by Oscar Wilde
Something very large and very heavy came bang against the window, sending it all into the room, and nearly smothering the admiral with the fragments. Another shot was then fired, and in came something else, which hit the wall on the opposite side of the room, rebounding from thence on to the doctor, who gave a yell of despair.
After that all was still; the enemy seemed to be satisfied that they had silenced the garrison. And it took the admiral a great deal of kicking and plunging to rescue himself from some superincumbent mass that was upon him, which seemed to him to be a considerable sized tree.
“Call this fair fighting,” he shouted—“getting a man’s legs and arms tangled up like a piece of Indian matting in the branches of a tree? Doctor, I say! hilloa! where are you?”
“I don’t know,” said the doctor; “but there’s somebody getting into the balcony—now we shall be murdered in cold blood!”
“Where’s the pistols?”
“Fired off, of course; you did it yourself.”
Bang came something else into the room, which, from the sound it made, closely resembled a brick, and after that somebody jumped clean into the centre of the floor, and then, after rolling and writhing about in a most singular manner, slowly got up, and with various preliminary hiccups, said—
“Come on, you lubbers, many of you as like. I’m the tar for all weathers.”
“Why, damn me,” said the admiral, “it’s Jack Pringle.”
“Yes, it is,” said Jack, who was not sufficiently sober to recognise the admiral’s voice. “I sees as how you’ve heard of me. Come on, all of you.”
“Why, Jack, you scoundrel,” roared the admiral, “how came you here? Don’t you know me? I’m your admiral, you horse-marine.”
“Eh?” said Jack. “Ay—ay, sir, how came you here?”
“How came you, you villain?”
“Boarded the enemy.”
“The enemy who you boarded was us; and hang me if I don’t think you haven’t been pouring broadsides into us, while the enemy were scudding before the wind in another direction.”
“Lor!” said Jack.
“Explain, you scoundrel, directly—explain.”
“Well, that’s only reasonable,” said Jack; and giving a heavier lurch than usual, he sat down with a great bounce upon the floor. “You see it’s just this here—when I was a coming of course I heard, just as I was a going, that ere as made me come all in consequence of somebody a going, or for to come, you see, admiral.”
“Doctor,” cried the admiral, in a great rage, “just help me out of this entanglement of branches, and I’ll rid the world from an encumbrance by smashing that fellow.”
“Smash yourself!” said Jack. “You know you’re drunk.”
“My dear admiral,” said Mr. Chillingworth, laying hold of one of his legs, and pulling it very hard, which brought his face into a lot of brambles, “we’re making a mess of this business.”
“Murder!” shouted the admiral; “you are indeed. Is that what you call pulling me out of it? You’ve stuck me fast.”
“I’ll manage it,” said Jack. “I’ve seed him in many a scrape, and I’ve seed him out. You pull me, doctor, and I’ll pull him. Yo hoy!”
Jack laid hold of the admiral by the scuff of the neck, and the doctor laid hold of Jack round the waist, the consequence of which was that he was dragged out from the branches of the tree, which seemed to have been thrown into the room, and down fell both Jack and the doctor.
At this instant there was a strange hissing sound heard below the window; then there was a sudden, loud report, as if a hand-grenade had gone off. A spectral sort of light gleamed into the room, and a tall, gaunt-looking figure rose slowly up in the balcony.
“Beware of the dead!” said a voice. “Let the living contend with the living, the dead with the dead. Beware!”
The figure disappeared, as did also the strange, spectral-looking light. A death-like silence ensued, and the cold moonbeams streamed in upon the floor of the apartment, as if nothing had occurred to disturb the wrapped repose and serenity of the scene.
CHAPTER LIX.
THE WARNING.—THE NEW PLAN OF OPERATION.—THE INSULTING MESSAGE FROM VARNEY.
So much of the night had been consumed in these operations, that by the time they were over, and the three personages who lay upon the floor of what might be called the haunted chamber of Bannerworth Hall, even had they now been disposed to seek repose, would have had a short time to do so before the daylight would have streamed in upon them, and roused them to the bustle of waking existence.
It may be well believed what a vast amount of surprise came over the three persons in that chamber at the last little circumstance that had occurred in connection with the night’s proceedings.
There was nothing which had preceded that, that did not resemble a genuine attack upon the premises; but about that last mysterious appearance, with its curious light, there was quite enough to bother the admiral and Jack Pringle to a considerable effect, whatever might be the effect upon Mr. Chillingworth, whose profession better enabled him to comprehend, chemically, what would produce effects that, no doubt, astonished them amazingly.
What with his intoxication and the violent exercise he had taken, Jack was again thoroughly prostrate; while the admiral could not have looked more astonished had the evil one himself appeared in propria persona and given him notice to quit the premises.
He was, however, the first to speak, and the words he spoke were addressed to Jack, to whom he said—
“Jack, you lubber, what do you think of all that?”
Jack, however, was too far gone even to say “Ay, ay, sir;” and Mr. Chillingworth, slowly getting himself up to his feet, approached the admiral.
“It’s hard to say so much, Admiral Bell,” he said, “but it strikes me that whatever object this Sir Francis Varney, or Varney, the vampire, has in coming into Bannerworth Hall, it is, at all events, of sufficient importance to induce him to go any length, and not to let even a life to stand in the way of its accomplishment.”
“Well, it seems so,” said the admiral; “for I’ll be hanged if I can make head or tail of the fellow.”
“If we value our personal safety, we shall hesitate to continue a perilous adventure which I think can end only in defeat, if not in death.”
“But we don’t value our personal safety,” said the admiral. “We’ve got into the adventure, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t carry it out. It may be growing a little serious; but what of that? For the sake of that young girl, Flora Bannerworth, as well as for the sake of my nephew, Charles Holland, I will see the end of this affair, let it be what it may; but mind you, Mr. Chillingworth, if one man chooses to go upon a desperate service, that’s no reason why he should ask another to do so.”
“I understand you,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “but, having commenced the adventure with you, I am not the man to desert you in it. We have committed a great mistake.”
“A mistake! how?”
“Why, we ought to have watched outside the house, instead of within it. There can be no doubt that if we had lain in wait in the garden, we should have been in a better position to have accomplished our object.”
“Well, I don’t know, doctor, but it seems to me that if Jack Pringle hadn’t made such a fool of himself, we should have managed very well: and I don’t know now how he came to behave in the manner he did.”
“Nor I,” said Mr. Chillingworth. “But, at all events, so far as the result goes, it is quite clear that any further watching, in this house, for the appearance of Sir Francis Varney, will now be in vain. He has nothing to do now but to keep quiet until we are tired out—a fact, concerning which he can easily obtain information—and then he immediately, without trouble, walks into the premises, to his own satisfaction.”
“But what the deuce can he want upon the premises?”
“That question, admiral, induces me to think that we have made another mistake. We ought not to have attempted to surprise Sir Francis Varney in coming into Bannerworth Hall, but to catch him as he came out.”
“Well, there’s something in that,” said the admiral. “This is a pretty night’s business, to be sure. However, it can’t be helped, it’s done, and there’s an end on’t. And now, as the morning is near at hand, I certainly must confess I should like to get some breakfast, although I don’t like that we should all leave the house together”
“Why,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “as we have now no secret to keep with regard to our being here, because the principal person we wished to keep it from is aware of it, I think we cannot do better than send at once for Henry Bannerworth, tell him of the non-success of the effort we have made in his behalf, and admit him at once into our consultation of what is next to be done.”
“Agreed, agreed, I think that, without troubling him, we might have captured this Varney; but that’s over now, and, as soon as Jack Pringle chooses to wake up again, I’ll send him to the Bannerworths with a message.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said Jack, suddenly; “all’s right.”
“Why, you vagabond,” said the admiral, “I do believe you’ve been shamming!”
“Shamming what?”
“Being drunk, to be sure.”
“Lor! couldn’t do it,” said Jack; “I’ll just tell you how it was. I wakened up and found myself shut in somewhere; and, as I couldn’t get out of the door, I thought I’d try the window, and there I did get out. Well, perhaps I wasn’t quite the thing, but I sees two people in the garden a looking up at this ere room; and, to be sure, I thought it was you and the doctor. Well, it warn’t no business of mine to interfere, so I seed one of you climb up the balcony, as I thought, and then, after which, come down head over heels with such a run, that I thought you must have broken your neck. Well, after that you fired a couple of shots in, and then, after that, I made sure it was you, admiral.”
“And what made you make sure of that?”
“Why, because you scuttled away like an empty tar-barrel in full tide.”
“Confound you, you scoundrel!”
“Well, then, confound you, if it comes to that. I thought I was doing you good sarvice, and that the enemy was here, when all the while it turned out as you was and the enemy wasn’t, and the enemy was outside and you wasn’t.”
“But who threw such a confounded lot of things into the room?”
“Why, I did, of course; I had but one pistol, and, when I fired that off, I was forced to make up a broadside with what I could.”
“Was there ever such a stupid!” said the admiral; “doctor, doctor, you talked of us making two mistakes; but you forgot a third and worse one still, and that was the bringing such a lubberly son of a sea-cook into the place as this fellow.”
“You’re another,” said Jack; “and you knows it.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “it’s no use continuing it, admiral; Jack, in his way, did, I dare say, what he considered for the best.”
“I wish he’d do, then, what he considers for the worst, next time.”
“Perhaps I may,” said Jack, “and then you will be served out above a bit. What ‘ud become of you, I wonder, if it wasn’t for me? I’m as good as a mother to you, you knows that, you old babby.”
“Come, come, admiral,” said Mr. Chillingworth: “come down to the garden-gate; it is now just upon daybreak, and the probability is that we shall not be long there before we see some of the country people, who will get us anything we require in the shape of refreshment; and as for Jack, he seems quite sufficiently recovered now to go to the Bannerworths’.”
“Oh! I can go,” said Jack; “as for that, the only thing as puts me out of the way is the want of something to drink. My constitution won’t stand what they call temperance living, or nothing with the chill off.”
“Go at once,” said the admiral, “and tel! Mr. Henry Bannerworth that we are here; but do not tell him before his sister or his mother. If you meet anybody on the road, send them here with a cargo of victuals. It strikes me that a good, comfortable breakfast wouldn’t be at all amiss, doctor.”
“How rapidly the day dawns,” remarked Mr. Chillingworth, as he walked into the balcony from whence Varney, the vampire, had attempted to make good his entrance to the Hall.
Just as he spoke, and before Jack Pringle could get half way over to the garden gate, there came a tremendous ring at the bell which was suspended over it.
A view of that gate could not be commanded from the window of the haunted apartment, so that they could not see who it was that demanded admission.
As Jack Pringle was going down at any rate, they saw no necessity for personal interference; and he proved that there was not, by presently returning with a note which he said had been thrown over the gate by a lad, who then scampered off with all the speed he could make.
The note, exteriorly, was well got up, and had all the appearance of great care having been bestowed upon its folding and sealing.
It was duly addressed to “Admiral Bell, Bannerworth Hall,” and the word “immediate” was written at one corner.
The admiral, after looking at it for some time with very great wonder, came at last to the conclusion that probably to open it would be the shortest way of arriving at a knowledge of who had sent it, and he accordingly did so.
The note was as follows:—
“My dear sir—
“Feeling assured that you cannot be surrounded with those means and appliances for comfort in the Hall, in its now deserted condition, which you have a right to expect, and so eminently deserve, I flatter myself that I shall receive an answer in the affirmative, when I request the favour of your company to breakfast, as well as that of your learned friend. Mr. Chillingworth.
“In consequence of a little accident which occurred last evening to my own residence, I am, ad interim, until the county build it up for me again, staying at a house called Walmesley Lodge, where I shall expect you with all the impatience of one soliciting an honour, and hoping that it will be conferred upon him.
“I trust that any little difference of opinion on other subjects will not interfere to prevent the harmony of our morning’s meal together.
“Believe me to be, my dear sir, with the greatest possible consideration, your very obedient, humble servant,
“FRANCIS VARNEY.”
The admiral gasped again, and looked at Mr. Chillingworth, and then at the note, and then at Mr. Chillingworth again, as if he was perfectly bewildered.
“That’s about the coolest piece of business,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “that ever I heard of.”
“Hang me,” said the admiral, “if I sha’n’t like the fellow at last. It is cool, and I like it because it is cool. Where’s my hat? where’s my stick!”
“What are you going to do?”
“Accept his invitation, to be sure, and breakfast with him; and, my learned friend, as he calls you, I hope you’ll come likewise. I’ll take the fellow at his word. By fair means, or by foul, I’ll know what he wants here; and why he persecutes this family, for whom I have an attachment; and what hand he has in the disappearance of my nephew, Charles Holland; for, as sure as there’s a Heaven above us, he’s at the bottom of that affair. Where is this Walmesley Lodge?”
“Just in the neighbourhood; but—”
“Come on, then; come on.”
“But, really, admiral, you don’t mean to say you’ll breakfast with—with—”
“A vampire? Yes, I would, and will, and mean to do so. Here, Jack, you needn’t go to Mr. Bannerworth’s yet. Come, my learned friend, let’s take Time by the forelock.”
CHAPTER LX.
THE INTERRUPTED BREAKFAST AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY’S.
Notwithstand
ing all Mr. Chillingworth could say to the contrary, the admiral really meant to breakfast with Sir Francis Varney.
The worthy doctor could not for some time believe but that the admiral must be joking, when he talked in such a strain; but he was very soon convinced to the contrary, by the latter actually walking out and once more asking him, Mr. Chillingworth, if he meant to go with him, or not.
This was conclusive, so the doctor said—
“Well, admiral, this appears to me rather a mad sort of freak; but, as I have begun the adventure with you, I will conclude it with you.”
“That’s right,” said the admiral; “I’m not deceived in you, doctor; so come along. Hang these vampires, I don’t know how to tackle them, myself. I think, after all, Sir Francis Varney is more in your line than line is in mine.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, couldn’t you persuade him he’s ill, and wants some physic? That would soon settle him, you know.”
“Settle him!” said Mr. Chillingworth; “I beg to say that if I did give him any physic, the dose would be much to his advantage; but, however, my opinion is, that this invitation to breakfast is, after all, a mere piece of irony; and that, when we get to Walmesley Lodge, we shall not see anything of him; on the contrary, we shall probably find it’s a hoax.”
“I certainly shouldn’t like that, but still it’s worth the trying. The fellow has really behaved himself in such an extraordinary manner, that, if I can make terms with him I will; and there’s one thing, you know, doctor, that I think we may say we have discovered.”
“And what may that be? Is it, not to make too sure of a vampire, even when you have him by the leg?”
“No, that ain’t it, though that’s a very good thing in its way: but it is just this, that Sir Francis Varney, whoever he is and whatever he is, is after Bannerworth Hall, and not the Bannerworth family. If you recollect, Mr. Chillingworth, in our conversation, I have always insisted upon that fact.”
“You have; and it seems to me to be completely verified by the proceedings of the night. There, then, admiral, is the great mystery—what can he want at Bannerworth Hall that makes him take such a world of trouble, and run so many fearful risks in trying to get at it?”