Their triumph was short, for just as they shouted Varney arose, and
after a moment or two's stagger he set off at full speed, which produced
another shout from the mob; and just at that moment, a body of his
pursuers were seen scaling the walls after him. There was now a hunt through all the adjoining fields--from cover after
cover they pursued him until he found no rest from the hungry wolves
that beset him with cries, resembling beasts of prey rather than any
human multitude. Sir Francis heard them, at the same time, with the despair of a man who
is struggling for life, and yet knows he is struggling in vain; he knew
his strength was decaying--his immense exertions and the blows he had
received, all weakened him, while the number and strength of his foes
seemed rather to increase than to diminish. Once more he sought the houses, and for a moment he believed himself
safe, but that was only a momentary deception, for they had traced him. He arrived at a garden wall, over which he bounded, and then he rushed
into the house, the door of which stood open, for the noise and
disturbance had awakened most of the inhabitants, who were out in all
directions. He took refuge in a small closet on the stairs, but was seen to do so by
a girl, who screamed out with fear and fright,

"Murder! murder!--the wampyre!--the wampyre!" with all her strength, and
in the way of screaming that was no little, and then she went off into a
fit. This was signal enough, and the house was at once entered, and beset on
all sides by the mob, who came impatient of obtaining their victim who
had so often baffled them. "There he is--there he is," said the girl, who came to as soon as other
people came up. "Where?--where?" "In that closet," she said, pointing to it with her finger. "I see'd him
go in the way above." Sir Francis, finding himself betrayed, immediately came out of the
closet, just as two or three were advancing to open it, and dealt so
hard a blow on the head of the first that came near him that he fell
without a groan, and a second shared the same fate; and then Sir Francis
found himself grappled with, but with a violent effort he relieved
himself and rushed up stairs. "Oh! murder--the wampyre! what shall I do--fire--fire!" These exclamations were uttered in consequence of Varney in his haste to
get up stairs, having inadvertently stepped into the girl's lap with one
foot, while he kicked her in the chin with the other, besides scratching
her nose till it bled. "After him--stick to him," shouted the mob, but the girl kicked and
sprawled so much they were impeded, till, regardless of her cries, they
ran over her and pursued Varney, who was much distressed with the
exertions he had made. After about a minute's race he turned upon the head of the stair, not so
much with the hope of defending it as of taking some breathing time: but
seeing his enemies so close, he drew his sword, and stood panting, but
prepared. "Never mind his toasting-fork," said one bulky fellow, and, as he spoke,
he rushed on, but the point of the weapon entered his heart and he fell
dead. There was a dreadful execration uttered by those who came up after him,
and there was a momentary pause, for none liked to rush on to the bloody
sword of Sir Francis Varney, who stood so willing and so capable of
using it with the most deadly effect. They paused, as well they might,
and this pause was the most welcome thing next to life to the
unfortunate fugitive, for he was dreadfully distressed and bleeding. "On to him boys! He can hardly stand. See how he pants. On to him, I
say--push him hard." "He pushes hard, I tell you," said another. "I felt the point of his
sword, as it came through Giles's back.". "I'll try my luck, then," said another, and he rushed up; but he was met
by the sword of Sir Francis, who pierced it through his side, and he
fell back with a groan. Sir Francis, fearful of stopping any longer to defend that point,
appeared desirous of making good his retreat with some little advantage,
and he rushed up stairs before they had recovered from the momentary
consternation into which they had been thrown by the sudden disaster
they had received. [Illustration]

But they were quickly after him, and before he, wearied as he was, could
gain the roof, they were up the ladder after him. The first man who came through the trap was again set upon by Varney,
who made a desperate thrust at him, and it took effect; but the sword
snapped by the handle. With an execration, Sir Francis threw the hilt at the head of the next
man he saw; then rushing, with headlong speed, he distanced his pursuers
for some house tops. But the row of houses ended at the one he was then at, and he could go
no further. What was to be done? The height was by far too great to be
jumped; death was certain. A hideous heap of crushed and mangled bones
would be the extent of what would remain of him, and then, perhaps, life
not extinct for some hours afterwards. He turned round; he saw them coming hallooing over the house tops, like
a pack of hounds. Sir Francis struck his hands together, and groaned. He
looked round, and perceived some ivy peeping over the coping-stone. A
thought struck him, and he instantly ran to the spot and leaned over. "Saved--saved!" he exclaimed. Then, placing his hand over, he felt for the ivy; then he got over, and
hung by the coping-stone, in a perilous position, till he found a spot
on which he could rest his foot, and then he grasped the ivy as low down
as he could, and thus he lowered himself a short way, till he came to
where the ivy was stronger and more secure to the wall, as the upper
part was very dangerous with his weight attached to it. The mob came on, very sure of having Sir Francis Varney in their power,
and they did not hurry on so violently, as their position was dangerous
at that hour of the night. "Easy, boys, easy," was the cry. "The bird is our own; he can't get
away, that's very certain." They, however, came on, and took no time about it hardly; but what was
their amazement and rage at finding he had disappeared. "Where is he?" was the universal inquiry, and "I don't know," an almost
universal answer. There was a long pause, while they searched around; but they saw no
vestige of the object of their search. "There's no trap door open," remarked one; "and I don't think he could
have got in at any one." "Perhaps, finding he could not get away, he has taken the desperate
expedient of jumping over, and committing suicide, and so escape the
doom he ought to be subjected to." "Probably he has; but then we can run a stake through him and burn him
all the same." They now approached the extreme verge of the houses, and looked over the
sides, but they could see nothing. The moon was up, and there was light
enough to have seen him if he had fallen to the earth, and they were
quite sure that he could not have got up after such a fall as he must
have received. "We are beaten after all, neighbours."