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) (65 page)

THE ALARM—THE PISTOL SHOT—THE PURSUIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

Lights
flashed about the building, and various room doors opened; voices called one to
the other. There was an universal stir and commotion among the inhabitants.

"Did
you hear a scream, Harry?" asked a young man, half-dressed, as he walked
into the chamber of another about his own age.

"I
did—where was it?"

"God
knows. I dressed myself directly."

"All
is still now."

"Yes;
but unless I was dreaming there was a scream."

"We
could not both dream there was. Where did you think it came from?"

"It
burst so suddenly upon my ears that I cannot say."

There
was a tap now at the door of the room where these young men were, and a female
voice said,—

"For
God's sake, get up!"

"We
are up," said both the young men, appearing.

"Did
you hear anything?"

"Yes,
a scream."

"Oh,
search the house—search the house; where did it come from—can you tell?"

"Indeed
we cannot, mother."

Another
person now joined the party. He was a man of middle age, and, as he came up to
them, he said,—

"Good
God! what is the matter?"

Scarcely
had the words passed his lips, than such a rapid succession of shrieks came
upon their ears, that they felt absolutely stunned by them. The elderly lady,
whom one of the young men had called mother, fainted, and would have fallen to
the floor of the corridor in which they all stood, had she not been promptly
supported by the last comer, who himself staggered, as those piercing cries
came upon the night air. He, however, was the first to recover, for the young
men seemed paralysed.

"Henry,"
he cried, "for God's sake support your mother. Can you doubt that these
cries come from Flora's room?"

The
young man mechanically supported his mother, and then the man who had just
spoken darted back to his own bed-room, from whence he returned in a moment
with a pair of pistols, and shouting,—

"Follow
me, who can!" he bounded across the corridor in the direction of the antique
apartment, from whence the cries proceeded, but which were now hushed.

That
house was built for strength, and the doors were all of oak, and of
considerable thickness. Unhappily, they had fastenings within, so that when the
man reached the chamber of her who so much required help, he was helpless, for
the door was fast.

"Flora!
Flora!" he cried; "Flora, speak!"

All
was still.

"Good
God!" he added; "we must force the door."

"I
hear a strange noise within," said the young man, who trembled violently.

"And
so do I. What does it sound like?"

"I
scarcely know; but it nearest resembles some animal eating, or sucking some
liquid."

"What
on earth can it be? Have you no weapon that will force the door? I shall go mad
if I am kept here."

"I
have," said the young man. "Wait here a moment."

He
ran down the staircase, and presently returned with a small, but powerful, iron
crow-bar.

"This
will do," he said.

"It
will, it will.—Give it to me."

"Has
she not spoken?"

"Not
a word. My mind misgives me that something very dreadful must have happened to
her."

"And
that odd noise!"

"Still
goes on. Somehow, it curdles the very blood in my veins to hear it."

The
man took the crow-bar, and with some difficulty succeeded in introducing it
between the door and the side of the wall—still it required great strength to
move it, but it did move, with a harsh, crackling sound.

"Push
it!" cried he who was using the bar, "push the door at the same
time."

The
younger man did so. For a few moments the massive door resisted. Then,
suddenly, something gave way with a loud snap—it was a part of the lock,—and
the door at once swung wide open.

How
true it is that we measure time by the events which happen within a given space
of it, rather than by its actual duration.

To
those who were engaged in forcing open the door of the antique chamber, where
slept the young girl whom they named Flora, each moment was swelled into an
hour of agony; but, in reality, from the first moment of the alarm to that when
the loud cracking noise heralded the destruction of the fastenings of the door,
there had elapsed but very few minutes indeed.

"It
opens—it opens," cried the young man.

"Another
moment," said the stranger, as he still plied the crowbar—"another
moment, and we shall have free ingress to the chamber. Be patient."

This
stranger's name was Marchdale; and even as he spoke, he succeeded in throwing
the massive door wide open, and clearing the passage to the chamber.

To
rush in with a light in his hand was the work of a moment to the young man
named Henry; but the very rapid progress he made into the apartment prevented
him from observing accurately what it contained, for the wind that came in from
the open window caught the flame of the candle, and although it did not
actually extinguish it, it blew it so much on one side, that it was
comparatively useless as a light.

"Flora—Flora!"
he cried.

Then
with a sudden bound something dashed from off the bed. The concussion against
him was so sudden and so utterly unexpected, as well as so tremendously
violent, that he was thrown down, and, in his fall, the light was fairly
extinguished.

All
was darkness, save a dull, reddish kind of light that now and then, from the
nearly consumed mill in the immediate vicinity, came into the room. But by that
light, dim, uncertain, and flickering as it was, some one was seen to make for
the window.

Henry,
although nearly stunned by his fall, saw a figure, gigantic in height, which
nearly reached from the floor to the ceiling. The other young man, George, saw
it, and Mr. Marchdale likewise saw it, as did the lady who had spoken to the
two young men in the corridor when first the screams of the young girl awakened
alarm in the breasts of all the inhabitants of that house.

The
figure was about to pass out at the window which led to a kind of balcony, from
whence there was an easy descent to a garden.

Before
it passed out they each and all caught a glance of the side-face, and they saw
that the lower part of it and the lips were dabbled in blood. They saw, too,
one of those fearful-looking, shining, metallic eyes which presented so
terrible an appearance of unearthly ferocity.

No
wonder that for a moment a panic seized them all, which paralysed any exertions
they might otherwise have made to detain that hideous form.

But
Mr. Marchdale was a man of mature years; he had seen much of life, both in this
and in foreign lands; and he, although astonished to the extent of being
frightened, was much more likely to recover sooner than his younger companions,
which, indeed, he did, and acted promptly enough.

"Don't
rise, Henry," he cried. "Lie still."

Almost
at the moment he uttered these words, he fired at the figure, which then
occupied the window, as if it were a gigantic figure set in a frame.

The
report was tremendous in that chamber, for the pistol was no toy weapon, but
one made for actual service, and of sufficient length and bore of barrel to
carry destruction along with the bullets that came from it.

"If
that has missed its aim," said Mr. Marchdale, "I'll never pull a
trigger again."

As he
spoke he dashed forward, and made a clutch at the figure he felt convinced he
had shot.

The
tall form turned upon him, and when he got a full view of the face, which he
did at that moment, from the opportune circumstance of the lady returning at
the instant with a light she had been to her own chamber to procure, even he,
Marchdale, with all his courage, and that was great, and all his nervous
energy, recoiled a step or two, and uttered the exclamation of, "Great
God!"

That
face was one never to be forgotten. It was hideously flushed with colour—the
colour of fresh blood; the eyes had a savage and remarkable lustre; whereas,
before, they had looked like polished tin—they now wore a ten times brighter
aspect, and flashes of light seemed to dart from them. The mouth was open, as
if, from the natural formation of the countenance, the lips receded much from
the large canine looking teeth.

A
strange howling noise came from the throat of this monstrous figure, and it
seemed upon the point of rushing upon Mr. Marchdale. Suddenly, then, as if some
impulse had seized upon it, it uttered a wild and terrible shrieking kind of
laugh; and then turning, dashed through the window, and in one instant
disappeared from before the eyes of those who felt nearly annihilated by its
fearful presence.

"God
help us!" ejaculated Henry.

Mr.
Marchdale drew a long breath, and then, giving a stamp on the floor, as if to
recover himself from the state of agitation into which even he was thrown, he
cried,—

"Be
it what or who it may, I'll follow it"

"No—no—do
not," cried the lady.

"I
must, I will. Let who will come with me—I follow that dreadful form."

As he
spoke, he took the road it took, and dashed through the window into the
balcony.

"And
we, too, George," exclaimed Henry; "we will follow Mr. Marchdale.
This dreadful affair concerns us more nearly than it does him."

The
lady who was the mother of these young men, and of the beautiful girl who had
been so awfully visited, screamed aloud, and implored of them to stay. But the
voice of Mr. Marchdale was heard exclaiming aloud,—

"I
see it—I see it; it makes for the wall."

They
hesitated no longer, but at once rushed into the balcony, and from thence
dropped into the garden.

The
mother approached the bed-side of the insensible, perhaps the murdered girl;
she saw her, to all appearance, weltering in blood, and, overcome by her
emotions, she fainted on the floor of the room.

When
the two young men reached the garden, they found it much lighter than might
have been fairly expected; for not only was the morning rapidly approaching,
but the mill was still burning, and those mingled lights made almost every
object plainly visible, except when deep shadows were thrown from some gigantic
trees that had stood for centuries in that sweetly wooded spot. They heard the
voice of Mr. Marchdale, as he cried,—

"There—there—towards
the wall. There—there—God! how it bounds along."

The
young men hastily dashed through a thicket in the direction from whence his
voice sounded, and then they found him looking wild and terrified, and with
something in his hand which looked like a portion of clothing.

"Which
way, which way?" they both cried in a breath.

He
leant heavily on the arm of George, as he pointed along a vista of trees, and
said in a low voice,—

"God
help us all. It is not human. Look there—look there—do you not see it?"

They
looked in the direction he indicated. At the end of this vista was the wall of
the garden. At that point it was full twelve feet in height, and as they
looked, they saw the hideous, monstrous form they had traced from the chamber
of their sister, making frantic efforts to clear the obstacle.

Then
they saw it bound from the ground to the top of the wall, which it very nearly
reached, and then each time it fell back again into the garden with such a dull,
heavy sound, that the earth seemed to shake again with the concussion. They
trembled—well indeed they might, and for some minutes they watched the figure
making its fruitless efforts to leave the place.

"What—what
is it?" whispered Henry, in hoarse accents. "God, what can it
possibly be?"

"I
know not," replied Mr. Marchdale. "I did seize it. It was cold and
clammy like a corpse. It cannot be human."

"Not
human?"

"Look
at it now. It will surely escape now."

"No,
no—we will not be terrified thus—there is Heaven above us. Come on, and, for
dear Flora's sake, let us make an effort yet to seize this bold intruder."

"Take
this pistol," said Marchdale. "It is the fellow of the one I fired.
Try its efficacy."

"He
will be gone," exclaimed Henry, as at this moment, after many repeated
attempts and fearful falls, the figure reached the top of the wall, and then
hung by its long arms a moment or two, previous to dragging itself completely
up.

The
idea of the appearance, be it what it might, entirely escaping, seemed to nerve
again Mr. Marchdale, and he, as well as the two young men, ran forward towards
the wall. They got so close to the figure before it sprang down on the outer
side of the wall, that to miss killing it with the bullet from the pistol was a
matter of utter impossibility, unless wilfully.