CHAPTER II.
THE ALARM.--THE PISTOL SHOT.--THE PURSUIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
Lights flashed about the building, and various room doors opened; voicescalled one to the other. There was an universal stir and commotion amongthe inhabitants.
"Did you hear a scream, Harry?" asked a young man, half-dressed, as hewalked 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 youtell?"
"Indeed we cannot, mother."
Another person now joined the party. He was a man of middle age, and, ashe came up to them, he said,--
"Good God! what is the matter?"
Scarcely had the words passed his lips, than such a rapid succession ofshrieks 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 allstood, had she not been promptly supported by the last comer, whohimself 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 doubtthat these cries come from Flora's room?"
The young man mechanically supported his mother, and then the man whohad just spoken darted back to his own bed-room, from whence he returnedin a moment with a pair of pistols, and shouting,--
"Follow me, who can!" he bounded across the corridor in the direction ofthe antique apartment, from whence the cries proceeded, but which werenow hushed.
That house was built for strength, and the doors were all of oak, and ofconsiderable thickness. Unhappily, they had fastenings within, so thatwhen the man reached the chamber of her who so much required help, hewas 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 trembledviolently.
"And so do I. What does it sound like?"
"I scarcely know; but it nearest resembles some animal eating, orsucking some liquid."
"What on earth can it be? Have you no weapon that will force the door? Ishall 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, butpowerful, 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 havehappened to her."
"And that odd noise!"
"Still goes on. Somehow, it curdles the very blood in my veins to hearit."
The man took the crow-bar, and with some difficulty succeeded inintroducing it between the door and the side of the wall--still itrequired 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 sametime."
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 ofthe lock,--and the door at once swung wide open.
How true it is that we measure time by the events which happen within agiven space of it, rather than by its actual duration.
To those who were engaged in forcing open the door of the antiquechamber, where slept the young girl whom they named Flora, each momentwas swelled into an hour of agony; but, in reality, from the firstmoment of the alarm to that when the loud cracking noise heralded thedestruction of the fastenings of the door, there had elapsed but veryfew minutes indeed.
"It opens--it opens," cried the young man.
"Another moment," said the stranger, as he still plied thecrowbar--"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 succeededin throwing the massive door wide open, and clearing the passage to thechamber.
To rush in with a light in his hand was the work of a moment to theyoung man named Henry; but the very rapid progress he made into theapartment prevented him from observing accurately what it contained, forthe wind that came in from the open window caught the flame of thecandle, and although it did not actually extinguish it, it blew it somuch 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. Theconcussion against him was so sudden and so utterly unexpected, as wellas 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 theroom. But by that light, dim, uncertain, and flickering as it was, someone was seen to make for the window.
Henry, although nearly stunned by his fall, saw a figure, gigantic inheight, which nearly reached from the floor to the ceiling. The otheryoung man, George, saw it, and Mr. Marchdale likewise saw it, as did thelady who had spoken to the two young men in the corridor when first thescreams of the young girl awakened alarm in the breasts of all theinhabitants of that house.
The figure was about to pass out at the window which led to a kind ofbalcony, 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 inblood. They saw, too, one of those fearful-looking, shining, metalliceyes which presented so terrible an appearance of unearthly ferocity.
No wonder that for a moment a panic seized them all, which paralysed anyexertions 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 theextent of being frightened, was much more likely to recover sooner thanhis younger companions, which, indeed, he did, and acted promptlyenough.
"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 aframe.
The report was tremendous in that chamber, for the pistol was no toyweapon, but one made for actual service, and of sufficient length andbore of barrel to carry destruction along with the bullets that camefrom it.
"If that has missed its aim," said Mr. Marchdale, "I'll never pull atrigger again."
As he spoke he dashed forward, and made a clutch at the figure he feltconvinced 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 ladyreturning at the instant with a light she had been to her own chamber toprocure, even he, Marchdale, with all his courage, and that was great,and all his nervous energy, recoiled a step or two, and uttered theexclamation of, "Great God!"
That face was one never to be forgotten. It was hideously flushed withcolour--the colour of fresh blood; the eyes had a savage and remarkablelustre; whereas, before, they had looked like polished tin--they nowwore a ten times brighter aspect, and flashes of light seemed to dartfrom them. The mouth was open, as if, f
rom the natural formation of thecountenance, 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 andterrible shrieking kind of laugh; and then turning, dashed through thewindow, and in one instant disappeared from before the eyes of those whofelt 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 hewas 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 dreadfulform."
As he spoke, he took the road it took, and dashed through the windowinto 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 beautifulgirl who had been so awfully visited, screamed aloud, and implored ofthem to stay. But the voice of Mr. Marchdale was heard exclaimingaloud,--
"I see it--I see it; it makes for the wall."
They hesitated no longer, but at once rushed into the balcony, and fromthence dropped into the garden.
The mother approached the bed-side of the insensible, perhaps themurdered 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 lighterthan might have been fairly expected; for not only was the morningrapidly approaching, but the mill was still burning, and those mingledlights made almost every object plainly visible, except when deepshadows were thrown from some gigantic trees that had stood forcenturies 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 boundsalong."
The young men hastily dashed through a thicket in the direction fromwhence his voice sounded, and then they found him looking wild andterrified, and with something in his hand which looked like a portion ofclothing.
"Which way, which way?" they both cried in a breath.
He leant heavily on the arm of George, as he pointed along a vista oftrees, and said in a low voice,--
"God help us all. It is not human. Look there--look there--do you notsee it?"
They looked in the direction he indicated. At the end of this vista wasthe 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 tracedfrom the chamber of their sister, making frantic efforts to clear theobstacle.
Then they saw it bound from the ground to the top of the wall, which itvery nearly reached, and then each time it fell back again into thegarden with such a dull, heavy sound, that the earth seemed to shakeagain with the concussion. They trembled--well indeed they might, andfor some minutes they watched the figure making its fruitless efforts toleave the place.
"What--what is it?" whispered Henry, in hoarse accents. "God, what canit possibly be?"
"I know not," replied Mr. Marchdale. "I did seize it. It was cold andclammy 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. Comeon, and, for dear Flora's sake, let us make an effort yet to seize thisbold intruder."
"Take this pistol," said Marchdale. "It is the fellow of the one Ifired. Try its efficacy."
"He will be gone," exclaimed Henry, as at this moment, after manyrepeated attempts and fearful falls, the figure reached the top of thewall, and then hung by its long arms a moment or two, previous todragging 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 youngmen, ran forward towards the wall. They got so close to the figurebefore it sprang down on the outer side of the wall, that to misskilling it with the bullet from the pistol was a matter of utterimpossibility, unless wilfully.
Henry had the weapon, and he pointed it full at the tall form with asteady aim. He pulled the trigger--the explosion followed, and that thebullet did its office there could be no manner of doubt, for the figuregave a howling shriek, and fell headlong from the wall on the outside.
"I have shot him," cried Henry, "I have shot him."
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 4
