" The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears. Her aunt went off at a tangent. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. “I truly am a vampire, John. Jack Sheppard warns Thames Darrell 284 VIII.
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