"And if you did, you could not say who had done it, and who had not; you
could prove nothing." "Exactly." "I shall not attempt to take prisoners, unless any act is perpetrated
beyond what has been done." "It is a singular affair." "Very." "This Sir Francis Varney is represented to be a courteous, gentlemanly
man," said the officer. "No doubt about it, but he's beset by a parcel of people who do not mind
cutting a throat if they can get an opportunity of doing so." "And I expect they will." "Yes, when there is a popular excitement against any man, he had better
leave this part at once and altogether. It is dangerous to tamper with
popular prejudices; no man who has any value for his life ought to do
so. It is a sheer act of suicide." CHAPTER LIV. THE BURNING OF VARNEY'S HOUSE.--A NIGHT SCENE.--POPULAR SUPERSTITION. [Illustration]

The officer ceased to speak, and then the party whom he had sent round
the house and grounds returned, and gained the main body orderly enough,
and the sergeant went forward to make his report to his superior
officer. After the usual salutation, he waited for the inquiry to be put to him
as to what he had seen. "Well, Scott, what have you done?" "I went round the premises, sir, according to your instructions, but saw
no one either in the vicinity of the house, or in the grounds around
it." "No strangers, eh?" "No, sir, none." "You saw nothing at all likely to lead to any knowledge as to who it was
that has caused this catastrophe?" "No, sir." "Have you learnt anything among the people who are the perpetrators of
this fire?" "No, sir." "Well, then, that will do, unless there is anything else that you can
think of." "Nothing further, sir, unless it is that I heard some of them say that
Sir Francis Varney has perished in the flames." "Good heavens!" "So I heard, sir." "That must be impossible, and yet why should it be so? Go back, Scott,
and bring me some person who can give me some information upon this
point." The sergeant departed toward the people, who looked at him without any
distrust, for he came single-handed, though they thought he came with
the intention of learning what they knew of each other, and so stroll
about with the intention of getting up accusations against them. But
this was not the case, the officer didn't like the work well enough;
he'd rather have been elsewhere. [Illustration]

At length the sergeant came to one man, whom he accosted, and said to
him,--

"Do you know anything of yonder fire?" "Yes: I do know it is a fire." "Yes, and so do I." "My friend," said the sergeant, "when a soldier asks a question he does
not expect an uncivil answer." "But a soldier may ask a question that may have an uncivil end to it." "He may; but it is easy to say so." "I do say so, then, now." "Then I'll not trouble you any more." The sergeant moved on a pace or two more, and then, turning to the mob,
he said,--

"Is there any one among you who can tell me anything concerning the fate
of Sir Francis Varney?" "Burnt!" "Did you see him burnt?" "No; but I saw him." "In the flames?" "No; before the house was on fire." "In the house?" "Yes; and he has not been seen to leave it since, and we conclude he
must have been burned." "Will you come and say as much to my commanding officer? It is all I
want." "Shall I be detained?" "No." "Then I will go," said the man, and he hobbled out of the crowd towards
the sergeant. "I will go and see the officer, and tell him what I know,
and that is very little, and can prejudice no one." "Hurrah!" said the crowd, when they heard this latter assertion; for, at
first, they began to be in some alarm lest there should be something
wrong about this, and some of them get identified as being active in the
fray. The sergeant led the man back to the spot, where the officer stood a
little way in advance of his men. "Well, Scott," he said, "what have we here?" "A man who has volunteered a statement, sir." "Oh! Well, my man, can you say anything concerning all this disturbance
that we have here?" "No, sir." "Then what did you come here for?" "I understood the sergeant to want some one who could speak of Sir
Francis Varney." "Well?" "I saw him." "Where?" "In the house." "Exactly; but have you not seen him out of it?" "Not since; nor any one else, I believe." "Where was he?" "Upstairs, where he suddenly disappeared, and nobody can tell where he
may have gone to. But he has not been seen out of the house since, and
they say he could not have gone bodily out if they had not seen him." "He must have been burnt," said the officer, musingly; "he could not
escape, one would imagine, without being seen by some one out of such a
mob." "Oh, dear no, for I am told they placed a watch at every hole, window,
or door however high, and they saw nothing of him--not even fly out!" "Fly out! I'm speaking of a man!" "And I of a vampire!" said the man carelessly. "A vampyre! Pooh, pooh!" "Oh no! Sir Francis Varney is a vampyre! There can be no sort of doubt
about it. You have only to look at him, and you will soon be satisfied
of that. See his great sharp teeth in front, and ask yourself what they
are for, and you will soon find the answer. They are to make holes with
in the bodies of his victims, through which he can suck their blood!" The officer looked at the man in astonishment for a few moments, as if
he doubted his own ears, and then he said,--

"Are you serious?" "I am ready to swear to it." "Well, I have heard a great deal about popular superstition, and thought
I had seen something of it; but this is decidedly the worst case that
ever I saw or heard of. You had better go home, my man, than, by your
presence, countenance such a gross absurdity." "For all that," said the man, "Sir Francis Varney is a vampyre--a
blood-sucker--a human blood-sucker!" "Get away with you," said the officer, "and do not repeat such folly
before any one." The man almost jumped when he heard the tone in which this was spoken,
for the officer was both angry and contemptuous, when he heard the words
of the man. "These people," he added, turning to the sergeant, "are ignorant in the
extreme. One would think we had got into the country of vampires,
instead of a civilised community." The day was going down now; the last rays of the setting sun glimmered
upwards, and still shone upon the tree-tops. The darkness of night was
still fast closing around them. The mob stood a motley mass of human
beings, wedged together, dark and sombre, gazing upon the mischief that
had been done--the work of their hands. The military stood at ease
before the burning pile, and by their order and regularity, presented a
contrast to the mob, as strongly by their bright gleaming arms, as by
their dress and order. The flames now enveloped the whole mansion. There was not a window or a
door from which the fiery element did not burst forth in clouds, and
forked flames came rushing forth with a velocity truly wonderful.