they stop at the house--they go not by; they seem to pause, and
then a thundering knock came at the door, which echoed and re-echoed
through the empty and deserted house, on the top of which sat, in silent
expectation, the almost motionless Sir Francis Varney, the redoubted
vampyre. The knock which came so loud and so hard upon the door caused Sir

Francis to start visibly, for it seemed his own knell. Then, as if the
mob were satisfied with their knowledge of his presence, and of their
victory, and of his inability to escape them, they sent up a loud shout
that filled the whole neighbourhood with its sound. It seemed to come from below and around the house; it rose from all
sides, and that told Sir Francis Varney that the house was surrounded
and all escape was cut off; there was no chance of his being able to
rush through such a multitude of men as that which now encircled him. With the calmest despair, Sir Francis Varney lay still and motionless on
the house-top, and listened to the sounds that proceeded from below. Shout after shout arose on the still, calm air of the night; knock after
knock came upon the stout old door, which awakened responsive echoes
throughout the house that had for many years lain dormant, and which now
seemed disturbed, and resounded in hollow murmurs to the voices from
without. Then a loud voice shouted from below, as if to be heard by any one who
might be within,--

"Sir Francis Varney, the vampyre, come out and give yourself up at
discretion! If we have to search for you, you may depend it will be to
punish you; you will suffer by burning. Come out and give yourself up." There was a pause, and then a loud shout. Sir Francis Varney paid no attention to this summons, but sat,
motionless, on the house-top, where he could hear all that passed below
in the crowd. "He will not come out," said one. "Ah! he's much too cunning to be caught in such a trap. Why, he knows
what you would do with him; he knows you would stake him, and make a
bonfire about him." "So he has no taste for roasting," remarked another; "but still, it's no
use hiding; we have too many hands, and know the house too well to be
easily baffled." "That may be; and, although he don't like burning, yet we will unearth
the old fox, somehow or other; we have discovered his haunt at last, and
certainly we'll have him out." "How shall we get in?" "Knock in the door--break open the door! the front door--that is the
best, because it leads to all parts of the house, and we can secure any
one who attempts to move from one to the other, as they come down." "Hurrah!" shouted several men in the crowd. "Hurrah!" echoed the mob, with one accord, and the shout rent the air,
and disturbed the quietude and serenity that scarce five minutes before
reigned through the place. Then, as if actuated by one spirit, they all set to work to force the
door in. It was strong, and capable of great defence, and employed them,
with some labour, for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then, with a loud
crash, the door fell in. "Hurrah!" again shouted the crowd. These shouts announced the fall of the door, and then, and not until
then, did Sir Francis Varney stir. "They have broken in the door," he muttered, "well, if die I must, I
will sell my life dearly. However, all is not yet lost, and, in the
struggle for life, the loss is not so much felt." He got up, and crept towards the trap that led into the house, or out of
it, as the occasion might require. "The vampyre! the vampyre!" shouted a man who stood on a garden wall,
holding on by the arm of an apple-tree. "Varney, the vampyre!" shouted a second. "Hurrah! boys, we are on the right scent; now for a hunt; hurrah! we
shall have him now." They rushed in a tumultuous riot up the stone steps, and into the hall. It was a large, spacious place, with a grand staircase that led up to
the upper floor, but it had two ends, and then terminated in a gallery. It could not be defended by one man, save at the top, where it could not
long be held, because the assailants could unite, and throw their whole
weight against the entrance, and thus storm it. This actually happened. They looked up, and, seeing nobody, they rushed up, some by one stair,
and some by the other; but it was dark; there were but few of the moon's
rays that pierced the gloom of that place, and those who first reached
the place which we have named, were seized with astonishment, staggered,
and fell. Sir Francis Varney had met them; he stood there with a staff--something
he had found about the house--not quite so long as a broom-handle, but
somewhat thicker and heavier, being made of stout ash. This formidable weapon, Sir Francis Varney wielded with strength and
resolution; he was a tall man, and one of no mean activity and personal
strength, and such a weapon, in his hands, was one of a most fearful
character, and, for the occasion, much better than his sword. Man after man fell beneath the fearful brace of these blows, for though
they could not see Sir Francis, yet he could see them, or the
hall-lights were behind them at the time, while he stood in the dark,
and took advantage of this to deal murderous blows upon his assailants. This continued for some minutes, till they gave way before such a
vigorous defence, and paused. "On, neighbours, on," cried one; "will you be beaten off by one man? Rush in at once and you must force him from his position--push him hard,
and he must give way." "Ay," said one fellow who sat upon the ground rubbing his head; "it's
all very well to say push him hard, but if you felt the weight of that
d----d pole on your head, you wouldn't be in such a blessed hurry." However true that might be, there was but little attention paid to it,
and a determined rush was made at the entrance to the gallery, and they
found that it was unoccupied; and that was explained by the slamming of
a door, and its being immediately locked upon them; and when the mob
came to the door, they found they had to break their way through another
door. This did not take long in effecting; and in less than five minutes they
had broken through that door which led into another room; but the first
man who entered it fell from a crashing blow on the head from the ashen
staff of Sir Francis Varney, who hurried and fled, closely pursued,
until he came to another door, through which he dashed. Here he endeavoured to make a stand and close it, but was immediately
struck and grappled with; but he threw his assailant, and turned and
fled again. His object had been to defend each inch of the ground as long as he was
able; but he found they came too close upon his steps, and prevented his
turning in time to try the strength of his staff upon the foremost. He dashed up the first staircase with surprising rapidity, leaving his
pursuers behind; and when he had gained the first landing, he turned
upon those who pursued him, who could hardly follow him two abreast. "Down with the vampyre!"