This had the effect, at all events, of putting a stop to the dispute for
the present, and both the admiral and Mr. Marchdale accompanied Henry on
his search. That search was commenced immediately under the balcony of
Charles Holland's window, from which the admiral had seen him emerge. There was nothing particular found there, or in the garden. Admiral Bell
pointed out accurately the route he had seen Charles take across the
grass plot just before he himself left his chamber to seek Henry. Accordingly, this route was now taken, and it led to a low part of the
garden wall, which any one of ordinary vigour could easily have
surmounted. "My impression is," said the admiral, "that he got over here." "The ivy appears to be disturbed," remarked Henry. "Suppose we mark the spot, and then go round to it on the outer side?" suggested George. This was agreed to; for, although the young man might have chosen rather
to clamber over the wall than go round, it was doubtful if the old
admiral could accomplish such a feat. The distance round, however, was not great, and as they had cast over
the wall a handful of flowers from the garden to mark the precise spot,
it was easily discoverable. The moment they reached it, they were panic-stricken by the appearances
which it presented. The grass was for some yards round about completely
trodden up, and converted into mud. There were deep indentations of
feet-marks in all directions, and such abundance of evidence that some
most desperate struggle had recently taken place there, that the most
sceptical person in the world could not have entertained any doubt upon
the subject. Henry was the first to break the silence with which they each regarded
the broken ground. "This is conclusive to my mind," he said, with a deep sigh. "Here has
poor Charles been attacked." "God keep him!" exclaimed Marchdale, "and pardon me my doubts--I am now
convinced." The old admiral gazed about him like one distracted. Suddenly he cried--

"They have murdered him. Some fiends in the shape of men have murdered
him, and Heaven only knows for what." "It seems but too probable," said Henry. "Let us endeavour to trace the
footsteps. Oh! Flora, Flora, what terrible news this will be to you." "A horrible supposition comes across my mind," said George. "What if he
met the vampyre?" "It may have been so," said Marchdale, with a shudder. "It is a point
which we should endeavour to ascertain, and I think we may do so." "How!" "By some inquiry as to whether Sir Francis Varney was from home at
midnight last night." "True; that might be done." "The question, suddenly put to one of his servants, would, most
probably, be answered as a thing of course." "It would." "Then that shall be decided upon. And now, my friends, since you have
some of you thought me luke-warm in this business, I pledge myself that,
should it be ascertained that Varney was from home at midnight last
evening, I will defy him personally, and meet him hand to hand." "Nay, nay," said Henry, "leave that course to younger hands." "Why so?" "It more befits me to be his challenger." "No, Henry. You are differently situated to what I am." "How so?" "Remember, that I am in the world a lone man; without ties or
connexions. If I lose my life, I compromise no one by my death; but you
have a mother and a bereaved sister to look to who will deserve your
care." "Hilloa," cried the admiral, "what's this?" "What?" cried each, eagerly, and they pressed forward to where the
admiral was stooping to the ground to pick up something which was nearly
completely trodden into the grass. He with some difficulty raised it. It was a small slip of paper, on
which was some writing, but it was so much covered with mud as not to be
legible. "If this be washed," said Henry, "I think we shall be able to read it
clearly." "We can soon try that experiment," said George. "And as the footsteps,
by some mysterious means, show themselves nowhere else but in this one
particular spot, any further pursuit of inquiry about here appears
useless." "Then we will return to the house," said Henry, "and wash the mud from
this paper." "There is one important point," remarked Marchdale, "which it appears to
me we have all overlooked." "Indeed!" "Yes." "What may that be?" "It is this. Is any one here sufficiently acquainted with the
handwriting of Mr. Charles Holland to come to an opinion upon the
letters?" "I have some letters from him," said Henry, "which we received while on
the continent, and I dare say Flora has likewise." "Then they should be compared with the alleged forgeries." "I know his handwriting well," said the admiral. "The letters bear so
strong a resemblance to it that they would deceive anybody." "Then you may depend," remarked Henry, "some most deep-laid and
desperate plot is going on." "I begin," added Marchdale, "to dread that such must be the case. What
say you to claiming the assistance of the authorities, as well as
offering a large reward for any information regarding Mr. Charles
Holland?" "No plan shall be left untried, you may depend." They had now reached the house, and Henry having procured some clean
water, carefully washed the paper which had been found among the trodden
grass. When freed from the mixture of clay and mud which had obscured
it, they made out the following words,--

"--it be so well. At the next full moon seek a convenient spot, and it
can be done. The signature is, to my apprehension, perfect. The money
which I hold, in my opinion, is much more in amount than you imagine,
must be ours; and as for--"

Here the paper was torn across, and no further words were visible upon
it. Mystery seemed now to be accumulating upon mystery; each one, as it
showed itself darkly, seeming to bear some remote relation to what
preceded it; and yet only confusing it the more. That this apparent scrap of a letter had dropped from some one's pocket
during the fearful struggle, of which there were such ample evidences,
was extremely probable; but what it related to, by whom it was written,
or by whom dropped, were unfathomable mysteries. In fact, no one could give an opinion upon these matters at all; and
after a further series of conjectures, it could only be decided, that
unimportant as the scrap of paper appeared now to be, it should be
preserved, in case it should, as there was a dim possibility that it
might become a connecting link in some chain of evidence at another
time. "And here we are," said Henry, "completely at fault, and knowing not
what to do." "Well, it is a hard case," said the admiral, "that, with all the will in
the world to be up and doing something, we are lying here like a fleet
of ships in a calm, as idle as possible." "You perceive we have no evidence to connect Sir Francis Varney with
this affair, either nearly or remotely," said Marchdale. "Certainly not," replied Henry. "But yet, I hope you will not lose sight of the suggestion I proposed,
to the effect of ascertaining if he were from home last night."