Various were the shouts and menaces of the mob, and the stranger saw no
hope of life unless he could escape from the hands of the people who
surrounded him. They had now nearly reached the ruins, and the stranger, who was
certainly a somewhat odd and remarkable looking man, and who appeared in
their eyes the very impersonation of their notions of a vampyre, was
thrust from one to the other, kicked by one, and then cuffed by the
other, as if he was doomed to run the gauntlet. "Down with the vampyre!" said the mob. "I am no vampyre," said the stranger; "I am new to these parts, and I
pray you have mercy upon me. I have done you no wrong. Hear me,--I know
nothing of these people of whom you speak." "That won't do; you've come here to see what you can do, I dare say;
and, though you may have been hurt by the vampyre, and may be only your
misfortune, and not your fault, yet the mischief is as great as ever it
was or can be, you become, in spite of yourself, a vampyre, and do the
same injury to others that has been done to you--there's no help for
you." "No help,--we can't help it," shouted the mob; "he must die,--throw him
on the pile." "Put a stake through him first, though," exclaimed the humane female;
"put a stake through him, and then he's safe." This horrible advice had an electric effect on the stranger, who jumped
up, and eluded the grasp of several hands that were stretched forth to
seize him. "Throw him upon the burning wood!" shouted one. "And a stake through his body," suggested the humane female again, who
seemed to have this one idea in her heart, and no other, and, upon every
available opportunity, she seemed to be anxious to give utterance to the
comfortable notion. "Seize him!" exclaimed one. "Never let him go," said another; "we've gone too far to hang back now;
and, if he escape, he will visit us in our sleep, were it only out of
spite." The stranger made a dash among the ruins, and, for a moment,
out-stripped his pursuers; but a few, more adventurous than the rest,
succeeded in driving him into an angle formed by two walls, and the
consequence was, he was compelled to come to a stand. "Seize him--seize him!" exclaimed all those at a distance. The stranger, seeing he was now nearly surrounded, and had no chance of
escape, save by some great effort, seized a long piece of wood, and
struck two of his assailants down at once, and then dashed through the
opening. He immediately made for another part of the ruins, and succeeded in
making his escape for some short distance, but was unable to keep up the
speed that was required, for his great exertion before had nearly
exhausted him, and the fear of a cruel death before his eyes was not
enough to give him strength, or lend speed to his flight. He had
suffered too much from violence, and, though he ran with great speed,
yet those who followed were uninjured, and fresher,--he had no chance. They came very close upon him at the corner of a field, which he
endeavoured to cross, and had succeeded in doing, and he made a
desperate attempt to scramble up the bank that divided the field from
the next, but he slipped back, almost exhausted, into the ditch, and the
whole mob came up. However, he got on the bank, and leaped into the next field, and then he
was immediately surrounded by those who pursued him, and he was struck
down. "Down with the vampyre!--kill him,--he's one of 'em,--run a stake
through him!" were a few of the cries of the infuriated mob of people,
who were only infuriated because he attempted to escape their murderous
intentions. It was strange to see how they collected in a ring as the unfortunate
man lay on the ground, panting for breath, and hardly able to
speak--their infuriated countenances plainly showing the mischief they
were intent upon. "Have mercy upon me!" he exclaimed, as he lay on the earth; "I have no
power to help myself." The mob returned no answer, but stood collecting their numbers as they
came up. "Have mercy on me! it cannot be any pleasure to you to spill my blood. I
am unable to resist--I am one man among many,--you surely cannot wish to
beat me to death?" "We want to hurt no one, except in our own defence, and we won't be made
vampyres of because you don't like to die." "No, no; we won't be vampyres," exclaimed the mob, and there arose a
great shout from the mob. "Are you men--fathers?--have you families? if so, I have the same ties
as you have; spare me for their sakes,--do not murder me,--you will
leave one an orphan if you do; besides, what have I done? I have injured
no one." "I tell you what, friends, if we listen to him we shall all be vampyres,
and all our children will all be vampyres and orphans." "So we shall, so we shall; down with him!" The man attempted to get up, but, in doing so, he received a heavy blow
from a hedge-stake, wielded by the herculean arm of a peasant. The sound
of the blow was heard by those immediately around, and the man fell
dead. There was a pause, and those nearest, apparently fearful of the
consequences, and hardly expecting the catastrophe, began to disperse,
and the remainder did so very soon afterwards. CHAPTER LXXXI. THE VAMPYRE'S FLIGHT.--HIS DANGER, AND THE LAST PLACE OF REFUGE. [Illustration]

Leaving the disorderly and vicious mob, who were thus sacrificing human
life to their excited passions, we return to the brothers Bannerworth
and the doctor, who together with Admiral Bell, still held watch over
the hall. No indication of the coming forth of Varney presented itself for some
time longer, and then, at least they thought, they heard a window open;
and, turning their eyes in the direction whence the sound proceeded,
they could see the form of a man slowly and cautiously emerging from it. As far as they could judge, from the distance at which they were, that
form partook much of the appearance and the general aspect of Sir
Francis Varney, and the more they looked and noticed its movements, the
more they felt convinced that such was the fact. "There comes your patient, doctor," said the admiral. "Don't call him my patient," said the doctor, "if you please." "Why you know he is; and you are, in a manner of speaking, bound to look
after him. Well, what is to be done?" "He must not, on any account," said Dr. Chillingworth, "be allowed to
leave the place. Believe me, I have the very strongest reasons for
saying so." "He shall not leave it then," said Henry. Even as he spoke, Henry Bannerworth darted forward, and Sir Francis
Varney dropped from the window, out of which he had clambered, close to
his feet. "Hold!" cried Henry, "you are my prisoner." With the most imperturbable coolness in the world, Sir Francis Varney
turned upon him, and replied,--

"And pray, Henry Bannerworth, what have I done to provoke your wrath?" "What have you done?--have you not, like a thief, broken into my house? Can you ask what you have done?" "Ay," said the vampyre, "like a thief, perchance, and yet no thief. May
I ask you, what there is to steal, in the house?"