The doctor rang at the gate bell of Walmesley Lodge, and was in a few
moments answered by a woman, who demanded their business. "Is Sir Francis Varney here?" said the doctor. "Oh, ah! yes," she replied; "you see his house was burnt down, for
something or other--I'm sure I don't know what--by some people--I'm sure
I don't know who; so, as the lodge was to let, we have took him in till
he can suit himself." "Ah! that's it, is it?" said the admiral--"tell him that Admiral Bell
and Dr. Chillingworth are here." "Very well," said the woman; "you may walk in." "Thank ye; you're vastly obliging, ma'am. Is there anything going on in
the breakfast line?" "Well, yes; I am getting him some breakfast, but he didn't say as he
expected company." The woman opened the garden gate, and they walked up a trimly laid out
garden to the lodge, which was a cottage-like structure in external
appearance, although within it boasted of all the comforts of a
tolerably extensive house. She left them in a small room, leading from the hall, and was absent
about five minutes; then she returned, and, merely saying that Sir
Francis Varney presented his compliments, and desired them to walk up
stairs, she preceded them up a handsome flight which led to the first
floor of the lodge. Up to this moment, Mr. Chillingworth had expected some excuse, for,
notwithstanding all he had heard and seen of Sir Francis Varney, he
could not believe that any amount of impudence would suffice to enable
him to receive people as his guests, with whom he must feel that he was
at such positive war. It was a singular circumstance; and, perhaps, the only thing that
matched the cool impertinence of the invitation, was the acceptance of
it under the circumstances by the admiral. Sir Francis Varney might have intended it as a jest; but if he did so,
in the first instance, it was evident he would not allow himself to be
beaten with his own weapons. The room into which they were shown was a longish narrow one; a very
wide door gave them admission to it, at the end, nearest the staircase,
and at its other extremity there was a similar door opening into some
other apartments of the house. Sir Francis Varney sat with his back towards this second door, and a
table, with some chairs and other articles of furniture, were so
arranged before him, that while they seemed but to be carelessly placed
in the position they occupied, they really formed a pretty good barrier
between him and his visitors. The admiral, however, was too intent upon getting a sight of Varney, to
notice any preparation of this sort, and he advanced quickly into the
room. And there, indeed, was the much dreaded, troublesome, persevering, and
singular looking being who had caused such a world of annoyance to the
family of the Bannerworths, as well as disturbing the peace of the whole
district, which had the misfortune to have him as an inhabitant. If anything, he looked thinner, taller, and paler than usual, and there
seemed to be a slight nervousness of manner about him, as he slowly
inclined his head towards the admiral, which was not quite intelligible. "Well," said Admiral Bell, "you invited me to breakfast, and my learned
friend; here we are." "No two human beings," said Varney, "could be more welcome to my
hospitality than yourself and Dr. Chillingworth. I pray you to be
seated. What a pleasant thing it is, after the toils and struggles of
this life, occasionally to sit down in the sweet companionship of such
dear friends." He made a hideous face as he spoke, and the admiral looked as if he were
half inclined to quarrel at that early stage of the proceedings. "Dear friends!" he said; "well, well--it's no use squabbling about a
word or two; but I tell you what it is, Mr. Varney, or Sir Francis
Varney, or whatever your d----d name is--"

"Hold, my dear sir," said Varney--"after breakfast, if you please--after
breakfast." He rang a hand-bell as he spoke, and the woman who had charge of the
house brought in a tray tolerably covered with the materials for a
substantial morning's meal. She placed it upon the table, and certainly
the various articles that smoked upon it did great credit to her
culinary powers. "Deborah," said Sir Varney, in a mild sort of tone, "keep on continually
bringing things to eat until this old brutal sea ruffian has satiated
his disgusting appetite." The admiral opened his eyes an enormous width, and, looking at Sir
Francis Varney, he placed his two fists upon the table, and drew a long
breath. "Did you address those observations to me," he said, at length, "you
blood-sucking vagabond?" "Eh?" said Sir Francis Varney, looking over the admiral's head, as if he
saw something interesting on the wall beyond. "My dear admiral," said Mr. Chillingworth, "come away." "I'll see you d----d first!" said the admiral. "Now, Mr. Vampyre, no
shuffling; did you address those observations to me?" "Deborah," said Sir Francis Varney, in silvery tones, "you can remove
this tray and bring on the next." "Not if I know it," said the admiral "I came to breakfast, and I'll have
it; after breakfast I'll pull your nose--ay, if you were fifty vampyres,
I'd do it." "Dr. Chillingworth," said Varney, without paying the least attention to
what the admiral said, "you don't eat, my dear sir; you must be fatigued
with your night's exertions. A man of your age, you know, cannot be
supposed to roll and tumble about like a fool in a pantomime with
impunity. Only think what a calamity it would be if you were laid up. Your patients would all get well, you know." "Sir Francis Varney," said Mr. Chillingworth, "we're your guests; we
come here at your invitation to partake of a meal. You have wantonly
attacked both of us. I need not say that by so doing you cast a far
greater slur upon your own taste and judgment than you can upon us." "Admirably spoken," said Sir Francis Varney, giving his hands a clap
together that made the admiral jump again. "Now, old Bell, I'll fight
you, if you think yourself aggrieved, while the doctor sees fair play." "Old who?" shouted the admiral. "Bell, Bell--is not your name Bell?--a family cognomen, I presume, on
account of the infernal clack, clack, without any sense in it, that is
the characteristic of your race." "You'll fight me?" said the admiral, jumping up. "Yes; if you challenge me." "By Jove I do; of course"

"Then I accept it; and the challenged party, you know well, or ought to
know, can make his own terms in the encounter." "Make what terms you please; I care not what they are. Only say you will
fight, and that's sufficient." "It is well," said Sir Francis Varney, in a solemn tone. "Nay, nay," interrupted Mr. Chillingworth; "this is boyish folly." "Hold your row," said the admiral, "and let's hear what he's got to
say."