to throw his pursuers off the
track.

They were well aware of this, for they increased their speed, and one or
two swifter of foot than the others, got a-head of them and cried out
aloud as they ran,--

"Keep up! keep up! he's making for the wood."

"He can't stop there long; there are too many of us to beat that cover
without finding our game. Push, lads, he's our own now, as sure as we
know he's on a-head."

They did push on, and came in full sight as they saw Sir Francis enter
the wood, with what speed he could make; but he was almost spent. This
was a cheering sight to them, and they were pretty certain he would not
leave the wood in the state he was then--he must seek concealment.

However, they were mistaken, for Sir Francis Varney, as soon as he got
into the wood, plunged into the thickest of it, and then paused to gain
breath.

"So far safe," he muttered; "but I have had a narrow escape; they are
not yet done, though, and it will not be safe here long. I must away,
and seek shelter and safety elsewhere, if I can;--curses on the hounds
that run yelping over the fields!"

He heard the shouts of his pursuers, and prepared to quit the wood when
he thought the first had entered it.

"They will remain here some time in beating about," he muttered; "that
is the only chance I have had since the pursuit; curse them! I say
again. I may now get free; this delay must save my life, but nothing
else will."

He moved away, and, at a slow and lazy pace, left the wood, and then
made his way across some fields, towards some cottages, that lay on the
left.

The moon yet shone on the fields; he could hear the shouts of the mob,
as various parties went through the wood from one covert to another, and
yet unable to find him.

Then came a great shout upon his ears, as though they had found out he
had left the wood. This caused him to redouble his speed, and, fearful
lest he should be seen in the moonlight, he leaped over the first fence
that he came to, with almost the last effort he could make, and then
staggered in at an open door--through a passage--into a front parlour,
and there fell, faint, and utterly spent and speechless, at the feet of
Flora Bannerworth.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

THE RECEPTION OF THE VAMPYRE BY FLORA.--VARNEY SUBDUED.

[Illustration]

We must say that the irruption into the house of the Bannerworths by Sir
Francis Varney, was certainly unpremeditated by him, for he knew not
into whose