Vampires 3

by J. R. Rain

  "Yes, they are not light; and the distance is by far too great to make walking agreeable and easy; the wind blows strong, and the rain appears to be coming up afresh, and, by the time we have done, we shall find the ground will become slippy, and bad for walking."

  "Can we have a conveyance?"

  "No, no," said the doctor; "we could, but we must trouble the turnpike man; besides, there is a shorter way across some fields, which will be better and safer."

  "Well, well," said Charles Holland; "I do not mind which way it is, as long as you are satisfied yourselves. The horse and cart would have settled it all better, and done it quicker, besides carrying the tools."

  "Very true, very true," said the doctor; "all that is not without its weight, and you shall choose which way you would have it done; for my part, I am persuaded the expedition on foot is to be preferred for two reasons."

  "And what are they?"

  "The first is, we cannot obtain a horse and cart without giving some detail as to what you want it for, which is awkward, on account of the hour. Moreover, you could not get one at this moment in time."

  "That ought to settle the argument," said Henry Bannerworth; "an impossibility, under the circumstances, at once is a clincher, and one that may be allowed to have some weight."

  "You may say that," said Charles.

  "Besides which, you must go a greater distance, and that, too, along the main road, which is objectionable."

  "Then we are agreed," said Charles Holland, "and the sooner we are off the better; the night grows more and more gloomy every hour, and more inclement."

  "It will serve our purpose the better," said Chillingworth. "What we do, we may as well do now."

  "Come with me to the garden," said Henry, "and we will take the tools. We can go out the back way; that will preclude any observation being made."

  They all now left the apartment, wrapped up in great overcoats, to secure themselves against the weather, and also for the purpose of concealing themselves from any chance passenger.

  In the garden they found the tools they required, and having chosen them, they took a lantern, with the mean of getting a light when they got to their journey's end, which they would do in less than an hour.

  After having duly inspected the state of their efficiency, they started away on their expedition.

  The night had turned gloomy and windy; heavy driving masses of clouds obscured the moon, which only now and then was to be seen, when the clouds permitted her to peep out. At the same time, there were many drifting showers, which lasted but a few minutes, and then the clouds were carried forwards by some sudden gust of wind so that, altogether, it was a most uncomfortable night as well could be imagined.

  However, there was no time to lose, and, under all circumstances, they could not have chosen a better night for their purpose than the one they had; indeed, they could not desire another night to be out on such a purpose.

  They spoke not while they were within sight of the houses, though at the distance of many yards, and, at the same time, there was a noise through the trees that would have carried their voices past every object, however close; but they would make assurance doubly sure.

  "I think we are fairly away now," said Henry, "from all fear of being recognized."

  "To be sure you are. Who would recognize us now, if we were met?"

  "No one."

  "I should think not; and, moreover, there would be but small chance of any evil coming from it, even if it were to happen that we were to be seen and known. Nobody knows what we are going to do, and, if they did, there is no illegality in the question."

  "Certainly not; but we wish the matter to be quite secret, therefore, we don't wish to be seen by any one while upon this adventure."

  "Exactly," said Chillingworth; "and, if you'll follow my guidance, you shall meet nobody."

  "We will trust you, most worthy doctor. What have you to say for our confidence?"

  "That you will find it is not misplaced."

  Just as the doctor had uttered the last sound, there came a hearty laugh upon the air, which, indeed, sounded but a few paces in advance of them. The wind blew towards them, and would, therefore, cause the sounds to come to them, but not to go away in the direction they were going.

  The whole party came to a sudden stand still; there was something so strange in hearing a laugh at that moment, especially as Chillingworth was, at that moment, boasting of his knowledge of the ground and the certainty of their meeting no one.

  "What is that?" inquired Henry.

  "Some one laughing, I think," said Chillingworth.

  "Of that there can be little or no doubt," said Charles Holland; "and, as people do not usually laugh by themselves so heartily, it may be presumed there are, at least, two."

  "No doubt of it."

  "And, moreover, their purpose cannot be a very good one, at this hour of the night, and of such a night, too. I think we had better be cautious."

  "Hush! Follow me silently," said Henry.

  As he spoke, he moved cautiously from the spot where he stood, and, at the same time, he was followed by the whole party, until they came to the hedge which skirted a lane, in which were seated three men.

  They had a sort of tent erected, and that was hung upon a part of the hedge which was to windward of them, so that it sheltered them from wind and rain.

  Henry and Chillingworth both peeped over the bank, and saw them seated beneath this kind of canopy. They were shabby, gipsy-looking men, who might be something else—sheep-stealers, or horse-stealers, in fact, anything, even to beggars.

  "I say, Jack," said one; "it's no bottle to-night."

  "No; there's nobody about these parts to-night. We are safe, and so are they."

  "Exactly."

  "Besides, you see, those who do happen to be out are not worth talking to."

  "No cash."

  "None, not enough to pay turnpike for a walking-slick, at the most."

  "Besides, it does us no good to take a few shillings from a poor wretch, who has more in family than he has shillings in pocket."

  "Ay, you are right, quite right. I don't like it myself, I don't; besides that, there's fresh risk in every man you stop, and these poor fellows will fight hard for a few shillings, and there is no knowing what an unlucky blow may do for a man."

  "That is very true. Has anything been done to-night?"

  "Nothing," said one.

  "Only three half crowns," said the other; "that is the extent of the common purse to-night."

  "And I," said the third, "I have got a bottle of bad gin from the Cat and Cabbage-stump."

  "How did you manage it?"

  "Why, this way. I went in, and had some beer, and you know I can give a long yarn when I want; but it wants only a little care to deceive these knowing countrymen, so I talked and talked, until they got quite chatty, and then I put the gin in my pocket."

  "Good."

  "Well, then, the loaf and beef I took out of the safe as I came by, and I dare say they know they have lost it by this time."

  "Yes, and so do we. I expect the gin will help to digest the beef, so we mustn't complain of the goods."

  "No; give us another glass, Jim."

  Jim held the glass towards him, when the doctor, animated by the spirit of mischief, took a good sized pebble, and threw it into the glass, smashing it, and spilling the contents.

  In a moment there was a change of scene; the men were all terrified, and started to their feet, while a sudden gust of wind caused their light to go out; at the same time their tent-cloth was thrown down by the wind, and fell across their heads.

  "Come along," said the doctor.

  There was no need of saying so, for in a moment the three were as if animated by one spirit, and away they scudded across the fields, with the speed of a race horse.

  In a few minutes they were better than half a mile away from the spot.

  "In absence of all authentic information," said the doctor, speaking as well a
s he could, and blowing prodigiously between each word, as though he were fetching breath all the way from his heels, "I think I we may conclude we are safe from them. We ought to thank our stars we came across them in the way we did."

  "But, doctor, what in the name of Heaven induced you to make such a noise, to frighten them, in fact, and to tell them some one was about?"

  "They were too much terrified to tell whether it was one, or fifty. By this time they are out of the county; they knew what they were talking about."

  "And perhaps we may meet them on the road where we are going, thinking it a rare lonely spot where they can hide, and no chance of their being found out."

  "No," said the doctor; "they will not go to such a place; it has by far too bad a name for even such men as those to go near, much less stop in."

  "I can hardly think that," said Charles Holland, "for these fellows are too terrified for their personal safety, to think of the superstitious fears with which a place may be regarded; and these men, in such a place as the one you speak of, they will be at home."

  "Well, well, rather than be done, we must fight for it; and when you come to consider we have one pick and two shovels, we shall be in full force."

  "Well said, doctor; how far have we to go?"

  "Not more than a quarter of a mile."

  They pursued their way through the fields, and under the hedge-rows, until they came to a gate, where they stopped awhile, and began to consult and to listen.

  "A few yards up here, on the left," said the doctor; "I know the spot; besides, there is a particular mark. Now, then, are you all ready?"

  "Yes, all."

  "Here," said the doctor, pointing out the marks by which the spot might be recognized; "here is the spot, and I think we shall not be half a foot out of our reckoning."

  "Then let us begin instanter," said Henry, as he seized hold of the pickaxe, and began to loosen the earth by means of the sharp end.

  "That will do for the present," said Chillingworth; "now let me and Charles take a turn with our shovels, and you will get on again presently. Throw the earth up on the bank in one heap, so that we can put it on again without attracting any attention to the spot by its being left in clods and uneven."

  "Exactly," said Henry, "else the body will be discovered."

  They began to shovel away, and continued to do so, after it had been picked up, working alternately, until at length Charles stuck his pick-axe into something soft, and upon pulling it up, he found it was the body.

  A dreadful odour now arose from the spot, and they were at no loss to tell where the body lay. The pick-axe had stuck into the deceased's ribs and clothing, and thus lifted it out of its place.

  "Here it is," said the doctor; "but I needn't tell you that; the charnel-house smell is enough to convince you of the fact of where it is."

  "I think so; just show a light upon the subject, doctor, and then we can see what we are about—do you mind, doctor—you have the management of the lantern, you know?"

  "Yes, yes," said Chillingworth; "I see you have it—don't be in a hurry, but do things deliberately and coolly whatever you do—you will not be so liable to make mistakes, or to leave anything undone."

  "There will be nothing of any use to you here, doctor, in the way of dissection, for the flesh is one mass of decay. What a horrible sight, to be sure!"

  "It is; but hasten the search."

  "Well, I must; though, to confess the truth, I'd sooner handle anything than this."

  "It is not the most pleasant thing in the world, for there is no knowing what may be the result—what creeping thing has made a home of it."

  "Don't mention anything about it."

  Henry and Charles Holland now began to search the pockets of the clothes of the dead body, in one of which was something hard, that felt like a parcel.

  "What have you got there?" said Chillingworth, as he held his lantern up so that the light fell upon the ghastly object that they were handling.

  "I think it is the prize," said Charles Holland; "but we have not got it out yet, though I dare say it won't be long first, if this wind will but hold good for about five minutes, and keep the stench down."

  They now tore open the packet and pulled out the papers, which appeared to have been secreted upon his person.

  "Be sure there are none on any other part of the body," said Chillingworth, "because what you do now, you had better do well, and leave nothing to after thought, because it is frequently impracticable."

  "The advice is good," said Henry, who made a second search, but found nothing.

  "We had better re-bury him," said the doctor; "it had better be done cleanly. Well, it is a sad hole for a last resting-place, and yet I do not know that it matters—it is all a matter of taste—the fashion of the class, or the particular custom of the country."

  There was but little to be said against such an argument, though the custom of the age had caused them to look upon it more as a matter of feeling than in such a philosophical sense as that in which the doctor had put it.

  "Well, there he is now—shovel the earth in, Charles," said Henry Bannerworth, as he himself set the example, which was speedily and vigorously followed by Charles Holland, when they were not long before the earth was thrown in and covered up with care, and trodden down so that it should not appear to be moved.

  "This will do, I think," said Henry.

  "Yes; it is not quite the same, but I dare say no one will try to make any discoveries in this place; besides, if the rain continues to come down very heavy, why, it will wash much of it away, and it will make it look all alike."

  There was little inducement to hover about the spot, but Henry could not forbear holding up the papers to the light of the lantern to ascertain what they were.

  "Are they all right?" inquired the doctor.

  "Yes," replied Henry, "yes. The Dearbrook estate. Oh! yes; they are the papers I am in want of."

  "It is singularly fortunate, at least, to be successful in securing them. I am very glad a living person has possession of them, else it would have been very difficult to have obtained it from them."

  "So it would; but now homeward is the word, doctor; and on my word there is reason to be glad, for the rain is coming on very fast now, and there is no moon at all—we had better step out."

  They did, for the three walked as fast as the nature of the soil would permit them, and the darkness of the night.

  _____________

  CHAPTER LXXXIX.

  TELLS WHAT BECAME OF THE SECOND VAMPYRE WHO SOUGHT VARNEY.

  We left the Hungarian nobleman swimming down the stream; he swam slowly, and used but little exertion in doing so. He appeared to use his hands only as a means of assistance.

  The stream carried him onwards, and he aided himself so far that he kept the middle of the stream, and floated along.

  Where the stream was broad and shallow, it sometimes left him a moment or two, without being strong enough to carry him onwards; then he would pause, as if gaining strength, and finally he would, when he had rested, and the water came a little faster, and lifted him, make a desperate plunge, and swim forward, until he again came in deep water, and then he went slowly along with the stream, as he supported himself.