"Shiver me, if I see an opportunity, if I don't let some of those
rascals know what's what."

Scarcely had these words escaped the lips of the old admiral than there
arose a loud shout from the interior of the wood. It was a shout of
success, and seemed at the very least to herald the capture of the
unfortunate Varney.

"By Heaven!" exclaimed Henry, "they have him."

"God forbid!" said Mr. Marchdale; "this grows too serious."

"Bear a hand, Jack," said the admiral: "we'll have a fight for it yet;
they sha'n't murder even a vampyre in cold blood. Load the pistols and
send a flying shot or two among the rascals, the moment they appear."

"No, no," said Henry; "no more violence, at least there has been
enough--there has been enough."

Even as he spoke there came rushing from among the trees, at the corner
of the wood, the figure of a man. There needed but one glance to assure
them who it was. Sir Francis Varney had been seen, and was flying before
those implacable foes who had sought his life.

He had divested himself of his huge cloak, as well as of his low
slouched hat, and, with a speed which nothing but the most absolute
desperation could have enabled him to exert, he rushed onward, beating
down before him every obstacle, and bounding over the meadows at a rate
that, if he could have continued it for any length of time, would have
set pursuit at defiance.

"Bravo!" shouted the admiral, "a stern chase is a long chase, and I wish
them joy of it--d----e, Jack, did you ever see anybody get along like
that?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"You never did, you scoundrel."

"Yes, I did."

"When and where?"

"When you ran away off the sound."

The admiral turned nearly blue with anger, but Jack looked perfectly
imperturbable, as he added,--

"You know you ran away after the French frigates who wouldn't stay to
fight you."

"Ah! that indeed. There he goes, putting on every stitch of canvass,
I'll be bound."

"And there they come," said Jack, as he pointed to the corner of the
wood, and some of the more active of the vampyre's pursuers showed
themselves.

It would appear as if the vampyre had been started from some
hiding-place in the interior of the wood, and had then thought it
expedient altogether to leave that retreat, and make his way to some
more secure one across the open country, where there would be more
obstacles to his discovery than perseverance could overcome. Probably,
then, among the brushwood and tr