"In faith do I. What is to be done with such a meddling fool?" "He ought certainly to be taught not to be so fond of interfering with
other people's affairs." "Certainly." "Perchance the lesson will not be wholly thrown away upon others. It may
be worth while to take some trouble with this poor valiant fellow, and
let him spread his news so as to stop any one else from being equally
venturous and troublesome." "A good thought." "Shall it be done?" "Yes; if you will arrange that which shall accomplish such a result." "Be it so. The moon rises soon." "It does." "Ah, already I fancy I see a brightening of the air as if the mellow
radiance of the queen of night were already quietly diffusing itself
throughout the realms of space. Come further within the ruins." They both walked further among the crumbling walls and fragments of
columns with which the place abounded. As they did so they paused now
and then to listen, and more than once they both heard plainly the sound
of certain footsteps immediately outside the once handsome and spacious
building. Varney, the vampyre, who had been holding this conversation with no
other than Marchdale, smiled as he, in a whispered voice, told the
latter what to do in order to frighten away from the place the foolhardy
man who thought that, by himself, he should be able to accomplish
anything against the vampyre. It was, indeed, a hair-brained expedition, for whether Sir Francis
Varney was really so awful and preternatural a being as so many
concurrent circumstances would seem to proclaim, or not, he was not a
likely being to allow himself to be conquered by anyone individual, let
his powers or his courage be what they might. What induced this man to become so ventursome we shall now proceed to
relate, as well as what kind of reception he got in the old ruins,
which, since the mysterious disappearance of Sir Francis Varney within
their recesses, had possessed so increased a share of interest and
attracted so much popular attention and speculation. CHAPTER LXIII. THE GUESTS AT THE INN, AND THE STORY OF THE DEAD UNCLE. [Illustration]

As had been truly stated by Mr. Marchdale, who now stands out in his
true colours to the reader as the confidant and abettor of Sir Francis
Varney, there had assembled on that evening a curious and a gossipping
party at the inn where such dreadful and such riotous proceedings had
taken place, which, in their proper place, we have already duly and at
length recorded. It was not very likely that, on that evening, or for many and many an
evening to come, the conversation in the parlour of the inn would be
upon any other subject than that of the vampyre. Indeed, the strange, mysterious, and horrible circumstances which had
occurred, bade fair to be gossipping stock in trade for many a year. Never before had a subject presenting so many curious features arisen. Never, within the memory of that personage who is supposed to know
everything, had there occurred any circumstance in the county, or set of
circumstances, which afforded such abundant scope for conjecture and
speculation. Everybody might have his individual opinion, and be just as likely to be
right as his neighbours; and the beauty of the affair was, that such was
the interest of the subject itself, that there was sure to be a kind of
reflected interest with every surmise that at all bore upon it. [Illustration]

On this particular night, when Marchdale was prowling about, gathering
what news he could, in order that he might carry it to the vampyre, a
more than usually strong muster of the gossips of the town took place. Indeed, all of any note in the talking way were there, with the
exception of one, and he was in the county gaol, being one of the
prisoners apprehended by the military when they made the successful
attack upon the lumber-room of the inn, after the dreadful desecration
of the dead which had taken place. The landlord of the inn was likely to make a good thing of it, for
talking makes people thirsty; and he began to consider that a vampyre
about once a-year would be no bad thing for the Blue Lion. "It's shocking," said one of the guests; "it's shocking to think of. Only last night, I am quite sure I had such a fright that it added at
least ten years to my age." "A fright!" said several. "I believe I speak English--I said a fright." "Well, but had it anything to do with the vampyre?" "Everything." "Oh! do tell us; do tell us all about it. How was it? Did he come to
you? Go on. Well, well." The first speaker became immediately a very important personage in the
room; and, when he saw that, he became at once a very important
personage in his own eyes likewise; and, before he would speak another
word, he filled a fresh pipe, and ordered another mug of ale. "It's no use trying to hurry him," said one. "No," he said, "it isn't. I'll tell you in good time what a dreadful
circumstance has made me sixty-three to-day, when I was only fifty-three
yesterday." "Was it very dreadful?" "Rather. You wouldn't have survived it at all." "Indeed!" "No. Now listen. I went to bed at a quarter after eleven, as usual. I
didn't notice anything particular in the room." "Did you peep under the bed?" "No, I didn't. Well, as I was a-saying, to bed I went, and I didn't
fasten the door; because, being a very sound sleeper, in case there was
a fire, I shouldn't hear a word of it if I did." "No," said another. "I recollect once--"

"Be so good as allow me to finish what I know, before you begin to
recollect anything, if you please. As I was saying, I didn't lock the
door, but I went to bed. Somehow or another, I did not feel at all
comfortable, and I tossed about, first on one side, and then on the
other; but it was all in vain; I only got, every moment, more and more
fidgetty." "And did you think of the vampyre?" said one of the listeners. "I thought of nothing else till I heard my clock, which is on the
landing of the stairs above my bed-room, begin to strike twelve." "Ah! I like to hear a clock sound in the night," said one; "it puts one
in mind of the rest of the world, and lets one know one isn't all
alone." "Very good. The striking of the clock I should not at all have objected
to; but it was what followed that did the business." "What, what?" "Fair and softly; fair and softly. Just hand me a light, Mr. Sprigs, if
you please. I'll tell you all, gentlemen, in a moment or two." With the most provoking deliberation, the speaker re-lit his pipe, which
had gone out while he was talking, and then, after a few whiffs, to
assure himself that its contents had thoroughly ignited, he resumed,--

"No sooner had the last sound of it died away, than I heard something on
the stairs." "Yes, yes." "It was as if some man had given his foot a hard blow against one of the
stairs; and he would have needed to have had a heavy boot on to do it.