Over and over again the ruins were searched—­hastily and impatiently by some, carefully and deliberately by others, until there could be no doubt upon the mind of every one individual, that somehow or somewhere within the shadow of those walls, Sir Francis Varney had disappeared most mysteriously.

Then it would have been a strange sight for any indifferent spectator to have seen how they shrunk, one by one, out of the shadow of those ruins; each seeming to be afraid that the vampyre, in some mysterious manner, would catch him if he happened to be the last within their sombre influence; and, when they had all collected in the bright, open space, some little distance beyond, they looked at each other and at the ruins, with dubious expressions of countenance, each, no doubt, wishing that each would suggest something of a consolatory or practicable character.

“What’s to be done, now?” said one.

“Ah! that’s it,” said another, sententiously.  “I’ll be hanged if I know.”

“He’s given us the slip,” remarked a third.

“But he can’t have given us the slip,” said one man, who was particularly famous for a dogmatical spirit of argumentation; “how is it possible? he must be here, and I say he is here.”

“Find him, then,” cried several at once.

“Oh! that’s nothing to do with the argument; he’s here, whether we find him or not.”

One very cunning fellow laid his finger on his nose, and beckoned to a comrade to retire some paces, where he delivered himself of the following very oracular sentiment:—­

“My good friend, you must know Sir Francis Varney is here or he isn’t.”

“Agreed, agreed.”

“Well, if he isn’t here it’s no use troubling our heads any more about him; but, otherwise, it’s quite another thing, and, upon the whole, I must say, that I rather think he is.”

All looked at him, for it was evident he was big with some suggestion.  After a pause, he resumed,—­

“Now, my good friends, I propose that we all appear to give it up, and to go away; but that some one of us shall remain and hide among the ruins for some time, to watch, in case the vampyre makes his appearance from some hole or corner that we haven’t found out.”

“Oh, capital!” said everybody.

“Then you all agree to that?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Very good; that’s the only way to nick him.  Now, we’ll pretend to give it up; let’s all of us talk loud about going home.”

They did all talk loud about going home; they swore that it was not worth the trouble of catching him, that they gave it up as a bad job; that he might go to the deuce in any way he liked, for all they cared; and then they all walked off in a body, when, the man who had made the suggestion, suddenly cried,—­

“Hilloa! hilloa!—­stop! stop! you know one of us is to wait?”

“Oh, ay; yes, yes, yes!” said everybody, and still they moved on.