But Jack was evidently displeased, and considered himself to be
grievously insulted, which, after all, was the better, inasmuch as,
while he was brooding over his wrongs, he was quiet; when, otherwise,
it might have been a very difficult matter to make him so.
They partook of some refreshments, and, as the day advanced, the
brothers Bannerworth, as well as Charles Holland, began to get very
anxious upon the subject of the proceedings of Sir Francis Varney in
the Hall.
They conversed in low tones, exhausting every, as they considered,
possible conjecture to endeavour to account for his mysterious
predilection for that abode, but nothing occurred to them of a
sufficiently probable motive to induce them to adopt it as a conclusion.
They more than suspected Dr. Chillingworth, because he was so silent,
and hazarded no conjecture at all of knowing something, or of having
formed to himself some highly probable hypothesis upon the subject;
but they could not get him to agree that such was the case.
When they challenged him upon the subject, all he would say was,—
“My good friends, you perceive that, there is a great mystery
somewhere, and I do hope that to-night it will be cleared up
satisfactorily.”
With this they were compelled to be satisfied; and now the soft and
sombre shades of evening began to creep over the scene, enveloping all
objects in the dimness and repose of early night.
The noise from the house had ceased, and all was profoundly still. But
more than once Henry fancied he heard footsteps outside the garden.
He mentioned his suspicions to Charles Holland, who immediately said,—
“The same thing has come to my ears.”
“Indeed! Then it must be so; we cannot both of us have merely imagined
such a thing. You may depend that this place is beleaguered in some
way, and that to-night will be productive of events which will throw
a great light upon the affairs connected with this vampyre that have
hitherto baffled conjecture.”
“Hush!” said Charles; “there, again; I am quite confident I heard a
sound as of a broken twig outside the garden-wall. The doctor and the
admiral are in deep discussion about something,—shall we tell them?”
“No; let us listen, as yet.”
They bent all their attention to listening, inclining their ears
towards the ground, and, after a few moments, they felt confident that
more than one footstep was creeping along, as cautiously as possible,
under the garden wall. After a few moments’ consultation, Henry made
up his mind—he being the best acquainted with the localities of the
place—to go and reconnoitre, so he, without saying anything to the
doctor or the admiral, glided from where he was, in the direction of a
part of the fence which he knew he could easily scale.