There was a slow and cautious footstep, and Marchdale advanced to where Tom Eccles was standing.

"Come, now," said the latter, when he saw the dusky-looking form stalking towards him; "till I know you better, I'll be obliged to you to keep off. I am well armed. Keep your distance, be you friend or foe."

"Armed!" exclaimed Marchdale, and he at once paused.--"Yes, I am."

"But I am a friend. I have no sort of objection frankly to tell you my errand. I am a friend of the Bannerworth family, and have kept watch here now for two nights, in the hopes of meeting with Varney, the vampyre."

"The deuce you have: and pray what may your name be?"--"Marchdale."

"If you be Mr. Marchdale, I know you by sight: for I have seen you with Mr. Henry Bannerworth several times. Come out from among the shadows, and let us have a look at you; but, till you do, don't come within arm's length of me. I am not naturally suspicious; but we cannot be too careful."

"Oh! certainly--certainly. The silver edge of the moon is now just peeping up from the east, and you will be able to see me well, if you step from the shadow of the wall by which you now are."

This was a reasonable enough proposition, and Tom Eccles at once acceded to it, by stepping out boldly into the partial moonlight, which now began to fall upon the open meadows, tinting the grass with a silvery refulgence, and rendering even minute objects visible. The moment he saw Marchdale he knew him, and, advancing frankly to him, he said,--

"I know you, sir, well."

"And what brings you here?"--"A wager for one thing, and a wish to see the vampyre for another."

"Indeed!"--"Yes; I must own I have such a wish, along with a still stronger one, to capture him, if possible; and, as there are now two of us, why may we not do it?"

"As for capturing him," said Marchdale, "I should prefer shooting him."--"You would?"

"I would, indeed. I have seen him once shot down, and he is now, I have no doubt, as well as ever. What were you doing with that huge stone I saw you bending over?"--"I have some handkerchiefs to hide here, as a proof that I have to-night really been to this place."

"Oh, I will show you a better spot, where there is a crevice in which you can place them with perfect safety. Will you walk with me into the ruins?"--"Willingly."

"It's odd enough," remarked Marchdale, after he had shown Tom Eccles where to hide the handkerchiefs, "that you and I should both be here upon so similar an errand."--"I'm very glad of it. It robs the place of its gloom, and makes it ten times more endurable than it otherwise would be. What do you propose to do if you see the vampyre?"

"I shall try a pistol bullet on him. You say you are armed?"--"Yes."

"With pistols?"--"One. Here it is."

"A huge weapon; loaded well, of course?"--"Oh, yes, I can depend upon it; but I did not intend to use it, unless assailed."

"'Tis well. What is that?"--"What--what?"

"Don't you see anything there? Come farther back. Look--look. At the corner of that wall there I am certain there is the flutter of a human garment."--"There is--there is."

"Hush! Keep close. It must be the vampyre."--"Give me my pistol. What are you doing with it?"

"Only ramming down the charge more firmly for you. Take it. If that be Varney the vampyre, I shall challenge him to surrender the moment he appears; and if he does not, I will fire upon him, and do you do so likewise."--"Well, I--I don't know."

"You have scruples?"--"I certainly have."

"Well, well--don't you fire, then, but leave it to me. There; look--look. Now have you any doubt? There he goes; in his cloak. It is--it is----"--"Varney, by Heavens!" cried Tom Eccles.

[Illustration]

"Surrender!" shouted Marchdale.

At the instant Sir Francis Varney sprang forward, and made off at a rapid pace across the meadows.

"Fire after him--fire!" cried Marchdale, "or he will escape. My pistol has missed fire. He will be off."

On the impulse of the moment, and thus urged by the voice and the gesture of his companion, Tom Eccles took aim as well as he could, and fired after the retreating form of Sir Francis Varney. His conscience smote him as he heard the report and saw the flash of the large pistol amid the half sort of darkness that was still around.

The effect of the shot was then to him painfully apparent. He saw Varney stop instantly; then make a vain attempt to stagger forward a little, and finally fall heavily to the earth, with all the appearance of one killed upon the spot.

"You have hit him," said Marchdale--"you have hit him. Bravo!"--"I have--hit him."

"Yes, a capital shot, by Jove!"--"I am very sorry."

"Sorry! sorry for ridding the world of such a being! What was in your pistol?"--"A couple of slugs."

"Well, they have made a lodgment in him, that's quite clear. Let's go up and finish him at once."--"He seems finished."

"I beg your pardon there. When the moonbeams fall upon him he'll get up and walk away as if nothing was the matter."--"Will he?" cried Tom, with animation--"will he?"

"Certainly he will."--"Thank God for that. Now, hark you, Mr. Marchdale: I should not have fired if you had not at the moment urged me to do so.

Now, I shall stay and see if the effect which you talk of will ensue; and although it may convince me that he is a vampyre, and that there are such things, he may go off, scot free, for me."

"Go off?"--"Yes; I don't want to have even a vampyre's blood upon my hands."

"You are exceedingly delicate."--"Perhaps I am; it's my way, though. I have shot him--not you, mind; so, in a manner of speaking, he belongs to me. Now, mark, me: I won't have him touched any more to-night, unless you think there's a chance of making a prisoner of him without violence."

"There he lies; you can go and make a prisoner of him at once, dead as he is; and if you take him out of the moonlight--"

"I understand; he won't recover."--"Certainly not."

"But, as I want him to recover, that don't suit me."--"Well, I cannot but honour your scruples, although I do not actually share in them; but I promise you that, since such is your wish, I will take no steps against the vampyre; but let us come up to him and see if he be really dead, or only badly wounded."

Tom Eccles hang back a little from this proposal; but, upon being urged again by Marchdale, and told that he need not go closer than he chose, he consented, and the two of them approached the prostrate form of Sir Francis Varney, which lay upon its face in the faint moonlight, which each moment was gathering strength and power.

"He lies upon his face," said Marchdale. "Will you go and turn him over?"--"Who--I? God forbid I should touch him."

"Well--well, I will. Come on."

They halted within a couple of yards of the body. Tom Eccles would not go a step farther; so Marchdale advanced alone, and pretended to be, with great repugnance, examining for the wound.

"He is quite dead," he said; "but I cannot see the hurt."--"I think he turned his head as I fired."

"Did he? Let us see."

Marchdale lifted up the head, and disclosed such a mass of clotted-looking blood, that Tom Eccles at once took to his heels, nor stopped until he was nearly as far off as the ruins. Marchdale followed him more slowly, and when he came up to him, he said,--

"The slugs have taken effect on his face."--"I know it--I know it. Don't tell me."

"He looks horrible."--"And I am a murderer."