Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (160 page)

"We
are beaten after all, neighbours."

"I
am not so sure of that," was the reply. "He may now be hidden about,
for he was too far spent to be able to go far; he could not do that, I am
sure."

"I
think not either."

"Might
he not have escaped by means of that ivy, yonder?" said one of the men,
pointing to the plant, as it climbed over the coping-stones of the wall.

"Yes;
it may be possible," said one; "and yet it is very dangerous, if not
certain destruction to get over."

"Oh,
yes; there is no possibility of escape that way. Why, it wouldn't bear a cat,
for there are no nails driven into the wall at this height."

"Never
mind," said another, "we may as well leave no stone unturned, as the
saying is, but at once set about looking out for him."

The
individual who spoke now leant over the coping stone, for some moments, in
silence. He could see nothing, but yet he continued to gaze for some moments.

"Do
you see him?" inquired one.

"No,"
was the answer.

"Ay,
ay, I thought as much," was the reply. "He might as well have got
hold of a corner of the moon, which, I believe, is more likely—a great deal
more likely."

"Hold
still a moment," said the man, who was looking over the edge of the house.

"What's
the matter now? A gnat flew into your eye?"

"No;
but I see him—by Jove, I see him!"

"See
who—see who?"

"Varney,
the vampyre!" shouted the man. "I see him about half-way down
clinging, like a fly, to the wall. Odd zounds! I never saw the like
afore!"

"Hurrah!
after him then, boys!"

"Not
the same way, if you please. Go yourself, and welcome; but I won't go that
way."

"Just
as you please," said the man; "but what's good for the goose is good
for the gander is an old saying, and so is Jack as good as his master."

"So
it may be; but cuss me if you ain't a fool if you attempt that!"

The
man made no reply, but did as Varney had done before, got over the coping
stone, and then laid hold of the ivy; but, whether his weight was heavier than
Varney's, or whether it was that the latter had loosened the hold of the ivy or
not, but he had no sooner left go of the coping stone than the ivy gave way,
and he was precipitated from the height of about fifty feet to the earth—a
dreadful fall!

There
was a pause—no one spoke. The man lay motionless and dead—he had dislocated his
neck!

The
fall had not, however, been without its effect upon Varney, for the man's heels
struck him so forcibly on his head as he fell, that he was stunned, and let go
his hold, and he, too, fell to the earth, but not many feet.

He
soon recovered himself, and was staggering away, when he was assailed by those
above with groans, and curses of all kinds, and then by stones, and tiles, and
whatever the mob could lay their hands upon.

Some
of these struck him, and he was cut about in various places, so that he could
hardly stand.

The
hoots and shouts of the mob above had now attracted those below to the spot
where Sir Francis Varney was trying to escape, but he had not gone far before
the loud yells of those behind him told him that he was again pursued.

Half
dead, and almost wholly spent, unarmed, and defenceless, he scarce knew what to
do; whether to fly, or to turn round and die as a refuge from the greater evil
of endeavouring to prolong a struggle which seemed hopeless. Instinct, however,
urged him on, at all risks, and though he could not go very far, or fast, yet
on he went, with the crowd after him.

"Down
with the vampyre!—seize him—hold him—burn him! he must be down presently, he
can't stand!"

This
gave them new hopes, and rendered Varney's fate almost certain. They renewed
their exertions to overtake him, while he exerted himself anew, and with
surprising agility, considering how he had been employed for more than two
hours.

There
were some trees and hedges now that opposed the progress of both parties. The
height of Sir Francis Varney gave him a great advantage, and, had he been
fresh, he might have shown it to advantage in vaulting over the hedges and
ditches, which he jumped when obliged, and walked through when he could.

Every
now and then, the party in pursuit, who had been behind him some distance, now
they gained on him; however, they kept, every now and then, losing sight of him
among the trees and shrubs, and he made direct for a small wood, hoping that
when there, he should to be able to conceal himself for some time, so as to throw
his pursuers off the track.

They
were well aware of this, for they increased their speed, and one or two swifter
of foot than the others, got a-head of them and cried out aloud as they ran,—

"Keep
up! keep up! he's making for the wood."

"He
can't stop there long; there are too many of us to beat that cover without
finding our game. Push, lads, he's our own now, as sure as we know he's on
a-head."

They
did push on, and came in full sight as they saw Sir Francis enter the wood,
with what speed he could make; but he was almost spent. This was a cheering
sight to them, and they were pretty certain he would not leave the wood in the
state he was then—he must seek concealment.

However,
they were mistaken, for Sir Francis Varney, as soon as he got into the wood,
plunged into the thickest of it, and then paused to gain breath.

"So
far safe," he muttered; "but I have had a narrow escape; they are not
yet done, though, and it will not be safe here long. I must away, and seek
shelter and safety elsewhere, if I can;—curses on the hounds that run yelping
over the fields!"

He
heard the shouts of his pursuers, and prepared to quit the wood when he thought
the first had entered it.

"They
will remain here some time in beating about," he muttered; "that is
the only chance I have had since the pursuit; curse them! I say again. I may
now get free; this delay must save my life, but nothing else will."

He
moved away, and, at a slow and lazy pace, left the wood, and then made his way
across some fields, towards some cottages, that lay on the left.

The
moon yet shone on the fields; he could hear the shouts of the mob, as various
parties went through the wood from one covert to another, and yet unable to
find him.

Then
came a great shout upon his ears, as though they had found out he had left the
wood. This caused him to redouble his speed, and, fearful lest he should be
seen in the moonlight, he leaped over the first fence that he came to, with
almost the last effort he could make, and then staggered in at an open
door—through a passage—into a front parlour, and there fell, faint, and utterly
spent and speechless, at the feet of Flora Bannerworth.

THE RECEPTION OF THE VAMPYRE BY FLORA.—VARNEY SUBDUED.

We
must say that the irruption into the house of the Bannerworths by Sir Francis
Varney, was certainly unpremeditated by him, for he knew not into whose house
he had thus suddenly rushed for refuge from the numerous foes who were pursuing
him with such vengeful ire. It was a strange and singular incident, and one
well calculated to cause the mind to pause before it passed it by, and consider
the means to an end which are sometimes as wide of the mark, as it is in nature
possible to be.

But
truth is stronger than fiction by far, and the end of it was, that, pressed on
all sides by danger, bleeding, faint, and exhausted, he rushed into the first
house he came to, and thus placed himself in the very house of those whom he
had brought to such a state of misfortune.

Flora
Bannerworth was seated at some embroidery, to pass away an hour or so, and thus
get over the tedium of time; she was not thinking, either, upon the unhappy
past; some trifling object or other engaged her attention. But what was her
anguish when she saw a man staggering into the room bleeding, and bearing the
marks of a bloody contest, and sinking at her feet.

Her
astonishment was far greater yet, when she recognised that man to be Sir
Francis Varney.

"Save
me!—save me! Miss Bannerworth, save me!—only you can save me from the ruthless
multitude which follows, crying aloud for my blood."

As he
spoke, he sank down speechless. Flora was so much amazed, not to say terrified,
that she knew not what to do. She saw Sir Francis a suppliant at her feet, a
fugitive from his enemies, who would show him no mercy—she saw all this at a
moment's glance; and yet she had not recovered her speech and presence of mind
enough to enable her to make any reply to him.

"Save
me! Miss Flora Bannerworth, save me!" he again said, raising himself on
his hands. "I am beset, hunted like a wild beast—they seek my life—they
have pursued me from one spot to another, and I have unwittingly intruded upon
you. You will save me: I am sure your kindness and goodness of heart will never
permit me to be turned out among such a crew of blood-thirsty butchers as those
who pursue me are."

"Rise,
Sir Francis Varney," said Flora, after a moment's hesitation; "in
such an extremity as that which you are in, it would be inhuman indeed to
thrust you out among your enemies."

"Oh!
it would," said Varney. "I had thought, until now, I could have faced
such a mob, until I was in this extremity; and then, disarmed and thrown down,
bruised, beaten, and incapable of stemming such a torrent, I fled from one
place to another, till hunted from each, and then instinct alone urged me to
greater exertion than before, and here I am—this is now my last and only
hope."

"Rise,
Sir Francis."

"You
will not let me be torn out and slaughtered like an ox. I am sure you will
not."

"Sir
Francis, we are incapable of such conduct; you have sought refuge here, and
shall find it as far as we are able to afford it to you."

"And
your brother—and—"

"Yes—yes—all
who are here will do the same; but here they come to speak for
themselves."

As
she spoke, Mrs. Bannerworth entered, also Charles Holland, who both started on
seeing the vampyre present, Sir Francis Varney, who was too weak to rise
without assistance.

"Sir
Francis Varney," said Flora, speaking to them as they entered, "has
sought refuge here; his life is in peril, and he has no other hope left; you
will, I am sure, do what can be done for him."

"Mr.
Holland," said Sir Francis, "I am, as you may see by my condition, a
fugitive, and have been beaten almost to death; instinct alone urged me on to
save my life, and I, unknowingly, came in here."

"Rise,
Sir Francis," said Charles Holland; "I am not one who would feel any
pleasure in seeing you become the victim of any brutal mob. I am sure there are
none amongst us who would willingly do so. You have trusted to those who will
not betray you."

"Thank
you," said Sir Francis, faintly. "I thank you; your conduct is noble,
and Miss Bannerworth's especially so."

"Are
you much hurt, Sir Francis?" inquired Charles.

"I
am much hurt, but not seriously or dangerously; but I am weak and
exhausted."

"Let
me assist you to rise," said Charles Holland.

"Thank
you," said Sir Francis, as he accepted of the assistance, and when he
stood up, he found how incapable he really was, for a child might have grappled
with him.

"I
have been sore beset, Mrs. Bannerworth," he said, endeavouring to bow to
that lady; "and I have suffered much ill-usage. I am not in such a plight
as I could wish to be seen in by ladies; but my reasons for coming will be an
excuse for my appearance in such disorder."

"We
will not say anything about that," said Charles Holland; "under the
circumstances, it could not be otherwise."

"It
could not," said Sir Francis, as he took the chair Miss Flora Bannerworth
placed for him.

"I
will not ask you for any explanation as to how this came about; but you need
some restorative and rest."

"I
think I suffer more from exhaustion than anything else. The bruises I have, of
course, are not dangerous."

"Can
you step aside a few moments?" said Mrs. Bannerworth. "I will show
you where you can remove some of those stains, and make yourself more
comfortable."

"Thank
you, madam—thank you. It will be most welcome to me, I assure you."

Sir
Francis rose up, and, with the aid of Charles Holland, he walked to the next
room, where he washed himself, and arranged his dress as well as it would admit
of its being done.

"Mr.
Holland," he said, "I cannot tell you how grateful I feel for this. I
have been hunted from the house where you saw me. From what source they learned
my abode—my place of concealment—I know not; but they found me out."

"I
need hardly say, Sir Francis, that it could not have occurred through me,"
said Charles Holland.

"My
young friend," said Sir Francis, "I am quite sure you were not; and,
moreover, I never, for one moment, suspected you. No, no; some accidental circumstance
alone has been the cause. I have been very cautious—I may say extremely so—but
at the same time, living, as I have, surrounded by enemies on all sides, it is
not to be wondered at that I should be seen by some one, and thus traced to my
lair, whither they followed me at their leisure."

"They
have been but too troublesome in this matter. When they become a little
reasonable, it will be a great miracle; for, when their passions and fears are
excited, there is no end to the extremes they will perpetrate."

"It
is so," said Varney, "as the history of these last few days amply
testifies to me. I could never have credited the extent to which popular
excitement could be carried, and the results it was likely to produce."

"It
is an engine of very difficult control," pursued Charles Holland;
"but what will raise it will not allay it, but add fuel to the fire that
burns so fiercely already."

"True
enough," said Sir Francis.

"If
you have done, will you again step this way?"

Sir
Francis Varney followed Charles Holland into the sitting-room, and sat down
with them, and before him was spread a light supper, with some good wine.

"Eat,
Sir Francis," said Mrs. Bannerworth. "Such a state as that in which
you are, must, of necessity, produce great exhaustion, and you must require
food and drink."

Sir
Francis bowed as well as he was able, and even then, sore and bruised as he
was, fugitive as he had been, he could not forget his courtesy; but it was not
without an effort. His equanimity was, however, much disturbed, by finding
himself in the midst of the Bannerworths.

"I
owe you a relation," he said, "of what occurred to drive me from my
place of concealment."

"We
should like to hear it, if you are not too far fatigued to relate it,"
said Charles.

"I
will. I was sitting at the top of that house in which I sought to hide myself,
when I heard sounds come that were of a very suspicious nature; but did not
believe that it could happen that they had discovered my lurking-place; far
from it; though, of late, I had been habitually cautious and suspicious, yet I
thought I was safe, till I heard the noise of a multitude coming towards me. I
could not be mistaken in it, for the sounds are so peculiar that they are like
nothing else. I heard them coming.

"I
moved not; and when they surrounded the house as far as was practicable, they
gave an immense shout, and made the welkin ring with the sound."

"I
heard a confused noise at a distance," remarked Flora; "but I had no
idea that anything serious was contemplated. I imagined it was some festival
among some trade, or portion of the townspeople, who were shouting from
joy."

"Oh,
dear no," said Sir Francis; "but I am not surprised at the mistake,
because there are such occurrences occasionally; but whenever the mob gained
any advantage upon me they shouted, and when I was able to oppose them with
effect, they groaned at me most horribly."

"The
deuce," said Charles; "the sound, suppose, serves to express their
feelings, and to encourage each other."

"Something
of the sort, I dare say," said Varney: "but at length, after
defending the house with all the desperation that despair imparted to me, I was
compelled to fly from floor to floor, until I had reached the roof; there they
followed me, and I was compelled again to fly. House after house they followed
me to, until I could go no farther," said Varney.

"How
did you escape?"

"Fortunately
I saw some ivy growing and creeping over the coping-stones, and by grasping
that I got over the side, and so let myself down by degrees, as well as I was
able."

"Good
heavens! what a dreadful situation," exclaimed Flora; "it is really
horrible!"

"I
could not do it again, under, I think, any circumstances."

"Not
the same?" said Mrs. Bannerworth.

"I
really doubt if I could," said Varney. "The truth is, the excitement
of the moment was great, and I at that moment thought of nothing but getting
away.

"The
same circumstances, the same fear of death, could hardly be produced in me
again, and I am unable to account for the phenomenon on this occasion."

"Your
escape was very narrow indeed," said Flora; "it makes me shudder to
think of the dangers you have gone through; it is really terrible to think of
it."

"You,"
said Sir Francis, "are young and susceptible, and generous in your
disposition, You can feel for me, and do; but how little I could have expected
it, it is impossible to say; but your sympathy sinks into my mind and causes
such emotions as never can be erased from my soul.

"But
to proceed. You may guess how dreadful was my position, by the fact that the
first man who attempted to get over tore the ivy away and fell, striking me in
his fall; he was killed, and I thrown down and stunned. I then made for the
wood, closely pursued and got into it; then I baffled them: they searched the
wood, and I went through it. I then ran across the country to these houses
here; I got over the fence, and in at the back door."

"Did
they see you come?" inquired Charles Holland.

"I
cannot say, but I think that they did not; I heard them give a loud shout more
than once when on this side of the wood."

"You
did? How far from here were you when you heard the shouts?" inquired Mrs.
Bannerworth.

"I
was close here; and, as I jumped over the fence, I heard them shout again; but
I think they cannot see so far; the night was moonlight, to be sure, but that
is all; the shadow of the hedge, and the distance together, would make it, if
not impossible, at least very improbable."

"That
is very likely," said Mrs. Bannerworth.

"In
that case," said Charles Holland, "you are safe here; for none will
suspect your being concealed here."

"It
is the last place I should myself have thought of," said Varney; "and
I may say the last place I would knowingly have come to; but had I before known
enough of you, I should have been well assured of your generosity, and have
freely come to claim your aid and shelter, which accident has so strangely
brought me to be a candidate for, and which you have so kindly awarded
me."

"The
night is wearing away," said Flora, "and Sir Francis is doubtless
fatigued to an excess; sleep, I dare say, will be most welcome to him."

"It
will indeed, Miss Bannerworth," said Varney; "but I can do that under
any circumstances; do not let me put you to any inconvenience; a chair, and at
any hour, will serve me for sleep."

"We
cannot do for you what we would wish," said Flora, looking at her mother;
"but something better than that, at all events, we can and will provide
for you."