CHAPTER LXXXIII.
THE MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL AT THE INN.--THE HUNGARIAN NOBLEMAN.--THE LETTERTO VARNEY.
While these affairs are proceeding, and when there seems everyappearance of Sir Francis Varney himself quickly putting an end to someof the vexatious circumstances connected with himself and theBannerworth family, it is necessary that we should notice an occurrencewhich took place at the same inn which the admiral had made such a sceneof confusion upon the occasion of his first arrival in the town.
Not since the admiral had arrived with Jack Pringle, and so disturbedthe whole economy of the household, was there so much curiosity excitedas on the morning following the interview which Charles Holland had hadwith Varney, the vampyre.
The inn was scarcely opened, when a stranger arrived, mounted on acoal-black horse, and, alighting, he surrendered the bridle into thehands of a boy who happened to be at the inn-door, and stalked slowlyand solemnly into the building.
He was tall, and of a cadaverous aspect; in attire he was plainlyapparelled, but there was no appearance of poverty about him; on thecontrary, what he really had on was of a rich and costly character,although destitute of ornament.
He sat down in the first room that presented itself, and awaited theappearance of the landlord, who, upon being informed that a guest ofapparently ample means, and of some consequence, had entered the place,hastily went to him to receive his commands.
With a profusion of bows, our old friend, who had been so obsequious toAdmiral Bell, entered the room, and begged to know what orders thegentleman had for him.
"I presume," said the stranger, in a deep, solemn voice, "I presume thatyou have no objection, for a few days that I shall remain in this town,to board and lodge me for a certain price which you can name to me atonce?"
"Certainly, sir," said the landlord; "any way you please; without wine,sir, I presume?"
"As you please; make your own arrangements."
"Well, sir, as we can't tell, of course, what wine a gentleman maydrink, but when we come to consider breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper,and a bed, and all that sort of thing, and a private sitting-room, Isuppose, sir?"
"Certainly."
"You would not, then, think, sir, a matter of four guineas a week willbe too much, perhaps."
"I told you to name your own charge. Let it be four guineas; if you hadsaid eight I should have paid it."
"Good God!" said the publican, "here's a damned fool that I am. I begyour pardon, sir, I didn't mean you. Now I could punch my own head--willyou have breakfast at once, sir, and then we shall begin regular, youknow, sir?"
"Have what?"
"Breakfast, breakfast, you know, sir; tea, coffee, cocoa, or chocolate;ham, eggs, or a bit of grilled fowl, cold sirloin of roast beef, or ared herring--anything you like, sir."
"I never take breakfast, so you may spare yourself the trouble ofproviding anything for me."
"Not take breakfast, sir! not take breakfast! Would you like to takeanything to drink then, sir? People say it's an odd time, at eighto'clock in the morning, to drink; but, for my part, I always havethought that you couldn't begin a good thing too soon."
"I live upon drink," said the stranger; "but you have none in the cellarthat will suit me."
"Indeed, sir."
"No, no, I am certain."
"Why, we've got some claret now, sir," said the landlord.
"Which may look like blood, and yet not be it."
"Like what, sir?--damn my rags!"
"Begone, begone."
The stranger uttered these words so peremptorily that the landlordhastily left the room, and going into his own bar, he gave himself sosmall a tap on the side of the head, that it would not have hurt a fly,as he said,--
"I could punch myself into bits, I could tear my hair out by the roots;"and then he pulled a little bit of his hair, so gently and tenderly thatit showed what a man of discretion he was, even in the worst of all hisagony of passion.
"The idea," he added, "of a fellow coming here, paying four guineas aweek for board and lodging, telling me he would not have minded eight,and then not wanting any breakfast; it's enough to aggravate half adozen saints; but what an odd fish he looks."
At this moment the ostler came in, and, standing at the bar, he wipedhis mouth with his sleeve, as he said,--
"I suppose you'll stand a quart for that, master?"
"A quart for what, you vagabond? A quart because I've done myself up inheaps; a quart because I'm fit to pull myself into fiddlestrings?"
"No," said the ostler; "because I've just put up the gentleman's horse."
"What gentleman's horse?"
"Why, the big-looking fellow with the white face, now in the parlour."
"What, did he come on a horse, Sam? What sort of a looking creature isit? you may judge of a man from the sort of horse-company he keeps."
"Well, then, sir, I hardly know. It's coal black, and looks as knowingas possible; it's tried twice to get a kick at me, but I was down uponhim, and put the bucket in his way. Howsomdever, I don't think it's abad animal, as a animal, mind you, sir, though a little bit wicious orso."
"Well," said the publican, as he drew the ostler half a pint instead ofa quart, "you're always drinking; take that."
"Blow me," said the ostler, "half a pint, master!"
"Plague take you, I can't stand parleying with you, there's the parlourbell; perhaps, after all, he will have some breakfast."
While the landlord was away the ostler helped himself to a quart of thestrongest ale, which, by a singular faculty that he had acquired, hepoured down his throat without any effort at swallowing, holding hishead back, and the jug at a little distance from his mouth.
Having accomplished this feat, he reversed the jug, giving it a knowingtap with his knuckles as though he would have signified to all the worldthat it was empty, and that he had accomplished what he desired.
In the meantime, the landlord had made his way to his strange guest, whosaid to him, when he came into the room,
"Is there not one Sir Francis Varney residing in this town?"
"The devil!" thought the landlord; "this is another of them, I'll bet aguinea. Sir Francis Varney, sir, did you say? Why, sir, there was a SirFrancis Varney, but folks seem to think as how he's no better than heshould be--a sort of vampyre, sir, if you know what that is."
"I have, certainly, heard of such things; but can you not tell meVarney's address? I wish to see him."
"Well, then, sir, I cannot tell it to you, for there's really been sucha commotion and such a riot about him that he's taken himself off, Ithink, altogether, and we can hear nothing of him. Lord bless you, sir,they burnt down his house, and hunted him about so, that I don't thinkthat he'll ever show his face here again."
"And cannot you tell me where he was seen last?"
"That I cannot, sir; but, if anybody knows anything about him, it's Mr.Henry Bannerworth, or perhaps Dr. Chillingworth, for they have had moreto do with him than anybody else."
"Indeed; and can you tell me the address of the former individual?"
"That I can't, sir, for the Bannerworths have left the Hall. As for thedoctor, sir, you'll see his house in the High-street, with a large brassplate on the door, so that you cannot mistake it. It's No. 9, on theother side of the way."
"I thank you for so much information," said the stranger, and rising, hewalked to the door. Before, however, he left, he turned, andadded,--"You can say, if you should by chance meet Mr. Bannerworth, thata Hungarian nobleman wishes to speak to him concerning Sir FrancisVarney, the vampyre?"
"A what, sir?"
"A nobleman from Hungary," was the reply.
"The deuce!" said the landlord, as he looked after him. "He don't seemat all hungry here, not thirsty neither. What does he mean by a noblemanfrom Hungary? The idea of a man talking about hungry, and not taking anybreakfast. He's queering me. I'll be hanged if I'll stand it. Here Iclearly lose four guineas a week, and then get made game of besides. Anobleman, indee
d! I think I see him. Why, he isn't quite so big as oldSlaney, the butcher. It's a do. I'll have at him when he comes back."
Meanwhile, the unconscious object of this soliloquy passed down theHigh-street, until he came to Dr. Chillingworth's, at whose door heknocked.
Now Mrs. Chillingworth had been waiting the whole night for the returnof the doctor, who had not yet made his appearance, and, consequently,that lady's temper had become acidulated to an uncommon extent and whenshe heard a knock at the door, something possessed her that it could beno other than her spouse, and she prepared to give him that warmreception which she considered he had a right, as a married man, toexpect after such conduct.
She hurriedly filled a tolerably sized hand-basin with not the cleanestwater in the world, and then, opening the door hurriedly with one hand,she slouced the contents into the face of the intruder, exclaiming,--
"Now you've caught it!"
"D--n!" said the Hungarian nobleman, and then Mrs. Chillingworth uttereda scream, for she feared she had made a mistake.
"Oh, sir! I'm very sorry: but I thought it was my husband."
"But if you did," said the stranger, "there was no occasion to drown himwith a basin of soap-suds. It is your husband I want, madam, if he beDr. Chillingworth."
"Then, indeed, you must go on wanting him, sir, for he's not been to hisown home for a day and a night. He takes up all his time in huntingafter that beastly vampyre."
"Ah! Sir Francis Varney, you mean."
"I do; and I'd Varney him if I caught hold of him."
"Can you give me the least idea of where he can be found?"
"Of course I can."
"Indeed! where?" said the stranger, eagerly.
"In some churchyard, to be sure, gobbling up the dead bodies."
With this Mrs. Chillingworth shut the door with a bang that nearlyflattened the Hungarian's nose with his face, and he was fain to walkaway, quite convinced that there was no information to be had in thatquarter.
He returned to the inn, and having told the landlord that he would givea handsome reward to any one who would discover to him the retreat ofSir Francis Varney, he shut himself up in an apartment alone, and wasbusy for a time in writing letters.
Although the sum which the stranger offered was an indefinite one, thelandlord mentioned the matter across the bar to several persons; but allof them shook their heads, believing it to be a very perilous adventureindeed to have anything to do with so troublesome a subject as SirFrancis Varney. As the day advanced, however, a young lad presentedhimself, and asked to see the gentleman who had been inquiring forVarney.
The landlord severely questioned and cross-questioned him, with the hopeof discovering if he had any information: but the boy was quiteobdurate, and would speak to no one but the person who had offered thereward, so that mine host was compelled to introduce him to theHungarian nobleman, who, as yet, had neither eaten nor drunk in thehouse.
The boy wore upon his countenance the very expression of juvenilecunning, and when the stranger asked him if he really was in possessionof any information concerning the retreat of Sir Francis Varney, hesaid,--
"I can tell you where he is, but what are you going to give?"
"What sum do you require?" said the stranger.
"A whole half-crown."
"It is your's; and, if your information prove correct, come to-morrow,and I'll add another to it, always provided, likewise, you keep thesecret from any one else."
"Trust me for that," said the boy. "I live with my grandmother; she'sprecious old, and has got a cottage. We sell milk and cakes, stickystuff, and pennywinkles."
"A goodly collection. Go on."
"Well, sir, this morning, there comes a man in with a bottle, and hebuys a bottle full of milk and a loaf. I saw him, and I knew it wasVarney, the vampyre."
"You followed him?"
"Of course I did, sir; and he's staying at the house that's to let downthe lane, round the corner, by Mr. Biggs's, and past Lee's garden,leaving old Slaney's stacks on your right hand, and so cutting on tillyou come to Grants's meadow, when you'll see old Madhunter a brick-fieldstaring of you in the face; and, arter that--"
"Peace--peace!--you shall yourself conduct me. Come to this place atsunset; be secret, and, probably, ten times the reward you have alreadyreceived may be yours," said the stranger.
"What, ten half-crowns?"
"Yes, I will keep my word with you."
"What a go! I know what I'll do. I'll set up as a show man, and what aglorious treat it will be, to peep through one of the holes all daymyself, and get somebody to pull the strings up and down, and when I'mtired of that, I can blaze away upon the trumpet like one o'clock. Ithink I see me. Here you sees the Duke of Marlborough a whopping ofeverybody, and here you see the Frenchmen flying about like parched peasin a sifter."
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 82
