“And is that all you’ve got to say, you lubber, when you see your admiral in danger?  You’d better go and make terms with the enemy at once.”

“Really, this is serious,” said Henry; “they shout for Varney.  Can Mr. Chillingworth have been so mad as to adopt this means of stopping the duel?”

“Impossible,” said Marchdale; “if that had been his intention, he could have done so quietly, through the medium of the civil authorities.”

“Hang me!” exclaimed the admiral, “if there are any civil authorities; they talk of smashing somebody.  What do they say, Jack?  I don’t hear quite so well as I used.”

“You always was a little deaf,” said Jack.

“What?”

“A little deaf, I say.”

“Why, you lubberly lying swab, how dare you say so?”

“Because you was.”

“You slave-going scoundrel!”

“For Heaven’s sake, do not quarrel at such a time as this!” said Henry; “we shall be surrounded in a moment.  Come, Mr. Marchdale, let you and I visit these people, and ascertain what it is that has so much excited their indignation.”

“Agreed,” said Marchdale; and they both stepped forward at a rapid pace, to meet the advancing throng.

The crowd which had now approached to within a short distance of the expectant little party, was of a most motley description, and its appearance, under many circumstances, would cause considerable risibility.  Men and women were mixed indiscriminately together, and in the shouting, the latter, if such a thing were possible, exceeded the former, both in discordance and energy.

Every individual composing that mob carried some weapon calculated for defence, such as flails, scythes, sickles, bludgeons, &c., and this mode of arming caused them to wear a most formidable appearance; while the passion that superstition had called up was strongly depicted in their inflamed features.  Their fury, too, had been excited by their disappointment, and it was with concentrated rage that they now pressed onward.

The calm and steady advance of Henry and Mr. Marchdale to meet the advancing throng, seemed to have the effect of retarding their progress a little, and they came to a parley at a hedge, which separated them from the meadow in which the duel had been fought.

“You seem to be advancing towards us,” said Henry.  “Do you seek me or any of my friends; and if so, upon what errand?  Mr. Chillingworth, for Heaven’s sake, explain what is the cause of all this assault.  You seem to be at the head of it.”

“Seem to be,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “without being so.  You are not sought, nor any of your friends?”

“Who, then?”

“Sir Francis Varney,” was the immediate reply.

“Indeed! and what has he done to excite popular indignation? of private wrong I can accuse him; but I desire no crowd to take up my cause, or to avenge my quarrels.”

“Mr. Bannerworth, it has become known, through my indiscretion, that Sir Frances Varney is suspected of being a vampyre.”