shouted the first, who rushed up heedless of
the staff. "Down with a fool!" thundered Varney, as he struck the fellow a terrific
blow, which covered his face with blood, and he fell back into the arms
of his companions. A bitter groan and execration arose from them below, and again they
shouted, and rushed up headlong. "Down with the vampyre!" was again shouted, and met by a corresponding,
but deep guttural sound of--

"Down with a fool!" And sure enough the first again came to the earth without any
preparation, save the application of an ashen stick to his skull, which,
by-the-bye, no means aided the operation of thinking. Several more shared a similar fate; but they pressed hard, and Sir
Francis was compelled to give ground to keep them at the necessary
length from him, as they rushed on regardless of his blows, and if he
had not he would soon have been engaged in a personal struggle, for they
were getting too close for him to use the staff. "Down with the vampyre!" was the renewed cry, as they drove him from
spot to spot until he reached the roof of the house, and then he ran up
the steps to the loft, which he had just reached when they came up to
the bottom. Varney attempted to draw the ladder up but four or five stout men held
that down; then by a sudden turn, as they were getting up, he turned it
over, threw those on it down, and the ladder too, upon the heads of
those who were below. "Down with the vampyre!" shouted the mob, as they, with the most
untiring energy, set the ladder, or steps, against the loft, and as many
as could held it, while others rushed up to attack Varney with all the
ferocity and courage of so many bull dogs. It was strange, but the more they were baffled the more enraged and
determined they rushed on to a new attack, with greater resolution than
ever. On this occasion, however, they were met with a new kind of missile, for
Sir Francis had either collected and placed there for the occasion, or
they had been left there for years, a number of old bricks, which lay
close at hand. These he took, one by one, and deliberately took aim at
them, and flung them with great force, striking down every one they hit. This caused them to recoil; the bricks caused fearful gashes in their
heads, and the wounds were serious, the flesh being, in many places,
torn completely off. They however, only paused, for one man said,--

"Be of good heart, comrades, we can do as he does; he has furnished us
with weapons, and we can thus attack him in two ways, and he must give
way in the end." "Hurrah! down with the vampyre!" sounded from all sides, and the shout
was answered by a corresponding rush. It was true; Sir Francis had furnished them with weapons to attack
himself, for they could throw them back at him, which they did, and
struck him a severe blow on the head, and it covered his face with blood
in a moment. "Hurrah!" shouted the assailants; "another such a blow, and all will be
over with the vampyre." "He's got--"

"Press him sharp, now," cried another man, as he aimed another blow with
a brick, which struck Varney on the arm, causing him to drop the brick
he held in his hand. He staggered back, apparently in great pain. "Up! up! we have him now; he cannot get away; he's hurt; we have him--we
have him." And up they went with all the rapidity they could scramble up the steps;
but this had given Varney time to recover himself; and though his right
arm was almost useless, yet he contrived, with his left, to pitch the
bricks so as to knock over the first three or four, when, seeing that he
could not maintain his position to advantage, he rushed to the outside
of the house, the last place he had capable of defence. There was a great shout by those outside, when they saw him come out and
stand with his staff, and those who came first got first served, for the
blows resounded, while he struck them, and sent them over below. Then came a great shout from within and without, and then a desperate
rush was made at the door, and, in the next instant, Varney was seen
flying, followed by his pursuers, one after the other, some tumbling
over the tiles, to the imminent hazard of their necks. Sir Francis Varney rushed along with a speed that appeared by far too
great to admit of being safely followed, and yet those who followed
appeared infected by his example, and appeared heedless of all
consequences by which their pursuit might be attended to themselves. "Hurrah!" shouted the mob below. "Hurrah!" answered the mob on the tiles. Then, over several housetops might be seen the flying figure of Sir
Francis Varney, pursued by different men at a pace almost equal to his
own. They, however, could keep up the same speed, and not improve upon it,
while he kept the advantage he first obtained in the start. Then suddenly he disappeared. It seemed to the spectators below that he had dropped through a house,
and they immediately surrounded the house, as well as they could, and
then set up another shout. This took place several times, and as often was the miserable man hunted
from his place of refuge only to seek another, from which he was in like
manner hunted by those who thirsted for his blood. On one occasion, they drove him into a house which was surrounded, save
at one point, which had a long room, or building in it, that ran some
distance out, and about twenty feet high. At the entrance to the roof of this place, or leads, he stood and
defended himself for some moments with success; but having received a
blow himself, he was compelled to retire, while the mob behind forced
those in front forward faster than he could by any exertion wield the
staff that had so much befriended him on this occasion. He was, therefore, on the point of being overwhelmed by numbers, when he
fled; but, alas! there was no escape; a bare coping stone and rails ran
round the top of that. There was not much time for hesitation, but he jumped over the rails and
looked below. It was a great height, but if he fell and hurt himself, he
knew he was at the mercy of the bloodhounds behind him, who would do
anything but show him any mercy, or spare him a single pang. He looked round and beheld his pursuers close upon him, and one was so
close to him that he seized upon his arm, saying, as he shouted to his
companions,--

"Hurrah, boys! I have him." With an execration, Sir Francis wielded his staff with such force, that
he struck the fellow on the head, crushing in his hat as if it had been
only so much paper. The man fell, but a blow followed from some one else
which caused Varney to relax his hold, and finding himself falling, he,
to save himself, sprang away. The rails, at that moment, were crowded with men who leaned over to
ascertain the effect of the leap. "He'll be killed," said one. "He's sure to be smashed," said another. "I'll lay any wager he'll break a limb!" said a third. Varney came to the earth--for a moment he lay stunned, and not able to
move hand or foot. "Hurrah!" shouted the mob.