e patience; I am going to try again."

The man had the ponderous old-fashioned knocker in his hand, and was
about to make another appeal to Sir Francis Varney's door, when a
strange voice said,--

"Perhaps you may as well say at once what you want, instead of knocking
there to no purpose."

He gave a start, for the voice seemed to come from the very door itself.

Yet it sounded decidedly human; and, upon a closer inspection, it was
seen that a little wicket-gate, not larger than a man's face, had been
opened from within.

This was terribly provoking. Here was an extent of caution on the part
of the garrison quite unexpected. What was to be done?

"Well?" said the man who appeared at the little opening.

"Oh," said he who had knocked; "I--"

"Well?"

"I--that is to say--ahem! Is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well?"

"I say, is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well; you have said it!"

"Ah, but you have not answered it."

"No."

"Well, is he at home?"

"I decline saying; so you had better, all of you, go back to the town
again, for we are well provided with all material to resist any attack
you may be fools enough to make."

As he spoke, the servant shut the little square door with a bang that
made his questioner jump again. Here was a dilemma!

CHAPTER LI.

THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPYRE'S HOUSE.--THE STORY OF THE ATTACK.--THE
FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.

[Illustration]

A council of war was now called among the belligerents, who were
somewhat taken aback by the steady refusal of the servant to admit them,
and their apparent determination to resist all endeavours on the part of
the mob to get into and obtain possession of the house. It argued that
they were prepared to resist all attempts, and it would cost some few
lives to get into the vampyre's house. This passed through the minds of
many as they retired behind the angle of the wall where the council was
to be held.

Here they looked in each others' face, as if to gather from that the
general tone of the feelings of their companions; but here they saw
nothing that intimated the least idea of going back as they came.

"It's all very well, mates, to take care of ourselves, you know," began
one tall, brawny fellow; "but, if we bean't to be sucked to death by a
vampyre, why we must have the life out of him."

"Ay, so we must."

"Jack Hodge is right; we must kill him, and there's no sin in it, for he
has no right to it; he's