"Hist!" The doctor’s voice cut through the oppressive stillness like a dagger, the echo of its urgency reverberating in the shadowed recesses of the room. "Not a word. They come."
"Why do you utter such warnings?" the admiral's voice, rough and grating, asked with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.
"Because," the doctor intoned darkly, "an insidious whisper warns me that Mr. O’Hara harbors more knowledge of Lazarus, the vampyre, than he has ever deigned to divulge. Extinguish the light."
"Indeed, yes," the admiral agreed, casting a resentful glance at the dying embers of their lantern. "The moon has ascended; its pallid rays seep through the fissures of the shutters."
"No," the doctor insisted, shaking his head with grim determination. "The light does not betray us from that direction. Observe how the beams of the moon creep through the half-glass door leading to the greenhouse."
"Indeed," the admiral conceded, "and once more, there is the footfall—tramp, tramp—upon the gravel path. It fades as before into the silence."
"Do you not hear it, Mr. Churchill?" asked the admiral, his tone sharp with irritation. "Are there not two distinct footsteps?"
"Even if there were a dozen," the admiral growled, "despite the loss of one of our number, I would confront them. Let us advance through the corridors in the direction of those steps."
"By my life," Mr. Churchill said as they departed the chamber, "if this indeed be Lazarus, he makes for the room where Flora once slept—a chamber he knows how to access. I have scrutinized the house thoroughly, admiral. To approach that window from outside would necessitate a considerable detour. Let us proceed; we shall be there first."
"A good notion—let it be so," the admiral assented, his eyes gleaming with grim resolve.
Guided only by the dim glow of their lantern, they hurried through the labyrinthine passages, their progress marked by the muted whispers of their footsteps. They came at last to the chamber adorned with the portrait that bore a striking resemblance to Lazarus, the vampyre.
They left the lantern outside the door, ensuring that not even the faintest beam betrayed their presence. In silence, they took their positions among the draperies of the antique bedstead, an elaborate piece of furniture that had become integral to their vigilant watch.
"Do you think," the admiral whispered, his voice laden with apprehension, "that we have evaded them?"
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"Certainly," Mr. Churchill replied, his eyes fixed on the window. "It is unfortunate, however, that the blind is drawn."
"Is it?" The admiral's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "By Heaven, a strange shadow now drapes itself across the blind."
Mr. Churchill’s breath caught in his throat as he beheld the shadow of a figure, vast and ominous, moving outside the window. The shadow’s outstretched arms seemed to grope for some means of entry.
It would have been all too simple to fire a pistol directly at the silhouette, yet both the admiral and Mr. Churchill recoiled from such immediate violence. They preferred to capture their intruder, reserving their pistols as a last resort.
"Who might you surmise that is?" the admiral hissed, his voice taut with tension.
"Lazarus, the vampyre," Mr. Churchill responded, his voice quaking with a blend of dread and certainty.
"Damnation, he looks as ghastly and imposing as one would expect," the admiral muttered, a new sound catching his attention. "What’s that?"
A peculiar cracking noise emanated from the window as though a pane of glass was being stealthily fractured. The blind fluttered in response, its agitation blurring the shadow of the figure attempting to gain entry.
"He’s coming in," the admiral whispered, his tone filled with foreboding.
"Hush, for Heaven’s sake!" Mr. Churchill admonished. "You’ll alert him, and all our efforts will be in vain. Did you not suggest, admiral, that we lie in wait beneath the window and seize him by the leg?"
"Indeed, I did," the admiral confirmed, steeling himself for action.
"Then proceed," Churchill urged. "As sure as night follows day, his leg will be within reach shortly."
"Very well," the admiral said, resolve hardening his voice. "I never propose a course of action I am unwilling to undertake myself."
The intruder, be they mortal or vampyre, encountered resistance with the window’s fastenings. Growing impatient and frustrated, the figure began to rattle the casement with increasing violence.
The admiral, with a surprising measure of stealth, maneuvered himself beneath the window. The depth of the woodwork from the floor to the window-frame was barely two feet, permitting any figure from the balcony to step easily into the room.
Clearly, the intruder had some familiarity with the window’s mechanisms, for the sash was finally wrenched open. The blind remained a barrier, but a vigorous pull from the intruder sent it crashing down upon the prostrate admiral.
Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating a tall, gaunt figure on the balcony. For a moment, the figure hesitated, contemplating whether to enter headfirst or feet first.
Had the figure chosen the former course, escape would have been nearly impossible. However, fortune favored the intruder as he chose to enter feet first.
Turning his body towards the room, the moonlight revealed his face. Mr. Churchill, peering through the shadows, could discern unmistakably that it was Lazarus, the vampyre—thus confirming the admiral’s grim anticipation.
The doctor, caught between terror and reluctant affirmation, watched breathlessly. The admiral, a mixture of grim satisfaction and impatience on his face, awaited the opportunity to grasp the vampyre’s leg.
His patience was rewarded when the leg descended within reach. "Boarders ahoy!" the admiral bellowed, seizing the intruder with a triumphant shout. "Yard-arm to yard-arm. I believe I have you now. Here’s a prize for you, doctor! He shall depart without his leg if he departs at all. Eh! What—light! Curse it, he has—Doctor, the light! The light! What is this—Hilloa, there!"