“You know that at present we are not only led to believe, almost irresistibly, that we have been visited here by a vampyre, but that that vampyre is our ancestor, whose portrait is on the panel of the wall of the chamber into which he contrived to make his way.” “True, most true.” “Then let us, by an examination of the family vault, George, put an end to one of the evidences. If we find, as most surely we shall, the coffin of the ancestor of ours, who seems, in dress and appearance, so horribly mixed up in this affair, we shall be at rest on that head.” “But consider how many years have elapsed.” “Yes, a great number.” “What then, do you suppose, could remain of any corpse placed in a vault so long ago?” “Decomposition must of course have done its work, but still there must be a something to show that a corpse has so undergone the process common to all nature. Double the lapse of time surely could not obliterate all traces of that which had been.” “There is reason in that, Henry.” “Besides, the coffins are all of lead, and some of stone, so that they cannot have all gone.” “True, most true.” “If in the one which, from the inscription and the date, we discover to be that of our ancestor whom we seek, we find the evident remains of a corpse, we shall be satisfied that he has rested in his tomb in peace.” “Brother, you seem bent on this adventure,” said George; “if you go, I will accompany you.” “I will not engage rashly in it, George. Before I finally decide, I will again consult with Mr. Marchdale. His opinion will weigh much with me.” “And in good time, here he comes across the garden,” said George, as he looked from the window of the room in which they sat. It was Mr. Marchdale, and the brothers warmly welcomed him as he entered the apartment. “You have been early afoot,” said Henry. “I have,” he said. “The fact is, that although at your solicitation I went to bed, I could not sleep, and I went out once more to search about the spot where we had seen the—the I don’t know what to call it, for I have a great dislike to naming it a vampyre.” “There is not much in a name,” said George. “In this instance there is,” said Marchdale. “It is a name suggestive of horror.” “Made you any discovery?” said Henry. “None whatever.” “You saw no trace of any one?” “Not the least.” “Well, Mr. Marchdale, George and I were talking over this projected visit to the family vault.” “Yes.” “And we agreed to suspend our judgments until we saw you, and learned your opinion.” “Which I will tell you frankly,” said Mr. Marchdale, “because I know you desire it freely.” “Do so.” “It is, that you make the visit.” “Indeed.”