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As the events of utmost gravity unfolded at the Hall, each passing day added weight to the previously incredulous notion, creating a stir among the local gossips whose tongues wagged incessantly with exaggerated tales.

The departing servants, citing sheer terror from encounters with the vampire, spread the sensational news far and wide. Soon, the name of Bennett Hall’s vampire became a favorite topic among the townsfolk, a rare gem for lovers of the macabre unmatched in recent memory.

Even the skeptics, in their quest to debunk the myth, found themselves bewildered by mounting evidence that defied rational explanation. The vampire's name became a whispered fear, even among nursery maids who found it a superior tool for quieting restless children, until their own fears silenced them.

The hub of this morbid fascination centered on the Nelson’s Arms, an inn nestled in the heart of the market town closest to the Hall. There, discussions about the vampire raged with fervor, fueling thirsts both literal and metaphorical, with the innkeeper jesting that the vampire was nearly as captivating as a heated election.

On that same evening when O’Hara and Henry ventured to confront Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, a postchaise arrived at the inn. Its passengers, starkly different in appearance, drew curious glances.

The older man, appearing closer to seventy than not, exuded a timeless vitality despite his age, dressed in clothing bearing naval motifs, a nod to his past. His companion, a robust sailor in shore attire, contrasted starkly with him.

As they alighted from the chaise, the sailor remarked to his companion with a playful air, “A-hoy!”

The older man, with a gruff demeanor, retorted, “What now, you scoundrel?”

“This inn’s named after Nelson, and you know, by thunder, he had only one arm for much of his life,” the sailor quipped.

“You rascal!” The older man’s response was curt, but the sailor seemed pleased with himself nonetheless.

As the postchaise drew near the inn, the older man, referred to as the admiral, bellowed at the postillion, “Heave to, you clumsy lad! We’re not docking here.” His companion, Jack, chimed in with a touch of sarcasm, “Ah, let’s disembark, admiral. This is the port, but mind, no swearing or foul language here.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Jack retorted playfully. “It’s been a decade since I’ve set foot on land, but I’ve learned a bit about shore manners, admiral. No one would mistake me for a sailor now, I reckon.”

“Quiet!” commanded the admiral sharply.

Jack sprang out of the chaise as if dragged by an invisible force, assisting the admiral out with a swift movement that hinted at years of seafaring agility. The inn’s landlord, bowing profusely, began his customary welcome, only to be interrupted by the admiral’s gruff command to silence.

Ignoring the landlord’s offers of good accommodations, the admiral demanded the sailing instructions from Jack. As Jack handed over a letter, the admiral grumbled, “Why bother with harbor dues until we know it’s the right port?”

The admiral opened the letter, revealing a message from Josiah Crinkles. “Who is this Crinkles?” the admiral growled.

“This is Uxotter, sir,” the landlord interjected. “You’re at the Nelson’s Arms.”

“Silence!” the admiral snapped.

As the landlord attempted to explain Josiah Crinkles’ identity, the admiral’s impatience grew. “A lawyer?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

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Jack whistled in astonishment, and both he and the admiral exchanged bewildered glances. “I’ve been duped!” the admiral fumed. “To travel all this way to meet a blasted lawyer!”

“I’ll sort it, sir,” Jack assured him.

“Get back in the chaise,” the admiral ordered, his frustration palpable.

As they approached the inn, Jack’s voice cut through the air, a mix of jest and concern. “Where’s Master Charles? Lawyers, they’re all rogues, but maybe this one’s led us right. Don’t abandon him to the wolves, sir. Show a bit of decency.”

The admiral bristled at Jack’s words. “You impudent rascal! How dare you lecture me?”

“Because you deserve it.”

“Mutiny, I say! Jack, I’ll have you disciplined!”

“Disciplined? Ha! You’re no seaman, sir.”

“No seaman? That’s it, then. I’ll find a better sailor than you.”

“Goodbye, then. Maybe you’ll find a sailor who’s a better ‘walley de sham’ than Jack Pringle. You didn’t call me no seaman when the bullets flew in Corfu.”

“Come here, you scoundrel! You’re not leaving me.”

“Not if I know it.”

“Don’t tell me I’m no seaman. I may be a rogue, but I’ve got feelings too.”

“Who’s hurting them?”

“The devil.”

“Stop it, then.”

The banter continued as they entered the inn, drawing amused glances from onlookers. The landlord offered a private room, to which Jack quipped, “What’s it to you?”

“Quiet, Jack,” the admiral interjected. “Yes, a private room and some strong grog.”

“Strong as the devil!” Jack added.

The landlord, flustered but trying to maintain decorum, repeated his offers. Jack’s playful jab earned another rib-crushing dig.

The admiral called for the lawyer, Mr. Crinkles, introducing himself grandly. Jack chimed in, “And don’t forget Jack Pringle’s here too.”

The landlord, in a state of mild chaos, nodded along, unsure which of the duo was in charge.

“The irony, Jack,” remarked the admiral, “traveling all this way just to meet a lawyer.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” Jack responded.

“If he had said he was a lawyer, we’d have known what to do. But this is a trick, Jack.”

“I agree. Nevertheless, we’ll give him what he deserves when we find him.”

“Good. That we will.”

“Plus, he might have information about Master Charles, you know. Remember when he visited you in Portsmouth?”

“Ah, I do indeed.”

“And how he despised the French, even as a child. What determination and wit. ‘Uncle,’ he said to you, ‘when I’m a grown man, I’ll sail on a ship and fight all the French at once,’ he said. ‘And defeat them, my boy,’ you said, thinking he’d forgotten that. But then he retorted, ‘Why bother saying that, silly? Don’t we always beat them?’”

The admiral chuckled, remembering. “I recall, Jack. I was foolish to make such a comment.”

“I thought you were a foolish old man.”

“Come now. Hello there!”

“Why did you call me no seaman?”

“Jack, you hold grudges like a marine.”

“There you go again. Farewell. Remember when we faced those two Yankee frigates, side by side, and conquered them both? You didn’t call me a marine then, when the decks were awash with blood. Was I a seaman then?”

“You were, Jack, you were. You saved my life.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I say I didn’t -- it was a marline-spike.”

“And I say you did, you rogue. I won’t be contradicted on my own ship.”

“Is this your ship?”

“No, damn it, I --”

“Mr. Crinkles,” interrupted the landlord, opening the door wide and ending the heated discussion.

“The shark, by God!” muttered Jack.

A small, well-dressed man entered cautiously, perhaps warned by the landlord about the temperament of the men who summoned him.

“So, you’re Crinkles,” declared the admiral. “Have a seat, despite being a lawyer.”

“Thank you, sir. I am indeed an attorney, and my name is Crinkles.”

“Look at that.”

Handing over the letter, the admiral instructed, “Read it.”

“Aloud?”

“Read it to the devil, if you like, in a whisper or a hurricane.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll read it aloud, if you don’t mind.”

He cleared his throat and began, “To Admiral Bell.

“Admiral, -- Knowing your deep concern for your nephew Charles Holland, I dare to write regarding a matter that urgently requires your attention. Charles has returned to England prematurely with the intention of marrying into a family and with a girl of highly objectionable nature.

You, as his guardian and closest relative, have a duty to intervene before this ill-fated union brings ruin and misery to him and all connected to him. The family he seeks to join is the Bennett's, and the young lady is Flora Bennett. But beware, for within that family resides a vampire. Should Charles proceed with this marriage, he will be binding himself to darkness, with offspring that inherit vampiric traits.

I trust this warning is sufficient to prompt your immediate action. If you lodge at the Nelson’s Arms in Uxotter, you can find me. I will provide further details.

Yours obediently and humbly, JOSIAH CRINKLES.”

P.S. Enclosed is Dr. Johnson’s definition of a vampire: “VAMPIRE (a blood-sucker) -- revealing how long the specter of vampirism has haunted the corridors of power, perhaps even at the court of St. James, where foreign influences have thrived.”