“Ruth! What is the matter?”
“Oh, that huge bat—that terrible bat with the fiery eyes! Drive him away
from me! Don’t let him get me! Please! _Please!_”
I tried to soothe her in my arms. She looked up, her eyes distended with
terror.
“There he is—right behind you! Oh, don’t let him get me! Please don’t let
him get me!”
I looked back, but could see nothing resembling a bat. The armed men
stood around us in a circle.
“There is no bat behind me,” I said. “You are overwrought. Don’t be
frightened.”
“But there _is_ a bat. I can _see_ him. He is flying around us in a
circle now. Don’t you see him flying there?” and she described an arc
with her hand. “You men have guns. Shoot him. Drive him away.”
Glitch spoke. “It’s der vampire again. Ve’ll put a schtop to dis business
right now. Come on, men.”
We started back to the grove. I was nonplussed—mystified. Perhaps there
was such a thing as a vampire, after all. But no, that could not be. She
was only the victim of overwrought nerves.
Once more we stood beside the grave. Two men were screwing down the
coffin lid. The three with the stake and sledges stood ready. I saw that
Miss Randall was trembling with the cold, for she had come out without a
wrap, and, removing my coat, I placed it around her.
The professor stood at the foot of the grave, looking down calmly at the
men. He appeared almost unconcerned.
The stake was placed on the spot calculated to be directly above the left
breast of my uncle, and the man nearest me raised his sledge to strike.