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) (166 page)

"Why,
you see, sir, this hangman drew a heavy sum yearly from him; thus making him
only a mine of wealth to himself; this, no doubt, would rankle in the other's
heart, to think he should be so beset, and hold life upon such terms."

"I
see, now."

"Yes;
and then came the consideration that he did not do it from any good motive,
merely a selfish one, and he was consequently under no obligation to him for
what he had done; besides, self-preservation might urge him on, and tell him to
do the deed.

"However
that may be, Montgomery dreaded it, and was resolved to punish the deed if he
could not prevent it. He, therefore, left general orders with his wife,
whenever he went on a journey to Varney, if he should be gone beyond a certain
time, she was to open a certain drawer, and take out a sealed packet to the
magistrate at the chief office, who would attend to it.

"He
has been missing, and his wife did as she was desired, and now we have found
what he there mentioned to be true; but, now, sir, I have satisfied you and
explained to you why we intruded upon you, we must now leave and seek for him
elsewhere."

"It
is most extraordinary, and that is the reason why his complexion is so
singular."

"Very
likely."

They
poured out some wine, which was handed to the officers, who drank and then
quitted the house, leaving the inmates in a state of stupefaction, from
surprise and amazement at what they had heard from the officers.

There
was a strange feeling came over them when they recollected the many occurrences
they had witnessed, and even the explanation of the officers; it seemed as if
some mist had enveloped objects and rendered them indistinct, but which was
fast rising, and they were becoming plainer and more distinct every moment in
which they were regarded.

There
was a long pause, and Flora was about to speak, when suddenly there came the
sound of a footstep across the garden. It was slow but unsteady, and paused
between whiles until it came close beneath the windows. They remained silent,
and then some one was heard to climb up the rails of the veranda, and then the
curtains were thrust aside, but not till after the person outside had paused to
ascertain who was there.

Then
the curtains were opened, and the visage of Sir Francis Varney appeared, much
altered; in fact, completely worn and exhausted.

It
was useless to deny it, but he looked ghastly—terrific; his singular visage was
as pallid as death; his eyes almost protruding, his mouth opened, and his
breathing short, and laboured in the extreme.

He
climbed over with much difficulty, and staggered into the room, and would have
spoken, but he could not; befell senseless upon the floor, utterly exhausted
and motionless.

There
was a long pause, and each one present looked at each other, and then they
gazed upon the inanimate body of Sir Francis Varney, which lay supine and
senseless in the middle of the floor.

The
importance of the document, said to be on the dead body, was such that it would
admit of no delay before it was obtained, and the party determined that it
should be commenced instanter. Lost time would be an object to them; too much
haste could hardly be made; and now came the question of, "should it be
to-night, or not?"

"Certainly,"
said Henry Bannerworth; "the sooner we can get it, the sooner all doubt
and distress will be at an end; and, considering the turn of events, that will
be desirable for all our sakes; besides, we know not what unlucky accident may
happen to deprive us of what is so necessary."

"There
can be none," said Mr. Chillingworth; "but there is this to be said,
this has been such an eventful history, that I cannot say what might or what
might not happen."

"We
may as well go this very night," said Charles Holland. "I give my
vote for an immediate exhumation of the body. The night is somewhat stormy, but
nothing more; the moon is up, and there will be plenty of light."

"And
rain," said the doctor.

"Little
or none," said Charles Holland. "A few gusts of wind now and then
drive a few heavy plashes of rain against the windows, and that gives a fearful
sound, which is, in fret, nothing, when you have to encounter it; but you will
go, doctor?"

"Yes,
most certainly. We must have some tools."

"Those
may be had from the garden," said Henry. "Tools for the exhumation,
you mean?"

"Yes;
pickaxe, mattocks, and a crowbar; a lantern, and so forth," said the
doctor. "You see I am at home in this; the fact is, I have had more than
one affair of this kind on my hands before now, and whilst a student I have had
more than one adventure of a strange character."

"I
dare say, doctor," said Charles Holland, "you have some sad pranks to
answer for; you don't think of it then, only when you find them accumulated in
a heap, so that you shall not be able to escape them; because they come over
your senses when you sleep at night."

"No,
no," said Chillingworth; "you are mistaken in that. I have long since
settled all my accounts of that nature; besides, I never took a dead body out
of a grave but in the name of science, and never for my own profit, seeing I
never sold one in my life, or got anything by it."

"That
is not the fact," said Henry; "you know, doctor, you improved your
own talents and knowledge."

"Yes,
yes; I did."

"Well,
but you profited by such improvements?"

"Well,
granted, I did. How much more did the public not benefit then," said the
doctor, with a smile.

"Ah,
well, we won't argue the question," said Charles; "only it strikes me
that the doctor could never have been a doctor if he had not determined upon
following a profession."

"There
may be a little truth in that," said Chillingworth; "but now we had
better quit the house, and make the best of our way to the spot where the
unfortunate man lies buried in his unhallowed grave."

"Come
with me into the garden," said Henry Bannerworth; "we shall there be
able to suit ourselves to what is required. I have a couple of lanterns."

"One
is enough," said Chillingworth; "we had better not burden ourselves
more than we are obliged to do; and we shall find enough to do with the
tools."

"Yes,
they are not light; and the distance is by far too great to make walking
agreeable and easy; the wind blows strong, and the rain appears to be coming up
afresh, and, by the time we have done, we shall find the ground will become
slippy, and bad for walking."

"Can
we have a conveyance?"

"No,
no," said the doctor; "we could, but we must trouble the turnpike
man; besides, there is a shorter way across some fields, which will be better
and safer."

"Well,
well," said Charles Holland; "I do not mind which way it is, as long
as you are satisfied yourselves. The horse and cart would have settled it all
better, and done it quicker, besides carrying the tools."

"Very
true, very true," said the doctor; "all that is not without its
weight, and you shall choose which way you would have it done; for my part, I
am persuaded the expedition on foot is to be preferred for two reasons."

"And
what are they?"

"The
first is, we cannot obtain a horse and cart without giving some detail as to
what you want it for, which is awkward, on account of the hour. Moreover, you
could not get one at this moment in time."

"That
ought to settle the argument," said Henry Bannerworth; "an
impossibility, under the circumstances, at once is a clincher, and one that may
be allowed to have some weight."

"You
may say that," said Charles.

"Besides
which, you must go a greater distance, and that, too, along the main road,
which is objectionable."

"Then
we are agreed," said Charles Holland, "and the sooner we are off the
better; the night grows more and more gloomy every hour, and more
inclement."

"It
will serve our purpose the better," said Chillingworth. "What we do,
we may as well do now."

"Come
with me to the garden," said Henry, "and we will take the tools. We
can go out the back way; that will preclude any observation being made."

They
all now left the apartment, wrapped up in great overcoats, to secure themselves
against the weather, and also for the purpose of concealing themselves from any
chance passenger.

In
the garden they found the tools they required, and having chosen them, they
took a lantern, with the mean of getting a light when they got to their
journey's end, which they would do in less than an hour.

After
having duly inspected the state of their efficiency, they started away on their
expedition.

The
night had turned gloomy and windy; heavy driving masses of clouds obscured the
moon, which only now and then was to be seen, when the clouds permitted her to
peep out. At the same time, there were many drifting showers, which lasted but
a few minutes, and then the clouds were carried forwards by some sudden gust of
wind so that, altogether, it was a most uncomfortable night as well could be
imagined.

However,
there was no time to lose, and, under all circumstances, they could not have
chosen a better night for their purpose than the one they had; indeed, they
could not desire another night to be out on such a purpose.

They
spoke not while they were within sight of the houses, though at the distance of
many yards, and, at the same time, there was a noise through the trees that
would have carried their voices past every object, however close; but they
would make assurance doubly sure.

"I
think we are fairly away now," said Henry, "from all fear of being
recognized."

"To
be sure you are. Who would recognize us now, if we were met?"

"No
one."

"I
should think not; and, moreover, there would be but small chance of any evil
coming from it, even if it were to happen that we were to be seen and known.
Nobody knows what we are going to do, and, if they did, there is no illegality
in the question."

"Certainly
not; but we wish the matter to be quite secret, therefore, we don't wish to be
seen by any one while upon this adventure."

"Exactly,"
said Chillingworth; "and, if you'll follow my guidance, you shall meet
nobody."

"We
will trust you, most worthy doctor. What have you to say for our
confidence?"

"That
you will find it is not misplaced."

Just
as the doctor had uttered the last sound, there came a hearty laugh upon the
air, which, indeed, sounded but a few paces in advance of them. The wind blew
towards them, and would, therefore, cause the sounds to come to them, but not
to go away in the direction they were going.

The
whole party came to a sudden stand still; there was something so strange in
hearing a laugh at that moment, especially as Chillingworth was, at that
moment, boasting of his knowledge of the ground and the certainty of their
meeting no one.

"What
is that?" inquired Henry.

"Some
one laughing, I think," said Chillingworth.

"Of
that there can be little or no doubt," said Charles Holland; "and, as
people do not usually laugh by themselves so heartily, it may be presumed there
are, at least, two."

"No
doubt of it."

"And,
moreover, their purpose cannot be a very good one, at this hour of the night,
and of such a night, too. I think we had better be cautious."

"Hush!
Follow me silently," said Henry.

As he
spoke, he moved cautiously from the spot where he stood, and, at the same time,
he was followed by the whole party, until they came to the hedge which skirted
a lane, in which were seated three men.

They
had a sort of tent erected, and that was hung upon a part of the hedge which
was to windward of them, so that it sheltered them from wind and rain.

Henry
and Chillingworth both peeped over the bank, and saw them seated beneath this
kind of canopy. They were shabby, gipsy-looking men, who might be something
else—sheep-stealers, or horse-stealers, in fact, anything, even to beggars.

"I
say, Jack," said one; "it's no bottle to-night."

"No;
there's nobody about these parts to-night. We are safe, and so are they."

"Exactly."

"Besides,
you see, those who do happen to be out are not worth talking to."

"No
cash."

"None,
not enough to pay turnpike for a walking-slick, at the most."

"Besides,
it does us no good to take a few shillings from a poor wretch, who has more in
family than he has shillings in pocket."

"Ay,
you are right, quite right. I don't like it myself, I don't; besides that,
there's fresh risk in every man you stop, and these poor fellows will fight
hard for a few shillings, and there is no knowing what an unlucky blow may do
for a man."