Varney the Vampire 2(35)

 

"Death and the devil!" said the admiral, breaking from the grasp of Mr. Chillingworth.

 

"Ay," said Jack, "you'll come to 'em both one of these days, old cock, and no mistake."

 

"I'll have his life, I'll have his life," roared the admiral.

 

"Nay, nay, sir," said Mr. Chillingworth, catching the admiral round the waist. "My dear sir, recollect, now, if I may venture to advise you, Admiral Bell, there's a lot of that fiery hollands you know, in the next room; set firm down to that, and finish him off. I'll warrant him, he'll be quiet enough."

 

"What's that you say?" cried Jack--"hollands!--who's got any?--next to rum and Elizabeth Baker, if I has an affection, it's hollands."

 

"Jack!" said the admiral.

 

"Ay, ay, sir!" said Jack, instinctively.

 

"Come this way."

 

Jack staggered after him, and they all reached the room where the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth had been sitting before the alarm.

 

"There!" said the admiral, putting the light upon the table, and pointing to the bottle; "what do you think of that?"

 

"I never thinks under such circumstances," said Jack. "Here's to the wooden walls of old England!"

 

He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at last, over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless state of intoxication on the floor.

 

"So far, so good," said the admiral. "He's out of the way, at all events."

 

"I'll just loosen his neckcloth," said Mr. Chillingworth, "and then we'll go and sit somewhere else; and I should recommend that, if anywhere, we take up our station in that chamber, once Flora's, where the mysterious panelled portrait hangs, that bears so strong a resemblance to Varney, the vampyre."

 

"Hush!" said the admiral. "What's that?"

 

They listened for a moment intently; and then, distinctly, upon the gravel path outside the window, they heard a footstep, as if some person were walking along, not altogether heedlessly, but yet without any very great amount of caution or attention to the noise he might make.

 

"Hist!" said the doctor. "Not a word. They come."

 

"What do you say they for?" said the admiral.

 

"Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more of Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the light."

 

"Yes, yes--that'll do. The moon has risen; see how it streams through the chinks of the shutters."

 

"No, no--it's not in that direction, or our light would have betrayed us. Do you not see the beams come from that half glass-door leading to the greenhouse?"

 

"Yes; and there's the footstep again, or another."

 

Tramp, tramp came a footfall again upon the gravel path, and, as before, died away upon their listening ears.

 

"What do you say now," said Mr. Chillingworth--"are there not two?"

 

"If they were a dozen," said the admiral, "although we have lost one of our force, I would tackle them. Let's creep on through the rooms in the direction the footsteps went."

 

"My life on it," said Mr. Chillingworth as they left the apartment, "if this be Varney, he makes for that apartment where Flora slept, and which he knows how to get admission to. I've studied the house well, admiral, and to get to that window any one from here outside must take a considerable round. Come on--we shall be beforehand."

 

"A good idea--a good idea. Be it so."

 

Just allowing themselves sufficient light to guide them on the way from the lantern, they hurried on with as much precipitation as the intricacies of the passage would allow, nor halted till they had reached the chamber were hung the portrait which bore so striking and remarkable a likeness to Varney, the vampyre.

 

They left the lamp outside the door, so that not even a straggling beam from it could betray that there were persons on the watch; and then, as quietly as foot could fall, they took up their station among the hangings of the antique bedstead, which has been before alluded to in this work as a remarkable piece of furniture appertaining to that apartment.

 

"Do you think," said the admiral, "we've distanced them?"

 

"Certainly we have. It's unlucky that the blind of the window is down."

 

"Is it? By Heaven, there's a d----d strange-looking shadow creeping over it."

 

Mr. Chillingworth looked almost with suspended breath. Even he could not altogether get rid of a tremulous feeling, as he saw that the shadow of a human form, apparently of very large dimensions, was on the outside, with the arms spread out, as if feeling for some means of opening the window.