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) (121 page)

THE MOB'S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.—THE ATTEMPT TO
GAIN ADMISSION.

All
eyes were directed towards that southern sky which each moment was becoming
more and more illuminated by the lurid appearance bespeaking a conflagration,
which if it was not extensive, at all events was raging fiercely.

There
came, too upon the wind, which set from that direction, strange sounds,
resembling shouts of triumph, combined occasionally with sharper cries,
indicative of alarm.

With
so much system and so quietly had this attack been made upon the house of Sir
Francis Varney—for the consequences of it now exhibited themselves most
unequivocally—that no one who had not actually accompanied the expedition was
in the least aware that it had been at all undertaken, or that anything of the
kind was on the tapis.

Now,
however, it could be no longer kept a secret, and as the infuriated mob, who
had sought this flagrant means of giving vent to their anger, saw the flames
from the blazing house rising high in the heavens, they felt convinced that
further secrecy was out of the question.

Accordingly,
in such cries and shouts as—but for caution's sake—they would have indulged in
from the very first, they now gave utterance to their feelings as regarded the
man whose destruction was aimed at.

"Death
to the vampyre!—death to the vampyre!" was the principal shout, and it was
uttered in tones which sounded like those of rage and disappointment.

But
it is necessary, now that we have disposed of the smaller number of rioters who
committed so serious an outrage at the inn, that we should, with some degree of
method, follow the proceedings of the larger number, who went from the town
towards Sir Francis Varney's.

These
persons either had information of a very positive nature, or a very strong
suspicion that, notwithstanding the mysterious and most unaccountable
disappearance of the vampyre in the old ruin, he would now be found, as usual,
at his own residence.

Perhaps
one of his own servants may have thus played the traitor to him; but however it
was, there certainly was an air of confidence about some of the leaders of the
tumultuous assemblage that induced a general belief that this time, at least,
the vampyre would not escape popular vengeance for being what he was.

We
have before noticed that these people went out of the town at different points,
and did not assemble into one mass until they were at a sufficient distance off
to be free from all fear of observation.

Then
some of the less observant and cautious of them began to indulge in shouts of
rage and defiance; but those who placed themselves foremost succeeded in
procuring a halt, and one said,—

"Good
friends all, if we make any noise, it can only have one effect, and that is, to
warn Sir Francis Varney, and enable him to escape. If, therefore, we cannot go
on quietly, I propose that we return to our homes, for we shall accomplish
nothing."

This
advice was sufficiently and evidently reasonable to meet with no dissension; a
death-like stillness ensued, only broken by some two or three voices saying, in
subdued tones,—

"That's
right—that's right. Nobody speak."

"Come
on, then," said he who had given such judicious counsel; and the dark mass
of men moved towards Sir Francis Varney's house, as quietly as it was possible
for such an assemblage to proceed.

Indeed,
saving the sound of the footsteps, nothing could be heard of them at all; and
that regular tramp, tramp, would have puzzled any one listening to it from any
distance to know in which direction it was proceeding.

In
this way they went on until Sir Francis Varney's house was reached, and then a
whispered word to halt was given, and all eyes were bent upon the building.

From
but one window out of the numerous ones with which the front of the mansion was
studded did there shine the least light, and from that there came rather an
uncommonly bright reflection, probably arising from a reading lamp placed close
to the window.

A
general impression, they knew not why exactly, seemed to pervade everybody,
that in the room from whence streamed that bright light was Sir Francis Varney.

"The
vampyre's room!" said several. "The vampyre's room! That is it!"

"Yes,"
said he who had a kind of moral control over his comrades; "I have no
doubt but he is there."

"What's
to be done?" asked several.

"Make
no noise whatever, but stand aside, so as not to be seen from the door when it
is opened."

"Yes,
yes."

"I
will knock for admittance, and, the moment it is answered, I will place this
stick in such a manner within, that the door cannot be closed again. Upon my
saying 'Advance,' you will make a rush forward, and we shall have possession
immediately of the house."

All
this was agreed to. The mob slunk close to the walls of the house, and out of
immediate observation from the hall door, or from any of the windows, and then
the leader advanced, and knocked loudly for admission.

The
silence was now of the most complete character that could be imagined. Those
who came there so bent upon vengeance were thoroughly convinced of the
necessity of extreme caution, to save themselves even yet from being completely
foiled.

They
had abundant faith, from experience, of the resources in the way of escape of
Sir Francis Varney, and not one among them was there who considered that there
was any chance of capturing him, except by surprise, and when once they got
hold of him, they determined he should not easily slip through their fingers.

The
knock for admission produced no effect; and, after waiting three or four
minutes, it was very provoking to find such a wonderful amount of caution and
cunning completely thrown away.

"Try
again," whispered one.

"Well,
have patience; I am going to try again."

The
man had the ponderous old-fashioned knocker in his hand, and was about to make
another appeal to Sir Francis Varney's door, when a strange voice said,—

"Perhaps
you may as well say at once what you want, instead of knocking there to no
purpose."

He
gave a start, for the voice seemed to come from the very door itself.

Yet
it sounded decidedly human; and, upon a closer inspection, it was seen that a
little wicket-gate, not larger than a man's face, had been opened from within.

This
was terribly provoking. Here was an extent of caution on the part of the
garrison quite unexpected. What was to be done?

"Well?"
said the man who appeared at the little opening.

"Oh,"
said he who had knocked; "I—"

"Well?"

"I—that
is to say—ahem! Is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well?"

"I
say, is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well;
you have said it!"

"Ah,
but you have not answered it."

"No."

"Well,
is he at home?"

"I
decline saying; so you had better, all of you, go back to the town again, for
we are well provided with all material to resist any attack you may be fools
enough to make."

As he
spoke, the servant shut the little square door with a bang that made his
questioner jump again. Here was a dilemma!

THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPYRE'S HOUSE.—THE STORY OF THE
ATTACK.—THE FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.

A
council of war was now called among the belligerents, who were somewhat taken
aback by the steady refusal of the servant to admit them, and their apparent
determination to resist all endeavours on the part of the mob to get into and
obtain possession of the house. It argued that they were prepared to resist all
attempts, and it would cost some few lives to get into the vampyre's house.
This passed through the minds of many as they retired behind the angle of the
wall where the council was to be held.

Here
they looked in each others' face, as if to gather from that the general tone of
the feelings of their companions; but here they saw nothing that intimated the
least idea of going back as they came.

"It's
all very well, mates, to take care of ourselves, you know," began one
tall, brawny fellow; "but, if we bean't to be sucked to death by a
vampyre, why we must have the life out of him."

"Ay,
so we must."

"Jack
Hodge is right; we must kill him, and there's no sin in it, for he has no right
to it; he's robbed some poor fellow of his life to prolong his own."

"Ay,
ay, that's the way he does; bring him out, I say, then see what we will do with
him."

"Yes,
catch him first," said one, "and then we can dispose of him
afterwards, I say, neighbours, don't you think it would be as well to catch him
first?"

"Haven't
we come on purpose?"

"Yes,
but do it."

"Ain't
we trying it?"

"You
will presently, when we come to get into the house."

"Well,
what's to be done?" said one; "here we are in a fix, I think, and I
can't see our way out very clearly."

"I
wish we could get in."

"But
how is a question I don't very well see," said a large specimen of
humanity.

"The
best thing that can be done will be to go round and look over the whole house,
and then we may come upon some part where it is far easier to get in at than by
the front door."

"But
it won't do for us all to go round that way," said one; "a small
party only should go, else they will have all their people stationed at one
point, and if we can divide them, we shall beat them because they have not
enough to defend more than one point at a time; now we are numerous enough to
make several attacks."

"Oh!
that's the way to bother them all round; they'll give in, and then the place is
our own."

"No,
no," said the big countryman, "I like to make a good rush and drive all
afore us; you know what ye have to do then, and you do it, ye know."

"If
you can."

"Ay,
to be sure, if we can, as you say; but can't we? that's what I want to
know."

"To
be sure we can."

"Then
we'll do it, mate—that's my mind; we'll do it. Come on, and let's have another
look at the street-door."

The
big countryman left the main body, and resolutely walked up to the main avenue,
and approached the door, accompanied by about a dozen or less of the mob. When
they came to the door, they commenced knocking and kicking most violently, and
assailing it with all kinds of things they could lay their hands upon.

They
continued at this violent exercise for some time—perhaps for five minutes, when
the little square hole in the door was again opened, and a voice was heard to
say,—

"You
had better cease that kind of annoyance."

"We
want to get in."

"It
will cost you more lives to do so than you can afford to spare. We are well
armed, and are prepared to resist any effort you can make."

"Oh!
it's all very well; but, an you won't open, why we'll make you; that's all
about it."

This
was said as the big countryman and his companions were leaving the avenue
towards the rest of the body.

"Then,
take this, as an earnest of what is to follow," said the man, and he
discharged the contents of a blunderbuss through the small opening, and its
report sounded to the rest of the mob like the report of a field-piece.

Fortunately
for the party retiring the man couldn't take any aim, else it is questionable
how many of the party would have got off unwounded. As it was, several of them
found stray slugs were lodged in various parts of their persons, and
accelerated their retreat from the house of the vampyre.

"What
luck?" inquired one of the mob to the others, as they came back; "I'm
afraid you had all the honour."

"Ay,
ay, we have, and all the lead too," replied a man, as he placed his hand
upon a sore part of his person, which bled in consequence of a wound.

"Well,
what's to be done?"

"Danged
if I know," said one.

"Give
it up," said another.

"No,
no; have him out. I'll never give in while I can use a stick. They are in
earnest, and so are we. Don't let us be frightened because they have a gun or
two—they can't have many; and besides, if they have, we are too many for them.
Besides, we shall all die in our beds."

"Hurrah!
down with the vampyre!"

"So
say I, lads. I don't want to be sucked to death when I'm a-bed. Better die like
a man than such a dog's death as that, and you have no revenge then."

"No,
no; he has the better of us then. We'll have him out—we'll burn him—that's the
way we'll do it."

"Ay,
so we will; only let us get in."

At
that moment a chosen party returned who had been round the house to make a
reconnaissance.

"Well,
well," inquired the mob, "what can be done now—where can we get
in?"

"In
several places."

"All
right; come along then; the place is our own."

"Stop
a minute; they are armed at all points, and we must make an attack on all
points, else we may fail. A party must go round to the front-door, and attempt
to beat it in; there are plenty of poles and things that could be used for such
a purpose."

"There
is, besides, a garden-door, that opens into the house—a kind of parlour; a
kitchen-door; a window in the flower-garden, and an entrance into a store-room;
this place appears strong, and is therefore unguarded."

"The
very point to make an attack."

"Not
quite."

"Why
not?"

"Because
it can easily be defended, and rendered useless to us. We must make an attack
upon all places but that, and, while they are being at those points, we can
then enter at that place, and then you will find them desert the other places
when they see us inside."

"Hurrah!
down with the vampyre!" said the mob, as they listened to this advice, and
appreciated the plan.

"Down
with the vampyre!"

"Now,
then, lads, divide, and make the attack; never mind their guns, they have but
very few, and if you rush in upon them, you will soon have the guns
yourselves."

"Hurrah!
hurrah!" shouted the mob.

The
mob now moved away in different bodies, each strong enough to carry the house.
They seized upon a variety of poles and stones, and then made for the various
doors and windows that were pointed out by those who had made the discovery.
Each one of those who had formed the party of observation, formed a leader to
the others, and at once proceeded to the post assigned him.

The
attack was so sudden and so simultaneous that the servants were unprepared; and
though they ran to the doors, and fired away, still they did but little good,
for the doors were soon forced open by the enraged rioters, who proceeded in a
much more systematic operation, using long heavy pieces of timber which were
carried on the shoulders of several men, and driven with the force of
battering-rams—which, in fact, they were—against the door.

Bang
went the battering-ram, crash went the door, and the whole party rushed
headlong in, carried forward by their own momentum and fell prostrate, engine
and all, into the passage.

"Now,
then, we have them," exclaimed the servants, who began to belabour the
whole party with blows, with every weapon they could secure.

Loudly
did the fallen men shout for assistance, and but for their fellows who came
rushing in behind, they would have had but a sorry time of it.

"Hurrah!"
shouted the mob; "the house is our own."

"Not
yet," shouted the servants.

"We'll
try," said the mob; and they rushed forward to drive the servants back,
but they met with a stout resistance, and as some of them had choppers and
swords, there were a few wounds given, and presently bang went the blunderbuss.

Two
or three of the mob reeled and fell.

This
produced a momentary panic, and the servants then had the whole of the victory
to themselves, and were about to charge, and clear the passage of their
enemies, when a shout behind attracted their attention.

That
shout was caused by an entrance being gained in another quarter, whence the
servants were flying, and all was disorder.

"Hurrah!
hurrah!" shouted the mob.

The
servants retreated to the stairs, and here united, they made a stand, and
resolved to resist the whole force of the rioters, and they succeeded in doing
so, too, for some minutes. Blows were given and taken of a desperate character.

Somehow,
there were no deadly blows received by the servants; they were being forced and
beaten, but they lost no life; this may be accounted for by the fact that the
mob used no more deadly weapons than sticks.

The
servants of Sir Francis Varney, on the contrary, were mostly armed with deadly
weapons, which, however, they did not use unnecessarily. They stood upon the hall
steps—the grand staircase, with long poles or sticks, about the size of
quarter-staves, and with these they belaboured those below most unmercifully.

Certainly,
the mob were by no means cowards, for the struggle to close with their enemies
was as great as ever, and as firm as could well be. Indeed, they rushed on with
a desperation truly characteristic of John Bull, and defied the heaviest blows;
for as fast as one was stricken down another occupied his place, and they
insensibly pressed their close and compact front upon the servants, who were
becoming fatigued and harassed.

"Fire,
again," exclaimed a voice from among the servants.

The
mob made no retrogade movement, but still continued to press onwards, and in
another moment a loud report rang through the house, and a smoke hung over the
heads of the mob.

A
long groan or two escaped some of the men who had been wounded, and a still
louder from those who had not been wounded, and a cry arose of,—

"Down
with the vampyre—pull down—destroy and burn the whole place—down with them
all."

A
rush succeeded, and a few more discharges took place, when a shout above
attracted the attention of both parties engaged in this fierce struggle. They
paused by mutual consent, to look and see what was the cause of that shout.