Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (127 page)

THE INTERRUPTED BREAKFAST AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.

Notwithstanding
all Mr. Chillingworth could say to the contrary, the admiral really meant to
breakfast with Sir Francis Varney.

The
worthy doctor could not for some time believe but that the admiral must be
joking, when he talked in such a strain; but he was very soon convinced to the
contrary, by the latter actually walking out and once more asking him, Mr.
Chillingworth, if he meant to go with him, or not.

This
was conclusive, so the doctor said,—

"Well,
admiral, this appears to me rather a mad sort of freak; but, as I have begun
the adventure with you, I will conclude it with you."

"That's
right," said the admiral; "I'm not deceived in you, doctor; so come
along. Hang these vampyres, I don't know how to tackle them, myself. I think,
after all, Sir Francis Varney is more in your line than line is in mine."

"How
do you mean?"

"Why,
couldn't you persuade him he's ill, and wants some physic? That would soon
settle him, you know."

"Settle
him!" said Mr. Chillingworth; "I beg to say that if I did give him
any physic, the dose would be much to his advantage; but, however, my opinion
is, that this invitation to breakfast is, after all, a mere piece of irony; and
that, when we get to Walmesley Lodge, we shall not see anything of him; on the
contrary, we shall probably find it's a hoax."

"I
certainly shouldn't like that, but still it's worth the trying. The fellow has
really behaved himself in such an extraordinary manner, that, if I can make
terms with him I will; and there's one thing, you know, doctor, that I think we
may say we have discovered."

"And
what may that be? Is it, not to make too sure of a vampyre, even when you have
him by the leg?"

"No,
that ain't it, though that's a very good thing in its way: but it is just this,
that Sir Francis Varney, whoever he is and whatever he is, is after Bannerworth
Hall, and not the Bannerworth family. If you recollect, Mr. Chillingworth, in
our conversation, I have always insisted upon that fact."

"You
have; and it seems to me to be completely verified by the proceedings of the
night. There, then, admiral, is the great mystery—what can he want at
Bannerworth Hall that makes him take such a world of trouble, and run so many
fearful risks in trying to get at it?"

"That
is, indeed, the mystery; and if he really means this invitation to breakfast, I
shall ask him plumply, and tell him, at the same time, that possibly his very
best way to secure his object will be to be candid, vampyre as he is."

"But
really, admiral, you do not still cling to that foolish superstition of
believing that Sir Francis Varney is in reality a vampyre?"

"I
don't know, and I can't say; if anybody was to give me a description of a
strange sort of fish that I had never seen, I wouldn't take upon myself to say
there wasn't such a thing; nor would you, doctor, if you had really seen the
many odd ones that I have encountered at various times."

"Well,
well, admiral, I'm certainly not belonging to that school of philosophy which
declares the impossible to be what it don't understand; there may be vampyres,
and there may be apparitions, for all I know to the contrary; I only doubt
these things, because I think, if they were true, that, as a phenomena of
nature, they would have been by this time established by repeated instances
without the possibility of doubt or cavil."

"Well,
there's something in that; but how far have we got to go now?"

"No
further than to yon enclosure where you see those park-like looking gates, and
that cedar-tree stretching its dark-green foliage so far into the road; that is
Walmesley Lodge, whither you have been invited."

"And
you, my learned friend, recollect that you were invited too; so that you are no
intruder upon the hospitality of Varney the vampyre."

"I
say, admiral," said Mr. Chillingworth, when they reached the gates,
"you know it is not quite the thing to call a man a vampyre at his own
breakfast-table, so just oblige me by promising not to make any such remark to
Sir Francis."

"A
likely thing!" said the admiral; "he knows I know what he is, and he
knows I'm a plain man and a blunt speaker; however, I'll be civil to him, and
more than that I can't promise. I must wring out of him, if I can, what has
become of Charles Holland, and what the deuce he really wants himself."

"Well,
well; come to no collision with him, while we're his guests."

"Not
if I can help it."

The
doctor rang at the gate bell of Walmesley Lodge, and was in a few moments
answered by a woman, who demanded their business.

"Is
Sir Francis Varney here?" said the doctor.

"Oh,
ah! yes," she replied; "you see his house was burnt down, for
something or other—I'm sure I don't know what—by some people—I'm sure I don't
know who; so, as the lodge was to let, we have took him in till he can suit
himself."

"Ah!
that's it, is it?" said the admiral—"tell him that Admiral Bell and
Dr. Chillingworth are here."

"Very
well," said the woman; "you may walk in."

"Thank
ye; you're vastly obliging, ma'am. Is there anything going on in the breakfast
line?"

"Well,
yes; I am getting him some breakfast, but he didn't say as he expected
company."

The
woman opened the garden gate, and they walked up a trimly laid out garden to
the lodge, which was a cottage-like structure in external appearance, although
within it boasted of all the comforts of a tolerably extensive house.

She
left them in a small room, leading from the hall, and was absent about five
minutes; then she returned, and, merely saying that Sir Francis Varney
presented his compliments, and desired them to walk up stairs, she preceded
them up a handsome flight which led to the first floor of the lodge.

Up to
this moment, Mr. Chillingworth had expected some excuse, for, notwithstanding
all he had heard and seen of Sir Francis Varney, he could not believe that any
amount of impudence would suffice to enable him to receive people as his
guests, with whom he must feel that he was at such positive war.

It
was a singular circumstance; and, perhaps, the only thing that matched the cool
impertinence of the invitation, was the acceptance of it under the
circumstances by the admiral.

Sir
Francis Varney might have intended it as a jest; but if he did so, in the first
instance, it was evident he would not allow himself to be beaten with his own
weapons.

The
room into which they were shown was a longish narrow one; a very wide door gave
them admission to it, at the end, nearest the staircase, and at its other
extremity there was a similar door opening into some other apartments of the
house.

Sir
Francis Varney sat with his back towards this second door, and a table, with
some chairs and other articles of furniture, were so arranged before him, that
while they seemed but to be carelessly placed in the position they occupied,
they really formed a pretty good barrier between him and his visitors.

The
admiral, however, was too intent upon getting a sight of Varney, to notice any
preparation of this sort, and he advanced quickly into the room.

And
there, indeed, was the much dreaded, troublesome, persevering, and singular
looking being who had caused such a world of annoyance to the family of the
Bannerworths, as well as disturbing the peace of the whole district, which had
the misfortune to have him as an inhabitant.

If
anything, he looked thinner, taller, and paler than usual, and there seemed to
be a slight nervousness of manner about him, as he slowly inclined his head
towards the admiral, which was not quite intelligible.

"Well,"
said Admiral Bell, "you invited me to breakfast, and my learned friend;
here we are."

"No
two human beings," said Varney, "could be more welcome to my
hospitality than yourself and Dr. Chillingworth. I pray you to be seated. What
a pleasant thing it is, after the toils and struggles of this life,
occasionally to sit down in the sweet companionship of such dear friends."

He
made a hideous face as he spoke, and the admiral looked as if he were half
inclined to quarrel at that early stage of the proceedings.

"Dear
friends!" he said; "well, well—it's no use squabbling about a word or
two; but I tell you what it is, Mr. Varney, or Sir Francis Varney, or whatever
your d——d name is—"

"Hold,
my dear sir," said Varney—"after breakfast, if you please—after
breakfast."

He
rang a hand-bell as he spoke, and the woman who had charge of the house brought
in a tray tolerably covered with the materials for a substantial morning's
meal. She placed it upon the table, and certainly the various articles that
smoked upon it did great credit to her culinary powers.

"Deborah,"
said Sir Varney, in a mild sort of tone, "keep on continually bringing
things to eat until this old brutal sea ruffian has satiated his disgusting
appetite."

The
admiral opened his eyes an enormous width, and, looking at Sir Francis Varney,
he placed his two fists upon the table, and drew a long breath.

"Did
you address those observations to me," he said, at length, "you
blood-sucking vagabond?"

"Eh?"
said Sir Francis Varney, looking over the admiral's head, as if he saw
something interesting on the wall beyond.

"My
dear admiral," said Mr. Chillingworth, "come away."

"I'll
see you d——d first!" said the admiral. "Now, Mr. Vampyre, no
shuffling; did you address those observations to me?"

"Deborah,"
said Sir Francis Varney, in silvery tones, "you can remove this tray and
bring on the next."

"Not
if I know it," said the admiral "I came to breakfast, and I'll have
it; after breakfast I'll pull your nose—ay, if you were fifty vampyres, I'd do
it."

"Dr.
Chillingworth," said Varney, without paying the least attention to what
the admiral said, "you don't eat, my dear sir; you must be fatigued with
your night's exertions. A man of your age, you know, cannot be supposed to roll
and tumble about like a fool in a pantomime with impunity. Only think what a
calamity it would be if you were laid up. Your patients would all get well, you
know."

"Sir
Francis Varney," said Mr. Chillingworth, "we're your guests; we come
here at your invitation to partake of a meal. You have wantonly attacked both
of us. I need not say that by so doing you cast a far greater slur upon your
own taste and judgment than you can upon us."

"Admirably
spoken," said Sir Francis Varney, giving his hands a clap together that
made the admiral jump again. "Now, old Bell, I'll fight you, if you think
yourself aggrieved, while the doctor sees fair play."

"Old
who?" shouted the admiral.

"Bell,
Bell—is not your name Bell?—a family cognomen, I presume, on account of the
infernal clack, clack, without any sense in it, that is the characteristic of
your race."

"You'll
fight me?" said the admiral, jumping up.

"Yes;
if you challenge me."

"By
Jove I do; of course"

"Then
I accept it; and the challenged party, you know well, or ought to know, can
make his own terms in the encounter."

"Make
what terms you please; I care not what they are. Only say you will fight, and
that's sufficient."

"It
is well," said Sir Francis Varney, in a solemn tone.

"Nay,
nay," interrupted Mr. Chillingworth; "this is boyish folly."

"Hold
your row," said the admiral, "and let's hear what he's got to
say."

"In
this mansion," said Sir Francis Varney—"for a mansion it is, although
under the unpretending name of a lodge—in this mansion there is a large
apartment which was originally fitted up by a scientific proprietor of the
place, for the purpose of microscopic and other experiments, which required a
darkness total and complete, such a darkness as seems as if it could be
felt—palpable, thick, and obscure as the darkness of the tomb, and I know what
that is."

"The
devil you do!" said this admiral "It's damp, too, ain't it?"

"The
room?"

"No;
the grave."

"Oh!
uncommonly, after autumnal rains. But to resume—this room is large, lofty, and
perfectly empty."

"Well?"

"I
propose that we procure two scythes."

"Two
what?"

"Scythes,
with their long handles, and their convenient holding places."

"Well,
I'll be hanged! What next do you propose?"

"You
may be hanged. The next is, that with these scythes we be both of us placed in
the darkened room, and the door closed, and doubly locked upon us for one hour,
and that then and there we do our best each to cut the other in two. If you
succeed in dismembering me, you will have won the day; but I hope, from my
superior agility"—here Sir Francis jumped upon his chair, and sat upon the
back of it—"to get the better of you. How do you like the plan I have
proposed? Does it meet your wishes?"