Varney the Vampyre 90The Misadventure of the Doctor with the Picture
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 90
The Misadventure of the Doctor with the Picture
RymerEnglish
The situation of Dr. Chillingworth and Jack Pringle was not of that character that permitted much conversation or even congratulation. They were victors it was true, and yet they had but little to boast of besides the victory.
Victory is a great thing; it is like a gilded coat, it bewilders and dazzles. Nobody can say much when you are victorious. What a sound! and yet how much misery is there not hidden beneath it.
This victory of the worthy doctor and his aid amounted to this, they were as they were before, without being any better, but much the worse, seeing they were so much buffetted that they could hardly speak, but sat for some moments opposite to each other, gasping for breath, and staring each other in the face without speaking.
The moonlight came in through the window and fell upon the floor, and there were no sounds that came to disturb the stillness of the scene, nor any object that moved to cast a shadow upon the floor. All was still and motionless, save the two victors, who were much distressed and bruised.
“Well!” said Jack Pringle, with a hearty execration, as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; “saving your presence, doctor, we are masters of the field, doctor; but it’s plaguey like capturing an empty bandbox after a hard fight.”
“But we have got the picture, Jack—we have got the picture, you see, and that is something. I am sure we saved that.”
“Well, that may be; and a pretty d—d looking picture it is after all. Why, it’s enough to frighten a lady into the sulks. I think it would be a very good thing if it were burned.”
“Well,” said the doctor, “I would sooner see it burned than in the hands of that——”
“What?” exclaimed Jack.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “but thief I should say, for it was somewhat thief-like to break into another man’s house and carry off the furniture.”
“A pirate—a regular land shark.”
“Something that is not the same as an honest man, Jack; but, at all events, we have beaten him back this time.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “the ship’s cleared; no company is better than bad company, doctor.”
“So it is, and yet it don’t seem clear in terms. But, Jack, if you hadn’t come in time, I should have been but scurvily treated. He was too powerful for me; I was as nigh being killed as ever I have been; but you were just in time to save me.”
“Well, he was a large, ugly fellow, sure enough, and looked like an old tree.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes, to be sure I did.”
“Well, I could not catch a glimpse of his features. In fact, I was too much employed to see anything, and it was much too dark to notice anything particular, even if I had had leisure.”
“Why, you had as much to do as you could well manage, I must say that, at all events. I didn’t see much of him myself; only he was a tall, out-of-the-way sort of chap—a long-legged shark. He gave me such a dig or two as I haven’t had for a long while, nor don’t want to get again; though I don’t care if I face the devil himself. A man can’t do more than do his best, doctor.”
“No, Jack; but there are very few who do do their best, and that’s the truth. You have, and have done it to some purpose too. But I have had enough for one day; he was almost strong enough to contend against us both.”
“Yes, so he was.”
“And, besides that, he almost carried away the picture—that was a great hindrance to him. Don’t you think we could have held him if we had not been fighting over the picture?”
“Yes, to be sure we could; we could have gone at him bodily, and held him. He would not have been able to use his hands. We could have hung on him, and I am sure if I came to grapple yard-arm and yard-arm, he would have told a different tale; however, that is neither here nor there. How long had you been here?”
“Not very long,” replied the doctor, whose head was a little confused by the blows which he had received. “I can’t now tell how long, but only a short time, I think.”
“Where did he come from?” inquired Jack.
“Come from, Jack?”
“Yes, doctor, where did he came from?—the window, I suppose—the same way he went out, I dare say—it’s most likely.”
“Oh, no, no; he come down from behind the picture. There’s some mystery in that picture, I’ll swear to it; it’s very strange he should make such a desperate attempt to carry it away.”
“Yes; one would think,” said Jack, “there was more in it than we can see—that it is worth more than we can believe; perhaps somebody sets particular store by it.”
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Chillingworth, shaking his head, “I don’t know how that may be; but certain it is, the picture was the object of his visit here—that is very certain.”
“It was; he was endeavouring to carry it off,” said Jack; “it would be a very good ornament to the black hole at Calcutta.”
“The utility of putting it where it cannot be seen,” remarked Mr. Chillingworth, “I cannot very well see; though I dare say it might be all very well.”
“Yes—its ugly features would be no longer seen; so far, it would be a good job. But are you going to remain here all night, and so make a long watch of it, doctor?”
“Why, Jack,” said the doctor, “I did intend watching here; but now the game is disturbed, it is of no use remaining here. We have secured the picture, and now there will be no need of remaining in the house; in fact, there is no fear of robbery now.”
“Not so long as we are here,” said Jack Pringle; “the smugglers won’t show a head while the revenue cutter is on the look out.”
“Certainly not, Jack,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “I think we have scared them away—the picture is safe.”
“Yes—so long as we are here.”
“And longer, too, I hope.”
Jack shook his head, as much as to intimate that he had many doubts upon such a point, and couldn’t be hurried into any concession of opinion of the safety of such a picture as that—much as he disliked it, and as poor an opinion as he had of it.
“Don’t you think it will be safe?”
“No,” said Jack.
“And why not?” said Mr. Chillingworth, willing to hear what Jack could advance against the opinion he had expressed, especially as he had disturbed the marauder in the very act of robbery.
“Why, you’ll be watched by this very man; and when you are gone, he will return in safety, and take this plaguey picture away with him.”
“Well, he might do so,” said Mr. Chillingworth, after some thought; “he even endangered his own escape for the purpose of carrying it off.”
“He wants it,” said Jack.
“What, the picture?”
“Aye, to be sure; do you think anybody would have tried so hard to get away with it? He wants it; and the long and the short of it is, he will have it, despite all that can be done to prevent it; that’s my opinion.”
“Well, there is much truth in that; but what to do I don’t know.”
“Take it to the cottage,” suggested Jack. “The picture must be more than we think for; suppose we carry it along.”
“That is no bad plan of yours, Jack,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “and, though a little awkward, yet it is not the worst I have heard; but—but—what will they say, when they see this frightful face in that quiet, yet contented house?”
“Why, they’ll say you brought it,” said Jack; “I don’t see what else they can say, but that you have done well; besides, when you come to explain, you will make the matter all right to ’em.”
“Yes, yes,” said Chillingworth; “and, as the picture now seems to be the incomprehensible object of attack, I will secure that, at all events.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Thank you, Jack; your aid will be welcome; at least, it was so just now.”
“All right, doctor,” said Jack. “I may be under your hands some day.”
“I’ll physic you for nothing,” said Mr. Chillingworth. “You saved my life. One good turn deserves another; I’ll not forget.”
“Thank you,” said Jack, as he made a wry face. “I hope you won’t have occasion. I’d sooner have a can of grog than any bottle of medicine you can give me; I ain’t ungrateful, neither.”
“You needn’t name it; I am getting my breath again. I suppose we had better leave this place, as soon as we conveniently can.”
“Exactly. The sooner the better; we can take it the more leisurely as we go.”
The moon was up; there were no clouds now, but there was not a very strong light, because the moon was on the wane. It was one of those nights during which an imperceptible vapour arises, and renders the moon somewhat obscure, or, at least, it robs the earth of her rays; and then there were shadows cast by the moon, yet they grew fainter, and those cast upon the floor of the apartment were less distinct than at first.
There seemed scarce a breath of air stirring; everything was quiet and still; no motion—no sound, save that of the breathing of the two who sat in that mysterious apartment, who gazed alternately round the place, and then in each other’s countenances. Suddenly, the silence of the night was disturbed by a very slight, but distinct noise, which struck upon them with peculiar distinctness; it was a gentle tap, tap, at the window, as if some one was doing it with their fingernail.
They gazed on each other, for some moments, in amazement, and then at the window, but they saw nothing; and yet, had there been anything, they must have seen it, but there was not even a shadow.
“Well,” said Mr. Chillingworth, after he had listened to the tap, tap, several times, without being able to find out or imagine what it could arise from, “what on earth can it be?”
“Don’t know,” said Jack, very composedly, squinting up at the window. “Can’t see anything.”
“Well, but it must be something,” persisted Mr. Chillingworth; “it must be something.”
“I dare say it is; but I don’t see anything. I can’t think what it can be, unless——”
“Unless what? Speak out,” said the doctor, impatiently.
“Why, unless it is Davy Jones himself, tapping with his long finger-nails, a-telling us as how we’ve been too long already here.”
“Then, I presume, we may as well go; and yet I am more disposed to deem it some device of the enemy to dislodge us from this place, for the purpose of enabling them to effect some nefarious scheme or other they have afloat.”
“It may be, and is, I dare say, a do of some sort or other,” said Jack; “but what can it be?”
“There it is again,” said the doctor; “don’t you hear it? I can, as plain as I can hear myself.”
“Yes,” said Jack; “I can hear it plain enough, and can see it, too; and that is more. Yes, yes, I can tell all about it plain enough.”
“You can? Well, then, shew me,” said the doctor, as he strode up to the window, before which Jack was standing gazing upon one particular spot of the shattered window with much earnestness.
“Where is it?”
“Look there,” said Jack, pointing with his finger to a particular spot, to which the doctor directed his attention, expecting to see a long, skinny hand tapping against the glass; but he saw nothing.
“Where is it?”
“Do you see that twig of ivy, or something of the sort?” inquired Jack.
“Yes, I do.”
“Very well, watch that; and when the wind catches it—and there is but very little—it lifts it up, and then, falling down again, it taps the glass.”
Just as he spoke, there came a slight gust of wind; and it gave a practical illustration to his words; for the tapping was heard as often as the plant was moved by the wind.
“Well,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “however simple and unimportant the matter may be, yet I cannot but say I am always well pleased to find a practical explanation of it, so that there will be no part left in doubt.”
“There is none about that,” said Jack.
“None. Well, we are not beset, then. We may as well consider of the manner of our getting clear of this place. What sort of burthen this picture may be I know not; but I will make the attempt to carry it.”
“Avast, there,” said Jack; “I will carry it; at all events, I’ll take the first spell, and, if I can’t go on, we’ll turn and turn about.”
“We can divide the weight from the first, and then neither of us will be tired at all.”
“Just as you please, sir,” said Jack Pringle. “I am willing to obey orders; and, if we are to get in to-night before they are all a-bed, we had better go at once; and then we shall not disturb them.”
“Good, Jack,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “very good; let us begin to beat our retreat at once.”
“Very good,” said Jack.
They both rose and approached the picture, which stood up in one corner, half reclining against the wall; the light, at least so much as there was, fell upon it, and gave it a ghastly and deathly hue, which made Mr. Chillingworth feel an emotion he could not at all understand; but, as soon as he could, he withdrew his eyes from off the picture, and they proceeded to secure it with some cord, so that they might carry it between them the easier—with less trouble and more safety.
These preparations did not take long in making, and, when completed, they gave another inquiring look round the chamber, and Mr. Chillingworth again approached the window, and gazed out upon the garden below, but saw nothing to attract his attention.
Turning away, he came to the picture, with which Jack Pringle had been standing. They proceeded towards the stairs, adopting every precaution they could take to prevent any surprise and any attempt upon the object of their solicitude.
Then they came to the great hall, and, having opened the door, they carried it out; then shutting the door, they both stood outside of Bannerworth Hall; and, before taking the picture up in their hands, they once more looked suspiciously around them.
There was nothing to be seen, and so, shouldering the ominous portrait, they proceeded along the garden till they conveyed it into the roadway.
“Now,” said Jack, “we are off; we can scud along under press of sail, you know.”
“I would rather not,” said the doctor, “for two reasons; one of which is, I can’t do it myself, and the other is, we should run the risk of injuring the picture; besides this, there is no reason for so doing.”
“Very well,” said Jack, “make it agreeable to yourself, doctor. See you, Jack’s alive, and I am willing to do all I can to help you.”
“I am very glad of your aid,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “so we will proceed slowly. I shall be glad when we are there; for there are few things more awkward than this picture to carry.”
“It is not heavy,” said Jack, giving it a hitch up, that first pulled the doctor back, and then pushed him forward again.
“No; but stop, don’t do that often, Jack, or else I shall be obliged to let go, to save myself from falling,” said the doctor.
“Very sorry,” said Jack; “hope it didn’t inconvenience you; but I could carry this by myself.”
“And so could I,” returned Mr. Chillingworth; “but the probability is there would be some mischief done to it, and then we should be doing more harm than good.”
“So we should,” said Jack.
They proceeded along with much care and caution. It was growing late now, and no one was about—at least, they met none. People did not roam about much after dark, especially since the reports of the vampyre became current, for, notwithstanding all their bravery and violence while in a body, yet to meet and contend with him singly, and unseen, was not at all a popular notion among them; indeed, they would sooner go a mile out of their way, or remain in doors, which they usually did.
The evening was not precisely dark, there was moonlight enough to save it from that, but there was a mist hanging about, that rendered objects, at a short distance, very indistinct.
Their walk was uninterrupted by any one, and they had got through half the distance without any disturbance or interruption whatever.
When they arrived at the precincts of the village, Jack Pringle said to Dr. Chillingworth, “Do you intend going through the village, doctor?”
“Why not? there will be nobody about, and if there should be, we shall be safe enough from any molestation, seeing there are none here who would dare to harm us; it is the shortest way, too.”
“Very good,” said Jack; “I am agreeable, and as for any one harming me, they know better; but, at all events, there’s company, and there’s less danger, you know, doctor; though I’m always company to myself, but haven’t any objection to a messmate, now and then.”
They pursued their way in silence, for some distance, the doctor not caring about continuing the talk of Jack, which amounted to nothing; besides, he had too much to do, for, notwithstanding the lightness of the picture, which Jack had endeavoured to persuade the doctor of, he found it was heavy and ungainly; indeed, had he been by himself he would have had some trouble to have got it away.
“We are nearly there,” said Jack, putting down his end of the picture, which brought Doctor Chillingworth to a standstill.
“Yes, we are; but what made you stop?”
“Why, you see,” said Jack, giving his trowsers a hitch, “as I said before, we are nearly there.”
“Well, what of that? we intended to go there, did we not?” inquired Chillingworth.
“Yes, exactly; that is, you intended to do so, I know, but I didn’t.”
“What do you mean by that?” inquired Chillingworth; “you are a complete riddle to-night, Jack; what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing; only, you see, I don’t want to go into the cottage, ’cause, you see, the admiral and I have had what you may call a bit of a growl, and I am in disgrace there a little, though I don’t know why, or wherefore; I always did my duty by him, as I did by my country. The ould man, however, takes fits into his head; at the same time I shall take some too; Jack’s as good as his master, ashore, at all events.”
“Well, then, you object to go in?” said Chillingworth.
“That is the state of the case; not that I’m afraid, or have any cause to be ashamed of myself; but I don’t want to make anybody else uncomfortable, by causing black looks.”
“Very well, Jack,” said the doctor. “I am much obliged to you, and, if you don’t like to come, I won’t press you against your inclination.”
“I understand, doctor. I will leave you here, if you can manage the rest of the way by yourself; there are not two hundred yards now to go, so you are all safe; so good bye.”
“Good bye, Jack,” said Doctor Chillingworth, who stood wiping his forehead, whilst the picture was standing up against the poles.
“Do you want a hand up first?”
“No, thank you; I can get it up very well without any trouble—it’s not so heavy.”
“Good bye, then,” said Jack; and, in a few moments more, Jack Pringle was out of sight, and the doctor was alone with the ominous picture. He had not far to go, and was within hail of the cottage; but it was late, and yet he believed he should find them up, for the quietude and calmness of the evening hour was that which most chimed with their feelings. At such a time they could look out upon the face of nature, and the freedom of thought appeared the greater, because there was no human being to clash with the silence and stillness of the scene.
“Well,” muttered Chillingworth, “I’ll go at once to the cottage with my burthen. How they will look at me, and wonder what could induce me to bring this away. I can hardly help smiling at the thought of how they will look at the apparition I shall make.”
Thus filled with notions that appeared to please him, the doctor shouldered the picture, and walked slowly along until he reached the dead wall that ran up to the entrance, or nearly so, of the gardens.
There was a plantation of young trees that overhung the path, and cast a deep shadow below—a pleasant spot in hot weather.
The doctor had been carrying the picture, resting the side of it on the small of his arm, and against his shoulder; but this was an inconvenient posture, because the weight of the picture cut his arm so much, that he was compelled to pause, and shift it more on his shoulder.
“There,” he muttered, “that will do for the present, and last until I reach the cottage garden.”
He was proceeding along at a slow and steady pace, bestowing all his care and attention to the manner of holding the picture, when he was suddenly paralysed by the sound of a great shout of such a peculiar character, that he involuntarily stopped, and the next moment, something heavy came against him with great force, just as if a man had jumped from the wall on to him.
This was the truth, for, in another moment, and before he could recover himself, he found that there was an attempt to deprive him of the picture.
This at once aroused him, and he made an instant and a vigorous defence; but he was compelled to let go his hold of the picture, and turn to resist the infuriated attack that was now commenced upon himself.
For some moments it was doubtful who would be the victor; but the wind and strength of the doctor were not enough to resist the powerful adversary against whom he had to contend, and the heavy blows that were showered down upon him.
At first he was enabled to bear up against this attack; and then he returned many of the blows with interest; but the stunning effect of the blows he received himself, was such that he could not help himself, and felt his senses gradually failing, his strength becoming less and less.
In a short time, he received such a blow, that he was laid senseless on the earth in an instant.
How long he remained thus he could not say; but it could not have been long, for all around him seemed just as it was before he was attacked.
The moon had scarcely moved, and the shadows, such as they were, were falling in the same direction as before.
“I have not been long here,” he muttered, after a few moments’ reflection; “but—but——”
He stopped short; for, on looking around him, he saw the object of his solicitude was gone. The picture was nowhere to be seen. It had been carried off the instant he had been vanquished.
“Gone!” he said, in a low, disconsolate tone; “and after all I have done!”
He wiped his hand across his brow, and finding it cut, he looked at the back of his hand, and saw by the deep colour that it was blood, indeed, he could now feel it trickle down his face.
What to do he hardly knew; he could stand, and after having got upon his feet, he staggered back against the wall, against which he leaned for support, and afterwards he crept along with the aid of its support, until he came to the door.
He was observed from the window, where Henry and Charles Holland, seeing him come up with such an unsteady gait, rushed to the door to ascertain what was the matter.
“What, doctor!” exclaimed Henry Bannerworth; “what is the matter?”
“I am almost dead, I think,” said Chillingworth. “Lend me your arm, Henry.”
Henry and Charles Holland immediately stepped out, and took him between them into the parlour, and placed him upon a couch.
“What on earth has happened, doctor?—have you got into disgrace with the populace?”
“No, no; give me some drink—some water, I am very faint—very faint.”
“Give him some wine, or, what’s better, some grog,” said the admiral. “Why, he’s been yard-arm with some pirate or other, and he’s damaged about the figure-head. You ain’t hurt in your lower works, are you, doctor?” said the admiral.
But the doctor took no notice of the inquiry; but eagerly sipped the contents of a glass that Charles Holland had poured out of a bottle containing some strong Hollands, and which appeared to nerve him much.
“There!” said the admiral, “that will do you good. How did all this damage to your upper works come about, eh?”
“Let him wash his face and hands first; he will be better able to talk afterwards.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Chillingworth. “I am much better; but I have had some hard bruises.”
“How did it happen?”
“I went by myself to watch in the room where the picture was in Bannerworth Hall.”
“Where the picture was!” said Henry; “where it is, you mean, do you not, doctor?”
“No; where it was, and where it is not now.”
“Gone!”
“Yes, gone away; I’ll tell you all about it. I went there to watch, but found nobody or nothing there; but suddenly a man stepped out from behind the picture, and we had a fight over it; after which, just as I was getting the worst of it, Jack Pringle came in.”
“The dog!” muttered the admiral.
“Yes, he came in just in time, I believe, to save my life; for the man, whoever he was, would not have hesitated about it.”
“Well, Jack is a good man,” said the admiral; “there may be worse, at least.”
“Well, we had a desperate encounter for some minutes, during which this fellow wanted to carry off the picture.”
“Carry off the picture?”
“Yes; we had a struggle for that; but we could not capture him; he was so violent that he broke away and got clear off.”
“With the picture?”
“No, he left the picture behind. Well, we were very tired and bruised, and we sat down to recover ourselves from our fatigue, and to consider what was best to be done; but we were some time before we could leave, and then we determined that we would take the picture away with us, as it seemed to be coveted by the robber, for what object we cannot tell.”
“Well, well—where is the picture?”
“You shall hear all about it in a minute, if you’ll let me take my time. I am tired and sore. Well, we brought the picture out, and Jack helped me carry it till he came within a couple of hundred yards of the cottage, and there left me.”
“The lubber!” said the admiral, interjectionally.
“Well, I rested awhile, and then taking the picture on my shoulders, I proceeded along with it until I came to the wall, when suddenly I heard a great shout, and then down came something heavy upon me, just as if a man had jumped down upon me.”
“And—and——”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “it was——”
“Was what?” inquired the admiral.
“Just what you all seemed to anticipate; you are all before me, but that was it.”
“A man?”
“Yes; I had a struggle with him, and got nearly killed, for I am not equal to him in strength. I was sadly knocked about, and finally all the senses were knocked out of me, and I was, I suppose, left for dead.”
“And what became of the picture?”
“I don’t know; but I suppose it was taken away, as, when I came to myself, it was gone; indeed, I have some faint recollection of seeing him seize the portrait as I was falling.”
There was a pause of some moments, during which all the party appeared to be employed with their own thoughts, and the whole were silent.
“Do you think it was the same man who attacked you in the house that obtained the picture?” at last inquired Henry Bannerworth.
“I cannot say, but I think it most probable that it was the same; indeed, the general appearance, as near as I could tell in the dark, was the same; but what I look upon as much stronger is, the object appears to be the same in both cases.”
“That is very true,” said Henry Bannerworth—“very true; and I think it more than probable myself. But come, doctor, you will require rest and nursing after your dangers.”
