But reject it he did, and then he walked moodily into the
town without any fixed resolution of what he should do. All that he thought of was a general idea that he should like to create
some mischief, if possible--what it was he cared not, so long as it made
a disturbance. Now, he knew well that the most troublesome and fidgetty man in the town
was Tobias Philpots, a saddler, who was always full of everybody's
business but his own, and ever ready to hear any scandal of his
neighbours. "I have a good mind," said the boy, "to go to old Philpots, and tell him
all about it, that I have." The good mind soon strengthened itself into a fixed resolution, and full
of disdain and indignation at the supposed want of faith of the
Hungarian nobleman, he paused opposite the saddler's door. Could he but for a moment have suspected the real reason why the
appointment had not been kept with him, all his curiosity would have
been doubly aroused, and he would have followed the landlord of the inn
and his associate upon the track of the second vampyre that had visited
the town. But of this he knew nothing, for that proceeding had been conducted with
amazing quietness; and the fact of the Hungarian nobleman, when he found
that he was followed, taking a contrary course to that in which Varney
was concealed, prevented the boy from knowing anything of his movements. Hence the thing looked to him like a piece of sheer neglect and
contemptuous indifference, which he felt bound to resent. He did not pause long at the door of the saddler's, but, after a few
moments, he walked boldly in, and said,--

"Master Philpots, I have got something extraordinary to tell you, and
you may give me what you like for telling you." "Go on, then," said the saddler, "that's just the price I always likes
to pay for everything." "Will you keep it secret?" said the boy. "Of course I will. When did you ever hear of me telling anything to a
single individual?" "Never to a single individual, but I have heard you tell things to the
whole town." "Confound your impudence. Get out of my shop directly." "Oh! very good. I can go and tell old Mitchell, the pork-butcher." "No, I say--stop; don't tell him. If anybody is to know, let it be me,
and I'll promise you I'll keep it secret." "Very good," said the boy, returning, "you shall know it; and, mind, you
have promised me to keep it secret, so that if it gets known, you know
it cannot be any fault of mine." The fact was, the boy was anxious it should be known, only that in case
some consequences might arise, he thought he would quiet his own
conscience, by getting a promise of secrecy from Tobias Philpots, which
he well knew that individual would not think of keeping. He then related to him the interview he had had with the Hungarian
nobleman at the inn, how he had promised a number of half-crowns, but a
very small instalment of which he had received. All this Master Philpots cared very little for, but the information that
the dreaded Varney, the vampyre, was concealed so close to the town was
a matter of great and abounding interest, and at that part of the story
he suddenly pricked up his ears amazingly. "Why, you don't mean to say that?" he exclaimed. "Are you sure it was
he?" "Yes, I am quite certain. I have seen I him more than once. It was Sir
Francis Varney, without any mistake." "Why, then you may depend he's only waiting until it's very dark, and
then he will walk into somebody, and suck his blood. Here's a horrid
discovery! I thought we had had enough of Master Varney, and that he
would hardly show himself here again, and now you tell me he is not ten
minutes' walk off." "It's a fact," said the boy. "I saw him go in, and he looks thinner and
more horrid than ever. I am sure he wants a dollop of blood from
somebody." "I shouldn't wonder." "Now there is Mrs. Philpots, you know, sir; she's rather big, and seems
most ready to burst always; I shouldn't wonder if the vampyre came to
her to-night." "Wouldn't you?" said Mrs. Philpots, who had walked into the shop, and
overheard the whole conversation; "wouldn't you, really? I'll vampyre
you, and teach you to make these remarks about respectable married
women. You young wretch, take that, will you!" She gave the boy such a box on the ears, that the place seemed to spin
round with him. As soon as he recovered sufficiently to be enabled to
walk, he made his way from the shop with abundance of precipitation,
much regretting that he had troubled himself to make a confidant of
Master Philpots. But, however, he could not but tell himself that if his object was to
make a general disturbance through the whole place, he had certainly
succeeded in doing so. He slunk home perhaps with a feeling that he might be called upon to
take part in something that might ensue, and at all events be compelled
to become a guide to the place of Sir Francis Varney's retreat, in which
case, for all he knew, the vampyre might, by some more than mortal
means, discover what a hand he had had in the matter, and punish him
accordingly. The moment he hid left the saddler's Mrs. Philpots, after using some
bitter reproaches to her husband for not at once sacrificing the boy
upon the spot for the disrespectful manner in which he had spoken of
her, hastily put on her bonnet and shawl, and the saddler, although it
was a full hour before the usual time, began putting up the shutters of
his shop. "Why, my dear," he said to Mrs. Philpots, when she came down stairs
equipped for the streets, "why, my dear, where are you going?" "And pray, sir, what are you shutting up the shop for at this time of
the evening!" "Oh! why, the fact is, I thought I'd just go to the Rose and Crown, and
mention that the vampyre was so near at hand." "Well, Mr. Philpots, and in that case there can be no harm in my calling
upon some of my acquaintance and mentioning it likewise." "Why, I don't suppose there would be much harm; only remember, Mrs.
Philpots, remember if you please---"

"Remember what?" "To tell everybody to keep it secret." "Oh, of course I will; and mind you do it likewise." "Most decidedly." The shop was closed, Mr. Philpots ran off to the Rose and Crown, and
Mrs, Philpots, with as much expedition as she could, purposed making the
grand tour of all her female acquaintance in the town, just to tell
them, as a great secret, that the vampyre, Sir Francis Varney, as he
called himself, had taken refuge at the house that was to let down the
lane leading to Higgs's farm. "But by no means," she said, "let it go no further, because it is a very
wrong thing to make any disturbance, and you will understand that it's
quite a secret." She was listened to with breathless attention, as may well be supposed,
and it was a singular circumstance that at every house she left some
other lady put on her bonnet and shawl, and ran out to make the circle
of her acquaintance, with precisely the same story, and precisely the
same injunctions to secrecy.