aying another
word.

"Well; you have certainly stopped him from leaving," said Henry; "but
what's to be done now?"

"Let him be, let him be," said the doctor; "he must come out again, for
there are no provisions in the place, and he will be starved out."

"Hush! what is that?" said Henry.

There was a very gentle ring at the bell which hung over the garden
gate.

"That's an experiment, now, I'll be bound," said the doctor, "to
ascertain if any one is here; let us hide ourselves, and take no
notice."

The ring in a few moments was repeated, and the three confederates hid
themselves effectually behind some thick laurel bushes and awaited with
expectation what might next ensue.

Not long had they occupied their place of concealment, before they heard
a heavy fall upon the gravelled pathway, immediately within the gate, as
if some one had clambered to the top from the outside, and then jumped
down.

That this was the case the sound of footsteps soon convinced them, and
to their surprise as well as satisfaction, they saw through the
interstices of the laurel bush behind which they were concealed, no less
a personage that Sir Francis Varney himself.

"It is Varney," said Henry.

"Yes, yes," whispered the doctor. "Let him be, do not move for any
consideration, for the first time let him do just what he likes."

"D--n the fellow!" said the admiral; "there are some points about him
that like, after all, and he's quite an angel compared to that rascal
Marchdale."

"He is,--he saved Charles."

"He did, and not if I know it shall any harm come to him, unless he were
terribly to provoke it by becoming himself the assailant."

"How sad he looks!"

"Hush! he comes nearer; it is not safe to talk. Look at him."

CHAPTER LXXVII.

VARNEY IN THE GARDEN.--THE COMMUNICATION OF DR. CHILLINGWORTH TO THE
ADMIRAL AND HENRY.

[Illustration]

Kind reader, it was indeed Varney who had clambered over the garden
wall, and thus made his way into the garden of Bannerworth Hall; and
what filled those who looked at him with the most surprise was, that he
did not seem in any particular way to make a secret of his presence, but
walked on with an air of boldness which either arose from a feeling of
absolute impunity, from his thinking there was no one there, or from an
audacity which none but he could have compassed.

As for the little party that was there assembled, and who looked upon
him, they seemed thunderstricken b