bottle; "what do you think of that?"

"I never thinks under such circumstances," said Jack. "Here's to the
wooden walls of old England!"

He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few
moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing
down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at last,
over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless state of
intoxication on the floor.

"So far, so good," said the admiral. "He's out of the way, at all
events."

"I'll just loosen his neckcloth," said Mr. Chillingworth, "and then
we'll go and sit somewhere else; and I should recommend that, if
anywhere, we take up our station in that chamber, once Flora's, where
the mysterious panelled portrait hangs, that bears so strong a
resemblance to Varney, the vampyre."

"Hush!" said the admiral. "What's that?"

They listened for a moment intently; and then, distinctly, upon the
gravel path outside the window, they heard a footstep, as if some person
were walking along, not altogether heedlessly, but yet without any very
great amount of caution or attention to the noise he might make.

"Hist!" said the doctor. "Not a word. They come."

"What do you say they for?" said the admiral.

"Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more of
Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the
light."

"Yes, yes--that'll do. The moon has risen; see how it streams through
the chinks of the shutters."

"No, no--it's not in that direction, or our light would have betrayed
us. Do you not see the beams come from that half glass-door leading to
the greenhouse?"

"Yes; and there's the footstep again, or another."

Tramp, tramp came a footfall again upon the gravel path, and, as before,
died away upon their listening ears.

"What do you say now," said Mr. Chillingworth--"are there not two?"

"If they were a dozen," said the admiral, "although we have lost one of
our force, I would tackle them. Let's creep on through the rooms in the
direction the footsteps went."

"My life on it," said Mr. Chillingworth as they left the apartment, "if
this be Varney, he makes for that apartment where Flora slept, and which
he knows how to get admission to. I've studied the house well, admiral,
and to get to that window any one from here outside must take a
considerable round. Come on--we shall be beforehand."

"A good idea--a good idea. Be it so."