which occurred last evening to my own residence, I am, ad interim, until the county build it up for me again, staying at a house called Walmesley Lodge, where I shall expect you with all the impatience of one soliciting an honour, and hoping that it will be conferred upon him.

    “I trust that any little difference of opinion on other subjects
    will not interfere to prevent the harmony of our morning’s meal
    together.

    “Believe me to be, my dear sir, with the greatest possible
    consideration, your very obedient, humble servant,

    “FRANCIS VARNEY.”

The admiral gasped again, and looked at Mr. Chillingworth, and then at the note, and then at Mr. Chillingworth again, as if he was perfectly bewildered.

“That’s about the coolest piece of business,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “that ever I heard of.”

“Hang me,” said the admiral, “if I sha’n’t like the fellow at last.  It is cool, and I like it because it is cool.  Where’s my hat? where’s my stick!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Accept his invitation, to be sure, and breakfast with him; and, my learned friend, as he calls you, I hope you’ll come likewise.  I’ll take the fellow at his word.  By fair means, or by foul, I’ll know what he wants here; and why he persecutes this family, for whom I have an attachment; and what hand he has in the disappearance of my nephew, Charles Holland; for, as sure as there’s a Heaven above us, he’s at the bottom of that affair.  Where is this Walmesley Lodge?”

“Just in the neighbourhood; but—­”

“Come on, then; come on.”

“But, really, admiral, you don’t mean to say you’ll breakfast with—­with—­”

“A vampyre?  Yes, I would, and will, and mean to do so.  Here, Jack, you needn’t go to Mr. Bannerworth’s yet.  Come, my learned friend, let’s take Time by the forelock.”

CHAPTER LX.

THE INTERRUPTED BREAKFAST AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY’S.

[Illustration]

Notwithstanding all Mr. Chillingworth could say to the contrary, the admiral really meant to breakfast with Sir Francis Varney.

The worthy doctor could not for some time believe but that the admiral must be joking, when he talked in such a strain; but he was very soon convinced to the contrary, by the latter actually walking out and once more asking him, Mr. Chillingworth, if he meant to go with him, or not.

This was conclusive, so the doctor said,—­

“Well, admiral, this appears to me rather a mad sort of freak; but, as I have begun the adventure with you, I will conclude it with you.”

“That’s right,” said the admiral; “I’m not deceived in you, doctor; so come along.  Hang these vampyres, I don’t know how to tackle them, myself.  I think, after all, Sir Francis Varney is more in your line than line is in mine.”

“How do you mean?”