affled them.

"There he is--there he is," said the girl, who came to as soon as other
people came up.

"Where?--where?"

"In that closet," she said, pointing to it with her finger. "I see'd him
go in the way above."

Sir Francis, finding himself betrayed, immediately came out of the
closet, just as two or three were advancing to open it, and dealt so
hard a blow on the head of the first that came near him that he fell
without a groan, and a second shared the same fate; and then Sir Francis
found himself grappled with, but with a violent effort he relieved
himself and rushed up stairs.

"Oh! murder--the wampyre! what shall I do--fire--fire!"

These exclamations were uttered in consequence of Varney in his haste to
get up stairs, having inadvertently stepped into the girl's lap with one
foot, while he kicked her in the chin with the other, besides scratching
her nose till it bled.

"After him--stick to him," shouted the mob, but the girl kicked and
sprawled so much they were impeded, till, regardless of her cries, they
ran over her and pursued Varney, who was much distressed with the
exertions he had made.

After about a minute's race he turned upon the head of the stair, not so
much with the hope of defending it as of taking some breathing time: but
seeing his enemies so close, he drew his sword, and stood panting, but
prepared.

"Never mind his toasting-fork," said one bulky fellow, and, as he spoke,
he rushed on, but the point of the weapon entered his heart and he fell
dead.

There was a dreadful execration uttered by those who came up after him,
and there was a momentary pause, for none liked to rush on to the bloody
sword of Sir Francis Varney, who stood so willing and so capable of
using it with the most deadly effect. They paused, as well they might,
and this pause was the most welcome thing next to life to the
unfortunate fugitive, for he was dreadfully distressed and bleeding.

"On to him boys! He can hardly stand. See how he pants. On to him, I
say--push him hard."

"He pushes hard, I tell you," said another. "I felt the point of his
sword, as it came through Giles's back.".

"I'll try my luck, then," said another, and he rushed up; but he was met
by the sword of Sir Francis, who pierced it through his side, and he
fell back with a groan.

Sir Francis, fearful of stopping any longer to defend that point,
appeared desirous of making good his retreat with some little advantage,
and he rushed u