The thought that it was the vampyre, who by some mysterious means had got there, and was about to make her his prey, now overcame her completely, and she sunk into a state of utter insensibility on the moment. CHAPTER X. THE RETURN FROM THE VAULT.—THE ALARM, AND THE SEARCH AROUND THE HALL. It so happened that George and Henry Bannerworth, along with Mr. Marchdale, had just reached the gate which conducted into the garden of the mansion when they all were alarmed by the report of a pistol. Amid the stillness of the night, it came upon them with so sudden a shock, that they involuntarily paused, and there came from the lips of each an expression of alarm. “Good heavens!” cried George, “can that be Flora firing at any intruder?” “It must be,” cried Henry; “she has in her possession the only weapons in the house.” Mr. Marchdale turned very pale, and trembled slightly, but he did not speak. “On, on,” cried Henry; “for God’s sake, let us hasten on.” As he spoke, he cleared the gate at a bound, and at a terrific pace he made towards the house, passing over beds, and plantations, and flowers heedlessly, so that he went the most direct way to it. Before, however, it was possible for any human speed to accomplish even half of the distance, the report of the other shot came upon his ears, and he even fancied he heard the bullet whistle past his head in tolerably close proximity. This supposition gave him a clue to the direction at all events from whence the shots proceeded, otherwise he knew not from which window they were fired, because it had not occurred to him, previous to leaving home, to inquire in which room Flora and his mother were likely to be seated waiting his return. He was right as regarded the bullet. It was that winged messenger of death which had passed his head in such very dangerous proximity, and consequently he made with tolerable accuracy towards the open window from whence the shots had been fired. The night was not near so dark as it had been, although even yet it was very far from being a light one, and he was soon enabled to see that there was a room, the window of which was wide open, and lights burning on the table within. He made towards it in a moment, and entered it. To his astonishment, the first objects he beheld were Flora and a stranger, who was now supporting her in his arms. To grapple him by the throat was the work of a moment, but the stranger cried aloud in a voice which sounded familiar to Henry,— “Good God, are you all mad?” Henry relaxed his hold, and looked in his face. “Gracious heavens, it is Mr. Holland!” he said. “Yes; did you not know me?” Henry was bewildered. He staggered to a seat, and, in doing so, he saw his mother, stretched apparently lifeless upon the floor. To raise her was the work of a moment, and then Marchdale and George, who had followed him as fast as they could, appeared at the open window.