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) (168 page)

DR. CHILLINGWORTH AT THE HALL.—THE ENCOUNTER OF MYSTERY.—THE
CONFLICT.—THE RESCUE, AND THE PICTURE.

There
have been many events that have passed rapidly in this our narrative; but more
have yet to come before we can arrive at that point which will clear up much
that appears to be most mysterious and unaccountable.

Doctor
Chillingworth, but ill satisfied with the events that had yet taken place,
determined once more upon visiting the Hall, and there to attempt a discovery
of something respecting the mysterious apartment in which so much has already
taken place.

He
communicated his design to no one; he resolved to prosecute the inquiry alone.
He determined to go there and await whatever might turn up in the shape of
events. He would not for once take any companion; such adventures were often
best prosecuted alone—they were most easily brought to something like an
explanatory position, one person can often consider matters more coolly than
more. At all events, there is more secrecy than under any other circumstances.

Perhaps
this often is of greater consequence than many others; and, moreover, when
there is more than one, something is usually overdone. Where one adventurous
individual will rather draw back in a pursuit, more than one would induce them
to urge each other on.

In
fact, one in such a case could act the part of a spy—a secret observer; and in
that case can catch people at times when they could not under any other
circumstances be caught or observed at all.

"I
will go," he muttered; "and should I be compelled to run away again,
why, nobody knows anything about it and nobody will laugh at me."

This
was all very well; but Mr. Chillingworth was not the man to run away without
sufficient cause. But there was so much mystery in all this that he felt much
interested in the issue of the affair. But this issue he could not command; at
the same time he was determined to sit and watch, and thus become certain that
either something or nothing was to take place.

Even
the knowledge of that much—that some inexplicable action was still going on—was
far preferable to the uncertainty of not knowing whether what had once been
going on was still so or not, because, if it had ceased, it was probable that
nothing more would ever be known concerning it, and the mystery would still be
a mystery to the end of time.

"It
shall be fathomed if there be any possibility of its being discovered,"
muttered Chillingworth. "Who would have thought that so quiet and orderly
a spot as this, our quiet village, would have suffered so much commotion and
disturbance? Far from every cause of noise and strife, it is quite as great a
matter of mystery as the vampyre business itself.

"I
have been so mixed up in this business that I must go through with it. By the
way, of the mysteries, the greatest that I have met with is the fact of the
vampyre having anything to do with so quiet a family as the Bannerworths."

Mr.
Chillingworth pondered over the thought; but yet he could make nothing of it.
It in no way tended to elucidate anything connected with the affair, and it was
much too strange and singular in all its parts to be submitted to any process
of thought, with any hope of coming to anything like a conclusion upon the
subject—that must remain until some facts were ascertained, and to obtain them
Mr. Chillingworth now determined to try.

This
was precisely what was most desirable in the present state of affairs; while
things remained in the present state of uncertainty, there would be much more
of mystery than could ever be brought to light.

One
or two circumstances cleared up, the minor ones would follow in the same train,
and they would be explained by the others; and if ever that happy state of
things were to come about, why, then there would be a perfect calm in the town.

As
Mr. Chillingworth was going along, he thought he observed two men sitting
inside a hedge, close to a hay-rick, and thinking neither of them had any
business there, he determined to listen to their conversation, and ascertain if
it had any evil tendency, or whether it concerned the late event.

Having
approached near the gate, and they being on the other side, he got over without
any noise, and, unperceived by either of them, crept close up to them.

"So
you haven't long come from sea?"

"No;
I have just landed."

"How
is it you have thrown aside your seaman's clothes and taken to these?"

"Just
to escape being found out."

"Found
out! what do you mean by that? Have you been up to anything?"

"Yes,
I have, Jack. I have been up to something, worse luck to me; but I'm not to be
blamed either."

"What
is it all about?" inquired his companion. "I always thought you were
such a steady-going old file that there was no going out of the even path with
you."

"Nor
would there have been, but for one simple circumstance."

"What
was that?"

"I
will tell you, Jack—I will tell you; you will never betray me, I am sure."

"Never,
by heavens!"

"Well,
then, listen—it was this. I had been some time aboard our vessel. I had sailed
before, but the captain never showed any signs of being a bad man, and I was
willing enough to sail with him again.

"He
knew I was engaged to a young woman in this country, and that I was willing to
work hard to save money to make up a comfortable home for us both, and that I
would not sail again, but that I intended to remain ashore, and make up my mind
to a shore life."

"Well,
you would have a house then?"

"Exactly;
and that's what I wished to do. Well, I made a small venture in the cargo, and
thought, by so doing, that I should have a chance of realizing a sum of money
that would put us both in a comfortable line of business.

"Well,
we went on very smoothly until we were coming back. We had disposed of the
cargo, and I had received some money, and this seemed to cause our captain to
hate me, because I had been successful; but I thought there was something else
in it than that, but I could not tell what it was that made him so intolerably
cross and tyrannous.

"Well,
I found out, at length, he knew my intended wife. He knew her very well, and at
the same time he made every effort he could to induce me to commit some act of
disobedience and insubordination; but I would not, for it seemed to me he was
trying all he could to prevent my doing my duty with anything like comfort.

"However,
I learned the cause of all this afterwards. It was told me by one of the crew.

"'Bill,'
said my mate, 'look out for yourself.'

"'What's
in the wind?' said I.

"'Only
the captain has made a dead set at you, and you'll be a lucky man if you
escape.'

"'What's
it all about?' said I. 'I cannot understand what he means. I have done nothing
wrong. I don't see why I should suddenly be treated in this way.'

"'It's
all about your girl, Bill.'

"'Indeed!'
said I. 'What can that have to do with the captain? he knows nothing of her.'

"'Oh,
yes, he does,' he said. 'If it were not for you he would have the girl
himself.'

"'I
see now,' said I.

"'Ay,
and so can a blind man if you open his eyes; but he wants to make you do
wrong—to goad you on to do something that will give him the power of disgracing
you, and, perhaps, of punishing you.'

"'He
won't do that,' said I.

"'I
am glad to hear you say so, Bill; for, to my mind, he has made up his mind to
go the whole length against you. I can't make it out, unless he wishes you were
dead.'

"'I
dare say he does,' said I; 'but I will take care I will live to exact a
reckoning when he comes ashore.'

"'That
is the best; and when we are paid off, Bill, if you will take it out of him,
and pay him off, why, I don't care if I lend you a hand.'

"'We'll
say more about that, Dick,' said I, 'when we get ashore and are paid off. If we
are overheard now, it will be said that we are conspiring, or committing
mutiny, or something of that sort.'

"'You
are right, Bill,' he said—'you are right. We'll say no more about this now, but
you may reckon upon me when we are no longer under his orders.'

"'Then
there's no danger, you know.'

"Well,
we said nothing about this, but I thought of it, and I had cause enough, too,
to think of it; for each day the captain grew more and more tyrannous and
brutal. I knew not what to do, but kept my resolution of doing my duty in spite
of all he could do, though I don't mind admitting I had more than one mind to
kill him and myself afterwards.

"However,
I contrived to hold out for another week or two, and then we came into port,
and were released from his tyranny. I got paid off, and then I met my messmate,
and we had some talk about the matter.

"'The
worst of it is,' said I, 'we shall have some difficulty to catch him; and, if
we can, I'll be sworn we shall give him enough to last him for at least a
voyage or two.'

"'He
ought to have it smart,' said my messmate; 'and I know where he is to be
found.'

"'Do
you?—at what hour?'

"'Late
at night, when he may be met with as he comes from a house where he spends his
evenings."

"'That
will be the best time in the world, when we shall have less interference than
at any other time in the day. But we'll have a turn to-night if you will be
with me, as he will be able to make too good a defence to one. It will be a
fight, and not a chastisement.'

"'It
will. I will be with you; you know where to meet me. I shall be at the old spot
at the usual time, and then we will go.'

"We
parted; and, in the evening, we both went together, and sought the place where
we should find him out, and set upon him to advantage.

"He
was nearly two hours before he came; but when he did come, we saluted him with
a rap on the head, that made him hold his tongue; and then we set to, and gave
him such a tremendous drubbing, that we left him insensible; but he was soon
taken away by some watchmen, and we heard that he was doing well; but he was
dreadfully beaten; indeed, it would take him some weeks before he could be
about in his duties.

"He
was fearfully enraged, and offered fifty pounds reward to any one who could
give him information as to who it was that assaulted him.

"I
believe he had a pretty good notion of who it was; but he could not swear to
me; but still, seeing he was busying himself too much about me, I at once
walked away, and went on my way to another part of the country."

"To
get married?"

"Ay,
and to get into business."

"Then,
things are not quite so bad as I thought for at first."

"No—no,
not so bad but what they might have been worse a great deal; only I cannot go
to sea any more, that's quite certain."

"You
needn't regret that."

"I
don't know."

"Why
not know? Are you not going to be married?—ain't that much better?"

"I
can't say," replied the sailor; "there's no knowing how my bargain
may turn out; if she does well, why, then the cruising is over; but nothing
short of that will satisfy me; for if my wife is at all not what I wish her to
be, why, I shall be off to sea."

"I
don't blame you, either; I would do so too, if it were possible; but you see,
we can't do so well on land as you do at sea; we can be followed about from
pillar to post, and no bounds set to our persecution."

"That's
true enough," said the other; "we can cut and run when we have had
enough of it. However, I must get to the village, as I shall sleep there
to-night, if I find my quarters comfortable enough."

"Come
on, then, at once," said his companion; "it's getting dark now; and
you have no time to lose."

These
two now got up, and walked away towards the village; and Chillingworth arose
also, and pursued his way towards the Hall, while he remarked to himself,—

"Well—well,
they have nothing to do with that affair at all events. By-the-bye, I wonder
what amount of females are deserted in the navy; they certainly have an
advantage over landsmen, in the respect of being tied to tiresome partners;
they can, at least, for a season, get a release from their troubles, and be
free at sea."

However,
Mr. Chillingworth got to the Hall, and unobserved, for he had been especially
careful not to be seen; he had watched on all sides, and no signs of a solitary
human being had he seen, that could in any way make the slightest observation
upon him.

Indeed,
he had sheltered himself from observation at every point of his road,
especially so when near Bannerworth Hall, where there were plenty of corners to
enable him to do so; and when he arrived there, he entered at the usual spot,
and then sat down a few moments in the bower.