 LIBRARY OF THE FUTURE (R) Series Third Edition  Windows (tm) Ver. 4.2
Dracula                                 Stoker, Bram           
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                                      1897                                  
                                    DRACULA                                 
                                                                            
                                 by Bram Stoker                             
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
 Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1991, World Library, Inc.       
                                                                            
CHAPTER_I                                                                   
                              CHAPTER I.                                    
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
                         (Kept in shorthand.)                               
-                                                                           
  3 May. Bistriz.- Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at        
Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train           
was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse      
which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through        
the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had            
arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The      
impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the         
East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is        
here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish      
rule.                                                                       
  We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to                  
Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I           
had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with           
red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for          
Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika               
hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get        
it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my smattering of German          
very useful here; indeed, I don't know how I should be able to get          
on without it.                                                              
  Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited         
the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the         
library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some                  
importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the      
district he named is in the extreme east of the country just on the         
borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the        
midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least             
known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work        
giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no            
maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey         
maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula,      
is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes,          
as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.        
  In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct                 
nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the                 
Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West,      
and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who        
claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for         
when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they         
found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known superstition          
in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as          
if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so          
my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about      
them.)                                                                      
  I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I         
had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under      
my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may            
have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my            
carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened      
by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been          
sleeping soundly then. I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of      
porridge of maize flour which they said was "mamaliga," and                 
egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they         
call "impletata." (Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry          
breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it        
ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I           
had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to         
move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more                  
unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?                  
  All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of      
beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on           
the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran      
by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on            
each side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of          
water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear.      
At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in      
all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at            
home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short           
jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very         
picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them,        
but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white          
sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a        
lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in         
a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The               
strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian          
than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white         
trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly      
a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high              
boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair        
and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look      
prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old      
Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless      
and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.                               
  It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which        
is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier-         
for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina- it has had a very           
stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years           
ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on        
five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth           
century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people,         
the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.          
  Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which      
I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of        
course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was        
evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a                  
cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress-white               
undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured           
stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she           
bowed, and said, "The Herr Englishman?" "Yes," I said, "Jonathan            
Harker." She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in             
white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door. He went, but         
immediately returned with a letter:-                                        
-                                                                           
  "My Friend.- Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting         
you. Sleep well to-night. At three tomorrow the diligence will start        
for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my           
carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your         
journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your      
stay in my beautiful land."                                                 
                                                        "Your friend,       
                                                        "DRACULA."          
-                                                                           
  4 May.- I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count,         
directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on          
making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and             
pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be         
true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least,          
he answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the         
old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened          
sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a               
letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count         
Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his          
wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all,         
simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting        
that I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious      
and not by any means comforting.                                            
  Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and            
said in a very hysterical way:                                              
  "Must you go? Oh young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an             
excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she      
knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not          
know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions.        
When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on           
important business, she asked again:                                        
  "Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of        
May. She shook her head as she said again:                                  
  "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that but do you know what day it            
is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:                   
  "It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night,        
when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will      
have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are           
going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort         
her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and             
implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before                 
starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable.        
How ever, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing          
to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and said,          
as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative,      
and that I must go. She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a          
crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do,         
for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things      
as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to           
refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She         
saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round          
my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.      
I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the          
coach, which, is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round          
my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly             
traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I      
am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book should      
ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes           
the coach!                                                                  
-                                                                           
  5 May. The Castle.- The grey of the morning has passed, and the           
sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with      
trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and         
little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called            
till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd        
things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined         
too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.         
I dined on what they call "robber steak"- bits of bacon, onion, and         
beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted            
over the fire, in the simple style of the London cat's meat! The            
wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the               
tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of         
glasses of this, and nothing else.                                          
  When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw      
him talking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me,           
for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who        
were sitting on the bench outside the door- which they call by a            
name meaning "word-bearer"- came and listened, and then looked at           
me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often               
repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd;      
so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them         
out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were         
"Ordog"- Satan, "pokol"- hell, "stregoica"- witch, "vrolok" and             
"vlkoslak"- both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and         
the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.        
(Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)                     
  When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this          
time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross         
and pointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got a            
fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer at         
first, but on learning that I was English he explained that it was a        
charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for         
me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man; but          
every one seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic      
that I could not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse      
which I had of the innyard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all        
crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its         
background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green            
tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then our driver, whose            
wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the box-seat- "gotza"         
they call them- cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which      
ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.                                 
  I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of      
the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or          
rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might         
not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a             
green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there           
steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses. the           
blank gable and to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass        
of fruit blossom- apple, plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I           
could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen          
petals. In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here         
the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the         
grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods,         
which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The      
road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish         
haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the            
driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I      
was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had         
not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it        
is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for          
it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order.      
Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think      
that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the      
war which was always really at loading point.                               
  Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty            
slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves.      
Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full      
upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this                 
beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks,          
green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless                
perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were               
themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly.        
Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as      
the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling      
water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the            
base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a              
mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right      
before us:-                                                                 
  "Look! Isten szek!"- "God's seat!"- and he crossed himself                
reverently.                                                                 
  As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower          
behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This         
was emphasised by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held           
the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and      
there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I        
noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many      
crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves.          
Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine,         
who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the             
self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer      
world. There were many things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in         
the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping              
birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate           
green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon- the            
ordinary peasant's cart- with its long, snake-like vertebra,                
calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure          
to be seated quite a group of home-coming peasants, the Cszeks with         
their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured, sheepskins, the           
latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As        
the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight        
seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak,        
beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the           
spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs          
stood out here and there against the background of late-lying snow.         
Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in        
the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness,          
which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly             
weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim             
fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the failing sunset          
threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the           
Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes         
the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses        
could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we          
do at home, but the driver would not hear it. "No, no," he said;            
"you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce;" and then he              
added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry- for he looked      
round to catch the approving smile of the rest- "and you may have           
enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The only stop he would      
make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.                               
  When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the          
passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as          
though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses                    
unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of                     
encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the          
darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as          
though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the               
passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on its great leather        
springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to            
hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along.            
Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to          
frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one          
several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me      
with an earnestness which would take no denial; these were certainly        
of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith,         
with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of             
fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz-      
the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. Then, as          
we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the              
passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into         
the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either        
happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would      
give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on         
for some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening         
out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and      
in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though      
the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we           
had got into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for           
the conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I             
expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but all           
was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps,          
in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white              
cloud. We could now see the sandy road lying white before us, but           
there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with         
a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I           
was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at        
his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear,          
it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone; I thought it was "An         
hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he said in German             
worse than my own:-                                                         
  "There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He        
will now come on to Bukovina. and return tomorrow of the next day;          
better the next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh      
and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up.        
Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal         
crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up behind        
us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the         
flash of our lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were          
coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man,            
with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide         
his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very              
bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He      
said to the driver:-                                                        
  "You are early to-night my friend." The man stammered in reply:-          
  "The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:-        
  "That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You         
cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are            
swift." As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a                  
hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as          
white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line          
from Burger's "Lenore:"-                                                    
-                                                                           
                  "Denn die Todten reiten schnell"-                         
                    ("For the dead travel fast.")                           
-                                                                           
The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with         
a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time      
putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the              
Herr's luggage," said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my            
bags were handed out and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the      
side of the coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver           
helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his          
strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins,      
the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I         
looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the             
light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures of my late         
companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and        
called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina.          
As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely         
feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and         
a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent German:-            
  "The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take      
all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the      
country) underneath the seat, if you should require it." I did not          
take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I         
felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had           
there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead of               
prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard         
pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along            
another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going            
over and over the same ground again; and so I took note of some             
salient point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to            
have asked the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do        
so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no      
effect in case there had been an intention to delay. By-and-by,             
however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a          
match, and by its flame looked at my watch; it was within a few             
minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the        
general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent              
experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.                      
  Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road-      
a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by        
another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind          
which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began,             
which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the               
imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night. At the           
first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke        
to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as      
though after a run-away from sudden fright. Then, far off in the            
distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a        
sharper howling- that of wolves- which affected both the horses and         
myself in the same way- for I was minded to jump from the caleche           
and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the            
driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In      
a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and        
the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and      
to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered             
something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and         
with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite         
manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again took         
his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This          
time, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down      
a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.                            
  Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over      
the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great             
frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in          
shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled          
through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as        
we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery          
snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered          
with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the        
dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of         
the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing           
round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the              
horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least            
disturbed; he kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not      
see anything through the darkness.                                          
  Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The      
driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses and,        
jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know        
what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer, but          
while I wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a          
word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have         
fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be        
repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful        
nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in           
the darkness around us I could watch the driver's motions. He went          
rapidly to where the blue flame arose- it must have been very faint,        
for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all- and             
gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. Once there            
appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the         
flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker           
all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only                  
momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the         
darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped            
onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us,        
as though they were following in a moving circle.                           
  At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than        
he had yet gone, and during his absence the horses began to tremble         
worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see        
any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether;      
but just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared          
behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its           
light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling        
red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a           
hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than        
even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear.      
It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors          
that he can under stand their true import.                                  
  All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had      
some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared,           
and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful          
to see; but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every             
side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the            
coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to           
try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach. I shouted        
and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the          
wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the           
trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a      
tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him           
stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing         
aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back               
further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the        
moon, so that we were again in darkness.                                    
  When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and      
the wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a      
dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The          
time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost              
complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept        
on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the          
main always ascending. Suddenly I became conscious of the fact that         
the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of      
a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of          
light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the        
moonlit sky.                                                                
                                                                            
CHAPTER_II                                                                  
                             CHAPTER II.                                    
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  5 May.- I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully        
awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place.          
In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several      
dark ways led from it under great round arches it perhaps seemed            
bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by             
daylight.                                                                   
  When the caleche stopped the driver jumped down, and held out his         
hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his               
prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that        
could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took out my traps,        
and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great         
door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting        
doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the        
stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by      
time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat         
and shook the reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all           
disappeared down one of the dark openings.                                  
  I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of         
bell or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and         
dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could                  
penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and          
fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among         
what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had      
embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's        
clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a              
foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor,-         
for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was           
successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my          
eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a          
horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake,      
and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the            
windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of          
overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were         
not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians.           
All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the         
morning.                                                                    
  Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step                
approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the           
gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains        
and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with         
the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.       
  Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white          
moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck      
of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver         
lamp, in which the name burned without chimney or globe of any kind,        
throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of           
the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a        
courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange            
intonation:-                                                                
  "Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no      
motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though           
his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however,      
that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward,        
and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me         
wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed          
as cold as ice- more like the hand of a dead than a living man.             
Again he said:-                                                             
  "Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of      
the happiness you bring!" The strength of the handshake was so much         
akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not        
seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to         
whom I was speaking; so to make sure, I said interrogatively:-              
  "Count Dracula?" He bowed in a courtly way as he replied:-                
  "I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house.            
Come in; the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest."        
As he was speaking he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and            
stepping out, took my luggage; he had carried it in before I could          
forestall him. I protested but he insisted:-                                
  "Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not            
available. Let me see to your comfort myself." He insisted on carrying      
my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and          
along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang            
heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced      
to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for               
supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly            
replenished, flamed and flared.                                             
  The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and              
crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small              
octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of      
any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned        
me to enter. It was a welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well      
lighted and warmed with another log fire,- also added to but lately         
for the top logs were fresh- which sent a hollow roar up the wide           
chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew,             
saying, before he closed the door:-                                         
  "You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making         
your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready         
come into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared."        
  The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to          
have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal      
state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger; so making         
a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.                                 
  I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of        
the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful         
wave of his hand to the table, and said:-                                   
  "I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust,         
excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do        
not sup."                                                                   
  I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to      
me. He opened it and read it gravely; then, with a charming smile,          
he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a          
thrill of pleasure:                                                         
  "I much regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a           
constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for         
some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient            
substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a           
young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very          
faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into         
manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you          
will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all               
matters."                                                                   
  The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and      
I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some            
cheese and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two            
glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count           
asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees         
all I had experienced.                                                      
  By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire had        
drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he            
offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I      
had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very            
marked physiognomy.                                                         
  His face was a strong- a very strong- aquiline, with high bridge          
of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed           
forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely         
elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the          
nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion.         
The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was          
fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth;          
these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed            
astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears          
were pale and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and         
strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of      
extraordinary pallor.                                                       
  Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his          
knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but      
seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were          
rather coarse- broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were        
hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut      
to a sharp point. As the Count learned over me and his hands touched        
me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath         
was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do          
what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it,        
drew back; and with a grim sort of smile. which showed more than he         
had yet done his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his           
own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I        
looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming          
dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I            
listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of         
many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said:-                        
  "Listen to them- the children of the night. What music they make!"        
Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he            
added:-                                                                     
  "Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of      
the hunter." Then he rose and said:-                                        
  "But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you      
shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon;      
so sleep well and dream well!" With a courteous bow, he opened for          
me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom...      
  I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear, I think strange            
things which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only        
for the sake of those dear to me!                                           
-                                                                           
  7 May.- it is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the      
last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of          
my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we      
had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept           
hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the          
table, on which was written:-                                               
  "I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.- D." I set          
to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so      
that I might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not          
find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house,                
considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round           
me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it        
must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs         
and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most          
beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were      
made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw          
something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and          
frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms in there a            
mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table and I had to           
get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave        
or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a        
sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time after         
I had finished my meal- I do not know whether to call it breakfast          
or dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it- I         
looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the      
castle until I had asked the Count's permission. There was                  
absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing            
materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of         
library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked.               
  In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of             
English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of             
magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with           
English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very          
recent date. The books were of the most varied kind- history,               
geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law- all           
relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There         
were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the "Red"        
and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and- it      
somehow gladdened my heart to see it- the Law List.                         
  Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count         
entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a          
good night's rest. Then he went on:-                                        
  "I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much        
that will interest you. These companions"- and he laid his hand on          
some of the books- "have been good friends to me, and for some years        
past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me           
many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your         
great England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go through         
the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the        
whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its              
death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only            
know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I            
know it to speak."                                                          
  "But, Count," I said, "you know and speak English thoroughly!" He         
bowed gravely.                                                              
  "I thank you, my friend, for your all too flattering estimate, but        
yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel.           
True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to           
speak them."                                                                
  "Indeed," I said, "you speak excellently."                                
  "Not so," he answered. "Well I know that, did I move and speak in         
your London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That      
is not enough for me. Here I am noble; I am boyar; the common people        
know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no        
one; men know him not- and to know not is to care not for. I am             
content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or        
pause in his speaking if he hear my words, 'Ha, ha! a stranger!' I          
have been so long master that I would be master still- or at least          
that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as         
agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my        
new estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while,        
so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation; and I would      
that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my             
speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day; but you          
will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand."       
  Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I          
might come into that room when I chose. He answered: "Yes, certainly,"      
and added:-                                                                 
  "You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the             
doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is         
reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes        
and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand." I         
said I was sure of this, and then he went on:-                              
  "We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways        
are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay,      
from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know            
something of what strange things there may be."                             
  This led to much conversation; and as it was evident that he              
wanted to talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many questions      
regarding things that had already happened to me or come within my          
notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the                 
conversation by pretending not to understand; but generally he              
answered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got      
somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of the           
preceding night, as, for instance, why the coachman went to the places      
where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me that it was      
commonly believed that on a certain night of the year- last night,          
in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway-         
a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has been concealed.      
"That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region through         
which you came last night, there can be but little doubt; for it was        
the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and      
the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region            
that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or                 
invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the Austrian and      
the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out to meet          
them- men and women, the aged and the children too- and waited their        
coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep                 
destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader      
was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been         
sheltered in the friendly soil."                                            
  "But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered,            
when there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to        
look?" The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the        
long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely; he answered:-               
  "Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those names        
only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land             
will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even        
if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you      
tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to        
look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare          
be sworn, be able to find these places again?"                              
  "There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where        
even to look for them." Then we drifted into other matters.                 
  "Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the house which        
you have procured for me." With an apology for my remissness, I went        
into my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing        
them in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room,      
and as I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and        
the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps         
were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying          
on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English                
Bradshaw's Guide. When I came in he cleared the books and papers            
from the table; and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures        
of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad        
questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied      
beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neighborhood, for he      
evidently at the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked        
this, he answered:-                                                         
  "Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go         
there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan- nay, pardon      
me, I fall into my country's habit of putting your patronymic first-        
my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid         
me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of         
the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!"                           
  We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate        
at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to         
the necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post      
to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a      
place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and which      
I inscribe here:-                                                           
  "At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as            
seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice         
that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of            
ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired         
for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and      
iron, all eaten with rust.                                                  
  "The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old            
Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal         
points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite          
surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many          
trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep,           
dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the      
water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is          
very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval              
times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few            
windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of         
a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it,      
as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I        
have taken with my kodak views of it from various points. The house         
has been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only             
guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great.          
There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house        
only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is      
not, however, visible from the grounds."                                    
  When I had finished, he said:-                                            
  "I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and      
to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable      
in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I           
rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian          
nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common          
dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of         
much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I        
am no longer young; and my heart, through weary years of mourning over      
the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle         
are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through        
the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow,      
and would be alone with my thoughts when I may." Somehow his words and      
his look did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of            
face made his smile look malignant and saturnine.                           
  Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all my            
papers together. He was some little time away, and I began to look          
at some of the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found opened      
naturally at England, as if that map had been much used. On looking at      
it I found in certain places little rings marked, and on examining          
these I noticed that one was near London on the east side,                  
manifestly where his new estate was situated; the other two were            
Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.                                  
  It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. "Aha!" he      
said; "still at your books? Good! But you must not work always.             
Come; I am informed that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and we      
went into the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on         
the table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on his      
being away from home. But he sat as on the previous night, and chatted      
whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the        
Count stayed with me, chatting and asking questions on every                
conceivable subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting            
very late indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under              
obligation to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy          
as the long sleep yesterday had fortified me; but I could not help          
experiencing that chill which comes over one at the coming of the           
dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide. They say that        
people who are near death die generally at the change to the dawn or        
at the turn of the tide; any one who has when tired, and tied as it         
were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well        
believe it. All at once we heard the crow of a cock coming up with          
preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air, Count Dracula,      
jumping to his feet, said:-                                                 
  "Why, there is the morning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up      
so long. You must make your conversation regarding my dear new country      
of England, less interesting, so that I may not forget how time             
flies by us," and, with courtly bow, he quickly left me.                    
  I went into my own room and drew the curtains, but there was              
little to notice; my window opened into the courtyard, all I could see      
was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again,        
and have written of this day.                                               
-                                                                           
  8 May.- I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting        
too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first,      
for there is something so strange about this place and all in it            
that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I      
had never come. It may be that this strange night-existence is telling      
on me; but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk          
to I could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to           
speak with, and he!- I fear I am myself the only living soul within         
the place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me        
to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am      
lost. Let me say at once how I stand- or seem to.                           
  I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I           
could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the        
window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on          
my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good-morning."      
I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the              
reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In                
starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the            
moment. Having answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the             
glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be        
no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my          
shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The             
whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man          
in it, except myself. This was startling, and, coming on the top of so      
many strange things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of        
uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at the           
instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood was             
trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so          
half round to look for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my         
face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly         
made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string      
of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him,         
for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was      
ever there.                                                                 
  "Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more         
dangerous than you think in this country." Then seizing the shaving         
glass, he went on: "And this is the wretched thing that has done the        
mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" and           
opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he           
flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the      
stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It      
is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my          
watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of        
metal.                                                                      
  When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared; but I           
could not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is            
strange that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must be      
a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in the        
castle. I went out on the stairs and found a room looking towards           
the South. The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there           
was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge          
of a terrible precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall         
a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach      
is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there      
is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in      
deep gorges through the forests.                                            
  But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the         
view I explored further, doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all            
locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle          
walls is there an available exit.                                           
  The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!                    
                                                                            
CHAPTER_III                                                                 
                             CHAPTER III.                                   
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came            
over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and             
peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the            
conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I        
look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time,      
for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the              
conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly- as        
quietly as I have ever done anything in my life- and began to think         
over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have         
come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that        
it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that         
I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless           
his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him           
fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to          
keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I         
know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I        
am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall         
need, all my brains to get through.                                         
  I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door          
below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come at        
once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found        
him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all         
along though that there were no servants in the house. When later I         
saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table        
in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all         
these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else          
to do them. This gave me a fright, for if there is no one else in           
the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver          
of the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for          
if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he            
did, by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the        
people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me?          
What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild           
rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the         
crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me            
whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught        
to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of              
loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in         
the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible         
help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if          
it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about      
it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula,          
as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I      
turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not        
to awake his suspicion.                                                     
-                                                                           
  Midnight.- I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a           
few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject      
wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of        
battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he            
afterwards explained by saying that to a boyar the pride of his             
house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that        
their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his house he always            
said "we," and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I          
wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me          
it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of         
the country. He grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room         
pulling his great white moustache and grasping anything on which he         
laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strength. One thing      
he said which I shall put down as nearly as I can; for it tells in its      
way the story of his race:-                                                 
  "We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the         
blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship.      
Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down         
from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which      
their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of          
Europe, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought            
that the were wolves themselves had come. Here too when they came,          
they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a          
living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran           
the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated        
with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what             
witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?"          
He held up his arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race;        
that we were proud; that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the        
Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove         
them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through      
the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the               
frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the            
Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred        
by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the          
guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay and more than that,             
endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as the Turks say, 'water           
sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout         
the Four Nations received the bloody sword, or at its warlike call          
flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that         
great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of           
the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent, who was          
it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat        
the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that      
his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the        
Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this              
Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later         
age again and again brought his forces over the great river into            
Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again,           
and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his      
troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could            
ultimately triumph? They said that he thought only of himself. Bah!         
what good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without         
a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of           
Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood            
were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we          
were not free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys- and the Dracula as their        
heart's blood, their brains, and their swords- can boast a record that      
mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach.      
The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days      
of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a         
tale that is told."                                                         
  It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem. this      
diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for        
everything has to break off at cockcrow- or like the ghost of Hamlet's      
father.)                                                                    
-                                                                           
  12 May.- Let me begin with facts- bare, meagre facts, verified by         
books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not           
confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own             
observation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came         
from his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and          
on the doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily      
over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some of         
the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn. There was a            
certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to put them         
down in sequence; the knowledge may somehow or some time be useful          
to me.                                                                      
  First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or          
more. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it would      
not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one                  
transaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change would      
be certain to militate against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to        
understand, and went on to ask if there would be any practical              
difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to banking, and another        
to look after shipping, in case local help were needed in a place           
far from the home of the banking solicitor. I asked him to explain          
more fully, so that I might not by any chance mislead him, so he            
said:-                                                                      
  "I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins, from        
under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which is far        
from London, buys for me through your good self my place at London.         
Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it strange         
that I have sought the services of one so far off from London               
instead of some one resident there, that my motive was that no local        
interest might be served save my wish only; and as one of London            
resident might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or friend to          
serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours should be         
only to my interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to      
ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover,             
might it not be that it could with more ease be done by consigning          
to one in these ports?" I answered that certainly it would be most          
easy, but that we solicitors had a system of agency one for the other,      
so that local work could be done locally on instruction from any            
solicitor, so that the client, simply placing himself in the hands          
of one man, could have his wishes carried out by him without further        
trouble.                                                                    
  "But," said he, "I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not        
so?"                                                                        
  "Of course," I replied; "and such is often done by men of                 
business, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by         
any one person."                                                            
  "Good!" he said, and then went on to ask about the means of making        
consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of          
difficulties which might arise, but by fore thought could be guarded        
against. I explained all these things to him to the best of my              
ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that he would        
have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not      
think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who        
did not evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and         
acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied himself on these points        
of which he had spoken, and I had verified all as well as I could by        
the books available, he suddenly stood up and said:-                        
  "Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter         
Hawkins, or to any other?" It was with some bitterness in my heart          
that I answered that I had not, that as yet I had not seen any              
opportunity of sending letters to anybody.                                  
  "Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on        
my shoulder, "write to our friend and to any other, and say, if it          
will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now."       
  "Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew cold at      
the thought.                                                                
  "I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master,         
employer, what you will, engaged that some one should come on his           
behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I        
have not stinted. Is it not so?"                                            
  What could I do but bow acceptance? it was Mr. Hawkins's interest,        
not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself, and besides, which         
Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his           
bearing which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I         
wished it I could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow,      
and his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use      
them, but in his own smooth, resistless way:-                               
  "I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of         
things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless please        
your friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to        
getting home to them. Is it not so?" As he spoke he handed me three         
sheets of note-paper and three envelopes. They were all of the              
thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him, and                
noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over           
the red underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I           
should be careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So         
I determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to Mr.      
Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could write in            
shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it. When I           
had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a book whilst the           
Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote them to some books on      
his table. Then he took up my two and placed them with his own, and         
put by his writing materials, after which, the instant the door had         
closed behind him, I leaned over and looked at the letters, which were      
face down on the table. I felt no compunction in doing so, for under        
the circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way I        
could.                                                                      
  One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7,           
The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna; the third was to      
Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock &                  
Billreuth, bankers, Buda-Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I      
was just about to look at them when I saw the door-handle move. I sank      
back in my seat, having just had time to replace the letters as they        
had been and to resume my book before the Count, holding still another      
letter in his hand, entered the room. He took up the letters on the         
table and stamped them carefully, and then turning to me, said:-            
  "I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in               
private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you              
wish." At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said:-             
  "Let me advise you, my dear young friend- nay, let me warn you            
with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not        
by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is            
old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who          
sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or        
be like to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for        
your rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in this              
respect, then"- He finished his speech in a gruesome way, for he            
motioned with his hands as if he were washing them. I quite                 
understood; my only doubt was as to whether any dream could be more         
terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery which        
seemed closing round me.                                                    
-                                                                           
  Later.- I endorse the last words written, but this time there is          
no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where          
he is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed- I            
imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall          
remain.                                                                     
  When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not hearing      
any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where I could          
look out towards the South. There was some sense of freedom in the          
vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me, as compared with the        
narrow darkness of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I        
was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air,           
though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal          
existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own          
shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows          
that there is ground for my terrible fear in this accursed place! I         
looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight      
till it was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant           
hills became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of           
velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there was peace      
and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned from the window my eye      
was caught by something moving a storey below me, and somewhat to my        
left, where I imagined, from the order of the rooms, that the               
windows of the Count's own room would look out. The window at which         
I stood was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn,         
was still complete; but it was evidently many a day since the case had      
been there. I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully          
out.                                                                        
  What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window. I did         
not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of        
his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I        
had had so many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested        
and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will            
interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings        
changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge      
from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that           
dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like      
great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was         
some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow; but I kept        
looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp      
the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of        
years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move               
downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a           
wall.                                                                       
  What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in           
the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place               
overpowering me; I am in fear- in awful fear- and there is no escape        
for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think           
of...                                                                       
-                                                                           
  15 May.- Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard             
fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet down,      
and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or window.          
When his head had disappeared I leaned out to try and see more, but         
without avail- the distance was too great to allow a proper angle of        
sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and thought to use the            
opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went back      
to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all          
locked, as I had expected, and the locks were comparatively new, but I      
went down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally.      
I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great      
chains; but the door was locked, and the key was gone That key must be      
in the Count's room; I must watch should his door be unlocked, so that      
I may get it and escape. I went on to make a thorough examination of        
the various stairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from      
them. One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was         
nothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and             
moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the top of the            
stairway which, though it seemed to be locked, gave a little under          
pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really               
locked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges had      
fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an        
opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself, and          
with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter. I was now in a      
wing of the castle further to the right than the rooms I knew and a         
storey lower down. From the windows I could see that the suite of           
rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the windows of the end          
room looking out both west and south. On the latter side, as well as        
to the former, there was a great precipice. The castle was built on         
the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite             
impregnable, and great windows were placed here where sling, or bow,        
or culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort,            
impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. To the      
West was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged            
mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded            
with mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and                
crevices and crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion          
of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture      
had more air of comfort than any I had seen. The windows were               
curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond      
panes, enabled one to see even colours, whilst it softened the              
wealth of dust which lay over all and disguised in some measure the         
ravages of time and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of little effect in      
the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for             
there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and        
made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in           
the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and      
after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude          
come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old         
times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many        
blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in              
shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is               
nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my          
senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their         
own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.                                     
-                                                                           
  Later: the Morning of 16 May.- God preserve my sanity, for to this I      
am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.      
Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for; that I may        
not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then            
surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that            
lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that      
to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst         
I can serve his purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm,           
for out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights          
on certain things which have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite            
knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say:-                       
-                                                                           
                   "My tablets! quick, my tablets!                          
                 'Tis meet that I put it down," etc.,                       
-                                                                           
for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the          
shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for        
repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.            
  The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it              
frightens me more now, when I think of it, for in future he has a           
fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!                
  When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book      
and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my        
mind, but I took a pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was        
upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The      
soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of        
freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to return to-night to the      
gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where of old ladies had sat         
and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad         
for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a           
great couch out of its place near the corner, so that, as I lay, I          
could look at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking of and      
uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must          
have fallen asleep; I hope so, but I fear, for all that followed was        
startlingly real- so real that now sitting here in the broad, full          
sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the least believe that it was all      
sleep.                                                                      
  I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I      
came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant moonlight,      
my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of      
dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by        
their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be                
dreaming when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them,        
they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me and looked at      
me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and           
had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing           
eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale            
yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy         
masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow        
to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy             
fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. All             
three had brilliant white teeth, that shone like pearls against the         
ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that          
made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear.         
I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me         
with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day        
it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth.         
They whispered together, and then they all three laughed- such a            
silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could         
have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the               
intolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a        
cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other      
two urged her on. One said:-                                                
  "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to         
begin." The other added:-                                                   
  "He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all." I lay              
quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful             
anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could          
feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense,         
honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her           
voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness,      
as one smells in blood.                                                     
  I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly        
under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply      
gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both              
thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually            
licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight           
the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it        
lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the          
lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to          
fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning         
sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and could feel         
the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to              
tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it               
approaches nearer- nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of        
the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard             
dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my      
eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited- waited with beating heart.         
  But at that instant another sensation swept through me as quick as        
lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his         
being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened involuntarily      
I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and          
with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with             
fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks               
blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such           
wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were                
positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the              
flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly pale, and      
the lines of it were hard like drawn wires; the thick eyebrows that         
met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal.         
With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then      
motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back; it was         
the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves. In a         
voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemed to cut               
through the air and then ring round the room as he said:-                   
  "How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him        
when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me!      
Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The        
fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:-          
  "You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other             
women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang            
through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed            
like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at        
my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:                            
  "Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is        
it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you         
shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for             
there is work to be done."                                                  
  "Are we to have nothing to-night?" said one of them, with a low           
laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor,        
and which moved as though there were some living thing within it.           
For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and          
opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low         
wall, as of a half-smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I        
was aghast with horror; but as I looked they disappeared, and with          
them the dreadful bag. There was no door near them, and they could not      
have passed me without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into         
the rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could      
see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely        
faded away.                                                                 
  "Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious."               
                                                                            
CHAPTER_IV                                                                  
                             CHAPTER IV.                                    
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count          
must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject,        
but could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there        
were certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded           
and laid by in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still          
unwound, and I am rigourously accustomed to wind it the last thing          
before going to bed, and many such details. But these things are no         
proof, for they may have been evidences that my mind was not as usual,      
and, from some cause or another, I had certainly been much upset. I         
must watch for proof. Of one thing I am glad: if it was that the Count      
carried me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in his          
task, for my pockets are intact. I am sure this diary would have            
been a mystery to him which he would not have brooked. He would have        
taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room, although it has been      
to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for nothing           
can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were- who are-             
waiting to suck my blood.                                                   
-                                                                           
  18 May.- I have been down to look at that room again in daylight,         
for I must know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the      
stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the        
jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the         
bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from           
the inside. I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise.           
-                                                                           
  19 May.- I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count asked me          
in the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work        
here was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few         
days, another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of      
the letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at         
Bistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present          
state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count        
whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to           
excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too      
much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only         
chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which            
will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that        
gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from      
him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my      
writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me      
with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later             
letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case        
chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him             
would have been to create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall      
in with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the             
letters. He calculated a minute, and then said:-                            
  "The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June      
29."                                                                        
  I know now the span of my life. God help me!                              
-                                                                           
  28 May.- There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able        
to send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are        
encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes of        
them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though        
allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands      
of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.        
They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and          
call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion,        
save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the            
Romany tongue.                                                              
  I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have        
them posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin          
acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many      
signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could         
their spoken language...                                                    
  I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask      
Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my             
situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It             
would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to          
her. Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know        
my secret or the extent of my knowledge...                                  
  I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window      
with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted.         
The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then         
put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study,         
and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have written             
here...                                                                     
  The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest      
voice as he opened two letters:-                                            
  "The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence        
they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"- he must have looked        
at it- "one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"-        
here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope,      
and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly-         
"the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and                  
hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And        
he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till            
they were consumed. Then he went on:-                                       
  "The letter to Hawkins- that I shall, of course, send on, since it        
is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend,            
that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?"        
He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a          
clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in              
silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn             
softly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the door was           
locked.                                                                     
  When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room;         
his coming wakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was          
very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had         
been sleeping, he said:-                                                    
  "So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest.      
I may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many          
labours to me; but you will sleep, I pray." I passed to my room and         
went to bed, and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair           
has its own calms.                                                          
-                                                                           
  31 May.- This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself        
with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my               
pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity; but      
again a surprise, again a shock!                                            
  Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my               
memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in         
fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle.         
I sat and pondered a while, and then some thought occurred to me,           
and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had         
placed my clothes.                                                          
  The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and      
rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new      
scheme of villainy...                                                       
-                                                                           
  17 June.- This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed            
cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and pounding      
and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard.        
With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two           
great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the          
head of each pair of Slovak, with his hat, great, nail-studded belt,        
dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in         
hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them         
through the main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them.      
Again a shock: My door was fastened on the outside.                         
  Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me          
stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came         
out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which        
they laughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonised      
entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned           
away. The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of      
thick rope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the           
Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly           
moved. When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one        
corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany,        
and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head.          
Shortly afterwards I heard the cracking of their whips die away in the      
distance.                                                                   
-                                                                           
  24 June, before morning.- Last night the Count left me early, and         
locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the           
winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I          
thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going           
on. The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle, and are doing         
work of some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away,           
muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be      
the end of some ruthless villainy.                                          
  I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw      
something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched         
carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to        
find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst             
travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which         
I had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his           
quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil:          
that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may          
both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages          
posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do             
shall by the local people be attributed to me.                              
  It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am            
shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the      
law which is even a criminal's right and consolation.                       
  I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long            
time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there          
were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the                  
moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled      
round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched         
them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I          
leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I      
could enjoy more fully the aerial gambolling.                               
  Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere      
far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it          
seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take           
new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself      
struggling to awake to some call of my instincts; may, my very soul         
was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving          
to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker          
danced the dust; the moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me          
into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they gathered till they        
seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I started, broad awake and      
in full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the place. The      
phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from the         
moonbeams, were those of the three ghostly women to whom I was doomed.      
I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no          
moonlight and where the lamp was burning brightly.                          
  When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in           
the Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed;           
and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me.          
With a beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison,      
and could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.                          
  As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without- the agonised           
cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out      
between the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair,         
holding her hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She        
was leaning against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at        
the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden          
with menace:-                                                               
  "Monster, give me my child!"                                              
  She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried           
the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair        
and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of          
extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I      
could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against      
the door.                                                                   
  Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of      
the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to        
be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many         
minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when           
liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard.                    
  There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was        
but short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.       
  I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child,        
and she was better dead.                                                    
  What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this                
dreadful thrall of night and gloom and fear?                                
-                                                                           
  25 June, morning.- No man knows till he has suffered from the             
night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can           
be. When the sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of        
the great gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched        
seemed to me as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear         
fell from me as if it had been a vapourous garment which dissolved          
in the warmth. I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of        
the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to         
post, the first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very          
traces of my existence from the earth.                                      
  Let me not think of it. Action!                                           
  It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or             
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen        
the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others             
wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? if I could only get into      
his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked,          
no way for me.                                                              
  Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has          
gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from         
his window? Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The      
chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall         
risk it. At the worst it can only be death; and a man's death is not a      
calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me      
in my task! Good-bye. Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend         
and second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!                     
-                                                                           
  Same day, later.- I have made the effort, and, God helping me,            
have come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in         
order. I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on         
the south side, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone        
which runs round the building on this side. The stones are big and          
roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away         
between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate        
way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of        
the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes          
away from it. I knew pretty well the direction and distance of the          
Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to        
the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy- I suppose I was too      
excited- and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found myself         
standing on the window-sill and trying to raise up the sash. I was          
filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet              
foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count,         
but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty!      
It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never         
been used; the furniture was something the same style as that in the        
south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it        
was not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only             
thing I found was a great heap of gold in one corner- gold of all           
kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek           
and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had            
lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was less than three      
hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, some               
jewelled, but all of them old and stained.                                  
  At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I      
could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which      
was the main object of my search, I must make further examination,          
or all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a          
stone passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I            
descended, minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark,        
being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom             
there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly,        
sickly odour, the odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through        
the passage the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a      
heavy door which stood a jar, and found myself in an old, ruined            
chapel, which had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was          
broken, and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but the ground      
had recently been dug over, and the earth placed in great wooden            
boxes, manifestly those which had been brought by the Slovaks. There        
was nobody about, and I made search for any further outlet, but             
there was none. Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not        
to lose a chance. I went down even into the vaults, where the dim           
light struggled, although to do so was a dread to my very soul. Into        
two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments of old coffins        
and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a discovery.               
  There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in            
all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead        
or asleep, I could not say which- for the eyes were open and stony,         
but without the glassiness of death- and the cheeks had the warmth          
of life through all their pallor, the lips were as red as ever. But         
there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of           
the heart. I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in      
vain. He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would         
have passed away in a few hours. By the side of the box was its cover,      
pierced with holes here and there. I thought he might have the keys on      
him, but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them,            
dead though they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me        
or my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count's         
room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. Regaining my          
room chamber, I threw myself panting upon the bed and tried to              
think...                                                                    
-                                                                           
  29 June.- To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has         
taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave         
the castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down           
the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal               
weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought         
alone by man's hand would have any effect on him. I dared not wait          
to see him return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came          
back to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.                     
  I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can      
look as he said:-                                                           
  "To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful         
England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never        
meet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not be        
here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the      
Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some         
Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and           
shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina        
to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at              
Castle Dracula." I suspected him, and determined to test his                
sincerity. Sincerity! it seems like a profanation of the word to write      
it in connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:-            
  "Why may I not go to-night?"                                              
  "Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission."        
  "But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once." He          
smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was         
some trick behind his smoothness. He said:-                                 
  "And your baggage?"                                                       
  "I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time."              
  The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me         
rub my eyes, it seemed so real:-                                            
  "You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its            
spirit is that which rules our boyars: 'Welcome the coming; speed           
the parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour         
shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at            
your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!" With a               
stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down the stairs and         
along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.                                        
  "Hark!"                                                                   
  Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if        
the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of         
a great orchestra seems to leap under the baton of the conductor.           
After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the         
door, drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and         
began to draw it open.                                                      
  To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked.                    
Suspiciously I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.          
  As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew         
louder and angrier, their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their          
blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door.         
I knew then that to struggle at the moment against the Count was            
useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing.      
But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's body      
stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might be the              
moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at        
my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea           
great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:-              
  "Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my face with      
my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep          
of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great           
bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their      
places.                                                                     
  In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I        
went to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing        
his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a         
smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.                                 
  When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a          
whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my          
ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:-                          
  "Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait!          
Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!" There           
was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the         
door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips.          
As I appeared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.            
  I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so        
near the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I      
am dear!                                                                    
-                                                                           
  30 June, morning.- These may be the last words I ever write in            
this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw        
myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find      
me ready.                                                                   
  At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the           
morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I        
was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the           
hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before      
me. With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and      
drew back the massive bolts.                                                
  But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and             
pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it               
rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. it had been locked      
after I left the Count.                                                     
  Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I          
determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count's      
room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of          
evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled        
down the wall, as before, into the Count's room. It was empty, but          
that was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap        
of gold remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the        
winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now      
well enough where to find the monster I sought.                             
  The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the      
lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in          
their places to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the      
key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and            
then I saw something which filled my very soul with horror. There           
lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed,           
for the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the        
cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the      
mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood,      
which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and      
neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh,         
for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if           
the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He lay like         
a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion. I shuddered as I bent         
over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact;           
but I had to search, or I was lost. The coming night might see my           
own body a banquet in a similar way to those horrid three. I felt           
all over the body, but no sign could I find of the key. Then I stopped      
and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated face      
which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to           
transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might,         
amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a      
new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless.      
The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid        
the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I      
seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases,         
and lifting it high struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful          
face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me,      
with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to                
paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the          
face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell         
from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the      
blade caught the edge of the lid, which fell over again, and hid the        
horrid thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the               
bloated face, bloodstained and fixed with a grin of malice which would      
have held its own in the nethermost hell.                                   
  I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain           
seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over         
me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry          
voices coming closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy           
wheels and the cracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom        
the Count had spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the        
box which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the      
Count's room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should          
be opened. With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the         
grinding of the key in the great lock and the falling back of the           
heavy door. There must have been some other means of entry, or some         
one had a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the sound        
of many feet tramping and dying away in some passage which sent up a        
clanging echo. I turned to run down again towards the vault, where I        
might find the new entrance; but at the moment there seemed to come         
a violent puff of wind, and the door to the winding stair blew to with      
a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran to            
push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was again a            
prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely.            
  As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping         
feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the         
boxes, with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering;          
it is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet              
tramping again along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind      
them.                                                                       
  The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of           
the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door         
opens and shuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.                      
  Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy           
wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they            
pass into the distance.                                                     
  I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a         
woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit!           
  I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the              
castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of         
the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this          
dreadful place.                                                             
  And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away      
from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and           
his children still walk with earthly feet!                                  
  At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and           
the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep- as a          
man. Good-bye, all! Mina!                                                   
                                                                            
CHAPTER_V                                                                   
                              CHAPTER V.                                    
                            LETTERS, ETC.                                   
-                                                                           
         Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra.                
-                                                                           
                                                              "9 May.       
  "My dearest Lucy,-                                                        
  "Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply                 
overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is           
sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where        
we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have        
been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with               
Jonathan's studies, and I have been practising shorthand very               
assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to            
Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what          
he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the                 
typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard. He and I               
sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic      
journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary      
in the same way. I don't mean one of those                                  
two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but         
a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined. I          
do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people; but          
it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if          
there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise         
book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing        
and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am         
told that, with a little practise, one can remember all that goes on        
or that one hears said during a day. However we shall see. I will tell      
you of my little plans when we meet I have just had a few hurried           
lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be              
returning in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. it            
must be so nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we- I mean            
Jonathan and I- shall ever see them together. There is the ten o'clock      
bell ringing. Good-bye.                                                     
                                                         "Your loving       
                                                               "Mina.       
  "Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me                
anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall,         
handsome, curly-haired man???"                                              
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.                       
-                                                                           
                                                  "17, Chatham Street       
                                                          "Wednesday.       
  "My dearest Mina,-                                                        
  "I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent.      
I wrote to you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only         
your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really           
nothing to interest you. Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a        
good deal to picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As      
to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who was with        
me at the last Pop. Some one has evidently been telling tales. That         
was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and mamma get on         
very well together; they have so many things to talk about in               
common. We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if           
you were not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti,         
being handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really      
clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an               
immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood introduced      
him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes now. I             
think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet the            
most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what a            
wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious habit      
of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's             
thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself          
he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you          
ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a        
bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you        
have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological      
study, and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient      
interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is         
a bore. That is slang again, but never mind; Arthur says that every         
day. There, it is all out. Mina, we have told all our secrets to            
each other since we were children; we have slept together and eaten         
together, and laughed and cried together, and now, though I have            
spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I         
love him. I am blushing as I write, for although I think he loves           
me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love        
him; I love him! There, that does me good. I wish I were with you,          
dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit; and I would        
try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this            
even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter,           
and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to tell you all. Let me          
hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think about it.             
Mina, I must stop. Good-night. Bless me in your prayers; and, Mina,         
pray for my happiness.                                                      
                                                               "Lucy.       
  "P.S.- I need not tell you this is a secret. Good-night again.            
                                                                 "L."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.                       
-                                                                           
                                                             "24 May.       
  "My dearest Mina,-                                                        
  "Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It           
was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy.               
  "My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs          
are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never           
had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had      
three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't it awful I feel        
sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh,             
Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. And           
three proposals! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the girls,      
or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas and                 
imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very first day        
at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You and      
I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon             
soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must            
tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from         
every one, except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I        
would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman ought        
to tell her husband everything- don't you think so dear?- and I must        
be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite as fair as      
they are; and women, I am afraid, are not always quite as fair as they      
should be. Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told         
you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the strong        
jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous      
all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all             
sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed          
to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they         
are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing         
with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me,          
Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though      
he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to            
help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if      
I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a        
brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and        
asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his             
hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared        
already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did         
not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because          
if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I        
felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told        
him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and          
very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would        
be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of        
my best. Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying; and you must excuse            
this letter being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice           
and all that sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you      
have to see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going          
away and looking all broken-hearted, and to know that, no matter            
what he may say at the moment, you are passing quite out of his             
life. My dear, I must stop here at present, I feel so miserable,            
though I am so happy.                                                       
-                                                                           
                                                            "Evening.       
  "Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I left      
off, so I can go on telling you about the day. Well, my dear, number        
two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from            
Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost              
impossible that he has been to so many places and has had such              
adventures. I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she had such a            
dangerous stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose          
that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from        
fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man         
and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr.           
Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet-          
My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone.      
it seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for      
Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could;         
I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you beforehand that Mr.         
Morris doesn't always speak slang- that is to say, he never does so to      
strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has            
exquisite manners- but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk      
American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be      
shocked, he said such funny things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to         
invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say.        
But this is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall ever           
speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard        
him use any as yet. Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked          
as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he        
was very nervous. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly:-        
  "'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of        
your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is      
you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you             
quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the        
long road together, driving in double harness?'                             
  "Well, he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem      
half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as         
lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that      
I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken      
in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing      
so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive          
him. He really did look serious when he was saying it, and I                
couldn't help feeling a bit serious too- I know, Mina, you will             
think me a horrid flirt- though I couldn't help feeling a sort of           
exultation that he was number two in one day. And then, my dear,            
before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of         
love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so        
earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be           
playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I          
suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly      
stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved      
him for if I had been free:-                                                
  "'Lucy, you are an honest-hearted girl, I know. I should not be here      
speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe you clean grit, right      
through to the very depths of your soul. Tell me, like one good fellow      
to another, is there any one else that you care for? And if there is        
I'll never trouble you a hair's breadth again, but will be, if you          
will let me, a very faithful friend.'                                       
  "My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little           
worthy of them? Here was I almost making fun of this great-hearted,         
true gentleman. I burst into tears- I am afraid, my dear, you will          
think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one- and I really         
felt very badly. Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many      
as want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must      
not say it. I am glad to say that, though I was crying, I was able          
to look into Mr. Morris's brave eyes, and I told him out straight:-         
  "'Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet            
that he even loves me.' I was right to speak to him so frankly, for         
quite a light came into his face, and he put out both his hands and         
took mine- I think I put them into his- and said in a hearty way:-          
  "'That's my brave girl. It's better worth being late for a chance of      
winning you than being in time for any other girl in the world.             
Don't cry, my dear. if it's for me, I'm a hard nut to crack; and I          
take it standing up. If that other fellow doesn't know his                  
happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal        
with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend,         
and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow. My dear,         
I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom             
Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off the        
darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that             
other good fellow- he must be a good fellow, my dear, and a fine            
fellow, or you could not love him- hasn't spoken yet.' That quite           
won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to         
a rival- wasn't it?- and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him. He      
stood up with my two hands in his, and as he looked down into my face-      
I am afraid I was blushing very much- he said:-                             
  "'Little girl, I hold your hand, and you've kissed me, and if             
these things don't make us friends nothing ever will. Thank you for         
your sweet honesty to me, and good-bye.' He wrung my hand, and              
taking up his hat, went straight out of the room without looking back,      
without a tear or a quiver or a pause; and I am crying like a baby.         
Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of         
girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on? I know I          
would if I were free- only I don't want to be free. My dear, this           
quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once,        
after telling you of it; and I don't wish to tell of the number             
three until it can be all happy.                                            
                                                    "Ever your loving       
                                                               "Lucy.       
-                                                                           
  "P.S.- Oh, about number three- I needn't tell you of number three,        
need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment            
from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he      
was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have         
done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am         
not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such      
a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.                                 
  "Good-bye."                                                               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
                         (Kept in phonograph)                               
-                                                                           
  25 May.- Ebb tide in appetite to-day. Cannot eat, cannot rest, so         
diary instead. Since my rebuff of yesterday I have a sort of empty          
feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be          
worth the doing... As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing      
was work, I went down amongst the patients. I picked out one who has        
afforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint in his mined          
to understand him as well as I can. To-day I seemed to get nearer than      
ever before to the heart of his mystery.                                    
  I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to          
making myself master of the facts of his hallucination. in my manner        
of doing it there was, I now see, something of cruelty. I seemed to         
wish to keep him to the point of his madness- a thing which I avoid         
with the patients as I would the mouth of hell.                             
  (Mem., under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of              
hell?) Omnia Romae venalia sunt. Hell has its price! verb. sap. If          
there be anything behind this instinct it will be valuable to trace it      
afterwards accurately, so I had better commence to do so, therefore-        
  R. M. Renfield, aetat 59.- Sanguine temperament; great physical           
strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, ending in some fixed        
idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine                   
temperament itself and the disturbing influence end in a                    
mentally-accomplished finish; a possibly dangerous man, probably            
dangerous if unselfish. In selfish men caution is as secure an              
armour for their foes as for themselves. What I think of on this point      
is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced          
with the centrifugal; when duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point,         
the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of             
accidents can balance it.                                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
          Letter, Quincey P. Morris to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.                
-                                                                           
                                                             "25 May.       
  "My dear Art,-                                                            
  "We've told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and dressed           
one another's wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas; and           
drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be          
told, and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk.        
Won't you let this be at my camp-fire to-morrow night? I have no            
hesitation in asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a          
certain dinner-party, and that you are free. There will only be one         
other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward. He's coming, too, and we      
both want to mingle our weeps over the wine-cup, and to drink a health      
with all our hearts to the happiest man in all the wide world, who has      
won the noblest hear that God has made and the best worth winning.          
We promise you a hearty welcome, and a loving greeting, and a health        
as true as your own right hand. We shall both swear to leave you at         
home if you drink too deep to a certain pair of eyes. Come!                 
                                          "Yours, as ever and always,       
                                                 "Quincey P. Morris."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
          Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P Morris.                
-                                                                           
                                                              26 May.       
  "Count me in every time. I bear messages which will make both your        
ears tingle.                                                                
                                                               "Art."       
                                                                            
CHAPTER_VI                                                                  
                             CHAPTER VI.                                    
                        MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.                              
-                                                                           
  24 July. Whitby.- Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and         
lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in         
which they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little river, the        
Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near        
the harbour. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through          
which the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The            
valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on        
the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you           
are near enough to see down. The houses of the old town- the side away      
from us- are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other           
anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town          
is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and             
which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up        
in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of          
beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is         
seen in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is another        
church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of         
tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it            
lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all        
up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out            
into the sea. it descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the      
bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In        
one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the        
sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them,           
through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long            
looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come         
and sit here very often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing now,          
with my book on my knee, and listening to the talk of three old men         
who are sitting beside me. They seem to do nothing all day but sit          
up here and talk.                                                           
  The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite        
wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end          
of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs        
along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow          
crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two        
piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then                
suddenly widens.                                                            
  It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to      
nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between         
banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbour on            
this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp         
edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At        
the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather,           
and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here          
that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the         
old man about this; he is coming this way...                                
  He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his face is all        
gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He tells me that he is         
nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing         
fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical        
person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady      
at the abbey he said very brusquely:-                                       
  "I wouldn't fash masel' about them, miss. Them things be all wore         
out. Mind, I don't say that they never was, but I do say that they          
wasn't in my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers,           
an' the like, but not for a nice young lady like you. Them                  
feet-folks from York and Leeds that be always eatin' cured herrin's         
an' drinkin' tea an' lookin' out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I      
wonder masel' who'd be bothered tellin' lies to them- even the              
newspapers, which is full of fool-talk." I thought he would be a            
good person to learn interesting things from, so I asked him if he          
would mind telling me something about the whale-fishing in the old          
days. He was just settling himself to begin when the clock struck six,      
whereupon he laboured to get up, and said:-                                 
  "I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn't        
like to be kept waitin' when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to      
crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of 'em; an', miss, I lack      
belly-timber sairly by the clock."                                          
  He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he              
could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature of the place.          
They lead from the town up to the church; there are hundreds of             
them- I do not know how many- and they wind up in a delicate curve;         
the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down           
them. I think they must originally have had something to do with the        
abbey. I shall go home too. Lucy went out visiting with her mother,         
and as they were only duty calls, I did not go. They will be home by        
this.                                                                       
-                                                                           
  1 August.- I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most        
interesting talk with my old friend and the two others who always come      
and join him. He is evidently the Sir Oracle of them, and I should          
think must have been in his time a most dictatorial person. He will         
not admit anything, and downfaces everybody. If he can't out-argue          
them he bullies them, and then takes their silence for agreement            
with his views. Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn           
frock, she has got a beautiful colour since she has been here. I            
noticed that the old men did not lose any time in coming up and             
sitting near her when we sat down. She is so sweet with old people;         
I think they all fell in love with her on the spot. Even my old man         
succumbed and did not contradict her, but gave me double share              
instead. I got him on the subject of the legends, and he went off at        
once into a sort of sermon. I must try to remember it and put it            
down:-                                                                      
  "It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel; that's what it be,         
an' nowt else. These bans an' wafts an' boh-ghosts an' barguests an'        
bogles an' all anent them is only fit to set bairns an' dizzy women         
a-belderin'. They be nowt but air-blebs. They, an' all grims an' signs      
an' warnin's, be all invented by parsons an' illsome beuk-bodies an'        
railway touters to skeer an' scunner hafflin's, an' to get folks to do      
somethin' that they don't other incline to. It makes me ireful to           
think o' them. Why, it's them that, not content with printin' lies          
on paper an' preachin' them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin'         
them on the tombsteans. Look here all around you in what airt ye will;      
all them steans, holdin' up their heads as well as they can out of          
their pride, is acant- simply tumblin' down with the weight o' the          
lies wrote on them, 'Here lies the body' or 'Sacred to the memory'          
wrote on all of them, an' yet in nigh half of them there bean't no          
bodies at all; an' the memories of them bean't cared a pinch of             
snuff about, much less sacred. Lies all of them, nothin' but lies of        
one kind or another! My gog, but it'll be a quare scowderment at the        
Day of Judgment when they come tumblin' up in their death-sarks, all        
jouped together an' tryin' to drag their tombsteans with them to prove      
how good they was; some of them trimmlin' and ditherin', with their         
hands that dozzened an' slippy from lyin' in the sea that they can't        
even keep their grup o' them."                                              
  I could see from the old fellow's self-satisfied air and the way          
in which he looked round for the approval of his cronies that he was        
"showing off," so I put in a word to keep him going:-                       
  "Oh, Mr. Swales, you can't be serious. Surely these tombstones are        
not all wrong?"                                                             
  "Yabblins! There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin' where they        
make out the people too good; for there be folk that do think a             
balm-bowl be like the sea, if only it be their own. The whole thing be      
only lies. Now look you here; you come here a stranger, an' you see         
this kirk-garth." I nodded, for I thought it better to assent,              
though I did not quite understand his dialect. I knew it had something      
to do with the church. He went on: "And you consate that all these          
steans be aboon folk that be happed here, snod an' snog?" I assented        
again. "Then that be just where the lie comes in. Why, there be scores      
of these lay-beds that be toom as old Dun's 'bacca-box on Friday            
night." He nudged one of his companions, and they all laughed. "And my      
gog! how could they be otherwise? Look at that one, the aftest abaft        
the bier-bank; read it!" I went over and read:-                             
  "Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by pirates off the           
coast of Andres, April, 1854, aet. 30." When I came back Mr. Swales         
went on:-                                                                   
  "Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murdered off the        
coast of Andres! an' you consated his body lay under! Why, I could          
name ye a dozen whose bones lie in the Greenland seas above"- he            
pointed northwards- "or where the currents may have drifted them.           
There be the steans around ye. Ye can, with your young eyes, read           
the small-print of the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowrey- I knew      
his father, lost in the Lively off Greenland in '20; or Andrew              
Woodhouse, drowned in the same seas in 1777; or John Paxton, drowned        
off Cape Farewell a year later; or old John Rawlings, whose                 
grandfather sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in '50.          
Do ye think that all these men will have to make a rush to Whitby when      
the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums about it! I tell ye that            
when they got here they'd be jommlin' an' jostlin' one another that         
way that it 'ud be like a fight up on the ice in the old days, when         
we'd be at one another from daylight to dark, an' tryin' to tie up our      
cuts by the light of the aurora borealis." This was evidently local         
pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his cronies joined in      
with gusto.                                                                 
  "But," I said, "surely you are not quite correct, for you start on        
the assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will have        
to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgment. Do you           
think that will be really necessary?"                                       
  "Well what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, miss!"            
  "To please their relatives, I suppose."                                   
  "To please their relatives, you suppose!" This he said with               
intense scorn. "How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies      
is wrote over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be      
lies?" He pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a      
slab, on which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff.         
"Read the lies on that thruff-stean," he said. The letters were upside      
down to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them, so         
she leant over and read:-                                                   
  "Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the hope of a         
glorious resurrection, on July 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at          
Kettleness. This tomb is erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly      
beloved son. 'He was the only son of his mother, and she was a              
widow.'" "Really, Mr. Swales, I don't see anything very funny in            
that!" She spoke her comment very gravely and somewhat severely.            
  "Ye don't see aught funny! Ha! ha! But that's because ye don't            
gawm the sorrowin' mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was      
acrewk'd- a regular lamiter he was- an' he hated her so that he             
committed suicide in order that she mightn't get an insurance she           
put on his life. He blew night the top of his head off with an old          
musket that they had for scarin' the crows with. 'Twarn't for crows         
then, for it brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That's the way he      
fell off the rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrection,            
I've often heard him say masel' that he hoped he'd go to hell, for his      
mother was so pious that she'd be sure to go to heaven, an' he              
didn't wan't to addle where she was. Now isn't that stean at any            
rate"- he hammered it with his stick as he spoke- "a pack of lies? and      
won't it make Gabriel keckle when Geordie comes pantin' up the grees        
with the tombstean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as          
evidence!"                                                                  
  I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation as           
she said, rising up:-                                                       
  "Oh why did you tell us of this? it is my favourite seat, and I           
cannot leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting over the grave of      
a suicide."                                                                 
  "That won't harm ye, my pretty; an' it may make poor Geordie              
gladsome to have so trim a lass sittin' on his lap. That won't hurt         
ye. Why, I've sat here off an' on for nigh twenty years past, an' it        
hasn't done me no harm. Don't ye fash about them as lies under ye,          
or that doesn' lie there either! it'll be time for ye to be getting         
scart when ye see the tombsteans all run away with, and the place as        
bare as a stubble-field. There's the clock, an' I must gang. My             
service to ye, ladies!" And off he hobbled.                                 
  Lucy and I sat a while, and it was all so beautiful before us that        
we took hands as we sat; and she told me all over again about Arthur        
and their coming marriage. That made me just a little heart-sick,           
for I haven't heard from Jonathan for a whole month.                        
-                                                                           
  The same day.- I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no      
letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter with              
Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights scattered        
all over the town, sometimes in rows where the streets are, and             
sometimes singly; they run right up the Esk and die away in the             
curve of the valley. To my left the view is cut off by a black line of      
roof of the old house next the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating      
in the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of donkey's hoofs      
up the paved road below. The band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz      
in good time, and further along the quay there is a Salvation Army          
meeting in a back street. Neither of the bands hears the other, but up      
here I hear and see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is      
thinking of me! I wish he were here.                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  5 June.- The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more I           
get to understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely            
developed; selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. I wish I could get at         
what is the object of the latter. He seems to have some settled scheme      
of his own, but what it is I do not yet know. His redeeming quality is      
a love of animals, though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it          
that I sometimes imagine he is only abnormally cruel. His pets are          
of odd sorts. Just now his hobby is catching flies. He has at               
present such a quantity that I have had myself to expostulate. To my        
astonishment, he did not break out into a fury, as I expected, but          
took the matter in simple seriousness. He thought for a moment, and         
then said: "May I have three days? I shall clear them away." Of             
course, I said that would do. I must watch him.                             
-                                                                           
  18 June.- He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has got several      
big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them with his flies, and the         
number of the latter is becoming sensibly diminished, although he           
has used half his food in attracting more flies from outside to his         
room.                                                                       
-                                                                           
  1 July.- His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his          
flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid of them. He looked        
very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of them, at         
all events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the            
same time as before for reduction. He disgusted me much while with          
him, for when a horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food,            
buzzed into the room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few            
moments between his finger and thumb, and, before I knew what he was        
going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but      
he argued quietly that it was very good and very wholesome; that it         
was life, strong life, and gave life to him. This gave me an idea,          
or the rudiment of one. I must watch how he gets rid of his spiders.        
He has evidently some deep problem in his mind for he keeps a little        
note-book in which he is always jotting down something. Whole pages of      
it are filled with masses of figures, generally single numbers added        
up in batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though        
he were "focussing" some account, as the auditors put it.                   
-                                                                           
  8 July.- There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary            
idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then,         
oh, unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the wall to your         
conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for a few days, so            
that I might notice if there were any change. Things remain as they         
were except that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new          
one. He has managed to get a sparrow, and has already partially             
tamed it. His means of taming is simple, for already the spiders            
have diminished. Those that do remain, however, are well fed, for he        
still brings in the flies by tempting them with his food.                   
-                                                                           
  19 July.- We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of         
sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I          
came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour- a         
very, very great favour; and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I      
asked him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his           
voice and bearing:-                                                         
  "A kitten, a nice little, sleek, playful kitten, that I can play          
with, and teach, and feed- and feed and feed!" I was not unprepared         
for this request, for I had noticed how his pets went on increasing in      
size and vivacity, but I did not care that his pretty family of tame        
sparrows should be wiped out in the same manner as the flies and the        
spiders; so I said I would see about it, and asked him if he would not      
rather have a cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he           
answered:-                                                                  
  "Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you          
should refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a kitten, would              
they?" I shook my head, and said that at present I feared it would not      
be possible, but that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could      
see a warning of danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce,               
sidelong, look which meant killing. The man is an undeveloped               
homicidal maniac. I shall test him with his present craving and see         
how it will work out; then I shall know more.                               
-                                                                           
  10 p.m.- I have visited him again and found him sitting in a              
corner brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before        
me and implored me to let him have a cat; that his salvation                
depended upon it. I was firm, however, and told him that he could           
not have it, whereupon he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing        
his fingers, in the corner where I had found him. I shall see him in        
the morning early.                                                          
-                                                                           
  20 July.- Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his      
rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his           
sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning      
his fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good         
grace. I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him        
where they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had           
all flown away. There were a few feathers about the room and on his         
pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper        
to report to me if there were anything odd about him during the day.        
-                                                                           
  11 a.m.- The attendant has just been to me to say that Renfield           
has been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. "My           
belief is, doctor," he said, "that he has eaten his birds, and that he      
just took and ate them raw!"                                                
-                                                                           
  11 p.m.- I gave Renfield a strong opiate to-night, enough to make         
even him sleep, and took away his pocket-book to look at it. The            
thought that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and        
the theory proved. My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I             
shall have to invent a new classification for him, and call him a           
zoophagous (life-eating) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as            
many lives as he can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it in a        
cumulative way. He gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to        
one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have      
been his later steps? It would almost be worth while to complete the        
experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause.         
Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why         
not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect- the             
knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of one such mind- did         
I hold the key to the fancy of even one lunatic- I might advance my         
own branch of science to a pitch compared with which                        
Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's brain-knowledge would be as      
nothing. If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too        
much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale        
with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?        
  How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own            
scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only            
one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new      
record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?       
  To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new        
hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the          
Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a               
balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you'      
nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must      
only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!                                 
  If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend              
there- a good, unselfish cause to make me work- that would be indeed        
happiness.                                                                  
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Murray's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  26 July.- I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here; it      
is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time. And        
there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it           
different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan.         
I had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned;        
but yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a            
letter from him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he said      
the enclosed had just been received. It is only a line dated from           
Castle Dracula, and says that he is just starting for home. That is         
not like Jonathan; I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy.          
Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her           
old habit of walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about        
it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every        
night. Mrs. Westenra has got an idea that sleep-walkers always go           
out on roofs of houses and along the edges of cliffs, and then get          
suddenly wakened and fall over with a despairing cry that echoes all        
over the place. Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and         
she tells me that her husband, Lucy's father, had the same habit; that      
he would get up in the night and dress himself and go out, if he            
were not stopped. Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is           
already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be                 
arranged. I sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan           
and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try        
to make both ends meet. Mr. Holmwood- he is the Hon. Arthur                 
Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming- is coming up here very                
shortly- as soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very           
well, and I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes. She      
wants to take him up to the seat on the churchyard cliff and show           
him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it is the waiting which disturbs        
her; she will be all right when he arrives.                                 
-                                                                           
  27 July.- No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about          
him, though why I should I do not know; but I do wish that he would         
write, if it were only a single line. Lucy walks more than ever, and        
each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately,         
the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the               
anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on           
me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy's          
health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been suddenly called to Ring to           
see his father, who has been taken seriously ill. Lucy frets at the         
postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looks; she is         
a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose pink. She has            
lost that anaemic look which she had. I pray it will all last.              
-                                                                           
  3 August.- Another week gone, and no news from Jonathan, not even to      
Mr. Hawkins, from whom I have heard. Oh, I do hope he is not ill. He        
surely would have written. I look at that last letter of his, but           
somehow it does not satisfy me. It does not read like him, and yet          
it is his writing. There is no mistake of that. Lucy has not walked         
much in her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concentration          
about her which I do not understand; even in her sleep she seems to be      
watching me. She tries the door, and finding it locked, goes about the      
room searching for the key.                                                 
-                                                                           
  6 August.- Another three days, and no news. This suspense is getting      
dreadful. If I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I should      
feel easier; but no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last        
letter. I must only pray to God for patience. Lucy is more excitable        
than ever, but is otherwise well. Last night was very threatening, and      
the fishermen say that we are in for a storm. I must try to watch it        
and learn the weather signs. To-day is a grey day, and the sun as I         
write is hidden in thick clouds, high over Kettleness. Everything is        
grey- except the green grass, which seems like emerald amongst it;          
grey earthy rock; grey clouds, tinged with the sunburst at the far          
edge, hang over the grey sea, into which the sand-points stretch            
like grey fingers. The sea is tumbling in over the shallows and the         
sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the sea-mists drifting inland. The      
horizon is lost in a grey mist. All is vastness; the clouds are             
piled up like giant rocks, and there is a "brool" over the sea that         
sounds like some presage of doom. Dark figures are on the beach here        
and there, sometimes half shrouded in the mist, and seem "men like          
trees walking." The fishing-boats are racing for home, and rise and         
dip in the ground swell as they sweep into the harbour, bending to the      
scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is making straight for me, and      
I can see, by the way he lifts his hat, that he wants to talk...            
  I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he      
sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle way:-                          
  "I want to say something to you, miss." I could see he was not at         
ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in mine and asked him to         
speak fully; so he said, leaving his hand in mine:-                         
  "I'm afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by all the            
wicked things I've been sayin' about the dead, and such like, for           
weeks past; but I didn't mean them, and I want ye to remember that          
when I'm gone. We aud folks that be daffled, and with one foot abaft        
the krok-hooal, don't altogether like to think of it, and we don't          
want to feel scart of it; an' that's why I've took to makin' light          
of it, so that I'd cheer up my own heart a bit. But, Lord love ye,          
miss, I ain't afraid of dyin', not a bit; only I don't want to die          
if I can help it. My time must be nigh at hand now, for I be aud,           
and a hundred years is too much for any man to expect; and I'm so nigh      
it that the Aud Man is already whettin' his scythe. Ye see, I can't         
get out o' the habit of affin' about it all at once: the chafts will        
wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of Death will sound         
his trumpet for me. But don't ye dooal an' greet, my deary!"- for he        
saw that I was crying- "if he should come this very night I'd not           
refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only a waitin'           
for somethin' else than what we're doin'; and death be all that we can      
rightly depend on. But I'm content, for it's comin' to me, my deary,        
and comin' quick. It may be comin' while we be lookin' and                  
wonderin'. Maybe it's in that wind out over the sea that's bringin'         
with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look!            
look!" he cried suddenly. "There's something in that wind and in the        
hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like            
death. It's in the air, I feel it comin. Lord, make me answer cheerful      
when my call comes!" He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat.      
His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes'             
silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said           
good-bye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me very much.       
  I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass under        
his arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the         
time kept looking at a strange ship.                                        
  "I can't make her out," he said; "she's a Russian, by the look of         
her; but she's knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn't know         
her mind a bit; she seems to see the storm coming, but can't decide         
whether to run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there          
again! She is steered mighty strangely, for she doesn't mind the            
hand on the wheel; changes about with every puff of wind. We'll hear        
more of her before this time to-morrow."                                    
                                                                            
CHAPTER_VII                                                                 
                             CHAPTER VII.                                   
                    CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH".                          
-                                                                           
                  (Pasted in Mina Murray's Journal.)                        
                        From a Correspondent.                               
-                                                                           
                                                     8 August. Whitby       
  One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been          
experienced here, with results both strange and unique. The weather         
had been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree uncommon in the             
month of August. Saturday evening was as fine as was ever known, and        
the great body of holiday-makers laid out yesterday for visits to           
Mulgrave Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes, and         
the various trips in the neighbourhood of Whitby. The steamers Emma         
and Scarborough made trips up and down the coast, and there was an          
unusual amount of "tripping" both to and from Whitby. The day was           
unusually fine till the afternoon, when some of the gossips who             
frequent the East Cliff churchyard, and from that commanding                
eminence watch the wide sweep of sea visible to the north and east,         
called attention to a sudden show of "mares'-tails" high in the sky to      
the north-west. The wind was then blowing from the south-west in the        
mild degree which in barometrical language is ranked "No. 2: light          
breeze." The coastguard on duty at once made report, and one old            
fisherman, who for more than half a century has kept watch on               
weather signs from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner           
the coming of a sudden storm. The approach of sunset was so very            
beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly-coloured clouds,            
that there was quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in           
the old churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before the sun dipped blow the      
black mass of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, its      
downward way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset-colour-            
flame, purple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold; with         
here and there masses not large, but of seemingly absolute                  
blackness, in all sorts of shapes, as well outlined as colossal             
silhouettes. The experience was not lost on the painters, and               
doubtless some of the sketches of the "Prelude to the Great Storm"          
will grace the R.A. and R.I. walls in May next. More than one               
captain made up his mind then and there that his "cobble" or his            
"mule," as they term the different classes of boats, would remain in        
the harbour till the storm had passed. The wind fell away entirely          
during the evening, and at midnight there was a dead calm, a sultry         
heat, and that prevailing intensity which, on the approach of thunder,      
affects persons of a sensitive nature. There were but few lights in         
sight at sea, for even the coasting steamers, which usually "hug"           
the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and but few                     
fishing-boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable was a foreign         
schooner with all sails set, which was seemingly going westwards.           
The foolhardiness or ignorance of her officers was a prolific theme         
for comment whilst she remained in sight, and efforts were made to          
signal her to reduce sail in face of her danger. Before the night shut      
down she was seen with sails idly napping as she gently rolled on           
the undulating swell of the sea,                                            
-                                                                           
          "As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."                 
-                                                                           
  Shortly before ten o'clock the stillness of the air grew quite            
oppressive, and the silence was so marked that the bleating of a sheep      
inland or the barking of a dog in the town was distinctly heard, and        
the band on the pier, with its lively French air, was like a discord        
in the great harmony of nature's silence. A little after midnight came      
a strange sound from over the sea, and high overhead the air began          
to carry a strange, faint, hollow booming.                                  
  Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity which, at         
the time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards is impossible to           
realise, the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed. The           
waves rose in growing fury, each overtopping its fellow, till in a          
very few minutes the lately glassy sea was like a roaring and               
devouring monster. White-crested waves beat madly on the level sands        
and rushed up the shelving cliffs; others broke over the piers, and         
with their spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses which rise          
from the end of either pier of Whitby Harbour. The wind roared like         
thunder, and blew with such force that it was with difficulty that          
even strong men kept their feet, or clung with grim clasp to the            
iron stanchions. It was found necessary to clear the entire piers from      
the mass of onlookers, or else the fatalities of the night would            
have been increased manifold. To add to the difficulties and dangers        
of the time, masses of sea-fog came drifting inland- white, wet             
clouds, which swept by in ghostly fashion, so dank and damp and cold        
that it needed but little effort of imagination to think that the           
spirits of those lost at sea were touching their living brethren            
with the clammy hands of death, and many a one shuddered as the             
wreaths of sea-mist swept by. At times the mist cleared, and the sea        
for some distance could be seen in the glare of the lightning, which        
now came thick and fast, followed by such sudden peals of thunder that      
the whole sky overhead seemed trembling under the shock of the              
footsteps of the storm.                                                     
  Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and        
of absorbing interest- the sea, running mountains high, threw skywards      
with each wave mighty masses of white foam, which the tempest seemed        
to snatch at and whirl away into space; here and there a fishing-boat,      
with a rag of sail, running madly for shelter before the blast; now         
and again the white wings of a storm-tossed sea-bird. On the summit of      
the East Cliff the new searchlight was ready for experiment, but had        
not yet been tried. The officers in charge of it got it into working        
order, and in the pauses of the inrushing mist swept with it the            
surface of the sea. Once or twice its service was most effective, as        
when a fishing-boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the              
harbour, able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the        
danger of dashing against the piers. As each boat achieved the              
safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of people on      
shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to cleave the gale and was         
then swept away in its rush.                                                
  Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner      
with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had been               
noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by this time backed to         
the east, and there was a shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff as      
they realised the terrible danger in which she now was. Between her         
and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships            
have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its        
present quarter, it would be quite impossible that she should fetch         
the entrance of the harbour. It was now nearly the hour of high             
tide, but the waves were so great that in their troughs the shallows        
of the shore were almost visible, and the schooner, with all sails          
set, was rushing with such speed that, in the words of one old salt,        
"she must fetch up somewhere, if it was only in hell." Then came            
another rush of sea-fog, greater than any hitherto- a mass of dank          
mist, which seemed to close on all things like a grey pall, and left        
available to men only the organ of hearing, for the roar of the             
tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the mighty        
billows came through the damp oblivion even louder than before. The         
rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbour mouth across         
the East Pier, where the shock was expected, and men waited                 
breathless. The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the             
remnant of the sea-fog melted in the blast; and then, mirabile              
dictu, between the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at         
headlong speed, swept the strange schooner before the blast, with           
all sail set, and gained the safety of the harbour. The search-light        
followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to      
the helm was a corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and      
fro at each motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on deck at      
all. A great awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if          
by a miracle, had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a        
dead man! However, all took place more quickly than it takes to             
write these words. The schooner paused not, but rushing across the          
harbour, pitched herself on that accumulation of sand and gravel            
washed by many tides and many storms into the south-east corner of the      
pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally as Tate Hill Pier.         
  There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up      
on the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some of      
the "top-hammer" came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very        
instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from        
below, as if shot up by the concussion, and running forward, jumped         
from the bow on the sand. Making straight for the steep cliff, where        
the churchyard hangs over the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that      
some of the flat tombstones- "thruff-steans" or "through-stones," as        
they call them in the Whitby vernacular- actually project over where        
the sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the                 
darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the             
searchlight.                                                                
  It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill           
Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were either          
in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus the coastguard on duty        
on the eastern side of the harbour, who at once ran down to the little      
pier, was the first to climb on board. The men working the                  
searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the harbour without seeing      
anything, then turned the light on the derelict and kept it there. The      
coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel, bent over to         
examine it, and recoiled at once as though under some sudden                
emotion. This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a number of      
people began to run. It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the      
Drawbridge to Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly            
good runner, and came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived,              
however, I found already assembled on the pier a crowd, whom the            
coastguard and police refused to allow to come on board. By the             
courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted      
to climb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman      
whilst actually lashed to the wheel.                                        
  It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed,         
for not often can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply           
fastened by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the           
wheel. Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set          
of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and              
wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. The poor fellow may          
have been seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the         
sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and dragged him to         
and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut the flesh to      
the bone. Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor-      
Surgeon J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place- who came immediately        
after me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have        
been dead for quite two days. In his pocket was a bottle, carefully         
corked, empty save for a little roll of paper, which proved to be           
the addendum to the log. The coastguard said the man must have tied up      
his own hands, fastening the knots with his teeth. The fact that a          
coastguard was the first on board may save some complications, later        
on, in the Admiralty Court; for coastguards cannot claim the salvage        
which is the tight of the first civilian entering on a derelict.            
Already however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law           
student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already        
completely sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the      
statutes of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof,        
of delegated possession, is held in a dead hand. It is needless to say      
that the dead steersman has been reverently removed from the place          
where he held his honourable watch and ward till death- a                   
steadfastness as noble as that of the young Casablanca- and placed          
in the mortuary to await inquest.                                           
  Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is                
abating; crowds are scattering homeward, and the sky is beginning to        
redden over the Yorkshire wolds. I shall send, in time for your next        
issue, further details of the derelict ship which found her way so          
miraculously into harbour in the storm.                                     
-                                                                           
                                                              Whitby.       
  9 August.- The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in           
the storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself.        
It turns out that the schooner is a Russian from Varna, and is              
called the Demeter. She is almost entirely in ballast of silver             
sand, with only a small amount of cargo- a number of great wooden           
boxes filled with mould. This cargo was consigned to a Whitby               
solicitor, Mr. S. F. Billington, of 7, The Crescent, who this               
morning went aboard and formally took possession of the goods               
consigned to him. The Russian consul, too, acting for the                   
charter-party, took formal possession of the ship, and paid all             
harbour dues, etc. Nothing is talked about here to-day except the           
strange coincidence; the officials of the Board of Trade have been          
most exacting in seeing that every compliance has been made with            
existing regulations. As the matter is to be a "nine days' wonder,"         
they are evidently determined that there shall be no cause of after         
complaint. A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which      
landed when the ship struck, and more than a few of the members of the      
S.P.C.A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend the        
animal. To the general disappointment, however, it was not to be            
found; it seems to have disappeared entirely from the town. It may          
be that it was frightened and made its way on to the moors, where it        
is still hiding in terror. There are some who look with dread on            
such a possibility, lest later on it should in itself become a danger,      
for it is evidently a fierce brute. Early this morning a large dog,         
a half-bred mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill         
Pier, was found dead in the roadway opposite to master's yard. It           
had been fighting, and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for its        
throat was torn away, and its belly was slit open as if with a              
savage claw.                                                                
-                                                                           
  Later.- By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been      
permitted to look over the log-book of the Demeter, which was in order      
up to within three days, but contained nothing of special interest          
except as to facts of missing men. The greatest interest, however,          
is with regard to the paper found in the bottle, which was to-day           
produced at the inquest; and a more strange narrative than the two          
between them unfold it has not been my lot to come across. As there is      
no motive for concealment, I am permitted to use them, and accordingly      
send you a rescript, simply omitting technical details of seamanship        
and supercargo. It almost seems as though the captain had been              
seized with some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water,      
and that this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of          
course my statement must be taken cum grano, since I am writing from        
the dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly                  
translated for me, time being short.                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        LOG OF THE "DEMETER."                               
                           Varna to Whitby.                                 
-                                                                           
  Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep           
accurate note henceforth till we land.                                      
  On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of           
earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands,... two         
mates, cook, and myself (captain).                                          
-                                                                           
  On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs          
officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p.m.                      
-                                                                           
  On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat        
of guarding squadron,. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough,         
but quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago.               
-                                                                           
  On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something.        
Seemed scared, but would not speak out.                                     
-                                                                           
  On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady                
fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was        
wrong; they only told him there was something, and crossed themselves.      
Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck him. Expected         
fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.                                          
-                                                                           
  On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky,      
was missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells      
last night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more      
downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind,           
but would not say more than that there was something aboard. Mate           
getting very impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.                
-                                                                           
  On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin,         
and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a          
strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been          
sheltering behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he        
saw a tall, thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the         
companion-way, and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He             
followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found no one, and the          
hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of superstitious fear,         
and I am afraid the panic may spread. To allay it, I shall to-day           
search entire ship carefully from stem to stern.                            
-                                                                           
  Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as         
they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search      
from stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to             
yield to such foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would         
engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take         
the helm, while the rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast,        
with lanterns; we left no corner unsearched. As there were only the         
big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a man could hide.         
Men much relieved when search over, and went back to work                   
cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.                           
-                                                                           
  22 July.- Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with          
sails- no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their           
dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for          
work in bad weather. Passed Gibraltar and out through Straits. All          
well.                                                                       
-                                                                           
  24 July.- There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand            
short, and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead,           
and yet last night another man lost- disappeared. Like the first, he        
came off his watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of fear;      
sent a round robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be         
alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or         
the men will do some violence.                                              
-                                                                           
  28 July.- Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of                  
maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all            
worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on.        
Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few        
hours' sleep. Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less,        
as ship is steadier.                                                        
-                                                                           
  29 July.- Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night, as crew too         
tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no one          
except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough             
search, but no one found. Are now without second mate, and crew in a        
panic. Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any            
sign of cause.                                                              
-                                                                           
  30 July.- Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine,      
all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling      
me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate         
and two hands left to work ship.                                            
-                                                                           
  1 August.- Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped when        
in the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get in              
somewhere. Not having power to work sails, have to run before wind.         
Dare not lower, as could not raise them again. We seem to be                
drifting to some terrible doom. Mate now more demoralised than              
either of men. His stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly            
against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and                  
patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he                
Roumanian.                                                                  
-                                                                           
  2 August, midnight.- Woke up from few minutes' sleep by hearing a         
cry, seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on         
deck, and ran against mate. Tells me heard cry and ran, but no sign of      
man on watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be            
past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North           
Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out. If so we are now off in         
the North Sea, and only God can guide us in the fog, which seems to         
move with us; and God seems to have deserted us.                            
-                                                                           
  3 August.- At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel, and        
when I got to it found no one there. The wind was steady, and as we         
ran before it there was no yawing. I dared not leave it, so shouted         
for the mate. After a few seconds he rushed up on deck in his               
flannels. He looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his           
reason has given way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, with      
his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air might hear: "It is      
here; I know it, now. On the watch last night I saw it, like a man,         
tall and thin, and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking            
out. I crept behind It, and gave It my knife; but the knife went            
through it, empty as the air." And as he spoke he took his knife and        
drove it savagely into space. Then he went on: "But it is here, and         
I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I'll        
unscrew them one by one and see. You work the helm." And with a             
warning look and his finger on his lip, he went below. There was            
springing up a choppy wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw           
him come out on deck again with a tool-chest and a lantern, and go          
down the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it's no        
use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big boxes: they are          
invoiced as "clay," and to pull them about is as harmless a thing as        
he can do. So here I stay, and mind the helm, and write these notes. I      
can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't        
steer to any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails and      
lie by, and signal for help.                                                
  It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope that           
the mate would come out calmer- for I heard him knocking away at            
something in the hold, and work is good for him- there came up the          
hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my blood run cold,           
and up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun- a raging madman,          
with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! save      
me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. His horror      
turned to despair, and in a steady voice he said: "You had better come      
too, captain, before it is too late. He is there. I know the secret         
now. The sea will save me from Him, and it is all that is left!"            
Before I could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang          
on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. I               
suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman who had got rid      
of the men one by one, and now he has followed them himself. God            
help me! How am I to account for all these horrors when I get to port?      
When I get to port! Will that ever be?                                      
-                                                                           
  4 August.- Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know             
there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. I dared        
not go below, I dared not leave the helm; so here all night I               
stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw It- Him! God forgive me,      
but the mate was right to jump overboard. It was better to die like         
a man; to die like a sailor in blue water no man can object. But I          
am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle this           
fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my             
strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which         
He- It!- dare not touch; and then, come good wind or foul, I shall          
save my soul, and my honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the      
night is coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not          
have time to act... If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be            
found, and those who find it may understand; if not,... well, then all      
men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the               
Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do        
his duty...                                                                 
  Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to            
adduce; and whether or not the man himself committed the murders there      
is now none to say. The folk here hold almost universally that the          
captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given a public funeral.           
Already it is arranged that his body is to be taken with a train of         
boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier        
and up the abbey steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on         
the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have already             
given in their names as wishing to follow him to the grave.                 
  No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which there is          
much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he            
would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the             
funeral; and so will end this one more "mystery of the sea."                
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Murray's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  8 August.- Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could not        
sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the             
chimney-pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed          
to be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake; but she      
got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in         
time, and managed to undress her without waking her, and got her            
back to bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as         
soon as her will is thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if         
there be any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the      
routine of her life.                                                        
  Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour          
to see if anything had happened in the night. There were very few           
people about, and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and          
fresh, the big, grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves             
because the foam that topped them was like snow, forced themselves          
in through the narrow mouth of the harbour- like a bullying man             
going through a crowd. Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan was not on         
the sea last night, but on land. But, oh, is he on land or sea?             
Where is he, and how? I am getting fearfully anxious about him. If I        
only knew what to do, and could do anything!                                
-                                                                           
  10 August.- The funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day was most           
touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin      
was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the           
churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat,           
whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and            
came down again. We had a lovely view and saw the procession nearly         
all the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest quite near our seat so        
that we stood on it when the time came and saw everything. Poor Lucy        
seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I          
cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. She          
is quite odd in one thing: she will not admit to me that there is           
any cause for restlessness; or if there be, she does not understand it      
herself. There is an additional cause in that poor old Mr. Swales           
was found dead this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had      
evidently, as the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort of      
fright, for there was a look of fear and horror on his face that the        
men said made them shudder. Poor dear old man! Perhaps he had seen          
Death with his dying eyes! Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she          
feels influences more acutely than other people do. Just now she was        
quite upset by a little thing which I did not much heed, though I am        
myself very fond of animals. One of the men who came up here often          
to look for the boats was followed by his dog. The dog is always            
with him. They are both quiet persons, and I never saw the man              
angry, nor heard the dog bark. During the service the dog would not         
come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a few             
yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and          
then harshly, and then angrily; but it would neither come nor cease to      
make a noise. It was in a sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and           
all its hairs bristling out like a cat's tail when puss, is, on the         
war-path. Finally the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and              
kicked the dog, and then took it by the scruff of the neck and half         
dragged and half threw it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed.      
The moment it touched the stone the poor thing became quiet and fell        
all into a tremble. It did not try to get away, but crouched down,          
quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of terror          
that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. Lucy was full of        
pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, but looked at          
it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she is of too            
supersensitive a nature to go through the world without trouble. She        
will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. The whole                     
agglomeration of things- the ship steered into port by a dead man; his      
attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads; the touching         
funeral; the dog, now furious and now in terror- will all afford            
material for her dreams.                                                    
  I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically,        
so I shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's           
Bay and back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking      
then.                                                                       
                                                                            
CHAPTER_VIII                                                                
                            CHAPTER VIII.                                   
                        MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.                              
-                                                                           
  Same day, 11 o'clock p.m.- Oh, but I am tired! if it were not that I      
had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely      
walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some      
dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the                
lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot          
everything, except, of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe         
there slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital               
"severe tea" at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned            
inn, with a bow-window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the          
strand. I believe we should have shocked the "New Woman" with our           
appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with      
some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a      
constant dread of wild bulls. Lucy was really tired, and we intended        
to creep off to bed as soon as we could. The young curate came in,          
however, and Mrs. Westenra asked him to stay for supper. Lucy and I         
had both a fight for it with the dusty miller; I know it was a hard         
fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I think that some day the          
bishops must get together and see about breeding up a new class of          
curates, who don't take supper, no matter how they may be pressed           
to, and who will know when girls are tired. Lucy is asleep and              
breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks than usual, and         
looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with her seeing           
her only in the drawingroom, I wonder what he would say if he saw           
her now. Some of the "New Women" writers will some day start an idea        
that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep before        
proposing or accepting. But I suppose the New Woman won't condescend        
in future to accept; she will do the proposing herself And a nice           
job she will make of it, too! There's some consolation in that. I am        
so happy to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe         
she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles with           
dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan... God         
bless and keep him.                                                         
-                                                                           
  11 August, 3 a.m.- Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well            
write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such      
an agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my           
diary... Suddenly I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible         
sense of fear upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The      
room was dark, so I could not see Lucy's bed; I stole across and            
felt for her. The bed was empty. I lit a match, and found that she was      
not in the room. The door was shut, but not locked, as I had left           
it. I feared to wake her mother, who has been more than usually ill         
lately, so threw on some clothes and got ready to look for her. As I        
was leaving the room it struck me that the clothes she wore might give      
me some clue to her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean            
house; dress, outside. Dressing-gown and dress were both in their           
places. "Thank God," I said to myself, "she cannot be far, as she is        
only in her nightdress." I ran downstairs and looked in the                 
sitting-room. Not there! Then I looked in all the other open rooms          
of the house, with an ever-growing fear chilling my heart. Finally I        
came to the hall-door and found it open. It was not wide open, but the      
catch of the lock had not caught. The people of the house are               
careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that Lucy must            
have gone out as she was. There was no time to think of what might          
happen; a vague, overmastering fear obscured all details. I took a          
big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I was in        
the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the North      
Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I expected.        
At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across the            
harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear- I don't know which- of      
seeing Lucy in our favourite seat. There was a bright full moon,            
with heavy black, driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a        
fleeting diorama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a            
moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured        
St. Mary's Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I             
could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge          
of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the          
church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my             
expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our                 
favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining        
figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to        
see much, for shadow shut down on light almost immediately; but it          
seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where           
the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man          
or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another glance,         
but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the fish-market      
to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East Cliff. The          
town seemed as dead, for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it           
was so, for I wanted no witness of poor Lucy's condition. The time and      
distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came           
laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have         
gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with         
lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got           
almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was      
now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of               
shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending            
over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy!            
Lucy!" and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a      
white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on        
to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was             
between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her.        
When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight           
struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her         
head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and there        
was not a sign of any living thing about.                                   
  When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips      
were parted, and she was breathing- not softly, as usual with her, but      
in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at           
every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and         
pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst         
she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt      
the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight         
round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill         
from the night air, unclad as she was I feared to wake her all at           
once, so, in order to have my hands free that I might help her. I           
fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must          
have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for      
by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to           
her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put      
my shoes on her feet, and then began very gently to wake her. At first      
she did not respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy          
in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as time was        
passing fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get her home at      
once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes           
and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she         
did not realise all at once where she was. Lucy always wakes prettily,      
and even at such a time, when her body must have been chilled with          
cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking unclad in a                  
churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled a             
little, and clung to me; when I told her to come at once with me            
home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we          
passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince.           
She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes; but I             
would not. However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard,      
where there was a puddle of water remaining from the storm, I daubed        
my feet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as          
we went home no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice          
my bare feet.                                                               
  Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we      
saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front      
of us; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such      
as there are here, steep little closes, or "wynds," as they call            
them in Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes         
I thought I should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not         
only for her health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for      
her reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in,           
and had washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness              
together, I tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked- even      
implored- me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about           
her sleep-walking adventure. I hesitated at first to promise; but on        
thinking of the state of her mother's health, and how the knowledge of      
such a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, of how such a story         
might become distorted- may, infallibly would- in case it should            
leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right. I have           
locked the door, and the key is tied to my wrist, so perhaps I shall        
not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping soundly; the reflex of the         
dawn is high and far over the sea...                                        
-                                                                           
  Same day, noon.- All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her, and           
seemed not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night        
does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited         
her, for she looks better this morning than she has done for weeks.         
I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her.      
Indeed, it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was          
pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have              
transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-pricks,         
and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I               
apologised and was concerned about it, she laughed and petted me,           
and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it cannot leave a scar,      
as it is so tiny.                                                           
-                                                                           
  Same day, night.- We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and           
the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to           
Mulgrave Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I            
walking by the cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little      
sad myself, for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would          
have been had Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be              
patient. In the evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard        
some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy         
seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at      
once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before,          
though I do not expect any trouble to-night.                                
-                                                                           
  12 August.- My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I      
was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her              
sleep, to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went          
back to bed under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard        
the birds chirping outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was        
glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. All her old      
gaiety of manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled        
in beside me, and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I        
was about Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she             
succeeded somewhat, for, though sympathy can't alter facts, it can          
help to make them more bearable.                                            
-                                                                           
  13 August.- Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist        
as before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in         
bed, still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and            
pulling aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and        
the soft effect of the light over the sea and sky- merged together          
in one great, silent mystery- was beautiful beyond words. Between me        
and the moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in great,           
whirling circles. Once or twice it came quite close, but was, I             
suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted away across the               
harbour towards the abbey. When I came back from the window Lucy had        
lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again        
all night.                                                                  
-                                                                           
  14 August.- On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy          
seems to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it          
is hard to get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch      
or tea or dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were           
coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from        
the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The      
setting sun, low down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness;      
the red light was thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and      
seemed to bathe everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent         
for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself:-                  
  "His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd          
expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I         
slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare      
at her, and saw that she was in a half-dreamy state, with an odd            
look on her face that I could not quite make out; so I said nothing,        
but followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own           
seat, whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little                
startled myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had        
great eyes like burning flames; but a second look dispelled the             
illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's         
Church behind our seat, and as the sun dipped there was just                
sufficient change in the refraction and reflection to make it appear        
as if the light moved. I called Lucy's attention to the peculiar            
effect, and she became herself with a start, but she looked sad all         
the same; it may have been that she was thinking of that terrible           
night up there. We never refer to it; so I said nothing, and we went        
home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her        
asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself, I walked along the         
cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was            
thinking of Jonathan. When coming home- it was then bright                  
moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the              
Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen- I threw a            
glance up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I thought         
that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief        
and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement whatever. Just        
then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the           
light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head           
lying up against the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She         
was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window-sill, was                 
something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might        
get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was         
moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily; she was         
holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect it from cold.          
  I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have taken care that      
the door is locked and the window securely fastened.                        
  She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont,      
and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like.      
I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what        
it is.                                                                      
-                                                                           
  15 August.- Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and        
slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at               
breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come        
off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and             
sorry at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is            
grieved to lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she          
is soon to have some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She         
confided to me that she has got her death-warrant. She has not told         
Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; her doctor told her that within a        
few months, at most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At           
any time, even now, a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her.        
Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of the dreadful night          
of Lucy's sleep-walking.                                                    
-                                                                           
  17 August.- No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to      
write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our                
happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker,      
whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not                
understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and            
sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in        
her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by          
day; at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep the key of           
our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she gets up and          
walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last night I             
found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake her I        
could not; she was in a faint. When I managed to restore her she was        
as weak as water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles        
for breath. When I asked her how she came to be at the window she           
shook her head and turned away. I trust her feeling ill may not be          
from that unlucky prick of the safety pin. I looked at her throat just      
now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds seem not to have healed.         
They are still open, and, if anything, larger than before, and the          
edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots            
with red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist      
on the doctor seeing about them.                                            
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
      Letter, Samuel F. Billington & Son, Solicitors, Whitby, to            
               Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London.                      
-                                                                           
                                                          "17 August.       
  "Dear Sirs,-                                                              
  "Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern          
Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet,                 
immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The house is          
at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of which are           
labelled.                                                                   
  "You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form           
the consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of           
the house and marked 'A' on rough diagram enclosed. Your agent will         
easily recognise the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the           
mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 to-night, and will be         
due at King's Cross at 4:30 to-morrow afternoon. As our client              
wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by        
your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and               
forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate           
any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment          
in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds              
(L10), receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be            
less than this amount, you can return balance; if greater, we shall at      
once send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to             
leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the      
proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his           
duplicate key.                                                              
  "Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy in      
pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.                      
                                                  "We are, dear Sirs,       
                                                   "Faithfully yours,       
                                        "Samuel F. Billington & Son."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
      Letter, Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London, to Messrs.            
                      Billington & Son, Whitby.                             
-                                                                           
                                                          "21 August.       
  "Dear Sirs,-                                                              
  "We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds (L10) received and to return cheque      
L1 17s. 9d., amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account              
herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instructions,        
and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.                          
                                                  "We are, dear Sirs,       
                                                 "Yours respectfully,       
                                         "Pro Carter, Paterson & Co."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
  18 August.- I am happy to-day, and write sitting on the seat in           
the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well      
all night, and did not disturb me once. The roses seem coming back          
already to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking.      
If she were in any way anaemic I could understand it, but she is            
not. She is in gay spirits and full of life and cheerfulness. All           
the morbid reticence seems to have passed from her, and she has just        
reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that night, and that          
it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep. As he told me           
she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the stone slab and        
said:-                                                                      
  "My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old      
Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to          
wake up Geordie." As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked        
her if she had dreamed at all that night. Before she answered, that         
sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, which Arthur- I call           
him Arthur from her habit- says he loves; and, indeed, I don't              
wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-dreaming kind of            
way, as if trying to recall it to herself:-                                 
  "I didn't quite dream; but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted        
to be here in this spot- I don't know why, for I was afraid of              
something- I don't know what. I remember though I suppose I was             
asleep, passing through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped      
as I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of         
dogs howling- the whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs           
all howling at once- as I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory      
of something long and dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the             
sunset, and something very sweet and very bitter all around me at           
once; and then I seemed sinking into deep green water, and there was a      
singing in my ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men; and then      
everything seemed passing away from me; my soul seemed to go out            
from my body and float about the air. I seem to remember that once the      
West Lighthouse was right under me, and then there was a sort of            
agonising feeling, as if I were in an earthquake, and I came back           
and found you shaking my body. I saw you do it before I felt you."          
  Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I          
listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought          
it better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to          
other subjects, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home      
the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really         
more rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a         
very happy evening together.                                                
-                                                                           
  19 August.- Joy, joy, joy! although not all joy. At last, news of         
Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill; that is why he did not              
write. I am not afraid to think it or say it, now that I know. Mr.          
Hawkins sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh, so kindly. I          
am to leave in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to          
nurse him if necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it          
would not be a bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have         
cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against          
my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next my heart,      
for he is in my heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage         
ready. I am only taking one change of dress; Lucy All bring my trunk        
to London and keep it till I send for it, for it may be that... I must      
write no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The           
letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet.           
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
     Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of SL Joseph and Ste. Mary,            
                Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray.                      
-                                                                           
                                                          "12 August.       
  "Dear Madam,-                                                             
  "I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong      
enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph      
and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks,             
suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love,      
and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins,          
Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his         
delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will require some few      
weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He        
wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him, and that        
he would like to pay for his staying here, so that others who need          
shall not be wanting for help. "Believe me,                                 
                             "Yours, with sympathy and all blessings,       
                                                      "Sister Agatha.       
-                                                                           
  "P.S.- My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know               
something more. He has told me all about you, and that you are              
sortly to be his wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some           
fearful shock- so says our doctor- and in his delirium his ravings          
have been dreadful; of wolves and poison and blood; of ghosts and           
demons; and I fear to say of what. Be careful with him always that          
there may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time to          
come; the traces of such an illness as his do not lightly die away. We      
should have written long ago, but we knew nothing of his friends,           
and there was on him nothing that any one could understand. He came in      
the train from Klausenburg, and the guard was told by the                   
station-master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a         
ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanour that he was              
English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way         
thither that the train reached.                                             
  "Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by           
his sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I            
have no doubt will in a few weeks be all himself But be careful of him      
for safety's sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary,      
many, many, happy years for you both."                                      
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  19 August.- Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night.             
About eight o'clock he began to get excited and to sniff about as a         
dog does when setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and          
knowing my interest in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually           
respectful to the attendant, and at times servile; but to-night, the        
man tells me, he was quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk            
with him at all. All he would say was:-                                     
  "I don't want to talk to you: you don't count now; the Master is          
at hand."                                                                   
  The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which      
has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong           
man with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The      
combination is a dreadful one. At nine o'clock I visited him myself.        
His attitude to me was the same as that to the attendant; in his            
sublime self-feeling the difference between myself and attendant            
seemed to him as nothing. It looks like religious mania, and he will        
soon think that he himself is God. These infinitesimal distinctions         
between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How             
these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a          
sparrow fall; but the God created from human vanity sees no difference      
between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men only knew!                       
  For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater         
and greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept        
strict observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came          
into his eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea,         
and with it the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum           
attendants come to know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and        
sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space with           
lack-lustre eyes. I thought I would find out if his apathy were real        
or only assumed, and tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme         
which had never failed to excite his attention. At first he made no         
reply, but at length said testily:-                                         
  "Bother them all! I don't care a pin about them."                         
  "What?" I said. "You don't mean to tell me you don't care about           
spiders?" (Spiders at present are his hobby, and the note-book is           
filling up with columns of small figures.) To this he answered              
enigmatically:-                                                             
  "The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the           
bride; but when the bride draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not          
to the eyes that are filled."                                               
  He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his      
bed all the time I remained with him.                                       
  I am weary to-night and low in spirits. I cannot but think of             
Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I don't sleep at         
once, chloral, the modern Morpheus- C(2) HCL(3)O: H(2)O! I must be          
careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none              
ton-night! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by         
mixing the two. If need be, to-night shall be sleepless.                    
-                                                                           
  Later.- Glad I made the resolution; gladder that I kept to it. I had      
lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when         
the night-watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that           
Renfield had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once; my        
patient is too dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas          
of his might work out dangerously with strangers. The attendant was         
waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten minutes before,             
seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked through the                 
observation-trap in the door. His attention was called by the sound of      
the window being wrenched out. He ran back and saw his feet                 
disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was        
only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. The attendant thought        
it would be more useful to watch where he should go than to follow          
him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the                
building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get through           
the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost,      
and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The            
attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a         
straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the         
belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates      
our grounds from those of the deserted house.                               
  I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men            
immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our           
friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the          
wall, dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield's figure         
just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him.        
On the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old      
iron-bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to            
some one, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was            
saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run off. Chasing an        
errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic, when the      
fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, however, I could see      
that he did not take note of anything around him, and so ventured to        
draw nearer to him- the more so as my men had now crossed the wall and      
were closing him in. I heard him say:-                                      
  "I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will      
reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and          
afar off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will        
not pass me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good         
things?"                                                                    
  He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and            
fishes even when he believes he is in a Real Presence. His manias make      
a startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a          
tiger. He is immensely strong, and he was more like a wild beast            
than a man. I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before;        
and I hope I shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his      
strength and his danger in good time. With strength, and determination      
like his, he might have done wild work before he was caged. He is safe      
now at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn't get free from the           
strait-waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he's chained to the         
wall in the padded room. His cries are at times awful, but the              
silences that follow are more deadly still, for he means murder in          
every turn and movement.                                                    
  Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time:-                     
  "I shall be patient, Master. It is coming- coming- coming!"               
  So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but         
this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep to-night.      
                                                                            
CHAPTER_IX                                                                  
                             CHAPTER IX.                                    
                      LETTERS, ETC.- continued.                             
-                                                                           
                Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.                       
-                                                                           
                                              "Buda-Pesth, 24 August.       
  "My dearest Lucy,-                                                        
  "I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we        
parted at the railway station at Whitby. Well, my dear, I got to            
Hull all right, and caught the boat to Homburg, and then the train          
on here. I feel that I can hardly recall anything of the journey,           
except that I knew I was coming to Jonathan, and, that as I should          
have to do some nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could... I        
found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the           
resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which      
I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of              
himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him         
for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall      
never ask. He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his      
poor brain if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a          
good creature and a born nurse, tells me that he raved of dreadful          
things whilst he was off his head. I wanted her to tell me what they        
were; but she would only cross herself, and say she would never             
tell; that the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that        
if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect        
her trust. She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I      
was troubled, she opened up the subject again, and after saying that        
she could never mention what my poor dear raved about, added: 'I can        
tell you this much, my dear: that it was not about anything which he        
has done wrong himself, and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to        
be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His          
fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat            
of.' I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my          
poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea          
of my being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me                
whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other        
woman was a cause of trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I      
can see his face while he sleeps. He is waking!...                          
  "When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get               
something from the pocket; I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought           
all his things. I saw that amongst them was his note-book, and was          
going to ask him to let me look at it- for I knew then that I might         
find some clue to his trouble- but I suppose he must have seen my wish      
in my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to          
be quite alone for a moment. Then he called me back, and when I came        
he had his hand over the note-book, and he said to me very solemnly:-       
  "'Wilhelmina'- I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has      
never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him- 'you           
know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife: there           
should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and          
when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I          
do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know I      
have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I      
do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our            
marriage.' For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the        
formalities are complete. 'Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my         
ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will,      
but never let me know; unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come         
upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or            
mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put the book             
under his pillow, and kissed him I have asked Sister Agatha to beg the      
Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her           
reply...                                                                    
  "She has come and told me that the chaplain of the English mission        
church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as            
soon after as Jonathan awakes...                                            
  "Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very,          
very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was              
ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered           
his 'I will' firmly and strongly. I could hardly speak; my heart was        
so full that even those words seemed to choke me. The dear sisters          
were so kind. Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the         
grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must tell you      
of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had left me        
alone with my husband- oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have written        
the words 'my husband'- left me alone with my husband, I took the book      
from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it        
with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and          
sealed it over the knot with sealing-wax, and for my seal I used my         
wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told        
him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and            
visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other; that I        
would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the         
sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it      
was the first time he took his wifes hand, and said that it was the         
dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through           
all the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to            
have said a part of the past; but he cannot think of time yet, and I        
shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the        
year.                                                                       
  "Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was        
the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to         
give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these          
went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear,            
when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was      
like a very solemn pledge between us...                                     
  "Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only           
because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are,          
very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide            
when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life.         
I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither      
duty has led me; so that in your own married life you too may be all        
happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it        
promises: a long day of sunshine, with no harsh kind, no forgetting         
duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be;      
but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now Good-bye, my          
dear. I shall post this at once, and, perhaps, write you very soon          
again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking- I must attend to my             
husband!                                                                    
                                                    "Your ever-loving       
                                                       "Mina Harker."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker.                       
-                                                                           
                                                  "Whitby, 30 August.       
  "My dearest Mina,-                                                        
  "Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in            
your own home with your husband. I wish you could be coming home            
soon enough to stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore         
Jonathan; it has quite restored me. I have an appetite like a               
cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know        
that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not          
stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at        
night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell           
you that Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives, and rides, and      
rowing, and tennis, and fishing together; and I love him more than          
ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I doubt that, for at           
first he told me that he couldn't love me more than he did then. But        
this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no more just at            
present from your loving                                       "LUCY.       
-                                                                           
  "P.S.- Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear.                
-                                                                           
  "P.P.S.- We are to be married on 28 September."                           
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  20 August.- The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has      
now so far quieted that there are spells or cessation from his              
passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually             
violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and          
kept murmuring to himself- "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The            
attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at          
him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room,           
but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had              
something of their old pleading- I might almost say, "cringing"-            
softness, I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him      
to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my        
wishes without protest. It was a strange thing that the patient had         
humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he            
said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at them:-                
  "They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!"           
  It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated      
even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same      
I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in        
common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has      
he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is            
needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not              
speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not         
tempt him. He will only say: "I don't take any stock in cats. I have        
more to think of now, and I can wait; I can wait."                          
  After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet        
until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at        
length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which                 
exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort of coma.                       
  ...Three nights has the same thing happened- violent all day then         
quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the         
cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which            
came and went. Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against      
mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape      
with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to              
follow in case they are required...                                         
-                                                                           
  23 August.- "The unexpected always happens." How well Disraeli            
knew life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so           
all our subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have           
proved one thing; that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time.      
We shall in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day.      
I have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the        
padded room, when once he is quiet, until an hour before sunrise.           
The poor soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot          
appreciate it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called; the patient         
has once more escaped.                                                      
-                                                                           
  Later.- Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until           
the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out          
past him and new down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to        
follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we        
found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. When      
he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized him          
in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a           
strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as      
suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see             
nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could         
trace nothing as it looked into the moonlit sky except a big bat,           
which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the West. Bats             
usually wheel and flit about, but this one seemed to go straight on,        
as if it knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own.      
The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said:                  
  "You needn't tie me; I shall go quietly!" Without trouble we came         
back to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm,           
and shall not forget this night...                                          
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Lucy Westenra's Diary.                              
-                                                                           
  Hillingham, 24 August.- I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things      
down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it         
will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last         
night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps        
it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and          
horrid to me, for I can remember nothing; but I am full of vague fear,      
and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he looked        
quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to be          
cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room to-night. I shall      
make an excuse and try.                                                     
-                                                                           
  25 August.- Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my          
proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to        
worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while; but when        
the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been        
falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the           
window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose         
I must then have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could             
remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly          
pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my            
lungs, for I don't seem ever to get air enough. I shall try to cheer        
up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me         
so.                                                                         
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward.                      
-                                                                           
                                         "Albemarle Hotel, 31 August.       
  "My dear Jack,-                                                           
  "I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill; that is, she has no           
special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every            
day. I have asked her if there is any cause; I do not dare to ask           
her mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter          
in her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has            
confided to me that her doom is spoken- disease of the heart- though        
poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something           
preying on my dear girl's mind: I am almost distracted when I think of      
her; to look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask you to         
see her, and though she demurred at first- I know why, old fellow- she      
finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I know, old           
friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to ask, or you      
to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham to-morrow, two o'clock,      
so as not to arose any suspicion in Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch          
Lucy will take an opportunity of being alone with you. I shall come in      
for tea, and we can go away together; I am filled with anxiety, and         
want to consult with you alone as soon as I can after you have seen         
her. Do not fail!                                                           
                                                            "Arthur."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                 Telegram, Arthur Holmwood to Seward.                       
-                                                                           
                                                        "1 September.       
  "Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write me         
fully by to-night's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary."                    
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
              Letter from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood.                    
-                                                                           
                                                        "2 September.       
  "My dear old fellow,-                                                     
  "With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at        
once that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or any      
malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means              
satisfied with her appearance; she is woefully different from what she      
was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did         
not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish; our         
very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical            
science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly            
what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own                  
conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing.           
  "I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was           
present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying         
all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being anxious.      
I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of             
caution there is. We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to      
be cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real      
cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy      
was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got there           
her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. As soon        
as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her face, and           
she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with         
her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I at once            
took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. She said to me          
very sweetly:                                                               
  "'I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself.' I reminded        
her that a doctor's confidence was sacred, but that you were                
grievously anxious about her. She caught on to my meaning at once, and      
settled that matter in a word. 'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I        
do not care for myself, but all for him!' So I am quite free.               
  "I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I could           
not see the usual anaemic signs, and by a chance I was actually able        
to test the quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was         
stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken            
glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident          
chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed them.      
The qualitative analysis gives a quite normal condition, and shows,         
I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other              
physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for            
anxiety; but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the         
conclusion that it must be something mental. She complains of               
difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at times, and of heavy,              
lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding which         
she can remember nothing. She says that as a child she used to walk in      
her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, and that            
once she walked out in the night and went to the East Cliff, where          
Miss Murray found her; but she assures me that of late the habit has        
not returned. I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know         
of, I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing,      
of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in        
the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that           
all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who           
you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow,          
is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to        
do anything I can for her. Van Helsing would, I know, do anything           
for me for a personal reason. So, no matter on what ground he comes,        
we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, but this        
is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else.      
He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most                
advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I believe, an absolutely        
open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, an          
indomitable resolution, self-command and toleration exalted from            
virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats-        
these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for            
mankind- work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide        
as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may          
know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at         
once. I shall see Miss Westenra to-morrow again. She is to meet me          
at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a            
repetition of my call.                                                      
                                                       "Yours always,       
                                                       "John Seward."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
      Letter, Abraham Van Helsing, M.D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc.,             
                         etc., to Dr. Seward.                               
-                                                                           
                                                        "2 September.       
  "My good Friend,-                                                         
  "When I have received your letter I am already coming to you. By          
good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those        
who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those         
who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those      
he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my        
wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our        
other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he           
wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could        
do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend; it is to           
you that I come. Have then rooms for me at the Great Eastern Hotel, so      
that I may be near to hand, and please it so arrange that we may see        
the young lady not too late on to-morrow, for it is likely that I           
may have to return here that night. But if need be I shall come             
again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till then good-bye,        
my friend John.                                                             
                                                       "Van Helsing."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
             Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.                    
-                                                                           
                                                        "3 September.       
  "My dear Art,-                                                            
  "Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham,         
and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out,          
so that we were alone with her. Van Helsing made a very careful             
examination of the patient. He is to report to me, and I shall              
advise you, for of course I was not present all the time. He is, I          
fear, much concerned, but says he must think. When I told him of our        
friendship and how you trust to me in the matter, he said: 'You must        
tell him all you think. Tell him what I think, if you can guess it, if      
you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This is no jest, but life and              
death, perhaps more.' I asked what he meant by that, for he was very        
serious. This was when we had come back to town, and he was having a        
cup of tea before starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not         
give me any further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art,               
because his very reticence means that all his brains are working for        
her good. He will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure.        
So I told him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if      
I were doing a descriptive special article for The Dally Telegraph. He      
seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts in London were not        
quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to         
get his report tomorrow if he can possible make it. In any case I am        
to have a letter.                                                           
  "Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I          
first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something          
of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal.        
She was very sweet to the professor (as she always is), and tried to        
make him feel at ease; though I could see that the poor girl was            
making a hard struggle for it. I believe Van Helsing saw it, too,           
for I saw the quick look under his bushy brows that I knew of old.          
Then he began to chat of all things except ourselves and diseases           
and with such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Lucy's            
pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, without any seeming         
change, he brought the conversation gently round to his visit, and          
suavely said:-                                                              
  "'My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are        
much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that which I do        
not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that you were        
of a ghastly pale. To them I say: "Pouf!"' And he snapped his               
fingers at me and went on: 'But you and I shall show them how wrong         
they are. How can he'- and he pointed at me with the same look and          
gesture as that with which once he pointed me out to his class, on, or      
rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails to remind          
me of- 'know anything of a young ladies? He has his madams to play          
with, and to bring them back to happiness and to those that love them.      
It is much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards, in that we can            
bestow such happiness. But the young ladies! He has no wife nor             
daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to the young, but to         
the old, like me, who have known so many sorrows and the causes of          
them. So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette in the      
garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to ourselves.' I took         
the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor came to           
the window and called me in. He looked grave, but said: 'I have made        
careful examination, but there is no functional cause. With you I           
agree that there has been much blood lost; it has been, but is not.         
But the conditions of her are in no way anaemic. I have asked her to        
send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two question, that so I        
may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what she will say. And yet      
there is cause; there is always cause for everything. I must go back        
home and think. You must send to me the telegram every day; and if          
there be cause I shall come again. The disease- for not to be all well      
is a disease- interest me, and the sweet young dear, she interest me        
too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.'         
  "As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were           
alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch.      
I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible thing to        
you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position between two        
people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your        
father, and you are right to stick to it; but, if need be, I shall          
send you word to come at once to Lucy; so do not be over-anxious            
unless you hear from me."                                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  4 September.- Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him.      
He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time.         
Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The               
attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the      
men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he      
became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. In           
about five minutes, however, he began to get more and more quiet,           
and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has           
remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst          
in the paroxysm were really appalling; I found my hands full when I         
got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by      
him. Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds              
disturbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after         
the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a              
corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-be-gone look in his face,         
which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I           
cannot quite understand it.                                                 
-                                                                           
  Later.- Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on      
him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to           
be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his      
capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges      
of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad         
conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to      
his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to          
humour him; so he is back in his room, with the window open. He has         
the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping          
quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting            
them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of         
his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past        
few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me;      
but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and          
said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying it rather to             
himself than to me:-                                                        
  "All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I      
do it for myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he        
said: "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little        
more sugar? I think it would be good for me."                               
  "And the flies?" I said.                                                  
  "Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like      
it." And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen        
do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy         
a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.      
-                                                                           
  Midnight.- Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra,        
whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at        
our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him              
yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it          
better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the           
wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid              
lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul      
clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of      
my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and        
my own desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the           
sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it        
sank he became less and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid        
from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is            
wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics           
have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked          
around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was        
anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window        
and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box and           
emptied it outside, and threw away the box: then he shut the window         
and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I         
asked him: "Are you not going to keep flies any more?"                      
  "No," said he; "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a         
wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of           
his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a        
clue after all, if we can find why to-day his paroxysms came on at          
high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of      
the sun at periods which affects certain natures- as at times the moon      
does others? We shall see.                                                  
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
         Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.               
-                                                                           
  "4 September.- Patient still better to-day."                              
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
         Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.               
-                                                                           
  "5 September- Patient greatly improved. Good appetite; sleeps             
naturally; good spirits; colour coming back."                               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
         Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.               
-                                                                           
  "6 September.- Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not        
lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you."         
                                                                            
CHAPTER_X                                                                   
                              CHAPTER X.                                    
                      LETTERS, ETC.- continued.                             
-                                                                           
             Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.                    
-                                                                           
                                                        "6 September.       
  "My dear Art,-                                                            
  "My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning has gone back a         
bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it;            
Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted      
me professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity,           
and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist,         
was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge          
conjointly with myself, so now we can come and go without alarming her      
unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in            
Lucy's weak condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in         
with difficulties, all of us, my poor old fellow; but, please God,          
we shall come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so         
that, if you do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply      
waiting for news. In haste. Yours ever,                                     
                                                       "John Seward."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  7 September.- The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met a        
Liverpool street was:-                                                      
  "Have you said anything to our young friend the lover of her?"            
  "No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my              
telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were             
coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him         
know if need be."                                                           
  "Right, my friend," he said, "quite right! Better he not know as          
yet; perhaps he shall never know. I pray so; but if it be needed, then      
he shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. You        
deal with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other; and         
inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God's        
madmen, too- the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen what           
you do nor why you do it; you tell them not what you think. So you          
shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may rest- where it may          
gather its kind around it and breed. You and I shall keep as yet            
what we know here, and here." He touched me on the heart and on the         
forehead, and then touched himself the same way. "I have for myself         
thoughts at the present. Later I shall unfold to you."                      
  "Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good; we may arrive at            
some decision." He stopped and looked at me, and said:-                     
  "My friend John, when the corn is grown, even before it has ripened-      
while the milk of its mother-earth is in him, and the sunshine has not      
yet begun to paint him with his gold, the husbandman he pull the ear        
and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff,         
and say to you: 'Look! he's good corn; he will make good crop when the      
time comes.'" I did not see the application, and told him so. For           
reply he reached over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it             
playfully, as he used long ago to do at lectures, and said: "The            
good husbandman tell you so then because he knows, but not till             
then. But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted            
corn to see if he grow; that is for the children who play at                
husbandry, and not for those who take it as of the work of their life.      
See you now, friend John? I have sown my corn, and Nature has her work      
to do in making it sprout; if he sprout at all, there's some                
promise; and I wait till the ear begins to swell." He broke off, for        
he evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on, and very               
gravely:-                                                                   
  "You were always a careful student, and your case-book was ever more      
full than the rest. You were only student then; now you are master,         
and I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember, my friend, that        
knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker.      
Even if you have not kept the good practise, let me tell you that this      
case of our dear miss is one that may be- mind, I say may be- of            
such interest to us and others that all the rest may not make him kick      
the beam, as your peoples say. Take then good note of it. Nothing is        
too small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and           
surmises. Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you        
guess. We learn from failure, not from success!"                            
  When I described Lucy's symptoms- the same as before, but infinitely      
more marked- he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with           
him a bag in which were many instruments and drugs, "the ghastly            
paraphernalia of our beneficial trade," as he once called, in one of        
his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing craft.            
When we were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but           
not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of her          
beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its      
own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal,               
matters are so ordered that, from some cause or other, the things           
not personal- even the terrible change in her daughter to whom she          
is so attached- do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way      
Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some                
insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would          
otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered selfishness, then          
we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice of egoism,           
for there may be deeper roots for its causes than we have knowledge         
of.                                                                         
  I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and laid        
down a rule that she should not be present with Lucy or think of her        
illness more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so         
readily that I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van          
Helsing and I were shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I         
saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her to-day. She was           
ghastly, chalkily pale; the red seemed to have gone even from her lips      
and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently; her              
breathing was painful to see or hear. Van Helsing's face grew set as        
marble, and his eyebrows converged till they almost touched over his        
nose. Lucy lay motionless and did not seem to have strength to              
speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckoned to      
me, and we went gently out of the room. The instant we had closed           
the door he stepped quickly along the passage to the next door,             
which was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and closed the        
door. "My God!" he said; "this is dreadful. There is no time to be          
lost. She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart's              
action as it should be. There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is      
it you or me?"                                                              
  "I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me."                    
  "Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared."          
  I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock        
at the hall-door. When we reached the hall the maid had just opened         
the door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me,           
saying in an eager whisper:-                                                
  "Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter,         
and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to        
see for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so              
thankful to you, sir, for coming." When first the Professor's eye           
had lit upon him he had been angry at my interruption at such a             
time; but now, as he took in his stalwart proportions and recognised        
the strong young manhood which seemed to emanate from him, his eyes         
gleamed. Without a pause he said to him gravely as he held out his          
hand:-                                                                      
  "Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our lear miss. She      
is bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that." For he         
suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You are        
to help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is        
your best help."                                                            
  "What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it.      
My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body         
for her." The Professor has a strongly humourous side, and I could          
from old knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer:-             
  "My young sir, I do not ask so much as that- not the last!"               
  "What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open               
nostril quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder.      
"Come!" he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are           
better than me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked bewildered,      
and the Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way:-                   
  "Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must         
have or die. My friend John and I have consulted; and we are about          
to perform what we call transfusion of blood- to transfer from full         
veins of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give        
his blood, as he is the more young and strong than me"- here Arthur         
took my hand and wrung it hard in silence- "but, now you are here, you      
are more good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of          
thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our blood not so bright than        
yours!" Arthur turned to him and said:-                                     
  "If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would                
understand-"                                                                
  He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice.                            
  "Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be          
happy that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent.      
You shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go; and        
you must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame; you know how it is        
with her! There must be no shock; any knowledge of this would be            
one. Come!"                                                                 
  We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained outside.      
Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not        
asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke      
to us; that was all. Van Helsing took some things from his bag and          
laid them on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic,         
and coming over to the bed, said cheerily:-                                 
  "Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off, like a            
good child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy. Yes." She           
had made the effort with success.                                           
  It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact,            
marked the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep      
began to flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic             
began to manifest its potency; and she fell into a deep sleep. When         
the Professor was satisfied he called Arthur into the room, and bade        
him strip off his coat. Then he added: 'You may take that one little        
kiss whiles I bring over the table. Friend John, help to me!- So            
neither of us looked whilst he bent over her.                               
  Van Helsing turning to me, said:                                          
  "He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not          
defibrinate it."                                                            
  Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed      
the operation. As the transfusion went on something like life seemed        
to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing            
pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I        
began to grow anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur,         
strong man as he was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain          
Lucy's system must have undergone that what weakened Arthur only            
partially restored her. But the Professor's face was set, and he stood      
watch in hand and with his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on         
Arthur. I could hear my own heart beat. Presently he said in a soft         
voice: "Do not stir an instant. It is enough. You attend him; I will        
look to her." When all was over I could see how much Arthur was             
weakened. I dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when      
Van Helsing spoke without turning round- the man seems to have eyes in      
the back of his head:-                                                      
  "The brave lover, I think deserve another kiss, which he shall            
have presently." And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted      
the pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow black velvet      
band which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with          
an old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a          
little up, and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not              
notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is        
one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying emotion. He said nothing at the      
moment, but turned to me, saying: "Now take down our brave young            
lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down a while. He          
must then go home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that he may be         
recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not stay             
here. Hold! a moment. I may take it, sir, that you are anxious of           
result. Then bring it with you that in all ways the operation is            
successful. You have saved her life this time, and you can go home and      
rest easy in mind that all that can be is. I shall tell her all when        
she is well; she shall love you none the less for what you have             
done. Good-bye."                                                            
  When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping           
gently, but her breathing was stronger; I could see the counterpane         
move as her breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking          
at her intently. The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked        
the Professor in a whisper:-                                                
  "What do you make of that mark on her throat?"                            
  "What do you make of it?"                                                 
  "I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there              
proceeded to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there      
were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no      
sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by        
some trituration. It at once occurred to me that this wound, or             
whatever it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood;         
but I abandoned the idea as soon as formed, for such a thing could not      
be. The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood      
which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before      
the transfusion.                                                            
  "Well?" said Van Helsing.                                                 
  "Well," said I, "I can make nothing of it." The Professor stood           
up. "I must go back to Amsterdam to-night," he said. "There are             
books and things there which I want. You must remain here all the           
night, and you must not let your sight pass from her."                      
  "Shall I have a nurse?" I asked.                                          
  "We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night; see         
that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not           
sleep all the night. Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be back      
as soon as possible. And then we may begin."                                
  "May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?"                         
  "We shall see!" he answered as he hurried out. He came back a moment      
later and put his head inside the door and said with warning finger         
held up:-                                                                   
  "Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm befall,         
you shall not sleep easy hereafter!"                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                    Dr. Seward's Diary- continued.                          
-                                                                           
  8 September.- I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself      
off towards dusk, and she waked naturally; she looked a different           
being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even         
were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see            
evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. When         
I told Mrs. Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should        
sit up with her she almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her           
daughter's renewed strength and excellent spirits. I was firm,              
however, and made preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had         
prepared her for the night I came in, having in the meantime had            
supper, and took a seat by the bedside. She did not in any way make         
objection, but looked at me gratefully whenever I caught her eye.           
After a long spell she seemed sinking off to sleep, but with an effort      
seemed to pull herself together and shook it off. This was repeated         
several times, with greater effort and with shorter pauses as the time      
moved on. It was apparent that she did not want to sleep, so I tackled      
the subject at once:-                                                       
  "You do not want to go to sleep?"                                         
  "No; I am afraid."                                                        
  "Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for."         
  "Ah, not if you were like me- if sleep was to you a presage of            
horror!"                                                                    
  "A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?"                         
  "I don't know; oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible.         
All this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I dread the very              
thought."                                                                   
  "But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here watching            
you, and I can promise that nothing will happen."                           
  "Ah, I can trust you!" I seized the opportunity, and said: "I             
promise you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you        
at once."                                                                   
  "You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I            
will sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief,         
and sank back, asleep.                                                      
  All night long I watched by, her. She never stirred, but slept on         
and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips      
were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity      
of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident            
that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind.                   
  In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and        
took myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a        
short wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent      
result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears,            
took me all day to clear off, it was dark when I was able to inquire        
about my zoophagous patient. The report was good; he had been quite         
quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing          
at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at         
Hillingham to-night, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating         
that he was leaving by the night mail and would join me early in the        
morning.                                                                    
-                                                                           
  9 September.- I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to               
Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my         
brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral              
exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook             
hands with me she looked sharply in my face and said:-                      
  "No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am quite well        
again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who      
will sit up with you." I would not argue the point, but went and had        
my supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence,      
I made an excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than      
excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room            
next her own, where a cozy fire was burning. "Now," she said, "you          
must stay here. I shall leave this door open and my door too. You           
can lie on the sofa for I know that nothing would induce any of you         
doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon. If I      
want anything I shall call out, and you can come to me at once." I          
could not but acquiesce, for I was "dob-tired," and could not have sat      
up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she           
should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about               
everything.                                                                 
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Lucy Westenra's Diary.                              
-                                                                           
  9 September.- I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably          
weak, that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine      
after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur          
feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about        
me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things           
and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and        
strength give Love rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander           
where he wills. I know where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew!          
My dear, my dear, your ears must tingle as you sleep, as mine do            
waking. Oh, the blissful rest of last night! How I slept, with that         
dear, good Dr. Seward watching me. And to-night I shall not fear to         
sleep, since he is close at hand and within call. Thank everybody           
for being so good to me! Thank God! Good-night Arthur.                      
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  10 September.- I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my head,        
and started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we        
learn in an asylum, at any rate.                                            
  "And how is our patient?"                                                 
  "Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I answered.          
  "Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the room.          
  The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van        
Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed.            
  As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the room,         
I heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its            
rarity, a deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved      
back, and his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!" needed no            
enforcement from his agonised face. He raised his hand and pointed          
to the bed, and his iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my          
knees begin to tremble.                                                     
  There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly      
white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the          
gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes           
see in a corpse after a prolonged illness. Van Helsing raised his foot      
to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years      
of habit stood to him, and he put it down again softly. "Quick!" he         
said. "Bring the brandy." I flew to the dining-room, and returned with      
the decanter. He wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we        
rubbed palm and wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few         
moments of agonising suspense said:-                                        
  "It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is         
undone; we must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now; I have      
to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he spoke, he was        
dipping into his bag and producing the instruments for transfusion;         
I had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no         
possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one; and           
so, without a moment's delay, we began the operation. After a time- it      
did not seem a short time either, for the draining away of one's            
blood, no matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible feeling- Van      
Helsing held up a warning finger. "Do not stir," he said, "but I            
fear that with growing strength she may wake; and that would make           
danger, oh, so much danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall            
give hypodermic injection of morphia." He proceeded then, swiftly           
and deftly, to carry out his intent. The effect on Lucy was not bad,        
for the faint seemed to merge subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was        
with a feeling of personal pride that I could see a faint tinge of          
colour steal back into the pallid cheeks and lips. No man knows till        
he experiences it, what it is to feel his own life-blood drawn away         
into the veins of the woman he loves.                                       
  The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said.             
"Already?" I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To        
which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied:-                         
  "He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work, to do for         
her and for others; and the present will suffice."                          
  When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied      
digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, whilst I waited           
his leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little sick.            
By-and-by he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a             
glass of wine for myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me,      
and half whispered:-                                                        
  "Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should            
turn up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once             
frighten him and enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!"               
  When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said:-               
  "You are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa,      
and rest awhile; then have much breakfast, and come here to me."            
  I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they             
were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my            
strength. I felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of           
the amazement at what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa,              
however, wondering over and over again how Lucy had made such a             
retrograde movement, and how she could have been drained of so much         
blood with no sign anywhere to show for it. I think I must have             
continued my wonder in my dreams, for, sleeping and waking, my              
thoughts always came back to the little punctures in her throat and         
the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges- tiny though they           
were.                                                                       
  Lucy slept well into the day and when she woke she was fairly well        
and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van        
Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge,         
with strict injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I         
could hear his voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest             
telegraph office.                                                           
  Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that            
anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When      
her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change        
whatever, but said to me gratefully:-                                       
  "We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you           
really must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking         
pale yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit; that      
you do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only              
momentarily, for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long such        
an unwonted drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor        
as she turned imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my        
finger on my lips; with a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows.             
  Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to me:      
"Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong.      
I stay here to-night, and I shall sit up with little miss myself.           
You and I must watch the case, and we must have none other to know.         
I have grave reasons. No, do not ask them; think what you will. Do not      
fear to think even the most not-probable. Good-night."                      
  In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either      
of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let them;      
and when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or I           
should sit up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede with the          
"foreign gentleman." I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it       
is because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on              
Lucy's account, that their devotion was manifested; for over and            
over again have I seen similar instances of woman's kindness. I got         
back here in time for a late dinner; went my rounds- all well; and set      
this down whilst waiting for sleep. It is coming.                           
-                                                                           
  11 September.- This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found Van        
Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I         
had arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He            
opened it with much impressment- assumed, of course- and showed a           
great bundle of white flowers.                                              
  "These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said.                                  
  "For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!"                                            
  "Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines."        
Here Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to take in a              
decoction or in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming        
nose, or I shall point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have        
to endure in seeing so much beauty that he so loves so much distort.        
Aha, my pretty miss, that bring the so nice nose all straight again,        
This is medicinal, but you do not know how. I put him in your               
window, I make pretty wreath, and hang him round your neck, so that         
you sleep well. Oh yes! they, like the lotus flower, make your trouble      
forgotten. It smell so like the waters of Lethe, and of that                
fountain of youth that the Conquistodores sought for in the                 
Floridas, and find him all too late."                                       
  Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and           
smelling them. Now she threw them down. saying, with half-laughter and      
half-disgust:                                                               
  "Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why,      
these flowers are only common garlic."                                      
  To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his                 
sterness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:-                 
  "No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I        
do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the            
sake of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared,          
as she might well be, he went on more gently: "Oh, little miss, my          
dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good; but there is much            
virtue to you in those so common flowers. See, I place them myself          
in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But hush!      
no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey,      
and silence is a part of obedience; and obedience is to bring you           
strong and well into loving arms that wait for you. Now sit still           
awhile. Come with me, friend John, and you shall help me deck the room      
with my garlic, which is all the way from Haarlem, where my friend          
Vanderpool raise herb in his glass-houses all the year. I had to            
telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been here."                     
  We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor's        
actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopoeia         
that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched          
them securely; next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them        
all over the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air            
that might get in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with           
the wisp he rubbed all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at      
each side, and round the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed           
grotesque to me, and presently I said:-                                     
  "Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do,        
but this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no sceptic here,          
or he would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil        
spirit."                                                                    
  "Perhaps I am!" he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath        
which Lucy was to wear round her neck.                                      
  We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when        
she was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round         
her neck. The last words he said to her were:-                              
  "Take care you do not disturb it; and even if the room feel close,        
do not to-night open the window or the door."                               
  "I promise," said Lucy,- "and thank you both a thousand times for         
all your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such       
friends?"                                                                   
  As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing            
said:-                                                                      
  "To-night I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want- two nights of           
travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day        
to follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink. To-morrow in the         
morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our              
pretty miss, so much more strong for my 'spell' which I have work. Ho!      
ho!"                                                                        
  He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two          
nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague               
terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it      
to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.                
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XI                                                                  
                             CHAPTER XI.                                    
                      LETTERS, ETC.- continued.                             
-                                                                           
                        Lucy Westenra's Diary.                              
-                                                                           
  12 September.- How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear        
Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers.        
He positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have         
been right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not         
dread being alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I           
shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible            
struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of        
the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, with such unknown      
horrors as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives          
have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes            
nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am               
to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with        
"virgin crants and maiden strewments." I never liked garlic before,         
but to-night it is delightful! There is peace in its smell; I feel          
sleep coming already. Good-night, everybody.                                
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  13 September.- Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as           
usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting.         
The Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now.            
  Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham      
at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning; the bright sunshine and all      
the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed liked the completion of            
nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of               
beautiful colours, but had not yet begun to drop from the trees.            
When we entered we met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room.        
She is always an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said:-              
  "You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is          
still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in,        
lest I should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked quite          
jubilant. He rubbed his hands together, and said:-                          
  "Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is                 
working," to which she answered:-                                           
  "You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor Lucy's state        
this morning is due in part to me."                                         
  "How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.                            
  "Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went          
into her room. She was sleeping soundly- so soundly that even my            
coming did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a      
lot of those horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and        
she had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the          
heavy odour would be too much for the dear child in her weak state, so      
I took them all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little      
fresh air. You will be pleased with her, I am sure."                        
  She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early.      
As she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn          
ashen grey. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the          
poor lady was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a          
shock would be; he actually smiled on her as he held open the door for      
her to pass into her room. But the instant she had disappeared he           
pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining-room and closed           
the door.                                                                   
  Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down.        
He raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and            
then beat his palms together in a helpless way; finally he sat down on      
a chair, and putting his hands before his face, began to sob, with          
loud, dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart.      
Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to the whole             
universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have we done, what has this       
poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? is there fate amongst us        
still, sent down form the pagan world of old, that such things must         
be, and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and all for           
the best as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter body and        
soul; and we must not tell her, we must not even warn her, or she die,      
and then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are all the powers of the      
devils against us!" Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said,        
"come, we must see and act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils          
at once, it matters not; we fight him all the same." He went to the         
hall-door for his bag; and together we went up to Lucy's room.              
  Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards           
the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with      
the same awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of stern             
sadness and infinite pity.                                                  
  "As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his        
which meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and        
then began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet           
another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognised        
the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a      
warning hand. "No!" he said. "To-day you must operate. I shall              
provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat        
and rolled up his shirt-sleeve.                                             
  Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour      
to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This        
time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested.             
  Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she        
must not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting him; that      
the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their        
odour was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care          
of the case himself, saying that he would watch this night and the          
next and would send me word when to come.                                   
  After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and        
seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal.                       
  What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit          
of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain.          
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Lucy Westenra's Diary.                              
-                                                                           
  17 September.- Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong      
again that I hardly know myself It is as if I had passed through            
some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful             
sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim      
half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing;             
darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make               
present distress more poignant; and then long spell of oblivion, and        
the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press          
of water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this        
bad dreaming seems to have passed away; the noises that used to             
frighten me out of my wits- the flapping against the windows, the           
distant voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came      
form I know not where and commanded me to do I know not what- have all      
ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. I do not even try        
to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful          
arrives for me every day from Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is          
going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not          
be watched; I am well enough to be left alone. Thank God for                
mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our friends who have          
been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night Dr. Van      
Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found him asleep twice      
when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the         
boughs or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the              
window-panes.                                                               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                "The Pall Mall Gazette," 18 September.                      
-                                                                           
                          The Escaped Wolf.                                 
-                                                                           
                Perilous Adventure Of Our Interviewer.                      
-                                                                           
         Interview with the Keeper in the Zoological Gardens.               
-                                                                           
  After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually         
using the words "Pall Mall Gazette" as a sort of talisman, I managed        
to find the keeper of the section of the Zoological Gardens in which        
the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the          
cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just           
sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are           
hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen         
I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives          
must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he           
called "business" until the supper was over, and we were all                
satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe,        
he said:-                                                                   
  "Now, sir you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me      
refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the          
wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea          
afore I begins to arsk them questions."                                     
  "How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him      
into a talkative humour.                                                    
  "'Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way; scratchin' of      
their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a             
show-orf to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust- the 'ittin'          
with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they've        
'ad their sherry and kawfee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the         
ear-scratchin'. Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a deal        
of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you              
a-comin' and arksin' of me questions about my business, and I that          
grumpy-like that only for your bloomin' 'arf-quid I'd 'a' seen you          
blowed fust 'fore I'd answer. Not even when you arsked me                   
sarcastic-like if I'd like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might      
arsk me questions. Without offense, did I tell yer to go to 'ell?"          
  "You did."                                                                
  "An' when you said you'd report me for usin' of obscene language          
that was 'ittin' me over the ead; but the 'arf-quid made that all           
right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and did        
with my 'owl as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor' love      
yer 'art, now that the old 'ooman has stuck a chunk if her tea-cake in      
me, an' rinsed me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and I've lit            
hup, you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and won't git            
even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what        
yer a-comin' at, that 'ere escaped wolf."                                   
  "Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it      
happened; and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you            
consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair            
will end."                                                                  
  "All right, guv'nor. This 'ere is about the 'ole story. That 'ere         
wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that come          
from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four year ago. He         
was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of.        
I'm more surprised at 'im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile      
in the place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women."        
  "Don't you mind him, sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cherry laugh.        
"'E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he ain't like a        
old wolf 'isself! But there ain't no 'arm in 'im."                          
  "Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I         
first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the                  
monkey-house for a young puma which is ill; but when I heard the            
yelpin' and 'owlin' I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin'      
like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There              
wasn't much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man,      
a tall, thin chap, with a 'ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few         
white hairs runnin' through it. He had a 'ard, cold look and red eyes,      
and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was 'im as      
they was hirritated at. He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he        
pointed out the animiles to me and says: 'Keeper, these wolves seem         
upset at something.'                                                        
  "'Maybe it's you,'says I, for I did not like the airs as he give          
'isself. He didn't git angry, as I 'oped he would, but he smiled a          
kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white sharp teeth. 'Oh         
no, they wouldn't like me,' 'e says.                                        
  "'Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of him. 'They always           
likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which           
you 'as a bagful.'                                                          
  "Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin'         
they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke           
his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if          
he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolfs ears too!                
  "'Tyke care,' says I. 'Bersicker is quick.'                               
  "'Never mind,' he says. 'I'm used to 'em!'                                
  "'Are you in the business yourself?' I says, tyking off my 'at,           
for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to             
keeper.                                                                     
  "'No.' says he, 'not exactly in the business, but I 'ave made pets        
of several.' And with that he lifts his 'at as perlite as a lord,           
and walks away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter' 'im till 'e was         
out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner, and wouldn't          
come hout the 'ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon         
was hup, the wolves here all began a-'owling. There warn't nothing for      
them to 'owl at. There warn't no one near, except some one that was         
evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the        
Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and          
it was, and then the 'owling stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I          
just took a look round afore turnin' in, an, bust me, but when I kem        
opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken and twisted         
about and the cage empty. And that's all I know for certing."               
  "Did any one else see anything?"                                          
  "One of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from a            
'armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin' out through the garding         
'edges. At least, so he says; but I don't give much for it myself, for      
if he did 'e never said a word about it to his missis when 'e got           
'ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and      
we had been up all night- a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker, that he      
remembered seein' anything. My own belief was that the 'armony 'ad got      
into his 'ead."                                                             
  "Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the        
wolf?"                                                                      
  "Well, sir," he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think         
I can; but I don't know as 'ow you'd be satisfied with the theory."         
  "Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from         
experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to           
try?"                                                                       
  "Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that          
'ere wolf escaped- simply because he wanted to get out."                    
  From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the          
joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole        
explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in                
badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to        
his heart, so I said:-                                                      
  "Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked         
off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've told      
me what you think will happen."                                             
  "Right y'are, sir," he said briskly. "Ye'll excoose me, I know,           
for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was        
as much as telling me to go on."                                            
  "Well, I never!" said the old lady.                                       
  "My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a-'idin' of, somewheres.           
The gard'ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward          
faster than a horse could go; but I don't believe him, for, yer see,        
sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built        
that way. Wolves is fine things in a story-book, and I dessay when          
they gets in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more               
afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it           
up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a      
low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a      
quarter so much fight in 'im. This one ain't been used to fightin'          
or even to providin' for hisself, and more like he's somewhere round        
the Park a-'idin' an' a-shiverin' of, and, if he thinks at all,             
wonderin' where he is to get his breakfast from; or maybe he's got          
down some area and is an a coal-celler. My eye, won't some cook get         
a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the        
dark! If he can't get food he's bound to look for it, and mayhap he         
may chance to light on a butcher's shop in time. If he doesn't, and         
some nursemaid goes a-walkin' orf with a soldier, leavin' of the            
hinfant in the perambulator- well then I shouldn't be surprised if the      
census is one babby the less. That's all."                                  
  I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up      
against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length        
with surprise.                                                              
  "God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back          
by 'isself!"                                                                
  He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding          
it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never             
looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is             
between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than               
diminished that idea.                                                       
  After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder      
nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog.           
The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of        
all picture-wolves- Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving         
her confidence in masquerade.                                               
  The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The      
wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the        
children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort          
of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine        
prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender             
solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:-               
  "There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of              
trouble; didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and full        
of broken glass. 'E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall or other.      
It's a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken         
bottles. This 'ere's what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker."              
  He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat        
that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions          
of the fatted calf, and went off to report.                                 
  I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is         
given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.                     
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  17 September.- I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up          
my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to         
Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst             
open, and in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with                
passion. I was thunder-struck, for such a thing as a patient getting        
of his own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown.        
Without an instant's pause he made straight at me. He had a                 
dinner-knife in his hand, and, as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to        
keep the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me,          
however; for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut      
my left wrist rather severely. Before he could strike again,                
however, I got in my right, and he was sprawling on his back on the         
floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to         
the carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further effort, and      
occupied myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the              
prostrate figure all the time. When the attendants rushed in, and we        
turned our attention to him, his employment positively sickened me. He      
was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the             
blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured,        
and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply        
repeating over and over again: "The blood is the life! the blood is         
the life!"                                                                  
  I cannot afford to lose blood just at present: I have lost too            
much of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of         
Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am               
overexcited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van             
Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I      
could not well do without it.                                               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
          Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax.                
-                                                                           
     (Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given; delivered late            
                        by twenty-two hours.)                               
-                                                                           
  "17 September.- Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night. If not          
watching all the time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as         
placed; very important; do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as           
possible after arrival."                                                    
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  18 September.- Just off for train to London. The arrival of Van           
Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I         
know by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it          
is possible that all may be well, but what may have happened? Surely        
there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every possible             
accident should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this            
cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's                
phonograph.                                                                 
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                  Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra.                         
-                                                                           
  17 September. Night.- I write this and leave it to be seen, so            
that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is          
an exact record of what took place tonight. I feel I am dying of            
weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if         
I die in the doing.                                                         
  I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed          
as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.                          
  I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after          
that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and           
which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr.         
Seward was in the next room- as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be- so        
that I might have called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not.        
Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to            
keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not          
want it; so, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called           
out:- Is there anybody there?' There was no answer. I was afraid to         
wake mother, and so closed my door again. Then outside in the               
shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but more fierce and          
deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing,         
except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against      
the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not to go to        
sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in; seeing by my        
moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She said to me        
even more sweetly and softly than her wont:-                                
  "I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were        
all right."                                                                 
  I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come        
in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me;         
she did not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only         
stay a while and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my        
arms, and I in hers, the flapping and buffeting came to the window          
again. She was startled and a little frightened, and cried out:             
"What is that?" I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and           
she lay quiet; but I could hear her poor dear heart still beating           
terribly. After a while there was the low howl again out in the             
shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a         
lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew          
back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken        
panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey wolf. Mother cried out      
in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched          
wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst other things, she           
clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my          
wearing round my neck, and tore it away form me. For a second or two        
she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible      
gurgling in her throat; then she fell over, as if struck with               
lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment      
or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes         
fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole           
myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken        
window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that        
travellers describe when there is a simoom in the desert. I tried to        
stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother's poor body,        
which seemed to grow cold already- for her dear heart had ceased to         
beat- weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while.                
  The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered        
consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the        
dogs all round the neighborhood were howling; and in our shrubbery,         
seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and          
stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the              
nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to            
comfort me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I        
could hear their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to           
them, and they came in, and when they saw what had happened, and            
what it was that lay over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind        
rushed in through the broken window, and the door slammed to. They          
lifted off the body of my dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a      
sheet, on the bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened           
and nervous that I directed them to go to the dining-room and have          
each a glass of wine. The door flew open for an instant and closed          
again. The maids shrieked, and then went in a body to the dining-room;      
and I laid what flowers I had on my dear mother's breast. When they         
were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't      
like to remove them, and, besides, I would have some of the servants        
to sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids did not come          
back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went to the dining-room        
to look for them.                                                           
  My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay             
helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was        
on the table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I         
was suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and        
looking on the sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother's            
doctor uses for her- oh! did use- was empty. What am I to do? what          
am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and      
I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged.      
Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of      
the wolf through the broken window.                                         
  The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught        
from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do?         
God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my           
breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear      
mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I          
should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!         
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XII                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XII.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  18 September- I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived early.            
Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked           
gently and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb Lucy        
or her mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. After         
a while, finding no response, I knocked and rang again; still no            
answer. I cursed the laziness of the servants that they should lie          
abed at such an hour- for it was now ten o'clock- and so rang and           
knocked again, but more impatiently, but still without response.            
Hitherto I had blamed only the servants, but now a terrible fear began      
to assail me. Was this desolation but another link in the chain of          
doom which seemed drawing tight around us? Was it indeed a house of         
death to which I had come, too late? I knew that minutes, even              
seconds, of delay might mean hours of danger to Lucy, if she had had        
again one of those frightful relapses; and I went round the house to        
try if I could find by chance an entry anywhere.                            
  I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door was fastened      
and locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I did so, I             
heard the rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse's feet. They stopped      
at the gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing running up           
the avenue. When he saw me, he gasped out:-                                 
  "Then it was you, and just arrived. How is she? Are we too late? Did      
you not get my telegram?"                                                   
  I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only           
got his telegram early in the morning and had not lost a minute in          
coming here, and that I could not make any one in the house hear me.        
He paused and raised his hat as he said solemnly:-                          
  "Then I fear we are too late. God's will be done!" With his usual         
recuperative energy, he went on: "Come. If there be no way open to get      
in, we must make one. Time is all in all to us now."                        
  We went round to the back of the house, where there was a kitchen         
window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his case, and          
handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded the window. I      
attacked them at once and had very soon cut through three of them.          
Then with a long, thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the            
sashes and opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and                
followed him. There was no one in the kitchen or in the servants'           
rooms, which were close at hand. We tried all the rooms as we went          
along, and in the dining-room, dimly lit by rays of light through           
the shutters, found four servant-women lying on the floor. There was        
no need to think them dead, for their stertorous breathing and the          
acrid smell of laudanum in the room left no doubt as to their               
condition. Van Helsing and I looked at each other, and as we moved          
away he said: "We can attend to them later." Then we ascended to            
Lucy's room. For an instant or two we paused at the door to listen,         
but there was no sound that we could hear. With white faces and             
trembling hands, we opened the door gently, and entered the room.           
  How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy and      
her mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered with a          
white sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the draught           
through the broken window, showing the drawn, white face, with a            
look of terror fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white         
and still more drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we          
found upon her mother's bosom, and her throat was bare, showing the         
two little wounds which we had noticed before, but looking horribly         
white and mangled. Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, his      
head almost touching poor Lucy's breast; then he gave a quick turn          
of his head, as of one who listens, and leaping to his feet, he             
cried out to me:-                                                           
  "It is not yet too late! Quick! quick! Bring the brandy!"                 
  I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and          
taste it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which      
I found on the table. The maids were still breathing, but more              
restlessly, and I fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I did not      
stay to make sure, but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed the               
brandy, as on another occasion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists      
and the palms of her hands. He said to me:-                                 
  "I can do this, all that can be at the present. You go wake those         
maids. Flick them in the face with a wet towel, and flick them hard.        
Make them get heat and fire and a warm bath. This poor soul is              
nearly as cold as that beside her. She will need be heated before we        
can do anything more."                                                      
  I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of the        
women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had evidently         
affected her more strongly, so I lifted her on the sofa and let her         
sleep. The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to      
them they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with         
them, however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one            
life was bad enough to lose, and that if they delayed they would            
sacrifice Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and crying, they went about their          
way, half clad as they were, and prepared fire and water. Fortunately,      
the kitchen and boiler fires were still alive, and there was no lack        
of hot water. We got a bath, and carried Lucy out as she was and            
placed her in it. Whilst we were busy chafing her limbs there was a         
knock at the halldoor. One of the maids ran off, hurried on some            
more clothes, and opened it. Then she returned and whispered to us          
that there was a gentleman who had come with a message from Mr.             
Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he must wait, for we could        
see no one now. She went away with the message, and, engrossed with         
our work, I clean forgot all about him.                                     
  I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly        
earnest. I knew- as he knew- that it was a stand-up fight with              
death, and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I           
did not understand, but with the sternest look that his face could          
wear:-                                                                      
  "If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her        
fade away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon." He      
went on with his work with, if possible, renewed and more frenzied          
vigour.                                                                     
  Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was                 
beginning to be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trine more audibly      
to the stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van           
Helsing's face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and        
rolled her in a hot sheet to dry her he said to me:-                        
  "The first gain is ours! Check to the King!"                              
  We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared,           
and laid her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her               
throat. I noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round      
her throat. She was still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not      
worse than, we had ever seen her.                                           
  Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with         
her and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and then             
beckoned me out of the room.                                                
  "We must consult as to what is to be done," he said as we                 
descended the stairs. In the hall he opened the dining-room door,           
and we passed in, he closing the door carefully behind him. The             
shutters had been opened, but the blinds were already down, with            
that obedience to the etiquette of death which the British woman of         
the lower classes always rigidly observes. The room was, therefore,         
dimly dark. It was, however, light enough for our purposes. Van             
Helsing's sternness was somewhat relieved by a look of perplexity.          
He was evidently torturing his mind about something, so I waited for        
an instant, and he spoke:-                                                  
  "What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must            
have another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor              
girl's life won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted            
already; I am exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they      
would have courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who            
will open his veins for her?"                                               
  "What's the matter with me, anyhow?"                                      
  The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones               
brought relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey          
Morris. Van Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face        
softened and a glad look came into his eyes as I cried out: "Quincey        
Morris!" and rushed towards him with outstretched hands.                    
  "What brought you here?" I cried as our hands met.                        
  "I guess Art is the cause."                                               
  He handed me a telegram:-                                                 
  "Have not heard from Seward for three days, and am terribly anxious.      
Cannot leave. Father still in same condition. Send me word how Lucy         
is. Do not delay.- Holmwood."                                               
  "I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only          
to tell me what to do."                                                     
  Van Helsing strode forward and took his hand, looking him straight        
in the eyes as he said:-                                                    
  "A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is      
in trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well, the devil may work           
against us for all he's worth, but God sends us men when we want            
them."                                                                      
  Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the         
heart to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock         
and it told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went        
into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as        
on the other occasions. Her struggle back into life was something           
frightful to see and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs      
improved, and Van Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as      
before, and with good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The      
Professor watched whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and         
sent one of the maids to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting. I      
left Quincey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told the          
cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I         
went back to the room where Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I          
found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note-paper in his hand. He         
had evidently read it, and was thinking it over as he sat with his          
hand to his brow. There was a look of grim satisfaction in his face,        
as of one who has had a doubt solved. He handed me the paper saying         
only: "It dropped from Lucy's breast when we carried her to the bath."      
  When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a         
pause asked him: "In God's name, what does it all mean?" Was she, or        
is she, mad; or what sort of horrible danger is it? I was so                
bewildered that I did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out        
his hand and took the paper, saying:-                                       
  "Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall        
know and understand it all in good time; but it will be later. And now      
what is it that you came to say?" This brought me back to fact, and         
I was all myself again.                                                     
  "I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not act         
properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would          
have to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for        
if we had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I know,      
and you know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs.        
Westenra had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of      
it. Let us fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself      
to the registrar and go on to the undertaker."                              
  "Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she        
be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends         
that love her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her,               
besides one old man. Ah yes, I know, friend John; I am not blind! I         
love you all the more for it! Now go."                                      
  In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling      
him that Mrs. Westenra was dead; that Lucy also had been ill, but           
was now going on better; and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I        
told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was             
going said:-                                                                
  "When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to           
ourselves?" I nodded in reply and went out. I found no difficulty           
about the registration, and arranged with the local undertaker to come      
up in the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements.       
  When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see        
him as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was          
still sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his          
seat at her side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I                
gathered that he expected her to wake before long and was afraid of         
forestalling nature. So I went down to Quincey and took him into the        
breakfast-room, where the blinds were not drawn down, and which was         
a little more cheerful, or rather less cheerless, than the other            
rooms. When we were alone, he said to me:-                                  
  "Jack Seward, I don't want to shove myself in anywhere where I've no      
right to be; but this is no ordinary case. You know I loved that            
girl and wanted to marry her; but, although that's all past and             
gone, I can't help feeling anxious about her all the same. What is          
it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman- and a fine old fellow he is; I      
can see that- said, that time you two came into the room, that you          
must have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and he            
were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men speak in               
camera, and that a man must not expect to know what they consult about      
in private. But this is no common matter, and, whatever it is, I            
have done my part. Is not that so?"                                         
  "That's so," I said, and he went on:-                                     
  "I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did      
to-day. Is not that so?"                                                    
  "That's so."                                                              
  "And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at      
his own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down so      
quick since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go        
to grass all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires      
had got at her in the night, and, what with his gorge and the vein          
left open, there wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I      
had to put a bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may tell me        
without betraying confidence, Arthur was the first; is not that so?"        
As he spoke the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a            
torture of suspense regarding the woman he loved, and his utter             
ignorance of the terrible mystery which seemed to surround her              
intensified his pain. His very heart was bleeding, and it took all the      
manhood of him- and there was a royal lot of it, too- to keep him from      
breaking down. I paused before answering, for I felt that I must not        
betray anything which the Professor wished kept secret; but already he      
knew so much, and guessed so much, that there could be no reason for        
not answering, so I answered in the same phrase: "That's so."               
  "And how long has this been going on?"                                    
  "About ten days."                                                         
  "Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature      
that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood      
of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn't hold it." Then,      
coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper: "What took it        
out?"                                                                       
  I shook my head. "That," I said, "is the crux. Van Helsing is simply      
frantic about it, and I am at my wits' end. I can't even hazard a           
guess. There has been a series of little circumstances which have           
thrown out all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. But      
these shall not occur again. Here we stay until all be well- or             
ill." Quincey held out his hand. " Count me in," he said. "You and the      
Dutchman will tell me what to do, and I'll do it."                          
  When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy's first movement was to         
feel in her breast, and, to my surprise, produced the paper which           
Van Helsing had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced        
it where it had come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her        
eye then lit on Van Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she          
looked around the room, and seeing where she was, shuddered; she            
gave a loud cry, and put her poor thin hands before her pale face.          
We both understood what that meant- that she had realised to the            
full her mother's death; so we tried what we could to comfort her.          
Doubtless sympathy eased her somewhat, but she was very low in thought      
and spirit, and wept silently and weakly for a long time. We told           
her that either or both of us would now remain with her all the             
time, and that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell into a          
doze. Here a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she took the      
paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and      
took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with           
the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her hands;      
finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering           
the fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as      
if in thought, but he said nothing.                                         
-                                                                           
  19 September.- All last night she slept fitfully, being always            
afraid to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The            
Professor and I took it in turns to watch, and we never left her for a      
moment unattended. Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention,         
but I knew that all night long he patrolled round and round the house.      
  When the day came, its searching light showed the ravages in poor         
Lucy's strength. She was hardly able to turn her head, and the              
little nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At        
times she slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference          
in her, between sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked               
stronger, although more haggard, and her breathing was softer; her          
open mouth showed the pale gums drawn back from the teeth, which            
thus looked positively longer and sharper than usual; when she woke         
the softness of her eyes evidently changed the expression, for she          
looked her own self, although a dying one. In the afternoon she             
asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed for him. Quincey went off to meet      
him at the station.                                                         
  When he arrived it was nearly six o'clock, and the sun was setting        
full and warm, and the red light streamed in through the window and         
gave more colour to the pale cheeks. When he saw her, Arthur was            
simply chocking with emotion, and none of us could speak. In the hours      
that had passed, the fits of sleep, or the comatose condition that          
passed for it, had grown more frequent, so that the pauses when             
conversation was possible were shortened. Arthur's presence,                
however, seemed to act as a stimulant; she rallied a little, and spoke      
to him more brightly than she had done since we arrived. He too pulled      
himself together, and spoke as cheerily as he could, so that the            
best was made of everything.                                                
  It was now nearly one o'clock, and he and Van Helsing are sitting         
with her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an hour, and I am            
entering this on Lucy's phonograph. Until six o'clock they are to           
try to rest. I fear that to-morrow will end our watching, for the           
shock has been too great; the poor child cannot rally. God help us          
all.                                                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.                       
-                                                                           
                          (Unopened by her.)                                
-                                                                           
                                                       "17 September.       
  "My dearest Lucy,-                                                        
  "It seems an age since I heard from you, or indeed since I wrote.         
You will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all        
my budget of news. Well I got my husband back all right; when we            
arrived at Exeter there was a carriage waiting for us, and in it,           
though he had an attack of gout, Mr. Hawkins. He took us to his house,      
where there were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined        
together. After dinner Mr. Hawkins said:-                                   
  "'My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may           
every blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and          
have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make         
your home here with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child; all      
are gone, and in my will I have left you everything.' I cried, Lucy         
dear, as Jonathan and the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a          
very, very happy one.                                                       
  "So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from          
both my bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the great elms of the        
cathedral close, with their great black stems standing our against the      
old yellow stone of the cathedral and I can hear the rooks overhead         
cawing and cawing and flattering and gossiping all day, after the           
manner of rooks- and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging      
things and housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all day;         
for, now that Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to tell him all      
about the clients.                                                          
  "How is your dear mother getting on? I wash I could run up to town        
for a day or two to see you, dear, but I dare not go yet, with so much      
on my shoulders; and Jonathan wants looking after still. He is              
beginning to put some flesh on his bones again, but he was terribly         
weakened by the long illness; even now he sometimes starts out of           
his sleep in a sudden way and awakes all trembling until I can coax         
him back to his usual placidity. However, thank God, these occasions        
grow less frequent as the days go on, and they will in time pass            
away altogether, I trust And now I have told you my news, let me ask        
yours. When are you to be married, and where, and who is to perform         
the ceremony, and what are you to wear, and is it to be a public or         
a private wedding? Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about            
everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be      
dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his 'respectful duty,' but I do        
not think that is good enough from the junior partner of the important      
firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you love me, and he loves me, and         
I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I send you            
simply his 'love' instead. Good-bye, my dearest Lucy, and all               
blessings on you.                                                           
                                                              "Yours,       
                                                       "Mina Harker."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
          Report from Patrick Hennessey, M.D., M.R.C.S.L.K.                 
              Q.C.P.I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M.D.                    
-                                                                           
                                                       "20 September.       
  "My dear Sir,-                                                            
  "In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the                  
conditions of everything left in my charge... With regard to                
patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another outbreak        
which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately        
happened, was unattended with any unhappy results. This afternoon a         
carrier's cart with two men made a call at the empty house whose            
grounds about on ours- the house to which, you will remember, the           
patient twice ran away. The men stopped at our gate to ask the              
porter their way, as they were strangers. I was myself looking out          
of the study window, having a smoke after dinner, and saw one of            
them come up to the house. As he passed the window of Renfield's room,      
the patient began to rate him from within, and called him all the foul      
names he could lay his tongue to. The man, who seemed a decent              
fellow enough, contented himself by telling him to "shut up for a           
foul-mouthed beggar," whereon our man accused him of robbing him and        
wanting to murder him and said that he would hinder him if he were          
to swing for it. I opened the window and signed to the man not to           
notice, so he contented himself after looking the place over and            
making up his mind as to what kind of a place he had got to by saying:      
'Lor' bless yer, sir, I wouldn't mind what was said to me in a              
bloomin' madhouse. I pity ye and the guv'nor for havin' to live in the      
house with a wild beast like that.' Then he asked his way civilly           
enough, and I told him where the gate of the empty house was; he            
went away, followed by threats and curses and revilings from our            
man. I went down to see if I could make out any cause for his anger,        
since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent         
fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred. I found him, to my              
astonishment, quite composed and most genial in his manner. I tried to      
get him to talk of the incident, but he blandly asked me questions          
as to what I meant, and led me to believe that he was completely            
oblivious of the affair. It was, I am sorry to say, however, only           
another instance of his cunning, for within half an hour I heard of         
him again. This time he had broken out through the window of his room,      
and was running down the avenue. I called to the attendants to              
follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent on some            
mischief. My fear was justified when I saw the same cart which had          
passed before coming down the road, having on it some great wooden          
boxes. The men were wiping their foreheads, and were flushed in the         
face, as if with violent exercise. Before I could get up to him the         
patient rushed at them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to      
knock his head against the ground. If I had not seized him just at the      
moment I believe he would have killed the man there and then. The           
other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the              
butt-end of his heavy whip. It was a terrible blow: but he did not          
seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the three          
of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no        
light weight, and the others were both burly men. At first he was           
silent in his fighting; but as we began to master him, and the              
attendants were putting a strait-waistcoat on him, he began to              
shout: 'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me      
by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!' and all sorts of             
similar incoherent ravings. It was with very considerable difficulty        
that they got him back to the house and put him in the padded room.         
One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set it        
all right; and he is going on well.                                         
  "The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for      
damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us.           
Their threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect             
apology for the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They          
said that if it had not been for the way their strength had been spent      
in carrying and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have         
made short work of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat        
the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had been reduced by         
the dusty nature of their occupation and the reprehensible distance         
from the scene of their labours of any place of public                      
entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass      
of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a sovereign in           
hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that they would              
encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so             
'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their names           
and addresses, in case they might be needed. They are as follows:-          
Jack Smollet, of Dudding's Rents, King George's Road, Great                 
Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley's Row, Guide Court,             
Bethnal Green. They are both in the employment of Harris & Sons,            
Moving and Shipment Company, Orange Master's Yard, Soho.                    
  "I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring here, and         
shall wire you at once if there is anything of importance.                  
                                               "Believe me, dear Sir,       
                                                   "Yours faithfully,       
                                                 "Patrick Hennessey."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.                       
-                                                                           
                          (Unopened by her.)                                
-                                                                           
                                                       "18 September.       
  "My dearest Lucy,-                                                        
  "Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very               
suddenly. Some may not think it so sad for us, but we had both come to      
so love him that it really seems as though we had lost a father. I          
never knew either father or mother, so that the dear old man's death        
is a real blow to me. Jonathan is greatly distressed. It is not only        
that he feels sorrow, deep sorrow, for the dear, good man who has           
be-friended him all his life, and now at the end has treated him            
like his own son and left him a fortune which to people of our              
modest bringing up is wealth beyond the dream of avarice, but Jonathan      
feels it on another account. He says the amount of responsibility           
which it puts upon him makes him nervous. He begins to doubt                
himself. I try to cheer him up, and my belief in him helps him to have      
a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave shock that he            
experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a              
sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his- a nature which             
enabled him by our dear, good friend's aid to rise from clerk to            
master in a few years- should be so injured that the very essence of        
its strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my              
troubles in the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must         
tell some one, for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful            
appearance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that I can          
confide in. I dread coming up to London, as we must do the day after        
to-morrow; for poor Mr. Hawkins left in his will that he was to be          
buried in the grave with his father. As there are no relations at all,      
Jonathan will have to be chief mourner. I shall try to run over to see      
you, dearest, if only for a few minutes. Forgive me for troubling you.      
With all blessings,                                                         
                                                         "Your loving       
                                                       "Mina Harker."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  20 September.- Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry         
to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the             
world and all in it, including life itself that I would not care if         
I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.        
And he has been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late-          
Lucy's mother and Arthur's father, and now... Let me get on with my         
work.                                                                       
  I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur      
to go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told        
him that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we          
must not all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer,          
that he agreed to go. Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my           
child," he said; "come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had         
much sorrow and much mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength      
that we know of. You must not be alone; for to be alone is to be            
full of fears and alarms. Come to the drawing-room, where there is a        
big fire, and there are two sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on           
the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though      
we do not speak, and even if we sleep." Arthur went off with him,           
casting back a longing look on Lucy's face, which lay on her pillow,        
almost whiter than the lawn. She lay quite still and I looked round         
the room to see that all was as it should be. I could see that the          
Professor had carried out in this room, as in the other, his purpose        
of using the garlic; the whole of the window-sashes reeked with it,         
and round Lucy's neck, over the silk handkerchief which Van Helsing         
made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of the same odorous flowers.          
Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and her face was at its           
worst, for the open mouth showed the pale gums. her teeth, in the dim,      
uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they had been in the        
morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the canine teeth        
looked longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her, and             
presently she moved uneasily. At the same moment there came a sort          
of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I went over to it softly,      
and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There was a full moonlight,      
and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which               
wheeled round- doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim-           
and every now and again struck the window with its wings. When I            
came back to my seat I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and had          
torn away the garlic flowers from her throat. I replaced them as            
well as I could, and sat watching her.                                      
  Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had               
prescribed. She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not        
seem to be with her now the unconscious struggle for life and strength      
that had hitherto so marked her illness. It struck me as curious            
that the moment she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers         
close to her. It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that          
lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers         
from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close. There was        
no possibility of making any mistake about this, for in the long hours      
that followed, she had many spells of sleeping and waking and repeated      
both actions many times.                                                    
  At six o'clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then            
fallen into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw         
Lucy's face I could hear the hissing in-draw of his breath, and he          
said to me in a sharp whisper: "Draw up the blind; I want light!" Then      
he bent down, and, with his face almost touching Lucy's, examined           
her carefully. He removed the flowers and lifted the silk handkerchief      
from her throat. As he did so he started back, and I could hear his         
ejaculation, "Mein Gott!" as it was smothered in his throat. I bent         
over and looked too, and as I noticed some queer chill came over me.        
  The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared.                      
  For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his         
face at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly:-                
  "She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much                   
difference, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep.            
Wake that poor boy, and let him come and see the last; he trusts us,        
and we have promised him."                                                  
  I went to the dining-room and waked him. He was dazed for a               
moment, but when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the edges of      
the shutters he thought he was late, and expressed his fear. I assured      
him that Lucy was still asleep, but told him as gently as I could that      
both Van Helsing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his         
face with his hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa, where          
he remained, perhaps a minute, with his head buried, praying, whilst        
his shoulders shook with grief. I took him by the hand and raised           
him up. "Come," I said, "my dear old fellow, summon all your                
fortitude; it will be best and easiest for her."                            
  When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with      
his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making             
everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's         
hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we      
came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered           
softly:-                                                                    
  "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" He was stooping        
to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered,        
"not yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."                         
  So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she looked her          
best, with all the soft lines matching the angelic beauty of her eyes.      
Then gradually her eyes closed, and she sank to sleep. For a little         
bit her breast heaved softly, and her breath came and went like a           
tired child's.                                                              
  And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had             
noticed in the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened,      
and the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and               
sharper than ever. In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way        
she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in      
a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips:-         
  "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Arthur        
bent eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who,        
like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and              
catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury      
of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and              
actually hurled him almost across the room.                                 
  "Not for your life!" he said; "not for your living soul and hers!"        
And he stood between them like a lion at bay.                               
  Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment know what          
to do or say; and before any impulse of violence, could seize him he        
realised the place and the occasion, and stood silent, waiting.             
  I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm      
as of rage flit like a shadow over her face; the sharp teeth champed        
together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily.                   
  Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and         
putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing's great             
brown one; drawing it to her, she kissed it "My true friend," she           
said, in a faint voice, but with untellable pathos, "My true friend,        
and his! Oh, guard him, and give me peace!"                                 
  "I swear it!" said he solemnly, kneeling beside her and holding up        
his hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he turned to Arthur,           
and said to him: "Come, my child, take her hand in yours, and kiss her      
on the forehead, and only once."                                            
  Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted.                 
  Lucy's eyes closed; and Van Helsing, who had been watching                
closely, took Arthur's arm, and drew him away.                              
  And then Lucy's breathing became stertorous again, and all at once        
it ceased.                                                                  
  "It is all over," said Van Helsing. "She is dead!"                        
  I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the drawing-room,           
where he sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a        
way that nearly broke me down to see.                                       
  I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking at poor Lucy,      
and his face was sterner than ever. Some change had come over her           
body. Death had given back part of her beauty, for her brow and cheeks      
had recovered some of their flowing lines; even the lips had lost           
their deadly pallor. It was as if the blood, no longer needed for           
the working of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as        
little rude as might be.                                                    
-                                                                           
               "We thought her dying whilst she slept,                      
                   And sleeping when she died."                             
-                                                                           
  I stood beside Van Helsing, and said:-                                    
  "Ah well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!"      
  He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:-                          
  "Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"                         
  When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and                
answered:-                                                                  
  "We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."                                 
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XIII                                                                
                            CHAPTER XIII.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy        
and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly      
formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff were           
afflicted- or blessed- with something of his own obsequious suavity.        
Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to      
me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out      
from the death-chamber:-                                                    
  "She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to        
attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our      
establishment!"                                                             
  I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible         
from the disordered state of things in the household. There were no         
relatives at hand; and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend      
at his father's funeral, we were unable to notify any one who should        
have been bidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it        
upon ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over        
Lucy's papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being         
a foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements,        
and so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. He answered        
me:-                                                                        
  "I know; I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as well as a               
doctor. But this is not altogether for the law. You knew that, when         
you avoided the coroner. I have more than him to avoid. There may be        
papers more- such as this."                                                 
  As he spoke he took from his pocket-book the memorandum which had         
been in Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her sleep.                 
  "When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late Mrs.         
Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him tonight. For me, I             
watch here in the room and in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I         
myself search for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts        
go into the hands of strangers."                                            
  I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had          
found the name and address of Mrs. Westenra's solicitor and had             
written to him. All the poor lady's papers were in order; explicit          
directions regarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly           
sealed the letter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the        
room, saying:-                                                              
  "Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is      
to you."                                                                    
  "Have you got what you looked for?" I asked, to which he replied:-        
  "I did not look for any specific thing. I only hoped to find, and         
find I have, all that there was- only some letters and a few                
memoranda, and a diary new begun. But I have them here, and we shall        
for the present say nothing of them. I shall see that poor lad              
to-morrow evening, and, with his sanction, I shall use some."               
  When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me:-                    
  "And now, friend John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both         
you and I, and rest to recuperate. To-morrow we shall have much to do,      
but for the to-night there is no need of us. Alas!"                         
  Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker had        
certainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small          
chapelle ardente. There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers,        
and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of the          
winding-sheet was laid over the face; when the Professor bent over and      
turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us, the         
tall wax candies showing a sufficient light to note it well. All            
Lucy's loveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that         
had passed, instead of leaving traces of "decay's effacing fingers,"        
had but restored the beauty of life, till positively I could not            
believe my eyes that I was looking at a corpse.                             
  The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had,        
and there was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me: "Remain         
till I return," and left the room. He came back with a handful of wild      
garlic from the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been             
opened, and placed the flowers amongst the others on and around the         
bed. Then he took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold           
crucifix, and placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its        
place, and we came away.                                                    
  I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at the      
door, he entered, and at once began to speak:-                              
  "To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of                 
post-mortem knives."                                                        
  "Must we make an autopsy?" I asked.                                       
  "Yes and no. I want to operate, but not as you think. Let me tell         
you now, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and          
take out her heart. Ah! you a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I          
have seen with no tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life           
and death that make the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my         
dear friend John, that you loved her; and I have not forgotten it, for      
it is I that shall operate, and you must only help. I would like to do      
it to-night, but for Arthur I must not; he will be free after his           
father's funeral to-morrow, and he will want to see her- to see it.         
Then, when she is coffined ready for the next day, you and I shall          
come when all sleep. We shall unscrew the coffin-lid, and shall do our      
operation; and then replace all, so that none know, save we alone."         
  "But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor            
body without need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem           
and nothing to gain by it- no good to her, to us, to science, to human      
knowledge- why do it? Without such it is monstrous."                        
  For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinite        
tenderness:-                                                                
  "Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and I love you the         
more because it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on myself           
the burden that you do bear. But there are things that you know not,        
but that you shall know, and bless me for knowing, though they are not      
pleasant things. John, my child, you have been my friend now many           
years, and yet did you ever know me to do any without good cause? I         
may err- I am but man; but I believe in all I do. Was it not for these      
causes that you send for me when the great trouble came? Yes! Were you      
not amazed, nay horrified, when I would not let Arthur kiss his             
love- though she was dying- and snatched him away by all my                 
strength? Yes! And yet you saw how she thanked me, with her so              
beautiful dying eyes, her voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my rough        
old hand and bless me? Yes! And did you not hear me swear promise to        
her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes!                             
  "Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for          
many years trust me; you have believe me weeks past, when there be          
things so strange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a          
little, friend John. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I           
think; and that is not perhaps well. And if I work- as work I shall,        
no matter trust or no trust- without my friend trust in me, I work          
with heavy heart and feel, oh! so lonely when I want all help and           
courage that may be!" He paused a moment and went on solemnly: "Friend      
John, there are strange and terrible days before us. Let us not be          
two, but one, that so we work to a good end. Will you not have faith        
in me?"                                                                     
  I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went         
away, and watched him go into his room and close the door. As I             
stood without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the        
passage- she had her back towards me, so did not see me- and go into        
the room where Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare,         
and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we             
love. Here was a poor girl putting aside the terrors which she              
naturally had of death to go watch alone by the bier of the mistress        
whom she loved, so that the poor clay might not be lonely till laid to      
eternal rest...                                                             
  I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when        
Van Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my             
bedside and said:-                                                          
  "You need not trouble about the knives; we shall not do it."              
  "Why not?" I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had             
greatly impressed me.                                                       
  "Because," he said sternly, "it is too late- or too early. See!"          
Here he held up the little golden crucifix. "This was stolen in the         
night."                                                                     
  "How, stolen," I asked in wonder, "since you have it now?"                
  "Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it,            
from the woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will      
surely come, but not through me; she knew not altogether what she did,      
and thus unknowing she only stole. Now we must wait."                       
  He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of,      
a new puzzle to grapple with.                                               
  The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came:           
Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. He was very         
genial and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our          
hands all cares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs.            
Westenra had for some time expected sudden death from her heart, and        
had put her affairs in absolute order; he informed us that, with the        
exception of a certain entailed property of Lucy's father's which now,      
in default of direct issue, went back to a distant branch of the            
family, the whole estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to         
Arthur Holmwood. When he had told us so much he went on:-                   
  "Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition,      
and pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter         
either penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a         
matrimonial alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we          
almost came into collision, for she asked us if we were or were not         
prepared to carry out her wishes. Of course, we had then no                 
alternative but to accept. We were right in principle, and ninety-nine      
times out of a hundred we should have proved, by the logic of               
events, the accuracy of our judgment. Frankly, however, I must admit        
that in this case any other form of disposition would have rendered         
impossible the carrying out of her wishes. For by her predeceasing her      
daughter the latter would have come into possession of the property,        
and, even had she only survived her mother by five minutes, her             
property would, in case there were no will- and a will was a practical      
impossibility in such a case- have been treated at her decease as           
under intestacy. In which case Lord Godalming, though so dear a             
friend, would have had no claim in the world; and the inheritors,           
being remote, would not be likely to abandon their just rights, for         
sentimental reasons regarding an entire stranger. I assure you, my          
dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced."                
  He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part- in        
which he was officially interested- of so great a tragedy, was an           
object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.              
  He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day        
and see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain             
comfort to us, since it assured us that we should not have to dread         
hostile criticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at five        
o'clock, so a little before that time we visited the death-chamber. It      
was so in very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it.           
The undertaker, true to his craft, had made the best display he             
could of his goods, and there was a mortuary air about the place            
that lowered our spirits at once. Van Helsing ordered the former            
arrangement to be adhered to, explaining that, as Lord Godalming was        
coming very soon, it would be less harrowing to his feelings to see         
all that was left of his fiancee quite alone. The undertaker seemed         
shocked at his own stupidity, and exerted himself to restore things to      
the condition in which we left them the night before, so that when          
Arthur came such shocks to his feelings as we could avoid were saved.       
  Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken; even his stalwart      
manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his              
much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly      
attached to his father; and to lose him, and at such a time, was a          
bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he      
was sweetly courteous; but I could not help seeing that there was some      
constraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too, and motioned me to      
bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as      
I felt he would like to be quite alone with her; but he took my arm         
and led me in, saying huskily:-                                             
  "You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it, and             
there was no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I             
don't know how to thank you for all you have done for her. I can't          
think yet..."                                                               
  Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders        
and laid his head on my breast, crying:-                                    
  "Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do? The whole of life seems gone            
from me all at once, and there is nothing in the wide world for me          
to live for."                                                               
  I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need         
much expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the      
shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man's      
heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and then I         
said softly to him:-                                                        
  "Come and look at her."                                                   
  Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her         
face. God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing         
her loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat; and as for            
Arthur, he fell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with      
an ague. At last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint              
whisper:-                                                                   
  "Jack, is she really dead?"                                               
  I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest- for I         
felt that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment           
longer than I could help- that it often happened that after death           
faces became softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty;         
that this was especially so when death had been preceded by any             
acute or prolonged suffering. It seemed to quite do away with any           
doubt, and, after kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at      
her lovingly and long, he turned aside. I told him that that must be        
good-bye, as the coffin had to be prepared; so he went back and took        
her dead hand in his and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her            
forehead. He came away, fondly looking back over his shoulder at her        
as he came.                                                                 
  I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that he had          
said good-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the                
undertaker's men to proceed with the preparations and to screw up           
the coffin. When he came out of the room again I told him of                
Arthur's question, and he replied:-                                         
  "I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment myself!"             
  We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to        
make the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all                    
dinner-time; but when we had lit our cigars he said:-                       
  "Lord-;" but Arthur interrupted him:-                                     
  "No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate. Forgive           
me, sir: I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my         
loss is so recent."                                                         
  The Professor answered very sweetly:-                                     
  "I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you        
'Mr.,'and I have grown to love you- yes, my dear boy, to love you-          
as Arthur."                                                                 
  Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly.                  
  "Call me what you will," he said. "I hope I may always have the           
title of a friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to          
thank you for your goodness to my poor dear." He paused a moment, and       
went on: "I know that she understood your goodness even better than         
I do; and if I was rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted        
so- you remember"- the Professor nodded- "you must forgive me."             
  He answered with a grave kindness:-                                       
  "I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to trust          
such violence needs to understand; and I take it that you do not- that      
you cannot- trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may      
be more times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot- and           
may not- and must not yet understand. But the time will come when your      
trust shall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall understand      
as though the sunlight himself shone through. Then you shall bless          
me from first to last for your own sake, and for the sake of others,        
and for her dear sake to whom I swore to protect."                          
  "And, indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly, "I shall in all ways      
trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you are      
Jack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like."              
  The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though             
about to speak, and finally said:-                                          
  "May I ask you something now?"                                            
  "Certainly."                                                              
  "You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?"                  
  "No, poor dear; I never thought of it."                                   
  "And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you          
will. I want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's              
papers and letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a           
motive of which, be sure, she would have approved. I have them all          
here. I took them before we knew that all was yours, so that no             
strange hand might touch them- no strange eye look through words            
into her soul. I shall keep them, if I may; even you may not see            
them yet, but I shall keep them safe. No word shall be lost; and in         
the good time I shall give them back to you. It's a hard thing I            
ask, but you will do it, will you not, for Lucy's sake?"                    
  Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:-                            
  "Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that in saying         
this I am doing what my dear one would have approved. I shall not           
trouble you with questions till the time comes."                            
  The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly:-                          
  "And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it will not        
be all pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and you too- you            
most of all, my dear boy- will have to pass through the bitter water        
before we reach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and                
unselfish, and do our duty, and all will be well!"                          
  I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did not        
go to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house,           
and was never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin,        
strewn with the wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour          
of lily and rose, a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  22 September- In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping.                  
  It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how         
much between then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan          
away and no news of him; and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a           
solicitor, a partner, rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead        
and buried, and Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some        
day he may ask me about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my              
shorthand- see what unexpected prosperity does for us- so it may be as      
well to freshen it up again with an exercise anyhow.                        
  The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only              
ourselves and the servants there, one or two old friends of his from        
Exeter, his London agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John             
Paxton, the President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and         
I stood hand in hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was      
gone from us.                                                               
  We came back to town quietly, taking a bus to Hyde Park Corner.           
Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a              
while, so we sat down; but there were very few people there, and it         
was sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us        
think of the empty chair at home; so we got up and walked down              
Piccadilly. Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to          
in old days before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for           
you can't go on for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other      
girls without the pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it         
was Jonathan, and he was my husband, and we didn't know anybody who         
saw us- and we didn't care if they did- so on we walked. I was looking      
at a very beautiful girl, in a big cart-wheel flat, sitting in a            
victoria outside Giuliano's, when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so          
tight that he hurt me, and he said under his breath: "My God!" I am         
always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that some nervous fit may         
upset him again; so I turned to him quickly, and asked him what it was      
that disturbed him.                                                         
  He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror      
and half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose      
and black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the           
pretty girl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see              
either of us, and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good      
face; it was hard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth,         
that looked all the whiter because his lips were so red, were               
pointed like an animal's. Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was          
afraid he would notice. I feared he might take it ill, he looked so         
fierce and nasty. I asked Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he             
answered, evidently thinking I knew as much about it as he did: "Do         
you see who it is?"                                                         
  "No, dear," I said; "I don't know him; who is it?" His answer seemed      
to shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that          
it was to me, Mina, to whom he was speaking:-                               
  "It is the man himself!"                                                  
  The poor dear was evidently terrified at something- very greatly          
terrified; I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to         
support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring; a man came out        
of the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then          
drove off. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the            
carriage moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and         
hailed a hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to        
himself.-                                                                   
  "I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if            
this be so! Oh, my God! my God! if I only knew! if I only knew!" He         
was distressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on           
the subject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I            
drew him away quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We              
walked a little further, and then went in and sat for a while in the        
Green Park. It was a hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable        
seat in a shady place. After a few minutes staring at nothing,              
Jonathan's eyes closed, and he went quietly into a sleep, with his          
head on my shoulder. I thought it was the best thing for him, so did        
not disturb him. In about twenty minutes he woke up, and said to me         
quite cheerfully:-                                                          
  "Why, Mina, I have been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude.      
Come, and we'll have a cup of tea somewhere." He had evidently              
forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his illness he had             
forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I don't like this      
lapsing into forgetfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the      
brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do more harm than good;         
but I must somehow learn the facts of his journey abroad. The time          
is come, I fear, when I must open that parcel and know what is              
written. Oh, Jonathan, you will, I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but      
it is for your own dear sake.                                               
-                                                                           
  Later.- A sad home-coming in every way- the house empty of the            
dear soul who was so good to us; Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a      
slight relapse of his malady; and now a telegram from Van Helsing,          
whoever he may be:-                                                         
  "You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five days            
ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They were both            
buried to-day."                                                             
  Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! poor      
Lucy Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to have      
lost such sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear our            
troubles.                                                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  22 September.- it is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has      
taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I             
believe in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's         
death as any of us; but he bore himself through it like a moral             
Viking. If America can go on breeding men like that, she will be a          
power in the world indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest         
preparatory to his journey. He goes over to Amsterdam to-night, but         
says he returns to-morrow night; that he only wants to make some            
arrangements which can only be made personally. He is to stop with          
me then, if he can; he says he has work to do in London which may take      
him some time. Poor old fellow! I fear that the strain of the past          
week has broken down even his iron strength. All the time of the            
burial he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on              
himself. When it was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who,         
poor fellow, was speaking of his part in the operation where his blood      
had been transfused to his Lucy's veins; I could see Van Helsing's          
face grow white and purple by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt         
since then as if they two had been really married, and that she was         
his wife in the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other           
operations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away         
together to the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The            
moment we were alone in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of        
hysterics. He has denied to me since that it was hysterics, and             
insisted that it was only his sense of humour asserting itself under        
very terrible conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to            
draw down the blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge; and then      
he cried till he laughed again; and laughed and cried together, just        
as a woman does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman         
under the circumstances; but it had no effect. Men and women are so         
different in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then           
where his face grew grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth,        
and why at such a time. His reply was in a way characteristic of            
him, for it was logical and forceful and mysterious. He said:-              
  "Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not        
sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke        
me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he      
come just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at      
your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not the true laughter. No! he        
is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he           
choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' Behold, in example      
I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood         
for her, though I am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep;      
I let my other sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I           
can laugh at her very grave- laugh when the clay from the spade of the      
sexton drop upon her coffin and say. 'Thud! thud!' to my heart, till        
it send back the blood from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor          
boy- that dear boy, so of the age of mine own boy had I been so             
blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes the same. There,           
you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things that             
touch my husband-Heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to      
him as to no other man- not even to you, friend John, for we are            
more level in experiences than father and son- yet even at such moment      
King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, 'Here I am!        
here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bring some of the            
sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is         
a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes,           
and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to        
the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard,         
and tears that burn as they fall- all dance together to the music that      
he make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John,      
that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes      
drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears             
come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps      
the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like      
the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on        
with our labour what it may be."                                            
  I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea;            
but, as I did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked         
him. As he answered the his face grew stern, and he said in quite a         
different tone:-                                                            
  "Oh, it was the grim irony of it all- this so lovely lady                 
garlanded with flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one        
we wondered if she were truly dead; she laid in that so fine marble         
house in that lonely churchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid        
there with the mother who loved her, and whom she loved; and that           
sacred bell going 'Toll! toll! toll!' so sad and slow; and those            
holy men, with the white garments of the angel, pretending to read          
books, and yet all the time their eyes never on the page; and all of        
us with the bowed head. And all for what? She is dead; so! Is it not?"      
  "Well, for the life of me, Professor," I said, "I can't see anything      
to laugh at in all that. Why, your explanation makes it a harder            
puzzle than before. But even if the burial service was comic, what          
about poor Art and his trouble? Why, his heart was simply breaking."        
  "Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins      
had made her truly his bride?"                                              
  "Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him."                    
  "Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, then      
what about the others? Ho, ho! There this so sweet maid is a                
polyandrist, and me, with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by             
Church's law, though no wits, all gone- even I, who am faithful             
husband to this now-no-wife, am bigamist."                                  
  "I don't see where the joke comes in there either!" I said; and I         
did not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things.          
He laid his hand on my arm, and said:-                                      
  "Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to            
others when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can      
trust. If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to      
laugh; if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you             
could do so now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown and all that        
is to him- for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time-      
maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all."                           
  I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why.               
  "Because I know!"                                                         
  And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day loneliness          
will sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb          
of her kin, a lordly death-house in a lonely churchyard, away from          
teeming London; where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over              
Hampstead Hill, and where wild flowers grow of their own accord.            
  So I can finish this diary; and God only knows if I shall ever begin      
another. If I do, or I I even open this again, it will be to deal with      
different people and different themes; for here at the end, where           
the romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of      
my life-work, I say sadly and without hope,                                 
-                                                                           
                               "Finis."                                     
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
               "The Westminister Gazette," 25 September                     
-                                                                           
                         A Hampstead Mystery.                               
  The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with a        
series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of            
what was known to the writers of headlines as "The Kensington Horror,"      
or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The Woman in Black." During the past           
two or three days several cases have occurred of young children             
straying from home or neglecting to return from their playing on the        
Heath. In all these cases the children were too young to give any           
properly intelligible account of themselves, but the consensus of           
their excuses is that they had been with a "bloofer lady." It has           
always been late in the evening when they have been missed, and on two      
occasions the children have not been found until early in the               
following morning. It is generally supposed in the neighbourhood that,      
as the first child missed gave as his reason for being away that a          
"bloofer lady" had asked him to come for a walk, the others had picked      
up the phrase and used it as occasion served. This is the more natural      
as the favourite game of the little ones at present is luring each          
other away by wiles. A correspondent writes us that to see some of the      
tiny tots pretending to be the "bloofer lady" is supremely funny. Some      
of our caricaturists might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of          
grotesque by comparing the reality and the picture. It is only in           
accordance with general principles of human nature that the "bloofer        
lady" should be the popular role at these al fresco performances.           
Our correspondent naively says that even Ellen Terry could not be so        
willingly attractive as some of these grubby-faced little children          
pretend- and even imagine themselves- to be.                                
  There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, for some      
of the children, indeed all who have been missed at night, have been        
slightly torn or wounded in the throat. The wounds seem such as             
might be made by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much             
importance individually, would tend to show that whatever animal            
inflicts them has a system or method of its own. The police of the          
division have been instructed to keep a sharp look-out for straying         
children, especially when very young, in and around Hampstead Heath,        
and for any stray dog which may be about.                                   
-                                                                           
              "The Westminister Gazette," 25 September.                     
-                                                                           
                            Extra Special.                                  
-                                                                           
                        THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR.                               
-                                                                           
                        Another Child injured.                              
-                                                                           
                         The "Bloofer Lady."                                
-                                                                           
  We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last        
night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at        
the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is, perhaps, less         
frequented than the other parts. It has the same tiny wound in the          
throat as has been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and        
looked quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, had the            
common story to tell of being lured away by the "bloofer lady."             
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XIV                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XIV.                                   
                        MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.                              
-                                                                           
  23 September.- Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad         
that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the           
terrible things; and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down      
with the responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true        
to himself, and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the         
height of his advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties      
that come upon him. He will be away all day till late, for he said          
he could not lunch at home. My household work is done, so I shall take      
his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it...           
-                                                                           
  24 September.- I hadn't the heart to write last night; that terrible      
record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have               
suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is      
any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all      
those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I         
shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him... And yet         
that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him... Poor           
fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind            
back on some train of thought... He believes it all himself. I              
remember how on our wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come      
upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane."      
There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity... That          
fearful Count was coming to London... If it should be, and he came          
to London, with his teeming millions... There may be a solemn duty;         
and if it come we must not shrink from it... I shall be prepared. I         
shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we      
shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted;             
then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I         
can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it          
at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want        
to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things,      
and see how I may comfort him.                                              
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                 Letter, Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker.                        
-                                                                           
                                                       "24 September.       
                                                         (Confidence)       
  "Dear Madam,-                                                             
  "I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that      
I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the                
kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and          
papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally             
important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how             
great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that        
love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask- to         
redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles- that           
may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can      
trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that        
was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present            
from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me         
I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon,          
madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you         
are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be,               
enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive         
me.                                                                         
                                                       "Van Helsing."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                Telegram, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing.                       
-                                                                           
  "25 September.- Come to-day by quarter-past ten train if you can          
catch it. Can see you any time you call.                                    
                                                 "Wilhelmina Harker."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  25 September.- I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time         
draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that      
it will throw some light upon Jonathan's sad experience: and as he          
attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all             
about her. That is the reason of his coming, it is concerning Lucy and      
her sleep-walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the      
real truth now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my          
imagination and tinges everything with something of its own colour. Of      
course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and         
that awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost          
forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. She must            
have told him of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, and that         
I knew all about it; and now he wants me to tell him what she knows,        
so that he may understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything        
of it to Mrs. Westenra; I should never forgive myself if any act of         
mine, were it even a negative one, brought harm on poor dear Lucy. I        
hope, too, Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me; I have had so much            
trouble and anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just at          
present.                                                                    
  I suppose a cry does us all good at times- clears the air as other        
rain does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset me,      
and then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a             
whole day and night, the first time we have been parted since our           
marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and          
that nothing will occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the            
doctor will be here soon now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan's             
journal unless he asks me. I am so glad I have type-written out my own      
journal, so that, in case he asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him; it      
will save much questioning.                                                 
-                                                                           
  Later.- He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, and how it      
all makes my head whirl round! I feel like one in a dream. Can it be        
all possible, or even a part of it? if I had not read Jonathan's            
journal first, I should never have accepted even a possibility.             
Poor, poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the            
good God, all this may not upset him again. I shall try to save him         
from it; but it may be even a consolation and a help to him-                
terrible though it be and awful in its consequences- to know for            
certain that his eyes and ears and brain did not deceive him, and that      
it is all true. It may be that it is the doubt which haunts him;            
that when the doubt is removed, no matter which- waking or dreaming-        
may prove the truth, he will be more satisfied and better able to bear      
the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a good man as well as a clever           
one if he is Arthur's friend and Dr. Seward's, and if they brought him      
all the way from Holland to look after Lucy. I feel from having seen        
him that he is good and kind and of a noble nature. When he comes           
to-morrow I shall ask him about Jonathan; and then, please God, all         
this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good end. I used to think I           
would like to practice interviewing; Jonathan's friend on "The              
Exeter News" told him that memory was everything in such work- that         
you must be able to put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if      
you had to refine some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview;         
I shall try to record it verbatim.                                          
  It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my               
courage a deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the           
door, and announced "Dr. Van Helsing."                                      
  I rose and bowed, and he came towards me; a man of medium weight,         
strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest        
and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck.           
The poise of the head strikes one at once as indicative of thought and      
power, the head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the           
ears. The face shows a hard, square chin, a large, resolute, mobile         
mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive        
nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big, bushy brows come down and        
the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first         
almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide        
apart; such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble         
over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue          
eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with           
the man's moods. He said to me:-                                            
  "Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent.                                 
  "That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented.                            
  "It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor        
dear child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead I        
come."                                                                      
  "Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you        
were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I held out my hand. He      
took it and said tenderly:-                                                 
  "Oh, Madam Mina, I knew that the friend of that poor lily girl            
must be good, but I had yet to learn-" He finished his speech with a        
courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about,        
so he at once began:-                                                       
  "I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to          
begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that you      
were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary- you need not           
look, surprised Madam Mina; it was begun after you had left, and was        
made in imitation of you- and in that diary she traces by inference         
certain things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you           
saved her. In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out          
of your so much kindness to tell me all of it that you remember."           
  "I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it."                 
  "Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not          
always so with young ladies."                                               
  "No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to        
you if you like."                                                           
  "Oh, Madam Mina, I will be grateful; you will do me much favour."         
  I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit- I suppose      
it is some of the taste of the original apple that remains still in         
our mouths- so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a          
grateful bow, and said:-                                                    
  "May I read it?"                                                          
  "If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it,           
and for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed.               
  "Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I long knew that Mr. Jonathan        
was a man of much thankfulness; but see, his wife have all the good         
things. And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read        
it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." By this time my little          
joke was over, and I was almost ashamed; so I took the type-written         
copy from my workbasket and handed it to him.                               
  "Forgive me," I said: "I could not help it; but I had been                
thinking that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so            
that you might not have to wait- not on my account, but because I know      
your time must be precious- I have written it out on the typewriter         
for you."                                                                   
  He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And       
may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have            
read."                                                                      
  "By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch; and then      
you can ask me questions whilst we eat." He bowed and settled               
himself in a chair with his back to the light, and became absorbed          
in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch, chiefly in order that      
he might not be disturbed. When I came back I found him walking             
hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze with excitement.        
He rushed up to me and took me by both hands.                               
  "Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This         
paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am daze, I am dazzle,      
with so much light; and yet clouds roll in behind the light every           
time. But that you do not, cannot, comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful        
to you, you so clever woman. Madam"- he said this very solemnly- "if        
ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or yours, I trust you      
will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you        
as a friend; as a friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can            
ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There are darknesses          
in life, and there are lights; you are one of the lights. You will          
have happy life and good life, and your husband will be blessed in          
you."                                                                       
  "But, doctor, you praise me too much, and- and you do not know me."       
  "Not know you- I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men        
and women; I, who have made my specialty the brain and all that             
belongs to him and all that follow from him! And I have read your           
diary that you have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out        
truth in every line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor          
Lucy of your marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina,         
good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute,      
such things that angels can read; and we men who wish to know have          
in us something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you      
are noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is            
mean nature. And your husband- tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is         
all that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" I saw here an            
opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said:-                              
  "He was almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr.            
Hawkins's death." He interrupted:-                                          
  "Oh yes, I know, I know. I have read your last two letters." I            
went on:-                                                                   
  "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on Thursday last      
he had a sort of shock."                                                    
  "A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That was not good. What          
kind of shock was it?"                                                      
  "He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible,              
something which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing           
seemed to overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror         
which he experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and           
the fear that has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a           
tumult. I suppose I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and      
held up my hands to him, and implored him to make my husband well           
again. He took my hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa,      
and sat by me; he held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such        
infinite sweetness:-                                                        
  "My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have      
not had much time for friendships; but since I have been summoned to        
here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and          
seen such nobility that I feel more than ever- and it has grown with        
my advancing years- the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then,            
that I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me             
hope- hope, not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women      
still left to make life happy- good women, whose lives and whose            
truths may make good lesson for the children that are to be. I am           
glad, glad, that I may here be of some use to you; for if your husband      
suffer, he suffer within the range of my study and experience. I            
promise you that I will gladly do all for him that I can- all to            
make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy one. Now you          
must eat. You are overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband             
Jonathan would not like to see you so pale; and what he like not where      
he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and        
smile. You have told me all about Lucy, and so now we shall not             
speak of it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Exeter to-night, for         
I want to think much over what you have told me, and when I have            
thought I will ask you questions, if I may. And then, too, you will         
tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so far as you can, but not            
yet. You must eat now; afterwards you shall tell me all."                   
  After lunch, when we went back to the drawing-room, he said to me:-       
  "And now tell me all about him." When it came to speaking to this         
great, learned man, I began to fear that he would think me a weak           
fool, and Jonathan a madman- that journal is all so strange- and I          
hesitated to go on. But he was so sweet and kind, and he had                
promised to help, and I trusted him, so I said:-                            
  "Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you            
must not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday          
in a sort of fever of doubt; you must be kind to me, and not think          
me foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things."        
He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said:-           
  "Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter regarding        
which I am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to           
think little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it be. I            
have tried to keep an open mind; and it is not the ordinary things          
of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary      
things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane."             
  "Thank you, thank you, a thousand times! You have taken a weight off      
my mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is        
long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and        
Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that         
happened. I happ dare not say anything of it; you will read for             
yourself and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very      
kind and tell me what you think."                                           
  "I promise," he said as I gave him the papers; "I shall in the            
morning, so soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I           
may."                                                                       
  "Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to          
lunch with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 3:34              
train, which will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was             
surprised at my knowledge of the trains off-hand, but he does not know      
that I have made up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may        
help Jonathan in case he is in a hurry.                                     
  So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here              
thinking- thinking I don't know what.                                       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
            Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker.                   
-                                                                           
                                            "25 September, 6 o'clock.       
  "Dear Madam Mina,-                                                        
  "I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may sleep             
without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is true! I will            
pledge my life on it. It may be worse for others; but for him and           
you there is no dread. He is a noble fellow; and let me tell you            
from experience of men, that one who would do as he did in going            
down that wall and to that room- ay, and going a second time- is not        
one to be injured in permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart         
are all right; this I swear, before I have even seen him; so be at          
rest. I shall have much to ask him of other things. I am blessed            
that to-day I come to see you, for I have learn all at once so much         
that again I am dazzle- dazzle more than ever, and I must think.            
                                            "Yours the most faithful,       
                                               "Abraham Van Helsing."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                 Letter, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing.                        
-                                                                           
                                             "25 September, 6:30 p.m.       
  "My dear Dr. Van Helsing,-                                                
  "A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a great          
weight off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there      
are in the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster,        
be really in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst            
writing, had a wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25        
to-night from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall         
have no fear to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with        
us, please come to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too           
early for you? You can get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30        
train, which will bring you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this,      
as I shall take it that if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast.       
                                                         "Believe me,       
                                  "Your faithful and grateful friend,       
                                                       "Mina Harker."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  26 September.- I thought never to write in this diary again, but the      
time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and        
when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her           
having given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she         
has been about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I          
wrote down was true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the      
doubt as to the reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I          
felt impotent, and in the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I know,      
I am not afraid, even of the Count. He has succeeded after all,             
then, in his design in getting to London, and it was he I saw. He           
has got younger, and how? Van Helsing is the man to unmask him and          
hunt him out, if he is anything like what Mina says. We sat late,           
and talked it all over. Mina is dressing, and I shall call at the           
hotel in a few minutes and bring him over...                                
  He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room           
where he was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and        
turned my face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny:-       
  "But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock."          
It was so funny to hear my wife called "Madam Mina" by this kindly,         
strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said:-                                  
  "I was ill, I have had a shock; but you have cured me already."           
  "And how?"                                                                
  "By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then              
everything took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to              
trust, even the evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to              
trust, I did not know what to do; and so had only to keep on working        
in what had hitherto been the groove of my life. The groove ceased          
to avail me, and I mistrusted myself. Doctor, you don't know what it        
is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don't; you couldn't          
with eyebrows like yours." He seemed pleased, and laughed as he said:-      
  "So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am        
with so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast; and, oh, sir, you         
will pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife."      
I would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply            
nodded and stood silent.                                                    
  "She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men      
and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that         
its light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little      
an egoist- and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so               
sceptical and selfish. And you, sir- I have read all the letters to         
poor Miss Lucy, and some of them speak of you, so I know you since          
some days from the knowing of others; but I have seen your true self        
since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not? And let us      
be friends for all our lives."                                              
  We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me         
quite choky.                                                                
  "And now." he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a           
great task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help          
me here. Can you tell me what went before your going to                     
Transylvania? Later on I may ask more help, and of a different kind;        
but at first this will do."                                                 
  "Look here, sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the           
Count?"                                                                     
  "It does," he said solemnly.                                              
  "Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train,         
you will not have time to read them; but I shall get the bundle of          
papers. You can take them with you and read them in the train."             
  After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he         
said:-                                                                      
  "Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take Madam Mina      
too."                                                                       
  "We shall both come when you will," I said.                               
  I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the             
previous night, and while we were talking at the carriage window,           
waiting for the train to start, he was turning them over. His eye           
suddenly seemed to catch something in one of them, "The Westminster         
Gazette"- I knew it by the colour- and he grew quite white. He read         
something intently, groaning to himself. "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So          
soon! so soon!" I do not think he remembered me at the moment. Just         
then the whistle blew, and the train moved off. This recalled him to        
himself, and he leaned out of the window and waved his hand, calling        
out: "Love to Madam Mina; I shall write so soon as ever I can."             
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  26 September.- Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a            
week since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again,          
or rather going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no      
cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents,        
as sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly              
business; and he had just started in the spider line also; so he had        
not been of any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written          
on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully           
well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he        
himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line         
too, and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something      
of his old buoyancy; so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for           
myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I          
used to have for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound        
which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is,          
however, now reopened; and what is to be the end God only knows. I          
have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows too, but he will only         
let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter               
yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came back, and almost      
bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and thrust last      
night's "Westminister Gazette" into my hand.                                
  "What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded         
his arms.                                                                   
  I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant;         
but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children           
being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I      
reached a passage where it described small punctured wounds on their        
throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said.               
  "It is like poor Lucy's."                                                 
  "And what do you make of it?"                                             
  "Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that          
injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer:-      
  "That is true indirectly, but not directly."                              
  "How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to         
take his seriousness lightly- for, after all, four days of rest and         
freedom from burning, harrowing anxiety does help to restore one's          
spirits- but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the         
midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.             
  "Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to        
think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture."                  
  "Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion          
as to what poor Lucy died of, not after all the hints given, not            
only by events, but by me?"                                                 
  "Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste of blood."       
  "And how the blood lost or waste?" I shook my head. He stepped            
over and sat down beside me, and went on:-                                  
  "You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is        
bold; but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor          
your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of         
account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you            
cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that      
others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be           
contemplate by men's eyes, because they know- or think they know- some      
things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our           
science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it        
says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day        
the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are        
yet but the old, which pretend to be young- like the fine ladies at         
the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference.      
No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the        
reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism-"                                  
  "Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." He smiled as        
he went on: "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course            
then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great        
Charcot- alas that he is no more!- into the very soul of the patient        
that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you          
simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to                
conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me- for I am student of the            
brain- how you accept the hypnotism and reject the thought reading.         
Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done to-day in            
electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very men      
who discovered electricity- who would themselves not so long before         
have been burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why        
was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one         
hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's             
blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she          
live one more day, we could have save her. Do you know all the mystery      
of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative                
anatomy, and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some          
men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when other spiders die         
small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower      
of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he        
could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in         
the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and         
open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins; how in        
some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the           
trees all day, that those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or      
pods and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is        
hot, flit down on them, and then- and then in the morning are found         
dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?"                                     
  "Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell          
me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat; and that such a thing is here        
in London in the nineteenth century?" He waved his hand for silence,        
and went on:-                                                               
  "Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations        
of men; why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties;        
and why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other            
complaint? Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that      
there are some few who live on always if they be permit; that there         
are men and women who cannot die? We all know- because science has          
vouched for the fact- that there have been toads shut up in rocks           
for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him        
since the youth of the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir          
make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and          
corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped        
and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal,           
and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and         
walk amongst them as before?" Here I interrupted him. I was getting         
bewildered; he so crowded on my mind his list of nature's                   
eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my imagination was         
getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me some lesson,        
as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam; but he used            
then to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of               
thought in mind all the time. But now I was without this help, yet I        
wanted to follow him, so I said:-                                           
  "Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis          
so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going      
in my mind from point to point as a mad man, and not a sane one,            
follows an idea. I feel like a novice blundering through a bog in a         
mist, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort          
to move on without knowing where I am going."                               
  "That is good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you My thesis          
is this: I want you to believe."                                            
  "To believe what?"                                                        
  "To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard         
once of an American who so defined faith: 'that faculty which               
enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.' For one, I        
follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let      
a little bit of truth check the rush of a big truth, like a small rock      
does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him,      
and we value him; but all the same we must not let him think himself        
all the truth in the universe."                                             
  "Then you want me not to let some previous conviction injure the          
receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read        
your lesson aright?"                                                        
  "Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now      
that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to        
understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's      
throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?"             
  "I suppose so" He stood up and said solemnly:-                            
  "Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is            
worse, far, far worse."                                                     
  "In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried.        
  He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and              
placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he      
spoke:-                                                                     
  "They were made by Miss Lucy!"                                            
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XV                                                                  
                             CHAPTER XV.                                    
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during           
her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up        
as I said to him:-                                                          
  "Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head and looked at me,      
and somehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I          
were!" he said. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like         
this. Oh, my friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take        
so long to tell you so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and        
have hated you all my life? Was it because I wished to give you             
pain? Was it that I wanted, now so late, revenge for that time when         
you saved my life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!"                        
  "Forgive me," said I. He went on:-                                        
  "My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking          
to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I        
do not expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any           
abstract truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have          
always believed the 'no' of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad      
a concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to          
prove it. Dare you come with me?"                                           
  This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth;             
Byron excepted from the category, jealousy.                                 
-                                                                           
             "And prove the very truth he most abhorred."                   
-                                                                           
  He saw my hesitation, and spoke:-                                         
  "The logic is simple, no madman's logic this time, jumping from           
tussock to tussock in a misty bog. If it be not true, then proof            
will be relief, at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is      
the dread; yet very dread should help my cause, for in it is some need      
of belief. Come, I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off           
now and see that child in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North           
Hospital, where the papers say the child is, is friend of mine, and         
I think of yours since you were in class at Amsterdam. He will let two      
scientists see his case, if he will not let two friends. We shall tell      
him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. And then-"                     
  "And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And            
then we spend the night, you and I, in the church-yard where Lucy           
lies. This is the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man      
to give to Arthur." My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was      
some fearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I            
plucked up what heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as        
the afternoon was passing.                                                  
  We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food,         
and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from         
its throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the         
similarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were              
smaller, and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked               
Vincent to what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have        
been a bite of some animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he        
was inclined to think that it was one of the bats which are so              
numerous on the northern heights of London. "Out of so many harmless        
ones," he said, "there may be sonic wild specimen from the South of         
a more malignant species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and        
it managed to escape; or even from the Zoological Gardens a young           
one may have got loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These          
things do occur, you know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and            
was, I believe, traced up in this direction. For a week after, the          
children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and          
in every alley in the place until this 'bloofer lady' scare came            
along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even this        
poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if he             
might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he           
wanted to play with the 'bloofer lady.'"                                    
  "I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child          
home you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it.             
These fancies to stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to         
remain out another night, it would probably be fatal. But in any            
case I suppose you will not let it away for some days?"                     
  "Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is           
not healed."                                                                
  Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on,         
and the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how         
dark it was, he said:-                                                      
  "There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us          
seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way."           
  We dined at "Jack Straw's Castle" along with a little crowd of            
bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o'clock we         
started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps        
made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual        
radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go,           
for he went on unhesitatingly; but, as for me, I was in quite a mix-up      
as to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people,          
till at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of      
horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached           
the wall of the church-yard, which we climbed over. With some little        
difficulty- for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so             
strange to us- we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key,      
opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite              
unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious irony      
in the offer, in the courtliness of giving preference on such a             
ghastly occasion. My companion followed me quickly, and cautiously          
drew the door to, after carefully ascertaining that the lock was a          
falling, and not a spring, one. In the latter case we should have been      
in a bad plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a               
match-box and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb        
in the day-time, and when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim      
and gruesome enough; but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers        
hung lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to        
browns; when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed         
dominance; when time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and      
rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded silver-plating gave      
back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect was more miserable and      
sordid than could have been imagined It conveyed irresistibly the idea      
that life- animal life- was not the only thing which could pass away.       
  Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle        
so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the         
sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the          
metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his            
bag, and he took out a turnscrew.                                           
  "What are you going to do?" I asked.                                      
  "To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." Straightway he          
began taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing        
the casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It        
seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to        
have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I                
actually took hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall        
see," and again fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw.              
Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift downward stab,         
which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, however, big          
enough to admit the point of the saw. I had expected a rush of gas          
from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who have had to study our             
dangers, have to become accustomed to such things, and I drew back          
towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a moment; he          
sawed down a couple of feet along one side of the lead coffin, and          
then across, and down the other side. Taking the edge of the loose          
flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and holding up      
the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look.                       
  I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.                             
  It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable             
shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever          
of his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you           
satisfied now, friend John?" he asked.                                      
  I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me      
as I answered him:-                                                         
  "I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that          
only proves one thing."                                                     
  "And what is that, friend John?"                                          
  "That it is not there."                                                   
  "That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you-        
how can you- account for it not being there?"                               
  "Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's         
people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and           
yet it was the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor         
sighed. "Ah well!" he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me."        
  He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and            
placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also      
in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed           
the door and locked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep        
it? You had better be assured." I laughed- it was not a very                
cheerful laugh, I am bound to say- as I motioned him to keep it. "A         
key is nothing," I said; "there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is         
not difficult to pick a lock of that kind." He said nothing, but put        
the key in his pocket. Then he told me to watch at one side of the          
churchyard whilst he would watch at the other. I took up my place           
behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark figure move until the                 
intervening headstones and trees hid it from my sight.                      
  It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a          
distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was            
chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on         
such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too           
sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my           
trust; so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time.                        
  Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a             
white streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the          
churchyard farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass             
moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went           
towards it. Then I too moved; but I had to go round headstones and          
railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast,         
and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a        
line of scattered juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the            
church, a white, dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb.           
The tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the          
figure disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I           
had first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the                 
Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held          
it out to me, and said:-                                                    
  "Are you satisfied now?"                                                  
  "No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.                        
  "Do you not see the child?"                                               
  "Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?"         
I asked.                                                                    
  "We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our      
way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.                  
  When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of        
trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was         
without a scratch or scar of any kind.                                      
  "Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.                                      
  "We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.                    
  We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so            
consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we            
should have to give some account of our movements during the night; at      
least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we had come      
to find the child. So finally we decided that we would take it to           
the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it             
where he could not fail to find it; we would then seek our way home as      
quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath      
we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the child on the             
pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his            
lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then      
we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the                 
"Spaniards," and drove to town.                                             
  I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few         
hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists          
that I shall go with him on another expedition.                             
-                                                                           
  27 September- It was two o'clock before we found a suitable               
opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all               
completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken                
themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of      
alder-trees, we saw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew then        
that we were safe till morning did we desire it; but the Professor          
told me that we should not want more than an hour at most. Again I          
felt that horrid sense of the reality of things, in which any effort        
of imagination seemed out of place; and I realised distinctly the           
perils of the law which we were incurring in our unhallowed work.           
Besides, I felt it was all so useless. Outrageous as it was to open         
a leaden coffin, to see if a woman dead nearly a week were really           
dead, it now seemed the height of folly to open the tomb again, when        
we knew, from the evidence of our own eyesight, that the coffin was         
empty. I shrugged my shoulders, however, and rested silent, for Van         
Helsing had a way of going on his own road, no matter who                   
remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and again courteously      
motioned me to precede. The place was not so gruesome as last night,        
but oh, how unutterably mean-looking when the sunshine streamed in.         
Van Helsing walked over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed. He bent over      
and again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shock of                
surprise and dismay shot through me.                                        
  There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before        
her funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever;      
and I could not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay           
redder than before; and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom.                 
  "Is this a juggle?" I said to him.                                        
  "Are you convinced now?" said the Professor in response, and as he        
spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder,              
pulled back the dead lips and showed the white teeth.                       
  "See," he went on, "see, they are even sharper than before. With          
this and this"- and he touched one of the canine teeth and that             
below it- "the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now,        
friend John?" Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I          
could not accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with        
an attempt to argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I            
said:-                                                                      
  "She may have been placed here since last night."                         
  "Indeed? That is so, and by whom?"                                        
  "I do not know. Some one has done it."                                    
  "And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would      
not look so." I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did      
not seem to notice my silence; at any rate, he showed neither               
chagrin nor triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead        
woman, raising the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more           
opening the lips and examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and          
said:-                                                                      
  "Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded; here      
is some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the          
vampire when she was in a trance, sleep-walking- oh, you start; you do      
not know that, friend John, but you shall know it all later- and in         
trance could he best come to take more blood. In trance she died,           
and in trance she is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all        
other. Usually when the Un-Dead sleep at home"- as he spoke he made         
a comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what to a vampire was         
"home"- "their face show what they are, but this so sweet that was          
when she not Un-Dead she go back to the nothings of the common dead.        
There is no malign there, see, and so it make hard that I must kill         
her in her sleep." This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn          
upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing's theories; but if she were        
really dead, what was there of terror in the idea of killing her? He        
looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in my face, for he            
said almost joyously:-                                                      
  "Ah, you believe now?"                                                    
  I answered; "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing to        
accept. How will you do this bloody work?"                                  
  "I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I           
shall drive a stake through her body." It made me shudder to think          
of so mutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the        
feeling was not so strong as I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning      
to shudder at the presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing      
called it, and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all                
subjective, or all objective?                                               
  I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he             
stood as if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his        
bag with a snap, and said:-                                                 
  "I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is             
best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this           
moment, what is to be done; but there are other things to follow,           
and things that are thousand times more difficult in that them we do        
not know. This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is        
of time; and to act now would be to take danger from her for ever. But      
then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If      
you, who saw the wounds on Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so             
similar on the child's at the hospital; if you, who saw the coffin          
empty last night and full to-day with a woman who have not change only      
to be more rose and more beautiful in a whole week, after she die-          
if you know of this and know of the white figure last night that            
brought the child to the churchyard, and yet of your own senses you         
did not believe, how, then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of           
those things, to believe? He doubted me when I took him from her            
kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven me because in some          
mistaken idea I have done things that prevent him say good-bye as he        
ought; and he may think that in some more mistaken idea this woman was      
buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have killed her. He        
will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed         
her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he             
never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will sometimes      
think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint his           
dreams with horrors of what she must have suffered; and again, he will      
think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all, an      
Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now,             
since I know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know        
that he must pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He,         
poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven      
grow black to him; then we can act for good all round and send him          
peace. My mind is made up. Let us go. You return home for to-night          
to your asylum, and see that all be well. As for me, I shall spend the      
night here in this churchyard in my own way. To-morrow night you            
will come to me to the Berkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall          
send for Arthur to come too, and also that so fine young man of             
America that gave his blood. Later we shall all have work to do. I          
come with you so far as Piccadilly and there dine, for I must be            
back here before the sun set."                                              
  So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of the         
churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to                 
Piccadilly.                                                                 
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
        Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau, Berkeley               
                 Hotel, directed to John Seward, M.D.                       
                           (Not delivered.)                                 
-                                                                           
                                                       "27 September.       
  "Friend John,-                                                            
  "I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch in      
that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shall           
not leave to-night, that so on the morrow night she may be more eager.      
Therefore I shall fix some things she like not- garlic and a crucifix-      
and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead, and will      
heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out; they may not      
prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead is desperate,        
and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it may be. I         
shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise, and      
if there be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy,      
or from her, I have no fear; but that other to whom is there that           
she is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find             
shelter. He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way        
that all along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss            
Lucy's life, and we lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong.          
He have always the strength in his hand of twenty men; even we four         
who gave our strength to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides,          
he can summon his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he come        
thither on this night he shall find me; but none other shall- until it      
be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt the place. There        
is no reason why he should; his hunting ground is more full of game         
than the churchyard where the Un-Dead woman sleep, and one old man          
watch.                                                                      
  "Therefore I write this in case... Take the papers that are with          
this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find      
this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a      
stake through it, so that the world may rest from him.                      
  "If it be so, farewell.                                                   
                                                       "Van Helsing."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  28 September.- It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do for      
one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's                 
monstrous ideas; but now they seem to start out lurid before me as          
outrages on common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I        
wonder if his mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there        
must be some rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is        
it possible that the Professor can have done it himself? He is so           
abnormally clever that if he went off his head he would carry out           
his intent with regard to some fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am          
loath to think it, and indeed it would be almost as great a marvel          
as the other to find that Van Helsing was mad; but anyhow I shall           
watch him carefully. I may get some light on the mystery.                   
-                                                                           
  29 September, morning... Last night, at a little before ten o'clock,      
Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he told us all that        
he wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if      
all our wills were centered in his. He began by saying that he hoped        
we would all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty      
to be done there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?" This          
query was directly addressed to Lord Godalming.                             
  "I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble      
around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have            
been curious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it             
over; but the more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I           
can say for myself that I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about         
anything."                                                                  
  "Me, too," said Quincey Morris laconically.                               
  "Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both        
of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he      
can even get so far as to begin."                                           
  It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame      
of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he        
said with intense gravity:-                                                 
  "I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I      
know, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you         
will know, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you            
promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry         
with me for a time- I must not disguise from myself the possibility         
that such may be- you shall not blame yourselves for anything."             
  "That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the             
Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and        
that's good enough for me."                                                 
  "I thank you, sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself         
the honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement        
is dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey took.                     
  Then Arthur spoke out:-                                                   
  "Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as         
they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a         
gentleman or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make            
such a promise. If you can assure me that what you intend does not          
violate either of these two, then I give my consent at once; though,        
for the life of me, I cannot understand what you are driving at."           
  "I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of           
you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you        
will first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not               
violate your reservations."                                                 
  "Agreed!" said Arthur; "that is only fair. And now that the               
pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"                   
  "I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the                
churchyard at Kingstead."                                                   
  Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:-                  
  "Where poor Lucy is buried?" The Professor bowed. Arthur went on:         
"And when there?"                                                           
  "To enter the tomb!" Arthur stood up.                                     
  "Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous joke? Pardon      
me, I see that you are in earnest." He sat down again, but I could see      
that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There         
was silence until he asked again:-                                          
  "And when in the tomb?"                                                   
  "To open the coffin."                                                     
  "This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing          
to be patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this- this          
desecration of the grave- of one who-" He fairly choked with                
indignation. The Professor looked pityingly at him.                         
  "If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows      
I would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later,      
and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"               
  Arthur looked up with set, white face and said:-                          
  "Take care, sir, take care!"                                              
  "Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing.      
"And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go        
on?"                                                                        
  "That's fair enough," broke in Morris.                                    
  After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:-             
  "Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to      
her. But if she be not dead-"                                               
  Arthur jumped to his feet.                                                
  "Good God!" he cried. "What do you mean? Has there been any mistake;      
has she been buried alive?" He groaned in anguish that not even hope        
could soften.                                                               
  "I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go          
no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead."                          
  "Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or        
what is it?"                                                                
  "There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age        
they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of         
one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?"        
  "Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not         
for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead             
body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you          
that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do            
that you should want to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you           
mad that speak such things, or am I mad that listen to them? Don't          
dare to think more of such a desecration; I shall not give my               
consent to anything you do. I have a duty to do in protecting her           
grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do it!"                            
  Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated,           
and said, gravely and sternly:-                                             
  "My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a        
duty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I ask      
you now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and if          
when later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its         
fulfilment even than I am, then- then I shall do my duty, whatever          
it may seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes, I         
shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when        
and where you will." His voice broke a little, and he went on with a        
voice full of pity:-                                                        
  "But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long          
life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which                 
sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now.      
Believe me that if the time comes for you to change your mind               
towards me, one look from you will wipe away all this so sad hour, for      
I would do what a man can to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why      
should I give myself so much of labour and so much of sorrow? I have        
come here from my own land to do what I can of good; at the first to        
please my friend John, and then to help a sweet young lady, whom, too,      
I came to love. For her- I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it          
in kindness- I gave what you gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it,        
I, who was not, like you, her lover, but only her physician and her         
friend. I gave to her my nights and days- before death, after death;        
and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the dead              
Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He said this with a very grave,         
sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it. He took the old man's      
hand and said in a broken voice:-                                           
  "Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at           
least I shall go with you and wait."                                        
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XVI                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XVI.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the          
churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark, with occasional           
gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded      
across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing        
slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the          
tomb I looked well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a          
place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore         
himself well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in      
some way a counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the           
door, and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various                
reasons, solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest          
of us followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and      
pointed to the coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van             
Helsing said to me:-                                                        
  "You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in            
that coffin?"                                                               
  "It was." The Professor turned to the rest saying:-                       
  "You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me." He      
took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin.              
Arthur looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he         
stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden          
coffin, or, at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent        
in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as            
quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness;        
he was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we      
all looked in and recoiled.                                                 
  The coffin was empty!                                                     
  For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by        
Quincey Morris:-                                                            
  "Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I                
wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily- I wouldn't so dishonour you as        
to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or      
dishonour. Is this your doing?"                                             
  "I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed         
nor touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend           
Seward and I came here- with good purpose, believe me. I opened that        
coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it, as now empty. We         
then waited, and saw something white come through the trees. The            
next day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did she not,          
friend John?"                                                               
  "Yes."                                                                    
  "That night we were just in time. One more so small child was             
missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves.            
Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can        
move. I waited here all the night till the sun rose, but I saw              
nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid over           
the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and        
other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so            
to-night before the sundown I took away my garlic and other things.         
And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there      
is much that is strange. Wait you with me outside, unseen and unheard,      
and things much stranger are yet to be. So"- here he shut the dark          
slide of his lantern- "now to the outside." He opened the door, and we      
filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.                  
  Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror        
of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the          
passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing        
and passing- like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life; how sweet        
it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay;      
how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and      
to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city.      
Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and         
was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner               
meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half            
inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's             
conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who          
accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery,         
with hazard of all he has to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut         
himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van           
Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took from his bag      
a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was              
carefully rolled up in a white napkin; next he took out a                   
double-handful of some whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled      
the wafer up fine and worked it into the mass between his hands.            
This he then took, and rolling it into thin strips, began to lay            
them into the crevices between the door and its setting in the tomb. I      
was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was        
that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were      
curious. He answered:-                                                      
  "I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter."               
  "And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?" asked              
Quincey. "Great Scott! Is this a game?"                                     
  "It is."                                                                  
  "What is that which you are using?" This time the question was by         
Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:-              
  "The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence." It         
was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt           
individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the            
Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred          
of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we          
took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from        
the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially           
Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this           
watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the        
proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so               
ghastly white; never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the            
embodiment of funeral gloom; never did tree or grass wave or rustle so      
ominously; never did bough creak so mysteriously; and never did the         
far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.      
  There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from      
the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed; and far down the avenue of      
yews we saw a white figure advance- a dim white figure, which held          
something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment         
a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed        
in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the                 
cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent          
down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and      
a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it          
lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the          
Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew-tree,         
kept us back; and then as we looked the white figure moved forwards         
again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight      
still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp        
of Arthur, as we recognised the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy             
Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine,      
heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van             
Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all advanced          
too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb.           
Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the concentrated      
light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson      
with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and        
stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.                                  
  We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that         
even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and        
if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.          
  When Lucy- I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it            
bore her shape- saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a         
cat gives when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's         
eyes in form and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of                
hell-fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment         
the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then          
to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked,      
her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a      
voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a         
careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the           
child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast,            
growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp        
cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act         
which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with              
outstreched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in        
his hands.                                                                  
  She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous            
grace, said:-                                                               
  "Come to me Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are        
hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband,           
come!"                                                                      
  There was something diabolically sweet in her tones- something of         
the tingling of glass when struck- which rang through the brains            
even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he      
seemed under a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide        
his arms. She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward         
and held between them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from         
it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him      
as if to enter the tomb.                                                    
  When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped as if         
arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was      
shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now        
no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled      
malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by      
mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to          
throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the        
folds of the flesh were the coils of Medusa's snakes, and the               
lovely, blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the               
passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant              
death- if looks could kill- we saw it at that moment.                       
  And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she              
remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her          
means of entry: Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:-            
  "Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?"                    
  Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as      
he answered:-                                                               
  "Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like      
this ever any more;" and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I                
simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the      
click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close      
to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred          
emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified             
amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal        
body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice      
where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense        
of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of         
putty to the edges of the door.                                             
  When this was done, he lifted the child and said:                         
  "Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is         
a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that.        
The friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton        
lock the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not            
like this of to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm,         
and by to-morrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where           
the police will find him, as on the other night; and then to home."         
Coming close to Arthur, he said:-                                           
  "My friend Arthur, you have had sore trial; but after, when you will      
look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the            
bitter waters, my child. By this time tomorrow you will, please God,        
have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not             
mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me."               
  Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each          
other on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired;          
so we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.                         
-                                                                           
  29 September, night.- A little before twelve o'clock we three-            
Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself- called for the Professor. It was        
odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black                
clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning,         
but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by         
half-past one, and strolled about, keeping out of official                  
observation, so that when the gravediggers had completed their task         
and the sexton, under the belief that every one had gone, had locked        
the gate, we had the place all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of        
his little black bag, had with him a long leather one, something            
like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of fair weight.                    
  When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out        
up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the      
Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing        
it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and      
also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting             
their own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light             
sufficient to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's              
coffin we all looked- Arthur trembling like an aspen- and saw that the      
body lay there in all its death-beauty. But there was no love in my         
own heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had taken          
Lucy's shape without her soul. I could see even Arthur's face grow          
hard as he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing:-                       
  "Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape?"               
  "It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you shall see      
her as she was, and is."                                                    
  She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed         
teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth- which it made one shudder        
to see- the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like a         
devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual        
methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and          
placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and          
some plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out,            
when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with      
a blue flame; then his operating knives, which he placed to hand;           
and last a round wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches          
thick and about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by              
charring in the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this          
stake came a heavy hammer, such as in households is used in the             
coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor's preparations for      
work of any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of             
these things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a sort of         
consternation. They both, however, kept their courage, and remained         
silent and quiet.                                                           
  When all was ready, Van Helsing said:-                                    
  "Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the            
lore and experience of the ancients and of all those who have               
studied the powers of the Un-Dead. When they become such, there             
comes with the change the curse of immortality; they cannot die, but        
must go on age after age adding new victims and multiplying the             
evils of the world; for all that die from the preying of the Un-Dead        
become themselves Un-Dead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle        
goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in           
the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of        
before poor Lucy die; or again, last night when you open your arms          
to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu,        
as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would all time make more of          
those Un-Deads that so have fill us with horror. The career of this so      
unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children whose blood she         
suck are not as yet so much the worse; but if she live on, Un-Dead,         
more and more they lose their blood and by her power over them they         
come to her; and so she draw their blood with that so wicked mouth.         
But if she die in truth, then all cease; the tiny wounds of the             
throats disappear, and they go back to their plays unknowing ever of        
what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this now Un-Dead        
be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we        
love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night and        
growing more debased in the assimilation of it by day, she shall            
take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a      
blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. To      
this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better            
right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the        
night when sleep is not: 'It was my hand that sent her to the stars;        
it was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she        
would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?' Tell me if        
there be such a one amongst us?"                                            
  We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did, the                
infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which         
would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory; he           
stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his         
face was as pale as snow:-                                                  
  "My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you.          
Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not falter!" Van Helsing laid a        
hand on his shoulder, and said:-                                            
  "Brave lad! A moment's courage, and it is done. This stake must be        
driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal- be not deceived in         
that- but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more      
than your pain was great; from this grim tomb you will emerge as            
though you tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have         
begun. Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and            
that we pray for you all the time."                                         
  "Go on," said Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me what I am to do."                 
  "Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point over         
the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer      
for the dead- I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others        
shall follow- strike in God's name, that so all may be well with the        
dead that we love and that the Un-Dead pass away."                          
  Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set      
on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing           
opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as          
well as we could. Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I          
looked I could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with         
all his might.                                                              
  The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling            
screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and      
twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together         
till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam.      
But Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his           
untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the                
mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled         
and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to         
shine through it; the sight of it gave us courage, so that our              
voices seemed to ring through the little vault.                             
  And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and the      
teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still.        
The terrible task was over.                                                 
  The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and would have              
fallen had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from his      
forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an        
awful strain on him; and had he not been forced to his task by more         
than human considerations he could never have gone through with it.         
For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look         
towards the coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled              
surprise ran from one to the other of us, We gazed so eagerly that          
Arthur rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked      
too; and then a glad, strange light broke over his face and                 
dispelled altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon it.                  
  There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so          
dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded      
as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen      
her in her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity.          
True that there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of      
care and pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they            
marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy         
calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only          
an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to reign forever.          
  Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and said to      
him:-                                                                       
  "And now, Arthur, my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?"                
  The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man's         
hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said:-             
  "Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul         
again, and me peace." He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder,         
and laying his head on his breast, cried for a while silently,              
whilst we stood unmoving. When he raised his head Van Helsing said          
to him:-                                                                    
  "And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you           
will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a      
grinning devil now- not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No          
longer she is the devil's Un-Dead. She is God's true dead, whose            
soul is with Him!"                                                          
  Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out          
of the tomb; the Professor and I sawed the top off the stake,               
leaving the point of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and           
filled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin,             
screwed on the coffin-lid, and gathering up our belongings, came away.      
When the Professor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur.               
  Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it      
seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was          
gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves      
on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.        
  Before we moved away Van Helsing said:-                                   
  "Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most              
harrowing to ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find           
out the author of all this our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have          
clues which we can follow; but it is a long task, and a difficult, and      
there is danger in it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have         
learned to believe, all of us- is it not so? And since so, do we not        
see our duty? Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the better end?"       
  Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then            
said the Professor as we moved off:-                                        
  "Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at             
seven of the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two        
that you know not as yet; and I shall be ready to all our work show         
and our plans unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have        
much to consult about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for            
Amsterdam, but shall return to-morrow night. And then begins our great      
quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that you may know what        
is to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other         
anew; for there is a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on      
the ploughshare, we must not draw back."                                    
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XVII                                                                
                            CHAPTER XVII.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  When we arrived at the Berkeley Hotel, Van Helsing found a                
telegram waiting for him:-                                                  
  "Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news.- Mina         
Harker."                                                                    
  The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he          
said, "pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go        
to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station.               
Telegraph her enroute, so that she may be prepared."                        
  When the wire was despatched he had a cup of tea; over it he told me      
of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a               
typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby.           
"Take these," he said, "and study them well. When I have returned           
you will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on        
our inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of               
treasure. You will need all your faith, even you who have had such          
an experience as that of to-day. What is here told," he laid his            
hand heavily and gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, "may          
be the beginning of the end to you and me and many another; or it           
may sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the earth. Read all, I          
pray you, with the open mind; and if you can add in any way to the          
story here told do so, for it is all-important. You have kept diary of      
all these so strange things; is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go            
through all these together when that we meet." He then made ready           
for his departure, and shortly after drove off to Liverpool Street.         
I took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes          
before the train came in.                                                   
  The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to               
arrival platforms; and I was beginning to feel uneasy, last I might         
miss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty-looking girl stepped up to        
me, and, after a quick glance, said: "Dr. Seward, is it not?"               
  "And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once; whereupon she held         
out her hand.                                                               
  "I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but-" She             
stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.                    
  The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease,         
for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which              
included a typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch             
Street, after I had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a                 
sitting-room and bedroom prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.                  
  In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a         
lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a            
shudder when we entered.                                                    
  She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my            
study, as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my        
phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the              
chance of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though      
they lie open before me. I must get her interested in something, so         
that I may have an opportunity of reading them. She does not know           
how precious time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be             
careful not to frighten her. Here she is!                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  29 September.- After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr.              
Seward's study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard        
him talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick,      
I knocked at the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered.        
  To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite           
alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from           
the description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much      
interested.                                                                 
  "I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said; "but I stayed at the         
door as I heard you talking, and thought there was some one with you."      
  "Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary."            
  "Your diary?" I asked him in surprise.                                    
  "Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his          
hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted           
out:-                                                                       
  "Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?"            
  "Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in          
train for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his      
face.                                                                       
  "The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it;           
and as it is entirely- almost entirely- about my cases, it may be           
awkward- that is, I mean"- He stopped, and I tried to help him out          
of his embarrassment:-                                                      
  "You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she           
died; for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was         
very, very dear to me."                                                     
  To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face-        
  "Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!"                          
  "Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over      
me. Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an        
excuse. At length he stammered out:-                                        
  "You see, I do not know how to pick out any particular part of the        
diary." Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he          
said with unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the        
naivete of a child: "That's quite true, upon my honour. Honest              
Indian!" I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself        
away that time!" he said. "But do you know that, although I have            
kept the diary for months past, it never once struck me how I was           
going to find any particular part of it in case I wanted to look it         
up?" By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who        
attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our                 
knowledge of that terrible Being, and I said boldly;-                       
  "Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my        
typewriter." He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said:-            
  "No! no! no! For all the world, I wouldn't let you know that              
terrible story!"                                                            
  Then it was terrible; my intuition was right! For a moment I              
thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for          
something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on the great batch        
of typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and,         
without his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the parcel      
he realised my meaning.                                                     
  "You do not know me." I said. "When you have read those papers- my        
own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed- you will know          
me better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart      
in this cause; but, of course, you do not know me- yet; and I must not      
expect you to trust me so far."                                             
  He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy was right           
about him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were             
arranged in order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with        
dark wax, and said:-                                                        
  "You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know          
you. But I know you now; and let me say that I should have known you        
long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me; she told me of you too. May      
I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear          
them- the first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they will        
not horrify you; then you will know me better. Dinner will by then          
be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of these documents,        
and shall be better able to understand certain things." He carried the      
phonograph himself up to my sitting-room and adjusted it for me. Now I      
shall learn something pleasant, I am sure; for it will tell me the          
other side of a true love episode of which I know one side already...       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  29 September.- I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan      
Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without        
thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce           
dinner, so I said: "She is possibly tired; let dinner wait an hour;"        
and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary,        
when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her          
eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I        
have had cause for tears, God knows! but the relief of them was denied      
me; and now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened with recent           
tears, went straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could:-          
  "I greatly fear I have distressed you."                                   
  "Oh no, not distressed me," she replied, "but I have been more            
touched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, but      
it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of your      
heart. It was like a soul crying out to almighty God. No one must hear      
them spoken ever again! See. I have tried to be useful. I have              
copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now hear         
your heart beat, as I did."                                                 
  "No one need ever know, shall ever know." I said in a low voice. She      
laid her hand on mine and said very gravely:-                               
  "Ah, but they must!"                                                      
  "Must! But why?" I asked.                                                 
  "Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor dear          
Lucy's death and all that led to it; because in the struggle which          
we have before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must         
have all the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that      
the cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to      
know; but I can see that there are in your record many lights to            
this dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up        
to a certain point; and I see already, though your diary only took          
me to 7 September, how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible            
doom was being wrought out. Jonathan and I have been working day and        
night since Professor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to           
get more information, and he will be here to-morrow to help us. We          
need have no secrets amongst us; working together and with absolute         
trust, we can surely be stronger than if some of us were in the dark."      
She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested            
such courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once          
to her wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you like in the matter. God      
forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to learn of,        
but if you so have so far travelled on the road to poor Lucy's              
death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the dark. Nay,         
the end- the very end- may give you a gleam of peace. Come, there is        
dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is before us; we have      
a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn the          
rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask- if there be anything        
which you do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were          
present."                                                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  29 September.- After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study.          
He brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took my typewriter.      
He placed me in a comfortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so         
that I could touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it      
in case I should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully, took a           
chair, with his back to me, so that I might be as free as possible,         
and began to read. I put the forked metal to my ears and listened.          
  When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and- and all that followed,      
was done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of         
a fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a          
horrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case-bottle from a            
cupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat              
restored me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came          
through all the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my         
dear, dear Lucy was at lest at peace, I do not think I could have           
borne it without making a scene. It is all so wild, and mysterious,         
and strange that if I had not known Jonathan's experience in                
Transylvania I could not have believed. As it was, I didn't know            
what to believe, and so got out of my difficulty by attending to            
something else. I took the cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr.         
Seward:-                                                                    
  "Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van Helsing      
when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come on here when      
he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates are everything,      
and I think that if we get all our material ready, and have every item      
put in chronological order, we shall have done much. You tell me            
that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let us be able to        
tell them when they come." He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow      
pace, and I began to typewrite from the beginning of the seventh            
cylinder. I used manifold, and so took three copies of the diary            
just as I had done with all the rest. It was late when I got                
through, but Dr. Seward went about his work of going his round of           
the patients; when he had finished he came back and sat near me,            
reading, so that I did not feel too lonely whilst I worked. How good        
and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men- even if             
there are monsters in it. Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan      
put in his diary of the Professor's perturbation at reading                 
something in an evening paper at the station at Exeter; so, seeing          
that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed the files of "The          
Westminister Gazette" and "The Pall Mall Gazette," and took them to my      
room. I remember how much "The Dailygraph" and "The Whitby Gazette."        
of which I had made cuttings, helped us to understand the terrible          
events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look through         
the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new light.      
I am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet.                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  30 September.- Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He had got his         
wife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one           
can judge from his face, and full of energy. If his journal be true-        
and judging by one's own wonderful experiences, it must be- he is also      
a man of great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time was a      
remarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it I was           
prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but hardly the quiet,          
business-like gentleman who came here to-day.                               
-                                                                           
  Later.- After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own room,      
and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the typewriter.            
They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that they are knitting                
together in chronological order every scrap of evidence they have.          
Harker has got the letters between the consignee of the boxes at            
Whitby and the carriers in London who took charge of them. He is now        
reading his wife's typescript of my diary. I wonder what they make out      
of it. Here it is...                                                        
  Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be         
the Count's hiding-place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues from      
the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters relating to      
the purchase of the house were with the typescript. Oh, if we had only      
had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! Stop; that way madness      
lies! Harker has gone back, and is again collating his material. He         
says that by dinner-time they will be able to show a whole connected        
narrative. He thinks that in the meantime I should see Renfield, as         
hitherto he has been a sort of index to the coming and going of the         
Count. I hardly see this yet, but when I get at the dates I suppose         
I shall. What a good thing that Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into           
type! We never could have found the dates otherwise...                      
  I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands folded,      
smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any one I ever         
saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of subjects, all of which      
he treated naturally. He then, of his own accord, spoke of going home,      
a subject he has never mentioned to my knowledge during his sojourn         
here. In fact, he spoke quite confidently of getting his discharge          
at once. I believe that had I not had the chat with Harker and read         
the letters and the dates of his outbursts, I should have been              
prepared to sign for him after a brief time of observation. As it           
is, I am darkly suspicious. All those outbreaks were in some way            
linked with the proximity of the Count. What then does his absolute         
content mean? Can it be that his instinct is satisfied as to the            
vampire's ultimate triumph? Stay; he is himself zoophagous, and in his      
wild ravings outside the chapel door of the deserted house he always        
spoke of "master." This all seems confirmation of our idea. However,        
after a while I came away; my friend is just a little too sane at           
present to make it safe to probe him too deep with questions. He might      
begin to think, and then-! So I came away. I mistrust these quiet           
moods of his; so I have given the attendant a hint to look closely          
after him, and to have a strait-waistcoat ready in case of need.            
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  29 September, in train to London.- When I received Mr.                    
Billington's courteous message that he would give me any information        
in his power I thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the        
spot, such inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that        
horrid cargo of the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be        
able to deal with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the          
station, and brought me to his father's house, where they had               
decided that I must stay the night. They are hospitable, with true          
Yorkshire hospitality: give a guest everything, and leave him free          
to do as he likes. They all knew that I was busy, and that my stay was      
short, and Mr. Billington had ready in his office all the papers            
concerning the consignment of boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see        
again one of the letters which I had seen on the Count's table              
before I knew of his diabolical plans. Everything had been carefully        
thought out, and done systematically and with precision. He seemed          
to have been prepared for every obstacle which might be placed by           
accident in the way of his intentions being carried out. To use an          
Americanism, he had "taken no chances," and the absolute accuracy with      
which his instructions were fulfilled, was simply the logical result        
of his care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it: "Fifty cases of        
common earth, to be used for experimental purposes." Also the copy          
of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply, of both of these I           
got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could give me,      
so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs             
officers and the harbour-master. They had all something to say of           
the strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in         
local tradition; but no one could add to the simple description.            
"Fifty cases of common earth." I then saw the station-master, who           
kindly put me in communication with the men who had actually                
received the boxes. Their tally was exact with the list, and they           
had nothing to add except that the boxes were "main and mortal heavy,"      
and that shifting them was dry work. One of them added that it was          
hard lines that there wasn't any gentleman "such-like as yourself,          
squire," to show some sort of appreciation of their efforts in a            
liquid form; another put in a rider that the thirst then generated was      
such that even the time which had elapsed had not completely allayed        
it. Needless to add, I took care before leaving to lift, for ever           
and adequately, this source of reproach.                                    
-                                                                           
  30 September.- The station-master was good enough to give me a            
line to his old companion the station-master at King's Cross, so            
that when I arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about        
the arrival of the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication          
with the proper officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with      
the original invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal            
thirst had been here limited; a noble use of them, had, however,            
been made, and again I was compelled to deal with the result in an          
ex post facto manner.                                                       
  From thence I went on to Carter Patterson's central office, where         
I met with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in           
their day-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King's      
Cross office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the         
teaming were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them           
over, sending also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers           
connected with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found      
the tally agreeing exactly; the carriers' men were able to                  
supplement the paucity of the written words with a few details. These,      
were I shortly found, connected almost solely with the dusty nature of      
the job, and of the consequent thirst engendered in the operators.          
On my affording an opportunity, through the medium of the currency          
of the realm, of the allaying, at a later period, this beneficial           
evil, one of the men remarked:-                                             
  "That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! but      
it ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thick      
in the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of yer         
bones; an' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave smelled         
ole Jerusalem in it. But the ole chappel- that took the cike, that          
did! Me and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick               
enough. Lor, I wouldn't take less nor a quid a moment to stay there         
arter dark."                                                                
  Having been in the house, I could well believe him; but if he knew        
what I know, he would, I think, have raised his terms.                      
  Of one thing I am now satisfied: that all the boxes which arrived at      
Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely deposited in the old           
chapel of Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any have      
since been removed- as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.                      
  I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax         
when Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn         
a good deal.                                                                
-                                                                           
  Later.- Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the           
papers into order.                                                          
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  30 September,- I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain             
myself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which         
I have had: that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old          
wound might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for              
Whitby with as brave a face as I could, but I was sick with                 
apprehension. The effort has, however, done him good. He was never          
so resolute, never so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as          
at present. It is just as that dear, this good Professor Van Helsing        
said: he is true grit, and he improves under strain that would kill         
a weaker nature. He came back full of life and hope and determination;      
we have got everything in order for to-night. I feel myself quite wild      
with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity any thing so hunted as is      
the Count. That is just it: this Thing is not human- not even beast.        
To read Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy's death, and what                 
followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in one's heart.           
-                                                                           
  Later.- Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we             
expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan            
with him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for it      
brought back All poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months ago. Of        
course they had heard Lucy speak to me, and it seemed that Dr. Van          
Helsing, too, has been quite "blowing my trumpet," as Mr. Morris            
expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all        
about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to      
say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so          
they had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter         
over, and came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do             
would be to post them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr.          
Seward's diary that they had been at Lucy's death- her real death- and      
that I need not fear to betray any secret before the time. So I told        
them, as well as I could, that I had read all the papers and                
diaries, and that my husband and I, having typewritten them, had            
just finished putting them in order. I gave them each a copy to read        
in the library. When Lord Godalming got his and turned it over- it          
does make a pretty good pile- he said:-                                     
  "Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?"                                    
  I nodded, and he went on:-                                                
  "I don't quite see the drift of it; but you people are all so good        
and kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically,          
that all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help         
you. I have had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make      
a man humble to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved        
my poor Lucy-" Here he turned away and covered his face with his            
hands. I could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with                
instinctive delicacy just laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder,         
and then walked quietly out of the room. I suppose there is                 
something in woman's nature that makes a man free to break down before      
her and express his feelings on the tender or emotional side without        
feeling it derogatory to his manhood; for when Lord Godalming found         
himself alone with me he sat down on the sofa and gave way utterly and      
openly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I hope he didn't           
think it forward of me, and that if he ever thinks of it afterwards he      
never will have such a thought. There I wrong him; I know he never          
will- he is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for I could see            
that his heart was breaking:-                                               
  "I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you          
were to her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will         
you not let me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what         
sorrows you have had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If         
sympathy and pity can help in your affliction, won't you let me be          
of some little service- for Lucy's sake?"                                   
  In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It         
seemed to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence         
found a vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open        
hands, beat his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood        
up and then sat down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I         
felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a      
sob he laid his head on my shoulder, and cried like a wearied child,        
whilst he shook with emotion.                                               
  We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above      
smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big,         
sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby      
that some day may he on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though          
he were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all        
was.                                                                        
  After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an         
apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that         
for days and nights past- weary days and sleepless nights- he had been      
unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of            
sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or         
with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow         
was surrounded, he could speak freely. "I know now how I suffered," he      
said, as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet- and none           
other can ever know- how much your sweet sympathy has been to me            
to-day. I shall know better in time; and believe me that, though I          
am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding.        
You will let me be like a brother, will you not, for all our lives-         
for dear Lucy's sake?"                                                      
  "For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for          
your own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are          
ever worth the winning, you have won mine to-day. If ever the future        
should bring to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you      
will not call in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to         
you to break the sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come,         
promise me that you will let me know." He was so earnest, and his           
sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it would comfort him, so I said:-          
  "I promise."                                                              
  As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a            
window. He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he said.          
Then noticing my red eyes, he went on; "Ah, I see you have been             
comforting him. Poor old fellow! he needs it. No one but a woman can        
help a man when he is in trouble of the heart; and he had no one to         
comfort him."                                                               
  He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw      
the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would        
realise how much I knew; so I said to him:-                                 
  "I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you           
let me be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need      
it? You will know, later on, why I speak." He saw that I was in             
earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips,            
kissed it. It seemed but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a           
soul, and impulsively I bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in         
his eyes, and there was a momentary choking in his throat; he said          
quite calmly:-                                                              
  "Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so        
long as ever you live!" Then he went into the study to his friend.          
  "Little girl!"- the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he        
proved himself a friend!                                                    
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XVIII                                                               
                            CHAPTER XVIII.                                  
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  30 September.- I got home at five o'clock, and found that                 
Godalming and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the      
transcript of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his          
wonderful wife had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from      
his visit to the carriers' men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to        
me. Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for      
the first time since I have lived in it, this old house seemed like         
home. When we had finished, Mrs. Harker said:-                              
  "Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr.          
Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary        
interests me so much!" She looked so appealing and so pretty that I         
could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should;        
so I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man            
that a lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered: "Why?"      
  "She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in            
it," I answered. "Oh, very well," he said; "let her come in, by all         
means; but just wait a minute till I tidy up the place." His method of      
tidying was peculiar: he simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in      
the boxes before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he             
feared, or was jealous of, some interference. When he had got               
through his disgusting task, he said cheerfully: "Let the lady come         
in," and sat down on the edge of his bed with his head down, but            
with his eyelids raised so that he could see her as she entered. For a      
moment I thought that he might have some homicidal intent; I                
remembered how quiet he had been just before he attacked me in my           
own study, and I took care to stand where I could seize him at once if      
he attempted to make a spring at her. She came into the room with an        
easy gracefulness which would at once command the respect of any            
lunatic- for easiness is one of the qualities mad people most respect.      
She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and held out her hand.          
  "Good-evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you, for         
Dr. Seward has told me of you." He made no immediate reply, but eyed        
her all over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way      
to one of wonder, which merged in doubt; then, to my intense                
astonishment, he said:-                                                     
  "You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You             
can't be, you know, for she's dead." Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she      
replied:-                                                                   
  "Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before I        
ever saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker."                           
  "Then what are you doing here?"                                           
  "My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward."                
  "Then don't stay."                                                        
   "But why not?" I thought that this style of conversation might           
not be pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I            
joined in:-                                                                 
  "How did you know I wanted to marry any one?" His reply was simply        
contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned his eyes from Mrs.        
Harker to me, instantly turning them back again:-                           
  "What an asinine question!"                                               
  "I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield," said Mrs. Harker, at once        
championing me. He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as      
he had shown contempt to me:-                                               
  "You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so      
loved and honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of           
interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not only by           
his household and his friends, but even by his patients, who, being         
some of them hardly in mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes        
and effects. Since I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I      
cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates      
lean towards the errors of non causa and ignoratio elenchi." I              
positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was my own pet      
lunatic- the most pronounced of his type that I had ever met with-          
talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner of a polished             
gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's presence which had touched      
some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, or in any      
way due to her unconscious influence, she must have some rare gift          
or power.                                                                   
  We continued to talk for some time; and, seeing that he was               
seemingly quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me                     
questioningly as she began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I           
was again astonished, for he addressed himself to the question with         
the impartiality of the completest sanity: he even took himself as          
an example when he mentioned certain things.                                
  "Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief.          
Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on      
my being put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive        
and perpetual entity and that by consuming a multitude of live things,      
no matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely          
prolong life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually        
tried to take human life. The doctor here will bear me out that on one      
occasion I tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital      
powers by the assimilation with my own body of his life through the         
medium of his blood-relying, of course, upon the Scriptual phrase.          
'For the blood is the life.' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain        
nostrum has vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn't      
that true, doctor?" I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly      
knew what to either think or say; it was hard to imagine that I had         
seen him eat up his spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking      
at my watch, I saw that I should go to the station to meet Van              
Helsing, so I told Mrs. Harker that it was time to leave. She came          
at once, after saying pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: "Good-bye, and I          
hope I may see you often, under auspices pleasanter to yourself," to        
which, to my astonishment, he replied:-                                     
  "Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face            
again. May He bless and keep you!"                                          
  When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys            
behind me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy        
first took ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he        
has been for many a long day.                                               
  Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager nimbleness of a      
boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying:-                       
  "Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been busy, for I         
come here to stay if need be. All affairs are settled with me, and I        
have much to tell. Madame Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine            
husband? And Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too?          
Good!"                                                                      
  As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of how my      
own diary had come to be of some use through Mrs. Harker's suggestion;      
at which the Professor interrupted me:-                                     
  "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain- a brain that         
a man should have were he much gifted- and woman's heart. The good God      
fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good          
combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman of          
help to us; after to-night she must not have to do with this                
terrible affair. It is not good that she run a risk so great. We men        
are determined- nay, are we not pledged?- to destroy this monster; but      
it is no part for a woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may         
fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer-      
both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. And,        
besides, she is young woman and not so long married; there may be           
other things to think of some time, if not now. You tell me she has         
wrote all, then she must consult with us; but to-morrow she say             
good-bye to this work, and we go alone." I agreed heartily with him,        
and then I told him what we had found in his absence: that the house        
which Dracula had bought was the very next one to my own. He was            
amazed, and a great concern seemed to come on him. "Oh that we had          
known it before!" he said, "for then we might have reached him in time      
to save poor Lucy. However, 'the milk that is spilt cries not out           
afterwards,' as you say. We shall not think of that, but go on our way      
to the end." Then he fell into a silence that lasted till we entered        
my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for dinner he said to Mrs.        
Harker:-                                                                    
  "I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend John that you and your               
husband have put up in exact order all things that have been, up to         
this moment."                                                               
  "Not up to this moment, Professor," she said impulsively, "but up to      
this morning."                                                              
  "But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light all the      
little things have made. We have told our secrets, and yet no one           
who has told is the worse for it."                                          
  Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her pockets, she      
said:-                                                                      
  "Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must go           
in. It is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need of putting          
down at present everything, however trivial; but there is little in         
this except what is personal. Must it go in?" The Professor read it         
over gravely, and handed it back, saying:-                                  
  "It need not go in if you do not wish it; but I pray that it may. It      
can but make your husband love you the more, and all us, your friends,      
more honour you- as well as more esteem and love." She took it back         
with another blush and a bright smile.                                      
  And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are             
complete and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study after      
dinner, and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine o'clock. The        
rest of us have already read everything; so when we meet in the             
study we shall all be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan        
of battle with this terrible and mysterious enemy.                          
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  30 September.- When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours after          
dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously formed a            
sort of board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took the head of the      
table, to which Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He        
made me sit next to him on his right, and asked me to act as                
secretary; Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godalming,        
Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris- Lord Godalming being next the Professor,        
and Dr. Seward in the centre. The Professor said:-                          
  "I may, I suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with the facts      
that are in these papers." We all expressed assent, and he went on:-        
  "Then it were, I think good that I tell you something of the kind of      
enemy with which we have to deal. I shall then make it known to you         
something of the history of this man, which has been ascertained for        
me. So we then can discuss how we shall act, and can take our               
measure according.                                                          
  "There are such beings as vampires; some of us have evidence that         
they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience,        
the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane        
peoples. I admit that at the first I was sceptic. Were it not that          
through long years I have train myself to keep an open mind, I could        
not have believe until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. 'See!      
see! I prove; I prove,' Alas! Had I known at the first what now I           
know- nay, had I even guess at him- one so precious life had been           
spared to many of us who did love her. But that is gone; and we must        
so work, that other poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The          
nosferatu do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only            
stronger; and being stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This        
vampire which is amongst us is of himself so strong in person as            
twenty men; he is of cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be           
the growth of ages; he have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as      
his etymology imply, the divination by the dead, and all the dead that      
he can come nigh to are for him at command; he is brute, and more than      
brute; he is devil in callous, and the heart of him is not; he can,         
within limitations, appear at will when, and where, and ill any of the      
forms that are to him; he can, within his range, direct the                 
elements; the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command all the           
meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and the bat- the moth, and the         
fox, and the wolf, he can grow and become small; and he can at times        
vanish and come unknown. How then are we to begin our strife to             
destroy him? How shall we find his where, and having found it, how can      
we destroy? My friends, this is much; it is a terrible task that we         
undertake, and there may be consequence to make the brave shudder. For      
if we fail in this our fight he must surely win; and then where end         
we? Life is nothings; I heed him not. But to fail here, is not mere         
life or death. It is that we become as him; that we henceforward            
become foul things of the night like him- without heart or conscience,      
preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best. To us for        
ever are the gates of heaven shut: for who shall open them to us            
again? We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of         
God's sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we        
are face to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink? For me, I      
say, no; but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair           
places, his song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You      
others are young. Some have seen sorrow; but there are fair days yet        
in store. What say you?"                                                    
  Whilst he was speaking Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared, oh so        
much, that the appalling nature of our danger was overcoming him            
when I saw his hand stretch out; but it was life to me to feel its          
touch- so strong, so self-reliant, so resolute. A brave man's hand can      
speak for itself, it does not even need a woman's love to hear its          
music.                                                                      
  When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my eyes,        
and I in his; there was no need for speaking between us.                    
  "I answer for Mina and myself," he said.                                  
  "Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconically as         
usual.                                                                      
  "I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if for no         
other reason."                                                              
  Dr. Dr. Seward simply nodded. The Professor stood up and, after           
laying his golden crucifix on the table, held out his hand on either        
side. I took his right hand, and Lord Godalming his left; Jonathan          
held my right with his left and stretched across to Mr. Morris. So          
as we all took hands our solemn compact was made. I felt my heart           
icy cold, but it did not even occur to me to draw back. We resumed our      
places, and Dr. Van Helsing went on with a sort of cheerfulness             
which showed that the serious work had begun. It was to be taken as         
gravely, and in as businesslike a way, as any other transaction of          
life:-                                                                      
  "Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are         
not without strength. We have on our side power of combination- a           
power denied to the vampire kind; we have sources of science; we are        
free to act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours      
equally. In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered,         
and we are free to use them. We have self-devotion in a cause, and          
an end to achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much.        
  "Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us are         
restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us consider           
the limitations of the vampire in general, and of this one in               
particular.                                                                 
  "All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions. These do        
not at the first appear much, when the matter is one of life and            
death- nay of more than either life or death. Yet must we be                
satisfied; in the first place because we have to be- no other means is      
at our control- and secondly, because, after all, these things-             
tradition and superstition- are everything. Does not the belief in          
vampires rest for others- though not, alas! for us- on them? A year         
ago which of us would have received such a possibility, in the midst        
of our scientific, sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We         
even scouted a belief that we saw justified under our very eyes.            
Take it, then, that the vampire, and the belief in his limitations and      
his cure, rest for the moment on the same base. For, let me tell            
you, he is known everywhere that men have been. In old Greece, in           
old Rome; he nourish in Germany all over, in France, in India, even in      
the Chersonese; and in China, so far from us in all ways, there even        
is he, and the peoples fear him at this day. He have follow the wake        
of the berserker Icelander, the devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the           
Saxon, the Magyar. So far, then, we have all we may act upon; and           
let me tell you that very much of the beliefs are justified by what we      
have seen in our own so unhappy experience. The vampire live on, and        
cannot die by mere passing of the time; he can flourish when that he        
can fatten on the blood of the living. Even more, we have seen amongst      
us that he can even grow younger; that his vital faculties grow             
strenuous, and seem as though they refresh themselves when his special      
pabulum is plenty. But he cannot flourish without this diet; he eat         
not as others. Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did      
never see him to eat, never! He throws no shadow; he make in the            
mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan observe. He has the strength of        
many of his hand- witness again Jonathan when he shut the door against      
the wolfs, and when he help him from the diligence too. He can              
transform himself to wolf, as we gather from the ship arrival in            
Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw      
him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from            
this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at the window          
of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create- that noble ship's        
captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance he         
can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He         
come on moonlight rays as elemental dust- as again Jonathan saw             
those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small- we              
ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a               
hairbreadth space at the tomb door. He can, when once he find his way,      
come out from anything or into anything, no matter how close it be          
bound or even fused up with fire-solder you call it. He can see in the      
dark- no small power this, in a world which is one half shut from           
the light. Ah, but hear me through. He can do all these things, yet he      
is not free. Nay; he is even more prisoner than the slave of the            
galley, than the madman in his cell. He cannot go where he lists; he        
who is not of nature has yet to obey some of nature's laws- why we          
know not. He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some      
one of the household who bid him to come; though afterwards he can          
come as he please. His power ceases, as does that of all evil               
things, at the coming of the day. Only at certain times can he have         
limited freedom. If Ire be not at the place whither he is bound, he         
can only change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These        
things are we told, and in this record of ours we have proof by             
inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will within his limit, when        
he have his earth-home, his coffin-home, his hell-home, the place           
unhallowed, as we saw when he went to the grave of the suicide at           
Whitby; still at other time he can only change when the time come.          
It is said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or        
the flood of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict him that      
he has no power, as the garlic that we know of, and as for things           
scared, as this symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst us even now when      
we resolve, to them he is nothing, but in their presence he take his        
place far off and silent with respect. There are others, too, which         
I shall tell you of, lest in our seeking we may need them. The              
branch of wild rose on his coffin keep him that he move not from it; a      
sacred bullet fired into the coffin kill him so that he be true             
dead; and as for the stake through him, we know already of its              
peace; or the cut-off head that giveth rest. We have seen it with           
our eyes.                                                                   
  "Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we can            
confine him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we know.         
But he is clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth            
University, to make his record; and, from all the means that are, he        
tell me of what he has seen. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode        
Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the      
very frontier of Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common            
man; for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as         
the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons      
of the 'land beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron            
resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed             
against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble             
race, though now and again were scions who were held by their               
coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his            
secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake                 
Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In        
the records are such words as 'stregoica'- witch, 'ordog,' and              
'pokol'- Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is         
spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well. There have         
been from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and          
their graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can            
dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing          
is rooted deep in all good; in soil barren of holy memories it              
cannot rest."                                                               
  Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at the           
window, and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room. There was      
a little pause, and then the Professor went on:-                            
  "And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data, and we        
must proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the inquiry of           
Jonathan that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all      
of which were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some          
of these boxes have been removed. It seems to the, that our first step      
should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond      
that wall where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed.      
If the latter, we must trace-"                                              
  Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the             
house came the sound of a pistol shot; the glass of the window was          
shattered with a bullet, which, ricochetting from the top of the            
embrasure, struck the far wall of the room. I am afraid I am at             
heart a coward, for I shrieked out. The men all jumped to their             
feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the window and threw up the sash. As      
he did so we heard Mr. Morris's voice without.-                             
  "Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you           
about it." A minute later he came in and said:-                             
  "It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs.         
Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened you terribly.         
But the fact is that whilst the Professor was talking there came a big      
bat and sat on the window-sill. I have got such a horror of the damned      
brutes from recent events that I cannot stand then, and I went out          
to have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings whenever I         
have seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art."                   
  "Did you hit it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing.                                  
  "I don't know; I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood." Without      
saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume         
his statement:-                                                             
  "We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are ready, we must        
either capture or kill this monster in his lair; or we must, so to          
speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in           
it. Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the          
hours of noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his          
most weak.                                                                  
  "And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be          
well. You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we part            
to-night, you no more must question. We shall tell you all in good          
time. We are men and are able to bear; but you must be our star and         
our hope, and we shall act all the more free that you are not in the        
danger, such as we are."                                                    
  All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved; but it did not seem          
to me good that they should brave danger and, perhaps, lessen their         
safety- strength being the best safety- through care of me; but             
their minds were made up, and, though it was a bitter pill for me to        
swallow, I could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care          
of me.                                                                      
  Mr. Morris resumed the discussion:-                                       
  "As there is no time to lose, I vote we have a look at his house          
right now. Time is everything with him; and swift action on our part        
may save another victim."                                                   
  I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action came        
so close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater fear that if      
I appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work, they might even          
leave me out of their counsels altogether. They have now gone off to        
Carfax, with means to get into the house.                                   
  Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep; as if a woman           
can sleep when those she loves are in danger! I shall lie down and          
pretend to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety about me when he         
returns.                                                                    
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  1 October, 4 a.m.- Just as we were about to leave the house, an           
urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would           
see him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say        
to me. I told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes        
in the morning; I was busy just at the moment. The attendant added:-        
  "He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him so eager. I        
don't know but what, if you don't see him soon, he will have one of         
his violent fits." I knew the man would not have said this without          
some cause, so I said: "All right; I'll go now;" and I asked the            
others to wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my              
"patient."                                                                  
  "Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor. "His case in         
your diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on      
our case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is      
disturbed."                                                                 
  "May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming.                                  
  "Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I               
nodded, and we all went down the passage together.                          
  We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more          
rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There           
was an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I        
had ever met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his         
reasons would prevail with others entirely sane, We all four went into      
the room, but none of the others at first said anything. His request        
was that I would at once release him from the asylum and send him           
home. This he backed up with arguments regarding his complete               
recovery, and adduced his own existing sanity. "I appeal to your            
friends," he said, "they will, perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment        
on my case. By the way, you have not introduced me." I was so much          
astonished, that the oddness of introducing a madman in an asylum           
did not strike me at the moment; and, besides, there was a certain          
dignity in the man's manner, so much of the habit of equality, that         
I at once made the introduction: "Lord Godalming; Professor Van             
Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of Texas; Mr. Renfield." He shook hands        
with each of them, saying in turn:-                                         
  "Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the         
Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no         
more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and in           
his youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much        
patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your          
great state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which may         
have far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may      
hold alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet         
prove a vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its      
true place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his              
pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping        
all forms of conventional prefix. When an individual has                    
revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous              
evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since          
they would seem to limit him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by      
nationality, by heredity, or by the possession of natural gifts, are        
fitted to hold your respective places in the moving world, I take to        
witness that I am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in        
full possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr.             
Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem      
it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as under            
exceptional circumstances." He made this last appeal with a courtly         
air of conviction which was not without its own charm.                      
  I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the           
conviction, despite my knowledge of the man's character and history,        
that his reason had been restored; and I felt under a strong impulse        
to tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about      
the necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought it      
better to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of         
old I knew the sudden changes to which this particular patient was          
liable. So I contented myself with making a general statement that          
he appeared to be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer        
chat with him in the morning, and would then see what I could do in         
the direction of meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy            
him, for he said quickly:-                                                  
  "But I fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire      
to go at once- here- now- this very hour- this very moment, if I            
may. Time presses, and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman      
it is of the essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary        
to put before so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet      
so momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment." He looked at me             
keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others,           
and scrutinised them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response,          
he went on:-                                                                
  "Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?"                     
  "You have," I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt,              
brutally. There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:-         
  "Then I Suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask        
for this concession- boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to        
implore in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of        
others. I am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons; but        
you may, I assure you, take it from me that they are good ones,             
sound and unselfish, and springing from the highest sense of duty.          
Could you look, sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full           
the sentiments which animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst      
the best and truest of your friends." Again he looked at us all             
keenly. I had a growing conviction that this sudden change of his           
entire intellectual method was but yet another form or phase of his         
madness, and so determined to let him go on a little longer, knowing        
from experience that he would, like all lunatics, give himself away in      
the end. Van Helsing was gazing at him with a look of the utmost            
intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting with the fixed                 
concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone which did not      
surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it afterwards- for      
it was as of one addressing an equal:-                                      
  "Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free         
to-night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy even me- a              
stranger, without prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open          
mind- Dr. Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own              
responsibility, the privilege you seek." He shook his head sadly,           
and with a look of poignant regret on his face. The Professor went          
on:-                                                                        
  "Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in        
the highest degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete         
reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to doubt,          
since you are not yet released from medical treatment for this very         
defect. If you will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest          
course, how can we perform the duty which you yourself put upon us? Be      
wise, and help us; and if we can we shall aid you to achieve your           
wish." He still shook his head as he said:-                                 
  "Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is                 
complete, and if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a               
moment; but I am not my own master in the matter. I can only ask you        
to trust me. If I am refused, the responsibility does not rest with         
me." I thought it was now time to end the scene, which was becoming         
too comically grave, so I went towards the door, simply saying:-            
  "Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night."                       
  As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the              
patient. He moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared        
that he was about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however,      
were groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made         
his petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his      
emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old         
relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van             
Helsing, and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes; so I became a         
little more fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him      
that his efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of        
the same constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some      
request of which at the time he had thought much, such, for                 
instance, as when he wanted a cat; and I was prepared to see the            
collapse into the same sullen acquiescence on this occasion. My             
expectation was not realised, for, when he found that his appeal would      
not be successful, he got into quite a frantic condition. He threw          
himself on his knees, and held up his hands, wringing them in               
plaintive supplication, and poured forth a torrent of entreaty, with        
the tear's rolling down his cheeks and his whole face and form              
expressive of the deepest emotion:-                                         
  "Let me entreat you. Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you to let me         
out of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you          
will; send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me          
in a strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a goal; but         
let me go out of this. You don't know what you do by keeping me             
here. I am speaking from the depths of my heart- of my very soul.           
You don't know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is           
me! I may not tell. By all you hold sacred- by all you hold dear- by        
your love that is lost- by your hope that lives- for the sake of the        
Almighty, take me out of this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you        
hear me, man? Can't you understand? Will you never learn? Don't you         
know that I am sane and earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad          
fit, but a sane man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let        
me go! let me go! let me go!"                                               
  I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get,           
and so would bring on a fit; so I took him by the hand and raised           
him up.                                                                     
  "Come," I said sternly, "no more of this; we have had quite enough        
already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly."                
  He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments.        
Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of      
the bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasion, just as I had        
expected.                                                                   
  When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a        
quiet, well-bred voice:-                                                    
  "You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind,        
later on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night."                
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XIX                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XIX.                                   
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  1 October, 5 a.m.- I went with the party to the search with an            
easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well.      
I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the          
work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful            
business at all; but now that her work is done, and that it is due          
to her energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put          
together in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel            
that her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the            
rest to us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr.      
Renfield. When we came away from his room we were silent till we got        
back to the study. Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward:-                     
  "Say, Jack, if that man wasn't attempting a bluff, he is about the        
sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that he had          
some serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him not to      
get a chance." Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing        
added:-                                                                     
  "Friend John, you know more of lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of        
it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would before that      
last hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live and learn,        
and in our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincey        
would say. All is best as they are." Dr. Seward seemed to answer            
them both in a dreamy kind of way:-                                         
  "I don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had been an          
ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him; but          
he seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that I am      
afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't forget how      
he prayed with almost equal fervour for a cat, and then tried to            
tear my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count             
'lord and master,' and he may want to get out to help him in some           
diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and           
his own kind to help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use         
a respectable lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I only        
hope we have done what is best. These things, in conjunction with           
the wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve a man." The Professor        
stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said in his              
grave, kindly way:-                                                         
  "Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very        
sad and terrible case; we can only do as we deem best. What else            
have we to hope for, except the pity of the good God?" Lord                 
Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but he now returned.          
He held up a little silver whistle as he remarked:-                         
  "That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an antidote      
on call." Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking      
care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the               
moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened his      
bag and took out a lot of things, which he laid on the step, sorting        
them into four little groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke:-       
  "My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms        
of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that he has      
the strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or our               
windpipes are of the common kind- and therefore breakable or                
crushable- his are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or a      
body of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times hold          
him; but yet they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him. We must,        
therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your heart"-      
as he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it out to           
me, I being nearest to him- "put these flowers round your neck"-            
here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms- "for             
other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife; and for           
aid in all, these small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your        
breast; and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must         
not desecrate needless." This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which          
he put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was              
similarly equipped. "Now," he said, "friend John, where are the             
skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not break           
house by the window, as before at Miss Lucy's."                             
  Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical                 
dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got         
one to suit; after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded,         
and, with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the             
rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like         
the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of            
Miss Westenra's tomb; I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike           
the others, for with one accord they shrank back. The Professor was         
the first to move forward, and stepped into the open door.                  
  "In manus tuas, Domine!" he said, crossing himself as he passed over      
the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should            
have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road.      
The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to        
open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we        
all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search.                              
  The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the      
rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great           
shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that             
there was some one else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection,      
so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that          
terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to      
us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their               
shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself        
doing.                                                                      
  The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly              
inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on          
holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust           
was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the          
corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered         
till they looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them         
partly down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with         
a time-yellowed label on each. They had been used several times, for        
on the table were several similar rents in the blanket of dust,             
similar to that exposed when the Professor lifted them. He turned to        
me and said:-                                                               
  "You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of it, and           
you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?"      
I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not         
been able to get admission to it; so I led the way, and after a few         
wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door,              
ribbed with iron bands. "This is the spot," said the Professor as he        
turned his lamp on a small map of the house, copied from the file of        
my original correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little            
trouble we found the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were          
prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a         
faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of        
us even expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the others        
had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I had seen him he      
was either in the fasting stage of his existence in his rooms or, when      
he was gloated with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air;      
but here the place was small and close, and the long disuse had made        
the air stagnant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry        
miasma, which came through the fouler air. But as to the odour itself,      
now shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of           
all the ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of              
blood, but it seemed as though corruption had become itself corrupt.        
Faugh! it sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by that           
monster seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its               
loathsomeness.                                                              
  Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our         
enterprise to an end; but this was no ordinary case, and the high           
and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength           
which rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary      
shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set        
about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses.       
  We made an accurate examination of the place, and Professor saying        
as we began:-                                                               
  "The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left; we must        
then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get      
some clue as to what has become of the rest." A glance was                  
sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests            
were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.                                
  There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a           
fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the        
vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an         
instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the               
shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face,           
the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor.        
It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I thought I         
saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I        
turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There        
was no sign of any one; and as there were no corners, no doors, no          
aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there        
could be no hiding-place even for him. I took it that fear had              
helped imagination, and said nothing.                                       
  A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner,        
which he was examining. We all followed his movements with our eyes,        
for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole      
mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all                  
instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats.      
  For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming,           
who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to           
the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from        
the outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the          
lock, drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his        
little silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call.          
It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs,      
and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the              
corner of the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the             
door, and as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed:      
the boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even      
in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly            
increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the        
lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful      
eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The      
dogs dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and      
then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most             
lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we          
moved out.                                                                  
  Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed        
him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to      
recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They fled           
before him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a              
score, the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in in the same            
manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had vanished.                 
  With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed,         
for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden           
darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and            
tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find           
our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of the deadly                
atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we        
experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not; but most           
certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe,           
and the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim                   
significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We        
closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the            
dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing               
throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched      
save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once        
did the dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we            
returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had been           
rabbit-hunting in a summer wood.                                            
  The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the           
front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall-door from the          
bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into        
his pocket when he had done.                                                
  "So far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful. No harm      
has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained        
how many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this,           
our first- and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous- step has been      
accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam            
Mina or troubling her walking or sleeping thoughts with sights and          
sounds and smells of horror which she might never forget. One               
lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to argue a                 
particulari: that the brute beasts which are to the Count's command         
are yet themselves not amenable to his spiritual power; for look,           
these rats that would come to his call, just as from his castle top he      
summon the wolves to your going and to that poor mother's cry,              
though they come to him, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of      
my friend Arthur. We have other matters before us, other dangers,           
other fears; and that monster- he has not used his power over the           
brute world for the only or the last time to-night. So be it that he        
has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry 'check'        
in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the stake of             
human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, and we      
have reason to be content with our first night's work. It may be            
ordained that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of            
peril; but we must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink."              
  The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature        
who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning      
sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing         
himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of          
pain.                                                                       
  I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so      
softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler            
than usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her. I am             
truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even      
of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear.         
I did not think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am          
glad that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten           
her to hear; and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than to        
tell her if once she suspected that there was any concealment.              
Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least            
such time as we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth            
free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be               
difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours;           
but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over                
to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has           
happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.                     
-                                                                           
  1 October, later.- I suppose it was natural that we should have           
all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had      
no rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though         
I slept till the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call      
two or three times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep        
that for a few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with      
a sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad        
dream. She complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till      
later in the day. We now know of twenty one boxes having been removed,      
and if it be that several were taken in any of these removals we may        
be able to trace them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify         
our labour, and the sooner the matter is attended to the better. I          
shall look up Thomas Snelling to-day.                                       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  1 October.- it was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor      
walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and        
it is quite evident that last night's work has helped to take some          
of the brooding weight off his mind. After going over the adventure of      
the night he suddenly said:-                                                
  "Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit him      
this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it           
may be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk             
philosophy, and reason sound." I had some work to do which pressed, so      
I told him that if he would go alone I would be glad, as then I should      
not have to keep him waiting; so I called an attendant and gave him         
the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the room I            
cautioned him against getting any false impression from my patient.         
"But," he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his delusion      
as to consuming live things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your        
diary of yesterday, that he had once had such a belief. Why do you          
smile, friend John?"                                                        
  "Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand on the      
type-written matter. "When our sane and learned lunatic made that very      
statement of how he used to consume life, his mouth was actually            
nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before          
Mrs. Harker entered the room." Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!"          
he said. "Your memory is true, friend John. I should have                   
remembered. And yet it is this very obliquity of thought and memory         
which makes mental disease such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may          
gain more knowledge out of the folly of this madman than I shall            
from the teaching of the most wise. Who knows?" I went on with my           
work, and before long was through that in hand. It seemed that the          
time had been very short indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in the      
study. "Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door.         
  "Not at all," I answered. "Come in. My work is finished, and I am         
free. I can go with you now, if you like"                                   
  "It is needless; I have seen him!"                                        
  "Well?"                                                                   
  "I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was           
short. When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in the             
centre, with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture          
of sullen discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and          
with such a measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply          
whatever. "Don't you know me?" I asked. His answer was not reassuring:      
"I know you well enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish           
you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories somewhere           
else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!" Not a word more would he say,        
but sat in his implacable sullenness as indifferent to the as though I      
had not been ill the room at all. Thus departed for this time my            
chance of much learning from this so clever lunatic; so I shall go, if      
I may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that sweet soul         
Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me unspeakable that she is no      
more to be pained, no more to be worried, with our terrible things.         
Though we shall much miss her help, it is better so."                       
  "I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I         
did not want him to weaken in this matter, "Mrs. Harker is better           
out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world,        
and who have been in many tight places in our time; but it is no place      
for a woman, and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it           
would in time infallibly have wrecked her."                                 
  So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker;            
Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues as to the                
earth-boxes. I shall finish my round of work, and we shall meet             
to-night.                                                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  1 October.- it is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am            
to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him      
manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all.          
This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and              
though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me            
before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never            
mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's           
house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor          
dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it        
did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn         
further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he        
keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when         
I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good        
wishes of those other strong men...                                         
  That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all, and      
lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept        
anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has         
feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my         
heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and          
low-spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible         
excitement.                                                                 
  Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because            
they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of               
devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has been            
ever since Jonathan came to see me in London, and it all seems like         
a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly to some              
destined end. Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it        
may be, to bring on the very thing which is most to be deplored. If         
I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us            
now. She hadn't taken to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if        
she hadn't come there in the day-time with me she wouldn't have walked      
there in her sleep; and if she hadn't gone there at night and               
asleep, that monster couldn't have destroyed her as he did. Oh, why         
did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what has         
come over me today. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew            
that I had been crying twice in one morning- I, who never cried on          
my own account, and whom he has never caused to shed a tear- the            
dear fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a bold face on,           
and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see it. I suppose it is one          
of the lessons that we poor women have to learn...                          
  I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember           
hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like      
praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield's room, which is      
somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything,           
silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out        
of the window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by         
the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a          
thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death          
or fate; so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost        
imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to        
have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the                
digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got            
back to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but         
could not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window            
again. The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so        
that I could see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were         
stealing up to the windows. The poor man was more loud than ever,           
and though I could not distinguish a word he said, I could in some way      
recognise in his tones some passionate entreaty on his part. Then           
there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were      
dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and            
pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I           
was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought; but I must have           
fallen asleep, for, except dreams, I do not remember anything until         
the morning, when Jonathan woke me. I think that it took me an              
effort and a little time to realise where I was, and that it was            
Jonathan who was bending over me. My dream was very peculiar, and           
was almost typical of the way that waking thoughts become merged in,        
or continued in, dreams.                                                    
  I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come             
back. I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act; my          
feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing             
could proceed at the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and                
thought. Then it began to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and          
dank, and cold. I put back the clothes from my face, and found, to          
my surprise, that all was dim around. The gas-light which I had left        
lit for Jonathan, but turned down, came only like a tiny red spark          
through the fog, which had evidently grown thicker and poured into the      
room. There it occurred to me that I had shut the window before I           
had come to bed. I would have got out to make certain on the point,         
but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will.         
I lay still and endured; that was all. I closed my eyes, but could          
still see through my eyelids. (it is wonderful what tricks our              
dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew         
thicker and thicker, and I could see now how it came in, for I could        
see it like smoke- or with the white energy of boiling water-               
pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of the         
door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became            
concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the        
top of which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red            
eye. Things began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy              
column was now whirling in the room, and through it all came the            
scriptural words "a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night."           
Was it indeed some such spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my      
sleep? But the pillar was composed of both the day and the                  
night-guiding, for the fire was in the red eye, which at the thought        
got a new fascination for me; till, as I looked, the fire divided, and      
seemed to shine on me through the fog like two red eyes, such as            
Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wandering when, on the              
cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary's Church.          
Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had        
seen those awful women growing into reality throught the whirling mist      
in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all              
became black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination          
made was to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the           
mist. I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's         
reason if there were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing          
or Dr. Seward to prescribe something for me which would make me sleep,      
only that I fear to alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would      
become woven into their fears for me. To-night I shall strive hard          
to sleep naturally. If I do not, I shall to-morrow night get them to        
give me a dose of chloral; that cannot hurt me for once, and it will        
give me a good night's sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had        
not slept at all.                                                           
-                                                                           
  2 October 10 p.m.- Last night I slept, but did not dream, I must          
have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed; but      
the sleep has not refreshed me, for to-day I feel terribly weak and         
spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down             
dozing. In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor        
man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and         
bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when I         
think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful.           
Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the        
others were out until dinner-time, and they all came in tired. I did        
what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me      
good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to            
bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that      
they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the      
day; I could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something               
important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been;        
so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of        
some kind, as I had not slept well the night before. He very kindly         
made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to me, telling me that it      
would do me no harm, as it was very mild... I have taken it, and am         
waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done          
wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that         
I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of            
waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight.                       
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XX                                                                  
                             CHAPTER XX.                                    
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  1 October, evening.- I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal      
Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anything.        
The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him        
had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected             
debauch. I learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent,            
poor soul, that he was only the assistant to Smollet, who of the two        
mates was the responsible person. So off I drove to Walworth, and           
found Mr. Joseph Smollet at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a          
late tea out of a saucer. He is a decent, intelligent fellow,               
distinctly a good, reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of        
his own. He remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a      
wonderful dog's-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious      
receptable about the seat of his trousers, and which had                    
hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he gave me        
the destinations of the boxes. There were, he said, six in the              
cartload which he took from Carfax and left at 197, Chicksand               
Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he deposited at            
Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then the Count meant to scatter these          
ghastly refuges of his over London, these places were chosen as the         
first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully. The        
systematic manner in which this was done made me think that he could        
not mean to confine himself to two sides of London. He was now fixed        
on the far east of the northern shore, on the east of the southern          
shore, and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant to      
be left out of his diabolical scheme- let alone the City itself and         
the very heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west. I          
went back to Smollet, and asked him if he could tell us if any other        
boxes had been taken from Carfax.                                           
  He replied:-                                                              
  "Well, guv'nor, you've treated me wery' an'some"- I had given him         
half a sovereign- "an' I'll tell yer all I know I heard a man by the        
name of Bloxam say four nights ago in the 'are an 'Ounds, in Pincher's      
Alley, as 'ow he an' his mate 'ad 'ad a rare dusty job in a old             
'ouse at Purfect. There ain't a-many such jobs as this 'ere, an' I'm        
thinkin' that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut." I asked if he         
could tell me where to find him. I told him that if he could get me         
the address it would be worth another half-sovereign to him. So he          
gulped down the rest of his tea and stood up, saying that he was going      
to begin the search then and there. At the door he stopped, and said:-      
  "Look 'ere, guv'nor, there ain't no sense in me a-keepin' you             
'ere. I may find Sam soon, or I mayn't; but anyhow he ain't like to be      
in a way to tell ye much to-night. Sam is a rare one when he starts on      
the booze. If you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put        
yer address on it, I'll find out where Sam is to be found and post          
it ye to-night. But ye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the mornin',        
or maybe ye won't ketch 'im; for Sam gets off main early, never mind        
the booze the night afore."                                                 
  This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny      
to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change.            
When she came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and            
when Smollet had again faithfully promised to post the address when         
found, I took my way to home. We're on the track anyhow. I am tired         
to-night, and want sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little           
too pale; her eyes look as though she had been crying. Poor dear, I've      
no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make her           
doubly anxious about me and the others. But it is best as it is. It is      
better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have        
her nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on her             
being kept out of this dreadful business. I must be firm, for on me         
this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever enter on      
the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed, it may not be         
a hard task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the          
subject, and has not spoken of the Count or his doings ever since we        
told her of our decision.                                                   
-                                                                           
  2 October, evening.- A long and trying and exciting day. By the           
first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper           
enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter's pencil in a               
sprawling hand:-                                                            
  "Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk      
for the depite."                                                            
  I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She looked         
heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to wake      
her, but that, when I should return from this new search, I would           
arrange for her going back to Exeter. I think she would be happier          
in our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being        
here amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a               
moment, and told him where I was off to, promising to come back and         
tell the rest so soon as I should have found out anything. I drove          
to Walworth and found, with some difficulty, Potter's Court. Mr.            
Smollet's spelling misled me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead          
of Potter's Court. However, when I had found the court, I had no            
difficulty in discovering Corcoran's lodging-house. When I asked the        
man who came to the door for the "depite," he shook his head, and           
said: "I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a person 'ere; I never 'eard        
of 'im in all my bloomin days. Don't believe there ain't nobody of          
that kind livin 'ere or anywheres." I took out Smollet's letter, and        
as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the spelling of the         
name of the court might guide me. "What are you?" I asked.                  
  "I'm the depity," he answered. I saw at once that I was on the right      
track, phonetic spelling had again misled me. A half-crown tip put the      
deputy's knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam,           
who had slept off the remains of his beer on the previous night at          
Corcoran's, had left for his work at Poplar at five o'clock that            
morning. He could not tell me where the place of work was situated,         
but he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a "new-fangled             
ware'us;" and with this slender clue I had to start for Poplar. It was      
twelve o'clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such a                 
building, and this I got at a coffee-shop, where some workmen were          
having their dinner. One of these suggested that there was being            
erected at Cross Angel Street a new "cold storage" building; and as         
this suited the condition of a "new-fangled ware'us," I at once             
drove to it. An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier             
foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm, put me      
on the track of Bloxam; he was sent for on my suggesting that I was         
willing to pay his day's wages to his foreman for the privilege of          
asking him a few questions on a private matter. He was a smart              
enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I had promised      
to pay for his information and given him an earnest, he told me that        
he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in Piccadilly, and      
had taken from this house to the latter nine great boxes- "main             
heavy ones"- with a horse and cart hired by him for this purpose. I         
asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly,        
to which he replied:-                                                       
  "Well, guv'nor, I forgits the number, but it was only a few doors         
from a big white church or somethink of the kind, not long built. It        
was a dusty old 'ouse, too, though nothin' to the dustiness of the          
'ouse we tooked the bloomin' boxes from."                                   
  "How did you get into the houses if they were both empty?"                
  "There was the old party what engaged me a-waitin' in the 'ouse at        
Purfleet. He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray.          
Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' him a old        
feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he            
couldn't throw a shadder."                                                  
  How this phrase thrilled through me!                                      
  "Why, 'e took up 'is end o' the boxes like they was pounds of tea,        
and me a-puffin' an' a-blowin' afore I could up-end mine anyhow- an'        
I'm no chicken, neither."                                                   
  "How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?" I asked.                  
  "He was there too. He must 'a' started off and got there afore me,        
for when I rung of the bell he kem an' opened the door 'isself an'          
'elped me to carry the boxes into the 'all."                                
  "The whole nine?" I asked.                                                
  "Yus; there was five in the first load an' four in the second. It         
was main dry work, an' I don't so well remember 'ow I got 'ome." I          
interrupted him:-                                                           
  "Were the boxes left in the hall?"                                        
  "Yus; it was a big 'all, an' there was nothin' else in it." I made        
one more attempt to further matters:-                                       
  "You didn't have any key?"                                                
  "Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the door          
'isself an' shut it again when I druv off. I don't remember the last        
time- but that was the beer."                                               
  "And you can't remember the number of the house?"                         
  "No, sir. But ye needn't have no difficulty about that. It's a            
'igh 'un with a stone front with a bow on it, an' 'igh steps up to the      
door. I know them steps, 'avin 'ad to carry the boxes up with three         
loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them            
shillin's an' they seein' they got so much, they wanted more; but 'e        
took one of them by the shoulder and was like to throw 'im down the         
steps, till the lot of them went away cussin'." I thought that with         
this description I could find the house, so, having paid my friend for      
his information, I started off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new           
painful experience; the Count could, it was evident, handle the             
earth-boxes himself! If so, time was precious; for, now that he had         
achieved a certain amount of distribution, he could, by choosing his        
own time, complete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I              
discharged my cab, and walked westward; beyond the Junior                   
Constitutional I came across the house described, and was satisfied         
that this was the next of the lairs arranged by Dracula. The house          
looked as though it had been long untenanted. The windows were              
encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up. All the framework was        
black with time, and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away.        
It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice-board        
in front of the balcony; it had, however, been roughly torn away,           
the uprights which had supported it still remaining. Behind the             
rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose boards, whose raw          
edges looked white. I would have given a good deal to have been able        
to see the notice-board intact, as it would, perhaps, have given            
some clue to the owner-ship of the house. I remembered my experience        
of the investigation and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but            
feel that if I could find the former owner there might be some means        
discovered of gaining access to the house.                                  
  There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side,      
and nothing could be done; so I went round to the back to see if            
anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active,         
the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two        
of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me           
anything about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it           
had lately been taken, but he couldn't say from whom. He told me,           
however, that up to very lately there had been a notice-board of            
"For Sale" up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, the house          
agents, could tell me something, as he thought he remembered seeing         
the name of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too              
eager, or to let my informant know or guess too much, so, thanking him      
in the usual manner, I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the      
autumn night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having             
learned the address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the      
Berkeley, I was soon at their office in Sackville Street.                   
  The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but            
uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the           
Piccadilly house- which throughout our interview he called a                
"mansion"- was sold, he considered my business as concluded. When I         
asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and         
paused a few seconds before replying:-                                      
  "It is sold, sir."                                                        
  "Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a special         
reason for wishing to know who purchased it."                               
  Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. "It is        
sold sir," was again his laconic reply.                                     
  "Surely," I said, "you do not mind letting me know so much."              
  "But I do mind," he answered. "The affairs of their clients are           
absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy." This was          
manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing          
with him. I thought I had best meet him on his own ground, so I said:       
  "Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a guardian of         
their confidence. I am myself a professional man." Here I handed him        
my card. "In this instance I am not prompted by curiosity; I act on         
the part of Lord Godalming, who wishes to know something of the             
property which was, he understood, lately for sale." These words put a      
different complexion on affairs. He said:-                                  
  "I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and especially        
would I like to oblige his lordship. We once carried out a small            
matter of renting some chambers for him when he was the Honourable          
Arthur Holmwood. If you will let me have his lordship's address I will      
consult the House on the subject, and will in any case, communicate         
with his lordship by to-night's post. It will be a pleasure if we           
can so far deviate from our rules as to give the required                   
information to his lordship."                                               
  I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I               
thanked him, gave the address at Dr. Seward's, and came away. It was        
now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the             
Aerated Bread Company and came down to Purfleet by the next train.          
  I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale, but      
she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful; it wrung my heart      
to think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused her         
inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking on        
at our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our            
confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of        
keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled;        
or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for         
when any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am            
glad we made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this,        
our growing knowledge would be torture to her.                              
  I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we were           
alone; so after dinner- followed by a little music to save appearances      
even amongst ourselves- I took Mina to her room and left her to go          
to bed. The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and          
clung to me as though she would detain me; but there was much to be         
talked of and I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things         
has made no difference between us.                                          
  When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the          
fire in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and          
simply read it off to them as the best means of letting them get            
abreast of my own information; when I had finished Van Helsing said:-       
  "This has been a great day's work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are      
on the track of the missing boxes. If we find them all in that              
house, then our work is near the end. But if there be some missing, we      
must search until we find them. Then shall we make our final coup, and      
hunt the wretch to his real death." We all sat silent awhile and all        
at once Mr. Morris spoke:-                                                  
  "Say! how are we going to get into that house?"                           
  "We got into the other," answered Lord Godalming quickly.                 
  "But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had        
night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different        
thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I           
confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck      
can find us a key of some sort; perhaps we shall know when you get his      
letter in the morning." Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he           
stood up and walked about the room. By-and-by he stopped and said,          
turning from one to another of us:-                                         
  "Quincey's head is level. This burglary business is getting serious;      
we got off once all right; but we have now a rare job on hand-              
unless we can find the Count's key basket."                                 
  As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be          
at least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from             
Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast         
time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in its      
various lights and bearings; I took the opportunity of bringing this        
diary right up to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to bed...       
  Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her        
forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks          
even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so haggard      
as she did this morning. Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all this; she          
will be herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy!                     
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  1 October- I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His moods change so        
rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they         
always mean something more than his own well-being, they form a more        
than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see him after his      
repulse of Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding             
destiny. He was, in fact, commanding destiny- subjectively. He did not      
really care for any of the things of mere earth; he was in the              
clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor           
mortals. I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something,        
so I asked him:-                                                            
  "What about the flies these times?" He smiled on me in quite a            
superior sort of way- such a smile as would have become the face of         
Malvolio- as he answered me:-                                               
  "The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature; its wings are            
typical of the aerial powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients         
did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly!"                       
  I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I          
said quickly:-                                                              
  "Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?" His madness foiled           
his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face as, shaking his         
head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in him, he said:-          
  "Oh no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want." Here he              
brightened up; "I am pretty indifferent about it at present. Life is        
all right; I have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor, if        
you wish to study zoophagy!"                                                
  This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on:-                              
  "Then you command life; you are a god I suppose?" He smiled with          
an ineffably benign superiority.                                            
  "Oh no! Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of         
the Deity. I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual doings.      
If I may state my intellectual position I am, so far as concerns            
things purely terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch             
occupied spiritually!" This was a poser to me. I could not at the           
moment recall Enoch's appositeness; so I had to ask a simple question,      
though I felt that by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of         
the lunatic:-                                                               
  "And why with Enoch?"                                                     
  "Because he walked with God." I could not see the analogy, but did        
not like to admit it; so I harked back to what he had denied:-              
  "So you don't care about life and you don't want souls. Why not?"         
I put my question quickly and somewhat sternly, on purpose to               
disconcert him. The effort succeeded; for an instant he                     
unconsciously relapsed into his old servile manner, bent low before         
me, and actually fawned upon me as he replied:-                             
  "I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don't. I couldn't use          
them if I had them; they would be no manner of use to me. I couldn't        
eat them or-" he suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over      
his face, like a wind-sweep on the surface of the water. "And               
doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've got all you           
require, and you know that you will never want, that is all. I have         
friends- good friends- like you Dr. Seward;" this was said with a leer      
of inexpressible cunning, "I know that I shall never lack the means of      
life!"                                                                      
  I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some           
antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of            
such as he- a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the         
present it was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came         
away.                                                                       
  Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come         
without special reason, but just at present I am so interested in           
him that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to have          
anything to help to pass the time. Harker is out, following up              
clues; and so are Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my        
study poring over the record prepared by the Harkers; he seems to           
think that by accurate knowledge of all details he will light upon          
some clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without            
cause. I would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I            
thought that after his last repulse he might not care to go again.          
There was also another reason: Renfield might not speak so freely           
before a third person as when he and I were alone.                          
  I found him sitting out in the middle of the floor on his stool, a        
pose which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his             
part. When I came in, he said at once, as though the question had been      
waiting on his lips:-                                                       
  "What about souls?" It was evident then that my surmise had been          
correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the          
lunatic. I determined to have the matter out. "What about them              
yourself?" I asked. He did not reply for a moment but looked all round      
him, and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration        
for an answer.                                                              
  "I don't want any souls!" he said in a feeble, apologetic way. The        
matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it- to        
"be cruel only to be kind." So I said:-                                     
  "You like life, and you want life?"                                       
  "Oh yes! but that is all right; you needn't worry about that!"            
  "But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting the soul      
also?" This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up:-                     
  "A nice time you'll have some time when you're flying out there,          
with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats         
buzzing and twittering and miauing all round you. You've got their          
lives, you know, and you must put up with their souls!" Something           
seemed to affect his imagination, for he put his fingers to his ears        
and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly just as a small boy does        
when his face is being soaped. There was something pathetic in it that      
touched me; it also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that before me was      
a child- only a child, though the features were worn, and the               
stubble on the jaws was white. It was evident that he was undergoing        
some process of mental disturbance, and, knowing how his past moods         
had interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself, I thought I would      
enter into his mind as well as I could and go with him. The first step      
was to restore confidence, so I asked him, speaking pretty loud so          
that he would hear me through his closed ears:-                             
  "Would you like some sugar to get your flies round again?" He seemed      
to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a laugh he replied:-       
  "Not much! flies are poor things, after all!" After a pause he            
added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing round me, all the same."       
  "Or spiders?" I went on.                                                  
  "Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anything in         
them to eat or"- he stopped suddenly, as though reminded of a               
forbidden topic.                                                            
  "So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he has            
suddenly stopped at the word 'drink;' what does it mean?" Renfield          
seemed himself aware of having made a lapse, for he hurried on, as          
though to distract my attention from it:-                                   
  "I don't take any stock at all in such matters. 'Rats and mice and        
such small deer,' as Shakespeare has it, 'chicken-feed of the               
larder' they might be called. I'm past all that sort of nonsense.           
You might as well ask a man to eat molecules with a pair of                 
chop-sticks, as to try to interest me about the lesser carnivora, when      
I know of what is before me."                                               
  "I see," I said. "You want big things that you can make your teeth        
meet in? How would you like to breakfast on elephant?"                      
  "What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" He was getting too            
wide awake, so I thought I would press him hard. "I wonder," I said         
reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is like!"                            
  The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his           
high-horse and became a child again.                                        
  "I don't want an elephant's soul, or, any soul at all!" he said.          
For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his feet,      
with his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral                 
excitement. "To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do you      
plague me about souls. Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, and         
distract me already, without thinking of souls!" He looked so               
hostile that I thought he was in for another homicidal fit, so I            
blew my whistle. The instant, however, that I did so he became calm,        
and said apologetically:-                                                   
  "Forgive me, Doctor; I forgot myself. You do not need any help. I am      
so worried in my mind that I am apt to be irritable. If you only            
knew the problem I have to face, and that I am working out, you             
would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not put me in a            
strait-waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot think freely when my         
body is confined. I am sure you will understand!" He had evidently          
self-control; so when the attendants came I told them not to mind, and      
they withdrew. Renfield watched them go; when the door was closed he        
said, with considerable dignity and sweetness:-                             
  "Dr. Seward you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me         
that I am very, very grateful to you!" I thought it well to leave           
him in this mood, and so I came away. There is certainly something          
to ponder over in this man's state. Several points seem to make what        
the American interviewer calls "a story," if one could only get them        
in proper order. Here they are:-                                            
  Will not mention "drinking."                                              
  Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of anything.          
  Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future.                             
  Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads being      
haunted by their souls.                                                     
  Logically all these things point one way! he has assurance of some        
kind that he will acquire some higher life. He dreads the consequence-      
the burden of a soul. Then it is a human life he looks to!                  
  And the assurance-?                                                       
  Merciful God! the Count has been to him, and there is some new            
scheme of terror afoot!                                                     
-                                                                           
  Later.- I went after my round to Van Helsing and told him my              
suspicion. He grew very grave; and, after thinking the matter over for      
a while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so. As we came to           
the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as he used to do        
in the time which now seems so long ago. When we entered we saw with        
amazement that he had spread out his sugar as of old; the flies,            
lethargic with the autumn, were beginning to buzz into the room. We         
tried to make him talk of the subject of our previous conversation,         
but he would not attend. He went on with his singing, just as though        
we had not been present. He had got a scrap of paper and was folding        
it into a note-book. We had to come away as ignorant as we went in.         
  His is a curious case indeed; we must watch him to-night.                 
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
         Letter, Mitchell, Sons and Candy to Lord Godalming.                
-                                                                           
                                                          "1 October.       
  "My Lord,-                                                                
  "We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg,          
with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by Mr. Harker on      
your behalf, to supply the following information concerning the sale        
and purchase of No. 347 Piccadilly. The original vendors are the            
executors of the late Mr. Archibald Winter-Suffield. The purchaser          
is a foreign nobleman, Count de Ville, who effected the purchase            
himself paying the purchase money in notes 'over the counter,' if your      
Lordship will pardon us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this          
we know nothing whatever of him.                                            
                                                    "We are, my Lord,       
                                    "Your Lordship's humble servants.       
                                            "Mitchell, Sons & Candy."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  2 October.- I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told           
him to make an accurate note of any sound he might hear from                
Renfield's room, and gave him instructions that if there should be          
anything strange he was to call me. After dinner, when we had all           
gathered round the fire in the study- Mrs. Harker having gone to            
bed- we discussed the attempts and discoveries of the day. Harker           
was the only one who had any result, and we are in great hopes that         
his clue may be an important one.                                           
  Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and looked in      
through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, and his heart        
rose and fell with regular respiration.                                     
  This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little after           
midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat               
loudly. I asked him if that was all; he replied that it was all he          
heard. There was something about his manner so suspicious that I asked      
him point blank if he had been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted        
to having "dozed" for a while. It is too bad that men cannot be             
trusted unless they are watched.                                            
  To-day Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and Quincey           
are looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will be well to          
have horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which      
we seek there will be no time to lose. We must sterilise all the            
imported earth between sunrise and sunset; we shall thus catch the          
Count at his weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is        
off to the British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient            
medicine. The old physicians took account of things which their             
followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for witch           
and demon cures which may be useful to us later.                            
  I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to            
sanity in strait-waistcoats.                                                
-                                                                           
  Later.- We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and        
our work of to-morrow may be the beginning of the end. I wonder if          
Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this. His moods have so            
followed the doings of the Count, that the coming destruction of the        
monster may be carried to him in some subtle way. If we could only get      
some hint as to what passed in his mind, between the time of my             
argument with him to-day and his resumption of fly-catching, it             
might afford us a valuable clue. He is now seemingly quiet for a            
spell... Is he?- that wild yell seemed to come from his room.               
  The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield        
had somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell; and when he      
went to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with      
blood. I must go at once...                                                 
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXI                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XXI.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  3 October. Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well      
as I can remember it, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that         
I can recall must be forgotten; in all calmness I must proceed.             
  When I came to Renfield's room I found him lying on the floor on his      
left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I went to move him, it        
became at once apparent that he had received some terrible injuries;        
there seemed none of that unity of purpose between the parts of the         
body which marks even lethargic sanity. As the face was exposed I           
could see that it was horribly bruised, as though it had been beaten        
against the floor- indeed it was from the face wounds that the pool of      
blood originated. The attendant who was kneeling beside the body            
said to me as we turned him over:-                                          
  "I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both his right arm and leg        
and the whole side of his face are paralysed." How such a thing             
could have happened puzzled the attendant beyond measure. He seemed         
quite bewildered, and his brows were gathered in as he said:-               
  "I can't understand the two things. He could mark his face like that      
by beating his own head on the floor. I saw a young woman do it once        
at the Eversfield Asylum before anyone could lay hands on her. And I        
suppose he might have broken his neck by falling out of bed, if he got      
in an awkward kink. But for the life of me I can't imagine how the two      
things occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn't beat his head; and      
if his face was like that before the fall out of bed, there would be        
marks of it." I said to him:-                                               
  "Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly come here at once. I        
want him without an instant's delay." The man ran off, and within a         
few minutes the Professor, in his dressing gown and slippers appeared.      
When he saw Renfield on the ground, he looked keenly at him a moment        
and then turned to me. I think he recognised my thought in my eyes,         
for he said very quietly manifestly for the ears of the attendant:-         
  "Ah a sad accident! He will need very careful watching, and much          
attention. I shall stay with you myself, but I shall first dress            
myself if you will remain I shall in a few minutes join you."               
  The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was easy to see         
that he had suffered some terrible injury. Van Helsing returned with        
extraordinary celerity, bearing with him a surgical case. He had            
evidently been thinking and had his mind made up; for, almost before        
he looked at the patient, he whispered to me:-                              
  "Send the attendant away. We must be alone with him when he               
becomes conscious, after the operation." So I said:-                        
  "I think that will do now Simmons. We have done all that we can at        
present. You had better go your round, and Dr. Van Helsing will             
operate. Let me know instantly if there be anything unusual anywhere."      
  The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the            
patient. The wounds of the face were superficial; the real injury           
was a depressed fracture of the skull, extending right up through           
the motor area. The Professor thought a moment and said:-                   
  "We must reduce the pressure and get back to normal conditions, as        
far as can be; the rapidity of the suffusion shows the terrible nature      
of his injury. The whole motor area seems affected. The suffusion of        
the brain will increase quickly, so we must trephine at once or it may      
be too late." As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door.      
I went over and opened it and found in the corridor without, Arthur         
and Quincey in pajamas and slippers: the former spoke:-                     
  "I heard your man call up Dr. Van Helsing and tell him of an              
accident. So I woke Quincey or rather called for him as he was not          
asleep. Things are moving too quickly and too strangely for sound           
sleep for any of us these times. I've been thinking that to-morrow          
night will not see things as they have been. We'll have to look             
back- and forward a little more than we have done. May we come in?"         
I nodded, and held the door open till they had entered; then I              
closed it again. When Quincey saw the attitude and state of the             
patient, and noted the horrible pool on the floor, he said softly:-         
  "My God! what has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!" I told him          
briefly, and added that we expected he would recover consciousness          
after the operation- for a short time at all events. He went at once        
and sat down on the edge of the bed, with Godalming beside him; we all      
watched in patience.                                                        
  "We shall wait," said Van Helsing, "just long enough to fix the           
best spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and perfectly         
remove the blood clot; for it is evident that the haemorrhage is            
increasing."                                                                
  The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful slowness. I        
had a horrible sinking in my heart, and from Van Helsing's face I           
gathered that he felt some fear or apprehension as to what was to           
come. I dreaded the words that Renfield might speak. I was                  
positively afraid to think; but the conviction of what was coming           
was on me, as I have read of men who have heard the death-watch. The        
poor man's breathing came in uncertain gasps. Each instant he seemed        
as though he would open his eyes and speak, but then would follow a         
prolonged stertorous breath, and he would relapse into a more fixed         
insensibility. Inured as I was to sick beds and death, this suspense        
grew, and grew upon me. I could almost hear the beating of my own           
heart; and the blood surging through my temples sounded like blows          
from a hammer. The silence finally became agonising. I looked at my         
companions, one after another, and saw from their flushed faces and         
damp brows that they were enduring equal torture. There was a               
nervous suspense over us all, as though overhead some dread bell would      
peal out powerfully when we should least expect it.                         
  At last there came a time when it was evident that the patient was        
sinking fast; he might die at any moment. I looked up at the Professor      
and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His face was sternly set as he           
spoke:-                                                                     
  "There is no time to lose. His words may be worth many lives; I have      
been thinking so, as I stood here. It may be there is a soul at stake!      
We shall operate just above the ear."                                       
  Without another word he made the operation. For a few moments the         
breathing continued to be stertorous. Then there came a breath so           
prolonged that it seemed as though it would tear open his chest.            
Suddenly his eyes opened, and became fixed in a wild, helpless              
stare. This was continued for a few moments; then it softened into a        
glad surprise, and from the lips came a sigh of relief. He moved            
convulsively and as he did so, said:-                                       
  "I'll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the                         
strait-waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so        
weak that I cannot move. What's wrong with my face? it feels all            
swollen, and it smarts dreadfully." He tried to turn his head; but          
even with the effort his eyes seemed to grow glassy again, so I gently      
put it back. Then Van Helsing said in a quiet grave tone:-                  
  "Tell us your dream, Mr. Renfield." As he heard the voice his face        
brightened through its mutilation, and he said:-                            
  "That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it is of you to be here. Give          
me some water, my lips are dry; and I shall try to tell you. I              
dreamed"- he stopped and seemed fainting, I called quietly to Quincey-      
"The brandy- it is in my study- quick!" He flew and returned with a         
glass, the decanter of brandy and a carafe of water. We moistened           
the parched lips, and the patient quickly revived. It seemed, however,      
that his poor injured brain had been working in the interval, for,          
when he was quite conscious, he looked at me piercingly with an             
agonised confusion which I shall never forget, and said:-                   
  "I must not deceive myself, it was no dream, but all a grim               
reality." Then his eyes roved round the room; as they caught sight          
of the two figures sitting patiently on the edge of the bed he went         
on:-                                                                        
  "If I were not sure already, I would know from them." For an instant      
his eyes closed- not with pain or sleep but voluntarily, as though          
he were bringing all his faculties to bear, when he opened them he          
said, hurriedly, and with more energy than he had yet displayed:-           
  "Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying! I feel that I have but a few           
minutes; and then I must go back to death- or worse! Wet my lips            
with brandy again. I have something that I must say before I die; or        
before my poor crushed brain dies anyhow. Thank you! It was that night      
after you left me, when I implored you to let me go away. I couldn't        
speak then, for I felt my tongue was tied; but I was as sane then,          
except in that way, as I am now. I was in an agony of despair for a         
long time after you left me; it seemed hours. Then there came a sudden      
peace to me. My brain seemed to become cool again, and I realised           
where I was. I heard the dogs bark behind our house, but not where          
He was!" As he spoke Van Helsing's eyes never blinked, but his hand         
came out and met mine and gripped it hard. He did not, however, betray      
himself, he nodded slightly and said: "Go on," in a low voice.              
Renfield proceeded:-                                                        
  "He came up to the window in the mist, as I had seen him often            
before; but he was solid then- not a ghost, and his eyes were fierce        
like a man's when angry. He was laughing with his red mouth; the sharp      
white teeth glinted in the moonlight when he turned to look back            
over the belt of trees, to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn't ask      
him to come in at first, though I knew he wanted to just as he had          
wanted all along. Then he began promising me things- not in words           
but by doing them." He was interrupted by a word from the Professor:-       
  "How?"                                                                    
  "By making them happen; just as he used to send in the flies when         
the sun was shining. Great big fat ones with steel and sapphire on          
their wings; and big moths, in the night, with skull and crossbones on      
their backs." Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me               
unconsciously:-                                                             
  "The Acherontia Aiettropos of the Sphinges- what you call the             
'Death's-head Moth?'" The patient went on without stopping.                 
  "Then he began to whisper: 'Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands,        
millions of them, and every one a life; and dogs to eat them, and cats      
too. All lives! all red blood, with years of life in it; and not            
merely buzzing flies!' I laughed at him, for I wanted to see what he        
could do. Then the dogs howled, away beyond the dark trees in His           
house. He beckoned me to the window. I got up and looked out, and He        
raised his hands, and seemed to call out without using any words. A         
dark mass spread over the grass, coming on like the shape of a flame        
of fire; and then He moved the mist to the right and left, and I could      
see that there were thousands of rats with their eyes blazing red-          
like His, only smaller. He held up his hand, and they all stopped; and      
I thought He seemed to be saying: 'All these lives will I give you,         
ay, and many more and greater, through countless ages, if you will          
fall down and worship me!' And then a red cloud, like the colour of         
blood, seemed to close over my eyes; and before I knew what I was           
doing, I found myself opening the sash and saying to Him: 'Come in,         
Lord and Master!' The rats were all gone, but He slid into the room         
through the sash, though it was only open an inch wide- just as the         
Moon herself has often come in through the tiniest crack and has stood      
before me in all her size and splendour."                                   
  His voice was weaker, so I moistened his lips with the brandy again,      
and he continued; but it seemed as though his memory had gone on            
working in the interval for his story was further advanced. I was           
about to call him back to the point, but Van Helsing whispered to           
me: "Let him go on. Do not interrupt him; he cannot go back, and            
may-be could not proceed at all if once he lost the thread of his           
thought." He proceeded:-                                                    
  "All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send me anything,      
not even a blow-fly, and when the moon got up I was pretty angry            
with him. When he slid in through the window, though it was shut,           
and did not even knock, I got mad with him. He sneered at me, and           
his white face looked out of the mist with his red eyes gleaming,           
and he went on as though he owned the whole place, and I was no one.        
He didn't even smell the same as he went by me. I couldn't hold him. I      
thought that, somehow, Mrs. Harker had come into the room."                 
  The two men sitting on the bed stood up and came over standing            
behind him so that he could not see them, but where they could hear         
better. They were both silent, but the Professor started and quivered;      
his face, however, grew grimmer and sterner still. Renfield went on         
without noticing:-                                                          
  "When Mrs. Harker came in to see me this afternoon she wasn't the         
same; it was like tea after the teapot had been watered." Here we           
all moved, but no one said a word; he went on:-                             
  "I didn't know that she was here till she spoke; and she didn't look      
the same. I don't care for the pale people; I like them with lots of        
blood in them, and hers had all seemed to have run out. I didn't think      
of it at the time; but when she went away I began to think, and it          
made me mad to know that He had been taking the life out of her." I         
could feel that the rest quivered, as I did; but we remained otherwise      
still. "So when He came to-night I was ready for Him. I saw the mist        
stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have           
unnatural strength; and as I knew I was a madman- at times anyhow- I        
resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come        
out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight; and I thought I was      
going to win, for I didn't mean Him to take any more of her life, till      
I saw His eyes. They burned into me, and my strength became like            
water. He slipped through it, and when I tried to cling to Him, He          
raised me up and flung me down. There was a red cloud before me, and a      
noise like thunder, and the mist seemed to steal away under the door."      
His voice was becoming fainter and his breath more stertorous. Van          
Helsing stood up instinctively.                                             
  "We know the worst now," he said. "He is here, and we know his            
purpose. It may not be too late. Let us be armed- the same as we            
were the other night, but lose no time; there is not an instant to          
spare." There was no need to put our fear, nay our conviction, into         
words- we shared them in common. We all hurried and took from our           
rooms the same things that we had when we entered the Court's house.        
The Professor had his ready, and as we met in the corridor he               
pointed to them significantly as he said:-                                  
  "They never leave me; and they shall not till this unhappy                
business is over. Be wise also, my friends. It is no common enemy that      
we deal with. Alas! alas! that that dear Madam Mina should suffer!" He      
stopped; his voice was breaking, and I do not know if rage or terror        
predominated in my own heart.                                               
  Outside the Harker's door we paused. Art and Quincey held back,           
and the latter said:-                                                       
  "Should we disturb her?"                                                  
  "We must," said Van Helsing grimly. "If the door be locked, I             
shall break it in."                                                         
  "May it not frighten her terribly? it is unusual to break into a          
lady's room!" Van Helsing said solemnly.                                    
  "You are always right; but this is life and death. All chambers           
are alike to the doctor, and even were they not they are all as one to      
me to-night. Friend John, when I turn the handle, if the door does not      
open, do you put your shoulder down and shove; and you too, my              
friends, Now!"                                                              
  He turned the handle as he spoke, but the door did not yield. We          
threw ourselves against it; with a crash it burst open, and we              
almost fell headlong into the room. The Professor did actually fall,        
and I saw across him as he gathered himself up from hands and knees.        
What I saw appalled me. I felt my hair rise like bristles on the            
back of my neck, and my heart seemed to stand still.                        
  The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow blind           
the room was light enough to see. On the bed beside the window lay          
Jonathan Harker, his face flushed and breathing heavily as though in a      
stupor. Kneeling on the near edge of the bed facing outwards was the        
white-clad figure of his wife. By her side stood a tall, thin man,          
clad in black. His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw          
we all recognised the Count- in every way, even to the scar on his          
forehead. With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping      
them away with her arms at full tension; his right hand gripped her by      
the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white         
night-dress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled down         
the man's bare breast which was shown by his torn-open dress. The           
attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a child forcing a         
kitten's nose into a saucer of milk to compel it to drink. As we burst      
into the room, the Count turned his face, and the hellish look that         
I had heard described seemed to leap into it. His eyes flamed red with      
devilish passion; the great nostrils of the white aquiline nose opened      
wide and quivered at the edge; and the white sharp teeth, behind the        
full lips of the blood-dripping mouth, champed together like those          
of a wild beast. With a wrench, which threw his victim back upon the        
bed as though hurled from a height, he turned and sprang at us. But by      
this time the Professor had gained his feet, and was holding towards        
him the envelope which contained the Sacred Wafer. The Count                
suddenly stopped, just as poor Lucy had done outside the tomb, and          
cowered back. Further and further back he cowered, as we, lifting           
our crucifixes, advanced. The moonlight suddenly failed, as a great         
black cloud sailed across the sky; and when the gaslight sprang up          
under Quincey's match, we saw nothing but a faint vapour. This, as          
we looked, trailed under the door, which with the recoil from its           
bursting open, had swung back to its old position. Van Helsing, Art,        
and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her          
breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so          
despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till        
my dying day. For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and        
disarray. Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by      
the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin; from her              
throat trickled a thin stream of blood her eyes were mad with               
terror. Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which          
bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip, and      
from behind them came a low desolate wail which made the terrible           
scream seem only the quick expression of an endless grief. Van Helsing      
stepped forward and drew the coverlet gently over her body, whilst          
Art, after looking at her face for an instant despairingly, ran out of      
the room. Van Helsing whispered to me:-                                     
  "Jonathan is in a stupor such as we know the Vampire can produce. We      
can do nothing with poor Madam Mina for a few moments till she              
recovers herself, I must wake him!" He dipped the end of a towel in         
cold water and with it began to flick him on the face, his wife all         
the while holding her face between her hands and sobbing in a way that      
was heart-breaking to hear. I raised the blind, and looked out of           
the window. There was much moonshine; and as I looked I could see           
Quincey Morris run across the lawn and hide himself in the shadow of a      
great yew tree. It puzzled me to think why he was doing this; but at        
the instant I heard Harker's quick exclamation as he woke to partial        
consciousness, and turned to the bed. On his face, as there might well      
be, was a look of wild amazement. He seemed dazed for a few seconds,        
and then full consciousness seemed to burst upon him all at once,           
and he started up. His wife was aroused by the quick movement, and          
turned to him with her arms stretched out, as though to embrace him;        
instantly, however, she drew them in again, and putting her elbows          
together, held her hands before her face, and shuddered till the bed        
beneath her shook.                                                          
  "In God's name what does this mean?" Harker cried out, "Dr.               
Seward, Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? What is wrong?      
Mina, dear, what is it? What does that blood mean? My God, my God! has      
it come to this!" and, raising himself to his knees, he beat his hands      
wildly together. "Good God help us! help her! oh, help her!" With a         
quick movement he jumped from bed, and began to pull on his                 
clothes,- all the man in him awake at the need for instant exertion.        
"What has happened? Tell me all about it?" he cried without pausing.        
"Dr. Van Helsing, you love Mina, I know. Oh, do something to save her.      
It cannot have gone too far yet. Guard her while I look for him!"           
His wife, through her terror and horror and distress saw some sure          
danger to him: instantly forgetting her own grief, she seized hold          
of him and cried out:-                                                      
  "No! no! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suffered enough          
to-night, God knows, without the dread of his harming you. You must         
stay with me. Stay with these friends who will watch over you!" Her         
expression became frantic as she spoke; and, he yielding to her, she        
pulled him down sitting on the bed side, and clung to him fiercely.         
  Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Professor held up his      
little golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness:-                  
  "Do not fear, my dear. We are here; and whilst this is close to           
you no foul thing can approach. You are safe for to-night; and we must      
be calm and take counsel together." She shuddered and was silent,           
holding down her head on her husband's breast. When she raised it, his      
white night-robe was stained with blood where her lips had touched,         
and where the thin open wound in her neck had sent forth drops. The         
instant she saw it she drew back, with a low wall, and whispered,           
amidst choking sobs:-                                                       
  "Unclean, unclean! I must touch him or kiss him no more. Oh, that it      
should be that it is I who am now his worst enemy, and whom he may          
have most cause to fear." To this he spoke out resolutely:-                 
  "Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me to hear such a word. I would         
not hear it of you; and I shall not hear it from you. May God judge me      
by my deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this      
hour, if by any act or will of mine anything ever come between us!" He      
put out his arms and folded her to his breast; and for a while she lay      
there sobbing. He looked at us over her bowed head, with eyes that          
blinked damply above his quivering nostrils; his mouth was set as           
steel. After a while her sobs became less frequent and more faint, and      
then he said to me, speaking with a studied calmness which I felt           
tried his nervous power to the utmost:-                                     
  "And now, Dr. Seward, tell me all about it. Too well I know the           
broad fact; tell me all that has been." I told him exactly what had         
happened, and he listened with seeming impassiveness; but his nostrils      
twitched and his eyes blazed as I told how the ruthless hands of the        
Count had held his wife in that terrible and horrid position, with her      
mouth to the open wound in his breast. It interested me, even at            
that moment, to see, that, whilst the face of white set passion worked      
convulsively over the bowed head, the hands tenderly and lovingly           
stroked the ruffled hair. Just as I had finished, Quincey and               
Godalming knocked at the door. They entered in obedience to our             
summons. Van Helsing looked at me questioningly. I understood him to        
mean if we were to take advantage of their coming to divert if              
possible the thoughts of the unhappy husband and wife from each             
other and from themselves; so on nodding acquiescence to him he             
asked them what they had seen or done. To which Lord Godalming              
answered:-                                                                  
  "I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any of our            
rooms. I looked in the study but, though he had been there, he had          
gone. He had, however-" He stopped suddenly looking at the poor             
drooping figure on the bed. Van Helsing said gravely:-                      
  "Go on friend Arthur. We want here no more concealments. Our hope         
now is in knowing all. Tell freely!" So Art went on:-                       
  "He had been there, and though it could only have been for a few          
seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript had been         
burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white ashes;        
the cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and           
the wax had helped the flames." Here I interrupted. "Thank God there        
is the other copy in the safe!" His face lit for a moment, but fell         
again as he went on; "I ran down stairs then, but could see no sign of      
him. I looked into Renfield's room; but there was no trace there            
except-!" Again he paused. "Go on," said Harker hoarsely; so he             
bowed his head and moistening his lips with his tongue, added: "except      
that the poor fellow is dead." Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking         
from one to the other of us she said solemnly:-                             
  "God's will be done!" I could not but feel that Art was keeping back      
something; but, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said             
nothing. Van Helsing turned to Morris and asked:-                           
  "And you, friend Quincey, have you any to tell?"                          
  "A little," he answered. "It may be much eventually, but at               
present I can't say. I thought it well to know if possible where the        
Count would go when he left the house. I did not see him; but I saw         
a bat rise from Renfield's window, and flap westward. I expected to         
see him in some shape go back to Carfax; but he evidently sought            
some other lair. He will not be back to-night; for the sky is               
reddening in the east, and the dawn is close. We must work to-morrow!"      
  He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a space of           
perhaps a couple of minutes there was silence, and I could fancy            
that I could hear the sound of our hearts beating; then Van Helsing         
said, placing his hand very tenderly on Mrs. Harker's head:-                
  "And now, Madam Mina- poor, dear, dear Madam Mina- tell us exactly        
what happened. God knows that I do not want that you be pained; but it      
is need that we know all. For now more than ever has all work to be         
done quick and sharp, and in deadly earnest. The day is close to us         
that must end all, if it may be so; and now is the chance that we           
may live and learn."                                                        
  The poor, dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension of her          
nerves as she clasped her husband closer to her and bent her head           
lower and lower still on his breast. Then she raised her head proudly,      
and held out one hand to Van Helsing who took it in his, and, after         
stooping and kissing it reverently, held it fast. The other hand was        
locked in that of her husband, who held his other arm thrown round her      
protectingly. After a pause in which she was evidently ordering her         
thoughts, she began:-                                                       
  "I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given me, but        
for a long time it did not act. I seemed to become more wakeful, and        
myriads of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon my mind- all of          
them connected with death, and vampires; with blood, and pain, and          
trouble." Her husband involuntarily groaned as she turned to him and        
said lovingly: "Do not fret dear. You must be brave and strong, and         
help me through the horrible task. If you only knew what an effort          
it is to me to tell of this fearful thing at all, you would understand      
how much I need your help. Well, I saw I must try to help the medicine      
to its work with my will, if it was to do me any good, so I resolutely      
set myself to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come to me,           
for I remember no more. Jonathan coming in had not waked me, for he         
lay by my side when next I remember. There was in the room the same         
thin white mist that I had before noticed. But I forget now if you          
know of this; you will find it in my diary which I shall show you           
later. I felt the same vague terror which had come to me before and         
the same sense of some presence. I turned to wake Jonathan, but             
found that he slept so soundly that it seemed as if it was he who           
had taken the sleeping draught, and not I. I tried, but I could not         
wake him. This caused me a great fear, and I looked around                  
terrified. Then indeed, my heart sank within me: beside the bed, as if      
he had stepped out of the mist- or rather as if the mist had turned         
into his figure, for it had entirely disappeared- stood a tall, thin        
man, all in black. I knew him at once from the description of the           
others. The waxen face; the high aquiline nose, on which the light          
fell in a thin white line; the parted red lips, with the sharp white        
teeth showing between; and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in         
the sunset on the windows of St. Mary's Church at Whitby. I knew, too,      
the red scar on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him. For an          
instant my heart stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that      
I was paralysed. In the pause he spoke in a sort of keen, cutting,          
whisper, pointing as he spoke to Jonathan:-                                 
  "'Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his              
brains out before your very eyes.' I was appalled and was too               
bewildered to do or say anything. With a mocking smile, he placed           
one hand upon my shoulder and, holding me tight, bared my throat            
with the other, saying as he did so; 'First, a little refreshment to        
reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet, it is not the first          
time, or the second, that your veins have appeased my thirst!' I was        
bewildered, and, strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I          
suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his           
touch is on his victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity me! He placed his      
reeking lips upon my throat!" Her husband groaned again. She clasped        
his hand harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if he were the             
injured one, and went on:-                                                  
  "I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon. How long      
this horrible thing lasted I know not; but it seemed that a long            
time must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth        
away. I saw it drip with the fresh blood!" The remembrance seemed           
for a while to overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down      
but for her husband's sustaining arm. With a great effort she               
recovered herself and went on:-                                             
  "Then he spoke to me mockingly, 'And so you, like the others,             
would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to            
hunt me and frustrate me in my designs! You know now, and they know in      
part already, and will know in full before long, what it is to cross        
my path. They should have kept their energies for use closer to             
home. Whilst they played wits against me- against me who commanded          
nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of           
years before they were born- I was countermining them. And you,             
their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of          
my blood; kin of my kin; my bountiful wine-press for a while; and           
shall be later on my companion and my helper. You shall be avenged          
in turn; for not one of them but shall minister to your needs. But          
as yet you are to be punished for what you have done. You have aided        
in thwarting me; now you shall come to my call. When my brain says          
"Come!" to you, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding; and to        
that end this!' With that he pulled open his shirt, and with his            
long sharp nails opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began          
to spurt out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight,           
and with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound,        
so that I must either suffocate or swallow some of the- Oh my God!          
my God! what have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I        
who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days.           
God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril;           
and in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!" Then she began to rub         
her lips as though to cleanse them from pollution.                          
  As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky began to           
quicken, and everything became more and more clear. Harker was still        
and quiet; but over his face, as the awful narrative went on, came a        
grey look which deepened and deepened in the morning light, till            
when the first red streak of the coming dawn shot up, the flesh             
stood darkly out against the whitening hair.                                
  We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of the             
unhappy pair till we can meet together and arrange about taking             
action.                                                                     
  Of this I am sure: the sun rises to-day on no more miserable house        
in all the great round of its daily course.                                 
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXII                                                                
                            CHAPTER XXII.                                   
                      JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.                            
-                                                                           
  3 October.- As I must do something or go mad, I write this diary. It      
is now six o'clock, and we are to meet in the study in half an hour         
and take something to eat, for Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward are           
agreed that if we do not eat we cannot work our best. Our best will         
be, God knows, required today. I must keep writing at every chance,         
for I dare not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down;            
perhaps at the end the little things may teach us most. The                 
teaching, big or little, could not have landed Mina or me anywhere          
worse than we are to-day. However, we must trust and hope. Poor Mina        
told me just now, with the tears running down her dear cheeks, that it      
is in trouble and trial that our faith is tested- that we must keep on      
trusting; and that God will aid us up to the end. The end! oh my            
God! what end?... To work! To work!                                         
  When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back from seeing poor        
Renfield, we went gravely into what was to be done. First, Dr.              
Seward told us that when he and Dr. Van Helsing had gone down to the        
room below they had found Renfield lying on the floor, all in a             
heap. His face was all bruised and crushed in, and the bones of the         
neck were broken.                                                           
  Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the passage if          
he had heard anything. He said that he had been sitting down- he            
confessed to half dozing- when he heard loud voices in the room, and        
then Renfield had called out loudly several times, "God! God! God!"         
After that there was a sound of falling, and when he entered the            
room he found him lying on the floor, face down, just as the doctors        
had seen him. Van Helsing asked if he had heard "voices" or "a voice,"      
and he said he could not say; that at first it had seemed to him as if      
there were two, but as there was no one in the room it could have been      
only one. He could swear to it, if required, that the word "God" was        
spoken by the patient. Dr. Seward said to us, when we were alone, that      
he did not wish to go into the matter; the question of an inquest           
had to be considered, and it would never do to put forward the              
truth, as no one would believe it. As it was, he thought that on the        
attendant's evidence he could give a certificate of death by                
misadventure in falling from bed. In case the coroner should demand         
it, there would be a formal inquest, necessarily to the same result.        
  When the question began to be discussed as to what should be our          
next step, the very first thing we decided was that Mina should be          
in full confidence; that nothing of any sort- no matter how painful-        
should be kept from her. She herself agreed as to its wisdom, and it        
was pitiful to see her so brave and yet so sorrowful, and in such a         
depth of despair. "There must be no concealment," she said, "Alas!          
we have had too much already. And besides there is nothing in all           
the world that can give me more pain than I have already endured- than      
I suffer now! Whatever may happen, it must be of new hope or of new         
courage to me!" Van Helsing was, looking at her fixedly as she              
spoke, and said, suddenly but quietly:-                                     
  "But dear Madam Mina are you not afraid; not for yourself, but for        
others from yourself, after what has happened?" Her face grew set in        
its lines, but her eyes shone with the devotion of a martyr as she          
answered:-                                                                  
  "Ah no! for my mind is made up!"                                          
  "To what?" he asked gently, whilst we were all very still; for            
each in our own way we had a sort of vague idea of what she meant. Her      
answer came with direct simplicity, as though she were simply               
stating a fact:-                                                            
  "Because if I find in myself- and I shall watch keenly for it- a          
sign of harm to any that I love, I shall die!"                              
  "You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely.                        
  "I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me         
such a pain, and so desperate an effort!" She looked at him                 
meaningly as she spoke. He was sitting down; but now he rose and            
came close to her and put his hand on her head as he said solemnly:         
  "My child, there is such an one if it were for your good. For myself      
I could hold it in my account with God to find such an euthanasia           
for you, even at this moment if it were best. Nay, were it safe! But        
my child-" for a moment he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in           
his throat; he gulped it down and went on:-                                 
  "There are here some who would stand between you and death. You must      
not die. You must not die by any hand; but least of all by your own.        
Until the other, who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must      
not die; for if he is still with the quick Un-Dead, your death would        
make you even as he is. No, you must live! You must struggle and            
strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable. You must        
fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy; by the        
day, or the night; in safety or in peril! On your living soul I charge      
you that you do not die- nay nor think of death- till this great            
evil be past." The poor dear grew white as death, and shook and             
shivered, as I have seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the                
incoming of the tide. We were all silent; we could do nothing. At           
length she grew more calm and turning to him said, sweetly, but oh! so      
sorrowfully, as she held out her hand.-                                     
  "I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me live, I           
shall strive to do so; till, if it may be in His good time, this            
horror may have passed away from me." She was so good and brave that        
we all felt that our hearts were strengthened to work and endure for        
her, and we began to discuss what we were to do. I told her that she        
was to have all the papers in the safe, and all the papers or               
diaries and phonographs we might hereafter use; and was to keep the         
record as she had done before. She was pleased with the prospect of         
anything to do- if "pleased" could be used in connection with so            
grim an interest.                                                           
  As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else, and was          
prepared with an exact ordering of our work.                                
  "It is perhaps well" he said "that at our meeting after our visit to      
Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earthboxes that lay           
there. Had we done so, the Count must have guessed our purpose, and         
would doubtless have taken measures in advance to frustrate such an         
effort with regard to the others; but now he does not know our              
intentions. Nay more, in all probability, he does not know that such a      
power exists to us as can sterilise his lairs, so that he cannot use        
them as of old. We are now so much further advanced in our knowledge        
as to their disposition, that, when we have examined the house in           
Piccadilly, we may track the very last of them. To-day, then, is ours;      
and in it rests our hope. The sun that rose on our sorrow this morning      
guards us in its course. Until it sets tonight, that monster must           
retain whatever form he now has. He is confined within the limitations      
of his earthly envelope. He cannot melt into thin air nor disappear         
through cracks or chinks or crannies. If he go through a door-way,          
he must open the door like a mortal. And so we have this day to hunt        
out all his lairs and sterilise them. So we shall, if we have not           
yet catch him and destroy him, drive him to bay in some place where         
the catching and the destroying shall be, in time, sure." Here I            
started up for I could not contain myself at the thought that the           
minutes and seconds so preciously laden with Mina's life and happiness      
were flying from us, since whilst we talked action was impossible. But      
Van Helsing held up his hand warningly. "Nay, friend Jonathan," he          
said, "In this, the quickest way home is the longest way, so your           
proverb say. We shall all act and act with desperate quick, when the        
time has come. But think, in all probable the key of the situation          
is in that house in Piccadilly. The Count may have many houses which        
he has bought. Of them he will have deeds of purchase, keys and             
other things. He will have paper that he write on; he will have his         
book of cheques. There are many belongings that he must have                
somewhere; why not in this place so central, so quiet, where he come        
and go by the front or the back at all hour, when in the very vast          
of the traffic there is none to notice. We shall go there and search        
that house; and when we learn what it holds, then we do what our            
friend Arthur call, in his phrases of hunt 'stop the earths' and so we      
run down our old fox- so? is it not?"                                       
  "Then let us come at once," I cried, "we are wasting the precious,        
precious time!" The Professor did not move, but simply said:-               
  "And how are we to get into that house in Piccadilly?"                    
  "Any way!" I cried. "We shall break in if need be."                       
  "And your police; where will they be, and what will they say?"            
  I was staggered; but I knew that if he wished to delay he had a good      
reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could:-                           
  "Don't wait more than need be; you know, I am sure, what torture I        
am in."                                                                     
  "Ah, my child, that I do; and indeed there is no wish of me to add        
to your anguish. But just think, what can we do, until all the world        
be at movement. Then will come our time. I have thought and thought,        
and it seems to me that the simplest way is the best of all. Now we         
wish to get into the house, but we have no key; is it not so?" I            
nodded.                                                                     
  "Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that house, and        
could not still get it, and think there was to you no conscience of         
the housebreaker, what would you do?"                                       
  "I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work to pick        
the lock for me."                                                           
  "And your police, they would interfere, would they not?"                  
  "Oh, no! not if they knew the man was properly employed."                 
  "Then," he looked at me keenly as he spoke, "all that is in doubt is      
the conscience of the employer, and the belief of your policemen as to      
whether or no that employer has a good conscience or a bad one. Your        
police must indeed be zealous men and clever- oh so clever!- in             
reading the heart, that they trouble themselves in such matter. No,         
no, my friend Jonathan, you go take the lock off a hundred empty house      
in this your London, or of any city in the world; and if you do it          
as such things are rightly done, and at the time such things are            
rightly done, no one will interfere. I have read of a gentleman who         
owned a so fine house in your London, and when he went for months of        
summer to Switzerland and lock up his house, some burglar came and          
broke window at back and got in. Then he went and made open the             
shutters in front and walk out and in through the door, before the          
very eyes of the police. Then he have an auction in that house, and         
advertise it, and put up big notice; and when the day come he sell off      
by a great auctioneer all the goods of that other man who own them.         
Then he go to a builder, and he sell him that house, making an              
agreement that he pull it down and take all away within a certain           
time. And your police and other authority help him all they can. And        
when that owner come back from his holiday in Switzerland he find only      
an empty hole where his house had been. This was all done en regle,         
and in our work we shall be en regle too. We shall not go so early          
that the policemen who have then little to think of, shall deem it          
strange; but we shall go after ten o'clock, when there are many about,      
and when such things would be done were we indeed owners of the             
house."                                                                     
  I could not but see how right he was and the terrible despair of          
Mina's face became relaxed a thought; there was hope in such good           
counsel. Van Helsing went on:-                                              
  "When once within that house we may find more clues; at any rate          
some of us can remain there whilst the rest find the other places           
where there be more earth-boxes- at Bermondsey and Mile End."               
  Lord Godalming stood up. "I can be of some use here," he said. "I         
shall wire to my people to have horses and carriages where they will        
be most convenient."                                                        
  "Look here, old fellow," said Morris, "it is a capital idea to            
have all ready in case we want to go horse-backing; but don't you           
think that one of your snappy carriages with its heraldic adornments        
in a byway of Walworth or Mile End would attract too much attention         
for our purposes? it seems to me that we ought to take cabs when we go      
south or east; and even leave them somewhere near the neighborhood          
we are going to."                                                           
  "Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is what you      
call in plane with the horizon. It is a difficult thing that we go          
to do, and we do not want no peoples to watch us if so it may."             
  Mina took a growing interest in everything and I was rejoiced to see      
that the exigency of affairs was helping her to forget for a time           
the terrible experience of the night. She was very, very pale-              
almost ghastly, and so thin that her lips were drawn away, showing her      
teeth in somewhat of prominence. I did not mention this last, lest          
it should give her needless pain; but it made my blood run cold in          
my veins to think of what had occurred with poor Lucy when the Count        
had sucked her blood. As yet there was no sign of the teeth growing         
sharper, but the time as yet was short, and there was time for fear.        
  When we came to the discussion of the sequence of our efforts and of      
the disposition of our forces, there were new sources of doubt. It was      
finally agreed that before starting for Piccadilly we should destroy        
the Count's lair close at hand. In case he should find it out too           
soon, we should thus be still ahead of him in our work of destruction;      
and his presence in his purely material shape, and at his weakest,          
might give us some new clue.                                                
  As to the disposal of forces, it was suggested by the Professor           
that, after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter the house in           
Piccadilly; that the two doctors and I should remain there, whilst          
Lord Godalming and Quincey found the lairs at Walworth and Mile End         
and destroyed them. It was possible, if not likely, the Professor           
urged, that the Count might appear in Piccadilly during the day, and        
that if so we might be able to cope with him then and there. At any         
rate, we might be able to follow him in force. To this plan I               
strenuously objected, and so far as my going was concerned, for I said      
that I intended to stay and protect Mina. I thought that my mind was        
made up on the subject; but Mina would not listen to my objection. She      
said that there might be some law matter in which I could be useful;        
that amongst the Count's papers might be some clue which I could            
understand out of my experience in Transylvania; and that, as it            
was, all the strength we could muster was required to cope with the         
Count's extraordinary power. I had to give in, for Mina's resolution        
was fixed; she said that it was the last hope for her that we should        
all work together. "As for me," she said, "I have no fear. Things have      
been as bad as they can be; and whatever may happen must have in it         
some element of hope or comfort. Go, my husband! God can, if He wishes      
it, guard me as well alone as with any one present." So I started up        
crying out: "Then in God's name let us come at once, for we are losing      
time. The Count may come to Piccadilly earlier than we think."              
  "Not so!" said Van Helsing, holding up his hand.                          
  "But why?" I asked.                                                       
  "Do you forget," he said, with actually a smile, "that last night he      
banqueted heavily, and will sleep late?"                                    
  Did I forget! shall I ever- can I ever! Can any of us ever forget         
that terrible scene! Mina struggled hard to keep her brave                  
countenance; but the pain overmastered her and she put her hands            
before her face, and shuddered whilst she moaned. Van Helsing had           
not intended to recall her frightful experience. He had simply lost         
sight of her and her part in the affair in his intellectual effort.         
When it struck him what he said, he was horrified at his                    
thoughtlessness and tried to comfort her. "Oh, Madam Mina," he said,        
"dear, dear Madam Mina, alas! that I of all who so reverence you            
should have said anything so forgetful. These stupid old lips of            
mine and this stupid old head do not deserve so; but you will forget        
it, will you not?" He bent low beside her as he spoke; she took his         
hand, and looking at him through her tears, said hoarsely:-                 
  "No, I shall not forget, for it is well that I remember; and with it      
I have so much in memory of you that is sweet, that I take it all           
together. Now, you must all be going soon. Breakfast is ready, and          
we must all eat that we may be strong."                                     
  Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. We tried to be cheerful           
and encourage each other, and Mina was the brightest and most cheerful      
of us. When it was over, Van Helsing stood up and said:-                    
  "Now, my dear friends, we go forth to our terrible enterprise. Are        
we all armed, as we were on that night when first we visited our            
enemy's lair; armed against ghostly as well as carnal attack?" We           
all assured him. "Then it is well. Now Madam Mina, you are in any case      
quite safe here until the sunset; and before then we shall return- if-      
We shall return! But before we go let me see you armed against              
personal attack. I have myself, since you came down, prepared your          
chamber by the placing of things of which we know, so that He may           
not enter. Now let me guard yourself. On your forehead I touch this         
piece of Sacred Wafer in the name of the Father, the Son, and-"             
  There was a fearful scream which almost froze our hearts to hear. As      
he had placed the Wafer on Mina's forehead, it had seared it- had           
burned into the flesh as though it had been a piece of white-hot            
metal. My poor darling's brain had told her the significance of the         
fact as quickly as her nerves received the pain of it; and the two          
so overwhelmed her that her overwrought nature had its voice in that        
dreadful scream. But the words to her thought came quickly; the echo        
of the scream had not ceased to ring on the air when there came the         
reaction, and she sand on her knees on the floor in an agony of             
abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair over her face, as the leper of        
old his mantle, she wailed out:-                                            
  "Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must      
bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgement Day."          
They all paused. I had thrown myself beside her in an agony of              
helpless grief, and putting my arms around held her tight. For a few        
minutes our sorrowful hearts beat together, whilst the friends              
around us turned away their eyes that ran tears silently. Then Van          
Helsing turned and said gravely; so gravely that I could not help           
feeling that he was in some way inspired, and was stating things            
outside himself:-                                                           
  "It may be that you may have to bear that mark till God himself           
see fit, as He most surely shall, on the Judgment Day, to redress           
all wrongs of the earth and of His children that He has placed              
thereon. And oh, Madam Mina, my dear, my dear, may we who love you          
be there to see, when that red scar, the sign of God's knowledge of         
what has been, shall pass away and leave your forehead as pure as           
the heart we know. For so surely as we live, that scar shall pass away      
when God sees right to lift the burden that is hard upon us. Till then      
we bear our Cross, as His Son did in obedience to His Will. It may          
be that we are chosen instruments of His good pleasure, and that we         
ascend to His bidding as that other through stripes and shame; through      
tears and blood; through doubts and fears, and all that makes the           
difference between God and man."                                            
  There was hope in his words, and comfort, and they made for               
resignation. Mina and I both felt so, and simultaneously we each            
took one of the old man's hands and bent over and kissed it. Then           
without a word we all knelt down together, and, all holding hands,          
swore to be true to each other. We men pledged ourselves to raise           
the veil of sorrow from the head of her whom, each in his own way,          
we loved; and we prayed for help and guidance in the terrible task          
which lay before us.                                                        
  It was then time to start. So I said farewell to Mina, a parting          
which neither of us shall forget to our dying day; and we set out.          
  To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must        
be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and        
terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one             
vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in         
sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for           
their ghastly ranks.                                                        
  We entered Carfax without trouble and found all things the same as        
on the first occasion. It was hard to believe that amongst so               
prosaic surroundings of neglect and dust and decay there was any            
ground for such fear as already we knew. Had not our minds been made        
up, and had there not been terrible memories to spur us on, we could        
hardly have proceeded with our task. We found no papers, or any sign        
of use in the house; and in the old chapel the great boxes looked just      
as we had seen them last. Dr. Van Helsing said to us solemnly as we         
stood before them:-                                                         
  "And now, my friends, we have a duty here to do. We must sterilise        
this earth, so sacred of holy memories, that he has brought from a far      
distant land for such fell use. He has chosen this earth because it         
has been holy. Thus we defeat him with his own weapon, for we make          
it more holy still. It was sanctified to such use of man, now we            
sanctify it to God." As he spoke he took from his bag a screw-driver        
and a wrench, and very soon the top of one of the cases was thrown          
open. The earth smelled musty and close; but we did not somehow seem        
to mind, for our attention was concentrated on the Professor. Taking        
from his box a piece of the Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on           
the earth, and then shutting down the lid began to screw it home, we        
aiding him as he worked.                                                    
  One by one we treated in the same way each of the great boxes, and        
left them as we had found them to all appearance; but in each was a         
portion of the Host.                                                        
  When we closed the door behind us, the Professor said solemnly:-          
  "So much is already done. If it may be that with all the others we        
can be so successful, then the sunset of this evening may shine on          
Madam Mina's forehead all white as ivory and with no stain!"                
  As we passed across the lawn on our way to the station to catch           
our train we could see the front of the asylum. I looked eagerly,           
and in the window of my own room saw Mina. I waved my hand to her, and      
nodded to tell that our work there was successfully accomplished.           
She nodded in reply to show that she understood. The last I saw, she        
was waving her hand in farewell. It was with a heavy heart that we          
sought the station and just caught the train, which was steaming in as      
we reached the platform.                                                    
  I have written this in the train.                                         
-                                                                           
  Piccadilly, 12:30 o'clock.- Just before we reached Fenchurch              
Street Lord Godalming said to me:-                                          
  "Quincey and I will find a locksmith. You had better not come with        
us in case there should be any difficulty; for under the circumstances      
it wouldn't seem so bad for us to break into an empty house. But you        
are a solicitor and the Incorporated Law Society might tell you that        
you should have known better." I demurred as to my not sharing any          
danger even of odium, but he went on: "Besides, it will attract less        
attention if there are not too many of us. My title will make it all        
right with the locksmith, and with any policeman that may come              
along. You had better go with Jack and the Professor and stay in the        
Green Park, somewhere in sight of the house; and when you see the door      
opened and the smith has gone away, do you all come across. We shall        
be on the look out for you, and shall let you in."                          
  "The advice is good!" said Van Helsing, so we said no more.               
Godalming and Morris hurried off in a cab, we following in another. At      
the corner of Arlington Street our contingent got our and strolled          
into the Green Park. My heart beat as I saw the house on which so much      
of our hope was centered, looming up grim and silent in its deserted        
condition amongst its more lively and spruce-looking neighbours. We         
sat down on a bench within good view, and began to smoke cigars so          
as to attract as little attention as possible. The minutes seemed to        
pass with leaden feet as we waited for the coming of the others.            
  At length we saw a four-wheeler drive up. Out of it, in leisurely         
fashion, got Lord Godalming and Morris; and down from the box               
descended a thick-set working man with his rush-woven basket of tools.      
Morris paid the cabman, who touched his hat and drove away. Together        
the two ascended the steps, and Lord Godalming pointed out what he          
wanted done. The workman took off his coat leisurely and hung it on         
one of the spikes of the rail, saying something to a policeman who          
just then sauntered along. The policeman nodded acquiescence, and           
the man kneeling down placed his bag beside him. After searching            
through it, he took out a selection of tools which he produced to           
lay beside him in orderly fashion. Then he stood up, looked into the        
keyhole, blew into it, and, turning to his employers, made some             
remark. Lord Godalming smiled, and the man lifted a good sized bunch        
of keys; selecting one of them, he began to probe the lock, as if           
feeling his way with it. After fumbling about for a bit he tried a          
second, and then a third. All at once the door opened under a slight        
push from him, and he and the two others entered the hall. We sat           
still; my own cigar burnt furiously, but Van Helsing's went cold            
altogether. We waited patiently as we saw the workman come out and          
bring in his bag. Then he held the door partly open, steadying it with      
his knees, whilst he fitted a key to the lock. This he finally              
handed to Lord Godalming, who took out his purse and gave him               
something. The man touched his hat, took his bag, put on his coat           
and departed; not a soul took the slightest notice of the whole             
transaction.                                                                
  When the man had fairly gone, we three crossed the street and             
knocked at the door. It was immediately opened by Quincey Morris,           
beside whom stood Lord Godalming lighting a cigar.                          
  "The place smells so vilely," said the latter as we came in. It           
did indeed smell vilely- like the old chapel at Carfax- and with our        
previous experience it was plain to us that the Count had been using        
the place pretty freely. We moved to explore the house, all keeping         
together in case of attack; for we knew we had a strong and wily enemy      
to deal with, and as yet we did not know whether the Count might not        
be in the house. In the dining-room, which lay at the back of the           
hall, we found eight boxes of earth. Eight boxes only out of the            
nine which we sought! Our work was not over, and would never be             
until we should have found the missing box. First we opened the             
shutters of the window which looked out across a narrow                     
stone-flagged yard at the blank face of a stable, pointed to look like      
the front of a miniature house. There were no windows in it, so we          
were not afraid of being overlooked. We did not lose any time in            
examining the chests. With the tools which we had brought with us we        
opened them, one by one, and treated them as we had treated those           
others in the old chapel. It was evident to us that the Count was           
not at present in the house, and we proceeded to search for any of his      
effects.                                                                    
  After a cursory glance at the rest of the rooms, from basement to         
attic, we came to the conclusion that the dining room contained any         
effects which might belong to the Count; and so we proceeded to             
minutely examine them. They lay in a sort of orderly disorder on the        
great dining-room table. There were title deeds of the Piccadilly           
house in a great bundle; deeds of the purchase of the houses at Mile        
End and Bermondsey; notepaper, envelopes, and pens and ink. All were        
covered up in thin wrapping paper to keep them from the dust. There         
were also a clothes brush, a brush and comb, and a jug and basin-           
the latter containing dirty water which was reddened as if with blood.      
Last of all was a little heap of keys of all sorts and sizes, probably      
those belonging to the other houses. When we had examined this last         
find, Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris taking accurate notes of the        
various addresses of the houses in the East and the South, took with        
them the keys in a great bunch, and set out to destroy the boxes in         
these places. The rest of us are, with what patience we can, waiting        
their return- or the coming of the Count.                                   
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXIII                                                               
                            CHAPTER XXIII.                                  
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  3 October- The time seemed terribly long whilst we were waiting           
for the coming of Godalming and Quincey Morris. The Professor tried to      
keep our minds active by using them all the time. I could see his           
beneficent purpose, by the side glances which he threw from time to         
time at Harker. The poor fellow is overwhelmed in a misery that is          
appalling to see. Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with        
strong, youthful face, full of energy, and with dark brown hair.            
To-day he is a drawn, haggard old man, whose white hair matches well        
with the hollow burning eyes and grief-written lines of his face.           
His energy is still intact; in fact, he is like a living flame. This        
may yet be his salvation, for, if all go well, it will tide him over        
the despairing period; he will then, in a kind of way, wake again to        
the realities of life. Poor fellow, I thought my own trouble was bad        
enough, but his-! The Professor knows this well enough, and is doing        
his best to keep his mind active. What he has been saying was, under        
the circumstances, of absorbing interest. So well as I can remember,        
here it is:-                                                                
  "I have studied, over and over again since they came into my              
hands, all the papers relating to this monster; and the more I have         
studied, the greater seems the necessity to utterly stamp him out. All      
through there are signs of his advance; not only of his power, but          
of his knowledge of it. As I learned from the researches of my              
friend Arminius of Buda-Pesth, he was in life a most wonderful man.         
Soldier, statesman, and alchemist- which latter was the highest             
development of the science knowledge of his time. He had a mighty           
brain, a learning beyond compare, and a heart that knew no fear and no      
remorse. He dared even to attend the Scholomance, and there was no          
branch of knowledge of his time that he did not essay. Well, in him         
the brain powers survived the physical death; though it would seem          
that memory was not all complete. In some faculties of mind he has          
been, and is, only a child; but he is growing, and some things that         
were childish at the first are now of man's stature. He is                  
experimenting, and doing it well; and if it had not been that we            
have crossed his path he would be yet- he may be yet if we fail- the        
father or furtherer of a new order of beings, whose road must lead          
through Death, not Life."                                                   
  Harker groaned and said, "And this is all arrayed against my              
darling! But how is he experimenting? The knowledge may help us to          
defeat him!"                                                                
  "He has all along, since his coming, been trying his power, slowly        
but surely; that big child-brain of his working. Well for us, it is,        
as yet, a child-brain; for had he dared, at the first, to attempt           
certain things he would long ago have been beyond our power.                
However, he means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him        
can afford to wait and to go slow. Festina lente may well be his            
motto."                                                                     
  "I fail to understand," said Harker wearily. "Oh, do be more plain        
to me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain." The                 
Professor laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder as he spoke:-              
  "Ah, my child, I will be plain. Do you not see how, of late, this         
monster has been creeping into knowledge experimentally. How he has         
been making use of the zoophagous patient to effect his entry into          
friend John's home; for your Vampire, though in all afterwards he           
can come when and how he will, must at the first make entry only            
when asked thereto by an inmate. But these are not his most                 
important experiments. Do we not see how at the first all these so          
great boxes were moved by others. He knew not then but that must be         
so. But all the time that so great child-brain of his was growing, and      
he began to consider whether might not himself move the box. So he          
began to help; and then, when he found that this be all-right, he           
try to move them all alone. And so he progress, and he scatter these        
graves of him; and none but he know where they are hidden. He may have      
intend to bury them deep in the ground. So that he only use them in         
the night, or at such time as he can change his form, they do him           
equal well; and none may know these are his hiding place But, my            
child, do not despair, this knowledge come to him just too late!            
Already all of his lairs but one be sterilise as for him; and before        
the sunset this shall be so. Then he have no place where he can move        
and hide. I delayed this morning that so we might be sure. Is there         
not more at stake for us than for him? Then why we not be even more         
careful than him? By my clock it is one hour, and already, if all be        
well, friend Arthur and Quincey are on their way to us. To-day is           
our day, and we must go sure, if slow, and lose no chance. See!             
there are five of us when those absent ones return."                        
  Whilst he was speaking we were startled by a knock at the hall door,      
the double postman's knock of the telegraph boy. We all moved out to        
the hall with one impulse, and Van Helsing, holding up his hand to          
us to keep silence, stepped to the door and opened it. The boy              
handed in a despatch. The Professor closed the door again and, after        
looking at the direction, opened it and read aloud.                         
  "Look out for D. He has just now, 12.45, come from Carfax                 
hurriedly and hastened towards the South. He seems to be going the          
round and may want to see you: Mina."                                       
  There was a pause, broken by Jonathan Harker's voice:-                    
  "Now, God be thanked, we shall soon meet!" Van Helsing turned to him      
quickly and said:-                                                          
  "God will act in His own way and time. Do not fear, and do not            
rejoice as yet; for what we wish for at the moment may be our               
undoings."                                                                  
  "I care for nothing now," he answered hotly, "except to wipe out          
this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!"       
  "Oh hush, hush, my child!" said Van Helsing, "God does not                
purchase souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he may purchase,         
does not keep faith. But God is merciful and just, and knows your pain      
and your devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain          
would be doubled, did she but hear your wild words. Do not fear any of      
us, we are all devoted to this cause, and to-day shall see the end.         
The time is coming for action; to-day this Vampire is limit to the          
powers of man, and fill sunset he may not change. It will take him          
time to arrive here- see, it is twenty minutes past one- and there are      
yet some times before he can hither come, be he never so quick. What        
we must hope for is that my Lord Arthur and Quincey arrive first."          
  About half an hour after we had received Mrs. Harker's telegram,          
there came a quiet, resolute knock at the hall door. It was just an         
ordinary knock, such as is given hourly by thousands of gentlemen, but      
it made the Professor's heart and mine beat loudly. We looked at            
each other, and together moved out into the hall; we each held ready        
to use our various armaments- the spiritual in the left hand, the           
mortal in the right. Van Helsing pulled back the latch, and, holding        
the door half open, stood back, having both hands ready for action.         
The gladness of our hearts must have shown upon our faces when on           
the step, close to the door, we saw Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris.      
They came quickly in and closed the door behind them, the former            
saying, as they moved along the hall:-                                      
  "It is all right. We found both places; six boxes in each, and we         
destroyed them all!"                                                        
  "Destroyed?" asked the Professor.                                         
  "For him!" We were silent for a minute, and then Quincey said:-           
  "There's nothing to do but to wait here. If, however, he doesn't          
turn up by five o'clock, we must start off, for it won't do to leave        
Mrs. Harker alone after sunset."                                            
  "He will be here before long now," said Van Helsing, who had been         
consulting his pocket-book. "Nota bene, in Madam's telegram he went         
south from Carfax, that means he went to cross the river, and he could      
only do so at slack of tide, which should be something before one           
o'clock. That he went south has a meaning for us. He is as yet only         
suspicious; and he went from Carfax first to the place where he             
would suspect interference least. You must have been at Bermondsey          
only a short time before him. That he is not here already shows that        
he went to Mile End next. This took him some time; for he would then        
have to be carried over the river in some way. Believe me, my friends,      
we shall not have long to wait now. We should have ready some plan          
of attack, so that we may throw away no chance. Hush, there is no time      
now. Have all your arms! Be ready!" He held up a warning hand as he         
spoke, for we all could hear a key softly inserted in the lock of           
the hall door.                                                              
  I could not but admire, even at such a moment, the way in which a         
dominant spirit asserted itself. In all our hunting parties and             
adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey Morris had              
always been the one to arrange the plan of action, and Arthur and I         
had been accustomed to obey him implicitly. Now, the old habit              
seemed to be renewed instinctively. With a swift glance around the          
room, he at once laid out our plan of attack, and, without speaking         
a word, with a gesture, placed us each in position. Van Helsing,            
Harker and I were just behind the door, so that when it was opened the      
Professor could guard it whilst we two stepped between the incomer and      
the door. Godalming behind and Quincey in front stood just out of           
sight ready to move in front of the window. We waited in a suspense         
that made the seconds pass with nightmare slowness. The slow,               
careful steps came along the hall; the Count was evidently prepared         
for some surprise- at least he feared it.                                   
  Suddenly with a single bound he leaped into the room, winning a           
way past us before any of us could raise a hand to stay him. There was      
something so panther-like in the movement- something so unhuman,            
that it seemed to sober us all from the shock of his coming. The first      
to act was Harker, who, with a quick movement, threw himself before         
the door leading into the room in the front of the house. As the Count      
saw us, a horrible sort of snarl passed over his face, showing the          
eye-teeth long and pointed; but the evil smile as quickly passed            
into a cold stare of lion-like disdain. His expression again                
changed, as, with a single impulse, we all advanced upon him. It was a      
pity that we had not some better organised plan of attack, for even at      
the moment I wondered what we were to do. I did not myself know             
whether our lethal weapons would avail us anything. Harker evidently        
meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great Kukri knife, and        
made a fierce and sudden cut at him. The blow was a powerful one; only      
the diabolical quickness of the Count's leap back saved him. A              
second less and the trenchant blade had shorne through his heart. As        
it was, the point just cut the cloth of his coat, making a wide gap         
whence a bundle of bank-notes and a stream of gold fell out. The            
expression of the Count's face was so hellish, that for a moment I          
feared for Harker, though I saw him throw the terrible knife aloft          
again for another stroke. Instinctively I moved forward with a              
protective impulse, holding the Crucifix and Wafer in my left-hand.         
I felt a mighty power fly along my arm; and it was without surprise         
I saw that the monster cower back before a similar movement made            
spontaneously by each one of us. It would be impossible to describe         
the expression of hate and baffled malignity- of anger and hellish          
rage- which came over the Count's face. His waxen hue became                
greenish-yellow by the contrast of his burning eyes, and the red            
scar on the forehead showed on the pallid skin like a palpitating           
wound. The next instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under Harker's        
arm, ere his blow could fall, and, grasping a handful of the money          
from the floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window.        
Amid the crash and glitter of the falling glass, he tumbled into the        
flagged area below. Through the sound of the shivering glass I could        
hear the "ting" of the gold, as some of the sovereigns fell on the          
flagging.                                                                   
  We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground. He, rushing        
up the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and pushed open the stable          
door. There he turned and spoke to us:-                                     
  "You think to baffle me, you- with your pale faces all in a row,          
like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you You      
think you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My         
revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my        
side. Your girls that you all love are mine already; and through            
them you and others shall yet be mine- my creatures, to do my               
bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!" With a              
contemptuous sneer, he passed quickly through the door, and we heard        
the rusty bolt creak as he fastened it behind him. A door beyond            
opened and shut. The first of us to speak was the Professor, as,            
realising the difficulty of following him through the stable, we moved      
toward the hall.                                                            
  We have learnt something- much! Notwithstanding his brave words,          
he fears us; he fear time, he fear want! For if not, why he hurry           
so? His very tone betray him, or my ears deceive. Why take that money?      
You follow quick. You are hunters of wild beast, and understand it so.      
For me, I make sure that nothing here may be of use to him, if so that      
he return.- As he spoke he put the money remaining into his pocket;         
took the title-deeds in the bundle as Harker had left them; and             
swept the remaining things into the open fireplace, where he set            
fire to them with a match.                                                  
  Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and Harker had         
lowered himself from the window to follow the Count. He had,                
however, bolted the stable door, and by the time they had forced it         
open there was no sign of him. Van Helsing and I tried to make inquiry      
at the back of the house; but the mews was deserted and no one had          
seen him depart.                                                            
  It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far off. We had      
to recognise that our game was up; with heavy hearts we agreed with         
the Professor when he said:-                                                
  "Let us go back to Madam Mina- poor, poor dear Madam Mina. All we         
can do just now is done; and we can there, at least, protect her.           
But we need not despair. There is but one more earth-box, and we            
must try to find it; when that is done all may yet be well." I could        
see that he spoke as bravely as he could to comfort Harker. The poor        
fellow was quite broken down; now and again he gave a low groan             
which he could not suppress- he was thinking of his wife.                   
  With sad hearts we came back to my house, where we found Mrs. Harker      
waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness which did honour to her      
bravery and unselfishness. When she saw our faces, her own became as        
pale as death; for a second or two her eyes were closed as if she were      
in secret prayer, and then she said cheerfully:-                            
  "I can never thank you all enough. Oh, my poor darling!" as she           
spoke, she took her husband's grey head in her hands and kissed it-         
"Lay your poor head here and rest it. All will yet be well, dear!           
God will protect us if he so will it in His good intent." The poor          
fellow only groaned. There was no place for words in his sublime            
misery.                                                                     
  We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I think it cheered      
us all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the mere animal heat of food to        
hungry people- for none of us had eaten anything since breakfast- or        
the sense of companionship may have helped us; but anyhow we were           
all less miserable, and saw the morrow as not altogether without hope.      
True to our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything which had               
passed; and although she grew snowy white at times when danger had          
seemed to threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to      
her was manifested, she listened bravely and with calmness. When we         
came to the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly,        
she clung to her husband's arm, and held it tight as though her             
clinging could protect him from any harm that might come. She said          
nothing, however, till the narration was all done, and matters had          
been brought right up to the present time. Then without letting go her      
husband's hand she stood up amongst us and spoke. Oh that I could give      
any idea of the scene; of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all        
the radiant beauty of her youth and animation, with the red scar on         
her forehead, of which she was conscious, and which we saw with             
grinding of our teeth- remembering whence and how it came; her              
loving kindness against our grim hate; her tender faith against all         
our fears and doubting; and we, knowing that so far as symbols went,        
she with all her goodness and purity and faith, was outcast from God.       
  "Jonathan," she said, and the word sounded like music on her lips it      
was so full of love and tenderness, "Jonathan dear, and you all my          
true, true friends, I want you to bear something in mind through all        
this dreadful time. I know that you must fight- that you must               
destroy even as you destroyed the false Lucy so that the true Lucy          
might live hereafter, but it is not a work of hate. That poor soul who      
has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think          
what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser part          
that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be            
pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your hands from his             
destruction."                                                               
  As she spoke I could see her husband's face darken and draw               
together, as though the passion in him were shriveling his being to         
its core. Instinctively the clasp on his wife's hand grew closer, till      
his knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from the pain which I         
knew she must have suffered, but looked at him with eyes that were          
more appealing than ever. As she stopped speaking he leaped to his          
feet, almost tearing his hand from hers as he spoke:-                       
  "May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy            
that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond it I             
could send his soul for ever and ever to burning hell I would do it!"       
  "Oh, hush! oh, hush! In the name of the good God. Don't say such          
things, Jonathan, my husband; or you will crush me with fear and            
horror. Just think, my dear- I have been thinking all this long,            
long day of it- that... perhaps... some day... I, too, may need such        
pity; and that some other like you- and with equal cause for anger-         
may deny it to me! Oh, my husband! my husband, indeed I would have          
spared you such a thought had there been another way; but I pray            
that God may not have treasured your wild words, except as the              
heart-broken wall of a very loving and sorely stricken man. Oh God,         
let these poor white hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who      
all his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have            
come."                                                                      
  We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them, and we         
wept openly. She wept, too, to see that her sweeter counsels had            
prevailed. Her husband flung himself on his knees beside her, and           
putting his arms round her, hid his face in the folds of her dress.         
Van Helsing beckoned to us and we stole out of the room, leaving the        
two loving hearts alone with their God.                                     
  Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room against any           
coming of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Harker that she might rest          
in peace. She tried to school herself to the belief, and, manifestly        
for her husband's sake, tried to seem content. It was a brave               
struggle; and was, I think and believe, not without its reward. Van         
Helsing had placed at hand a bell which either of them was to sound in      
case of any emergency. When they had retired, Quincey, Godalming,           
and I arranged that we should sit up, dividing the night between us,        
and watch over the safety of the poor stricken lady. The first watch        
falls to Quincey, so the rest of us shall be off to bed as soon as          
we can. Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second              
watch. Now that my work is done I, too, shall go to bed.                    
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  3-4 October, close to midnight.- I thought yesterday would never          
end. There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind          
belief that to wake would be to find things changed, and that any           
change must now be for the better. Before we parted, we discussed what      
our next step was to be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew      
was that one earth-box remained, and that the Count alone knew where        
it was. If he chooses to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years; and        
in the meantime!- the thought is too horrible, I dare not think of          
it even now. This I know: that if ever there was a woman who was all        
perfection, that one is my poor wronged darling. I love her a thousand      
times more for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made my own        
hate of the monster seem despicable. Surely God will not permit the         
world to be the poorer by the loss of such a creature. This is hope to      
me. We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.        
Thank God! Mina is sleeping, and sleeping without dreams. I fear            
what her dreams might be like, with such terrible memories to ground        
them in. She has not been so calm, within my seeing, since the sunset.      
Then, for a while, there came over her face a repose which was like         
spring after the blasts of March. I thought at the time that it was         
the softness of the red sunset on her face, but somehow now I think it      
has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy myself, though I am weary- weary      
to death. However, I must try to sleep; for there is to-morrow to           
think of, and there is no rest for me until...                              
-                                                                           
  Later.- I must have fallen asleep, for I was awaked by Mina, who was      
sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her face. I could see            
easily, for we did not leave the room in darkness; she had placed a         
warning hand over my mouth, and now she whispered in my ear:-               
  "Hush! there is someone in the corridor!" I got up softly, and,           
crossing the room, gently opened the door.                                  
  Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide awake.        
He raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to me:-                
  "Hush! go back to bed; it is all right. One of us will be here all        
night. We don't mean to take any chances!"                                  
  His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and told          
Mina. She sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole over her          
poor, pale face as she put her arms round me and said softly:-              
  "Oh, thank God for good brave men!" With a sigh she sank back             
again to sleep. I write this now as I am not sleepy, though I must try      
again.                                                                      
-                                                                           
  4 October, morning.- once again during the night I was wakened by         
Mina. This time we had all had a good sleep, for the grey of the            
coming dawn was making the windows into sharp oblongs, and the gas          
flame was like a speck rather than a disc of light. She said to me          
hurriedly:-                                                                 
  "Go, call the Professor. I want to see him at once."                      
  "Why?" I asked.                                                           
  "I have an idea. I suppose it must have come in the night, and            
matured without my knowing it. He must hypnotise me before the dawn,        
and then I shall be able to speak. Go quick, dearest, the time is           
getting close." I went to the door. Dr. Seward was resting on the           
mattress, and, seeing me, he sprang to his feet.                            
  "Is anything wrong?" he asked, in alarm.                                  
  "No," I replied; "but Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at once."         
  "I will go," he said, and hurried into the Professor's room. In           
two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his               
dressing-gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming were with Dr.              
Seward at the door asking questions. When the Professor saw Mina a          
smile- a positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face; he rubbed           
his hands as he said:-                                                      
  "Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is indeed a change. See! friend             
Jonathan, we have got our dear Madam Mina, as of old, back to us            
to-day!" Then turning to her, he said, cheerfully: "And what am I do        
for you? For at this hour you do not want me for nothings."                 
  "I want you to hypnotise me!" she said. "Do it before the dawn,           
for I feel that then I can speak, and speak freely. Be quick, for           
the time is short!" Without a word he motioned her to sit up in bed.        
  Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in front of her,      
from over the top of her head downward, with each hand in turn. Mina        
gazed at him fixedly for a few minutes, during which my own heart beat      
like a trip hammer, for I felt that some crisis was at hand. Gradually      
her eyes closed, and she sat, stock still; only by the gentle               
heaving of her bosom could one know that she was alive. The                 
Professor made a few more passes and then stopped, and I could see          
that his forehead was covered with great beads of perspiration. Mina        
opened her eyes; but she did not seem the same woman. There was a           
far-away look in her eyes, and her voice had a sad dreaminess which         
was new to me. Raising his hand to impose silence, the Professor            
motioned to me to bring the others in. They came on tip-toe, closing        
the door behind them, and stood at the foot of the bed, looking on.         
Mina appeared not to see them. The stillness was broken by Van              
Helsing's voice speaking in a low level tone which would not break the      
current of her thoughts:-                                                   
  "Where are you?" The answer came in a neutral way:-                       
  "I do not know. Sleep has no place it can call its own." For several      
minutes there was silence. Mina sat rigid, and the Professor stood          
staring at her fixedly; the rest of us hardly dared to breathe. The         
room was growing lighter, without taking his eyes from Mina's face,         
Dr. Van Helsing motioned me to pull up the blind. I did so, and the         
day seemed just upon us. A red streak shot up, and a rosy light seemed      
to diffuse itself through the room. On the instant the Professor spoke      
again:-                                                                     
  "Where are you now?" The answer came dreamily, but with intention;        
it were as though she were interpreting something. I have heard her         
use the same tone when reading her shorthand notes.                         
  "I do not know. It is all strange to me!"                                 
  "What do you see?"                                                        
  "I can see nothing; it is all dark."                                      
  "What do you hear?" I could detect the strain in the Professor's          
patient voice.                                                              
  "The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves leap. I        
can hear them on the outside."                                              
  "Then you are on a ship?" We all looked at each other, trying to          
glean something each from the other. We were afraid to think. The           
answer came quick:-                                                         
  "Oh, yes!"                                                                
  "What else do you hear?"                                                  
  "The sound of men stamping overhead as they run about. There is           
the creaking of a chain, and the loud tinkle as the check of the            
capstan falls into the rachet."                                             
  "What are you doing?"                                                     
  "I am still- oh, so still. It is like death!" The voice faded away        
into a deep breath as of one sleeping, and the open eyes closed again.      
  By this time the sun had risen, and we were all in the full light of      
day. Dr. Van Helsing placed his hands on Mina's shoulders, and laid         
her head down softly on her pillow. She lay like a sleeping child           
for a few moments, and then, with a long sigh, awoke and stared in          
wonder to see us all around her. "Have I been talking in my sleep?"         
was all she said. She seemed, however, to know the situation without        
telling; though she was eager to know what she had told. The Professor      
repeated the conversation, and she said:-                                   
  "Then there is not a moment to lose: it may not be yet too late!"         
Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming started for the door but the Professor's      
calm voice called them back:-                                               
  "Stay, my friends. That ship wherever it was, was weighing anchor         
whilst she spoke. There are many ships weighing anchor at the moment        
in your so great Port of London. Which of them is it that you seek?         
God be thanked that we have once again a clue, though whither it may        
lead us we know not. We have been blind somewhat: blind after the           
manner of men, since when we can look back we see what we might have        
seen looking forward if we had been able to see what we might have          
seen Alas! but that sentence is a puddle; is it not? We can know now        
what was in the Count's mind when he seize that money, though               
Jonathan's so fierce knife put him in the danger that even he dread.        
He meant escape. Hear me, ESCAPE! He saw that with but one earth-box        
left, and a pack of men following like dogs after a fox, this London        
was no place for him. He have take his last earth-box on board a ship,      
and he leave the land. He think to escape, but no! we follow him.           
Tally Ho! as friend Arthur would say when he put on his red frock! Our      
old fox is wily; oh! so wily and we must follow with wile. I too am         
wily and I think his mind in a little while. In meantime we may rest        
and in peace, for there are waters between us which he do not want          
to pass, and which he could not if he would- unless the ship were to        
touch the land, and then only at full or slack tide. See, and the           
sun is just rose, and all day to sunset is to us. Let us take bath,         
and dress, and have breakfast which we all need, and which we can           
eat comfortably since he be not in the same land with us." Mina looked      
at him appealingly as she asked:-                                           
  "But why need we seek him further, when he is gone away from us?" He      
took her hand and patted it as he replied:-                                 
  "Ask me nothings as yet. When we have breakfast, then I answer all        
questions." He would say no more, and we separated to dress.                
  After breakfast Mina repeated her question. He looked at her gravely      
for a minute and then said sorrowfully:-                                    
  "Because my dear, dear Madam Mina, now more than ever must we find        
him even if we have to follow him to the jaws of Hell!" She grew paler      
as she asked faintly:-                                                      
  "Why?"                                                                    
  "Because," he answered solemnly, "he can live for centuries, and you      
are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded- since once he put          
that mark upon your throat."                                                
  I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a faint.           
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXIV                                                                
                            CHAPTER XXIV.                                   
                    DR. SEWARD'S PHONOGRAPH DIARY.                          
-                                                                           
                       (Spoken By Van Helsing).                             
-                                                                           
  This to Jonathan Harker.                                                  
  You are to stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall go to make our        
search- if I can call it so, for it is not search but knowing, and          
we seek confirmation only. But do you stay and take care of her             
to-day. This is your best and most holiest office. This day nothing         
can find him here. Let me tell you that so you will know what we            
four know already, for I have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone           
away; he have gone back to his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so         
well, as if a great hand of fire wrote it on the wall. He have prepare      
for this in some way, and that last earth-box was ready to ship             
somewheres. For this he took the money; for this he hurry at the last,      
lest we catch him before the sun go down. It was his last hope, save        
that the might hide in the tomb that he think poor Miss Lucy, being as      
he thought like him, keep open to him. But there was not of time. When      
that fail he make straight for his last resource- his last earthwork I      
might say did I wish double entente. He is clever, oh so clever! he         
know that his game here was finish; and so he decide he go back             
home. He find ship going by the route he came, and he go in it. We          
go off now to find what ship, and whither bound; when we have discover      
that, we come back and tell you all. Then we will comfort you and poor      
dear Madam Mina with new hope. For it will be hope when you think it        
over: that all is not lost. This very creature that we pursue, he take      
hundreds of years to get so far as London; and yet in one day, when we      
know of the disposal of him we drive him out. He is finite, though          
he is powerful to do much harm and suffers not as we do. But we are         
strong, each in our purpose; and we are all more strong together. Take      
heart afresh dear husband of Madam Mina. This battle is but begun, and      
in the end we shall win- so sure as that God sits on high to watch          
over His children. Therefore be of much comfort till we return.             
-                                                                           
                                                          Van Helsing       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  4 October.- When I read to Mina, Van Helsing's message in the             
phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably. Already the           
certainty that the Count is out of the country has given her                
comfort; and comfort is strength to her. For my own part, now that his      
horrible danger is not face to face with us, it seems almost                
impossible to believe in it. Even my own terrible experiences in            
Castle Dracula seem like a long-forgotten dream. Here in the crisp          
autumn air in the bright sunlight-                                          
  Alas! how can I disbelieve! In the midst of my thought my eye fell        
on the red scar on my poor darling's white forehead. Whilst that            
lasts, there can be no disbelief. And afterwards the very memory of it      
will keep faith crystal clear. Mina and I fear to be idle, so we            
have been over all the diaries agains and again. Somehow, although the      
reality seems greater each time, the pain and the fear seem less.           
There is something of a guiding purpose manifest throughout, which          
is comforting. Mina says that perhaps we are the instruments of             
ultimate good. It may be I shall try to think as she does. We have          
never spoken to each other yet of the future. It is better to wait          
till we see the Professor and the others after their investigations.        
  The day is running by more quickly than I ever thought a day could        
run for me again. It is now three o'clock.                                  
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  5 October, 5 p.m.- Our meeting for report. Present: Professor Van         
Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey Morris, Jonathan           
Harker, Mina Harker.                                                        
  Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during the day to         
discover on what boat and whither bound Count Dracula made his              
escape:-                                                                    
  "As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt sure        
that he must go by the Danube mouth; or by somewhere in the Black Sea,      
since by that way he come. It was a dreary blank that was before us.        
Omne ignotum pro magnifico, and so with heavy hearts we start to            
find what ships leave for the Black Sea last night. He was in               
sailing ship, since Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These not so        
important as to go in your list of the shipping in the Times. and so        
we go, by suggestion of Lord Godalming, to your Lloyd's, where are          
note of all ships that sail, however so small. There we find that only      
one Black-Sea-bound ship go out with the tide. She is the Czarina           
Catherine, and she sail from Doolittle's Wharf for Varna, and thence        
on to other parts and up the Danube. 'Soh!' said I, 'this is the            
ship whereon is the Count.' So off we go to Doolittle's Wharf, and          
there we find a man in an office of wood so small that the man look         
bigger than the office. From him we inquire of the goings of the            
Czarina Catherine. He swear much, and he red face and loud of voice,        
but he good fellow all the same; and when Quincey give him something        
from his pocket which crackle as he roll it up, and put it in a so          
small bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he still better           
fellow and humble servant to us. He come with us, and ask many men who      
are rough and hot; these be better fellows too when they have been          
no more thirsty. They say much of blood and bloom and of others             
which I comprehend not, though I guess what they mean; but                  
nevertheless they tell us all things which we want to know.                 
  "They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at about            
five o'clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and pale, with          
high nose and teeth so white, and eyes that seem to be burning. That        
he be all in black, except that he have a hat of straw which suit           
not him or the time. That he scatter his money in making quick inquiry      
as to what ship sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took him        
to the office and then to the ship, where he will not go aboard but         
halt at shore end of gang-plank, and ask that the captain come to him.      
The captain come, when told that he will be pay well; and though he         
swear much at the first he agree to term. Then the thin man go and          
some one tell him where horse and cart can be hired. He go there and        
soon he come again, himself driving cart on which a great box; this he      
himself lift down, though it take several to put it on truck for the        
ship. He give much talk to captain as to how and where his box is to        
be place; but the captain like it not and swear at him in many              
tongues, and tell him that if he like he can come and see where it          
shall be. But he say 'no;' that he come not yet, for that he have much      
to do. Whereupon the captain tell him that he had better be quick-          
with blood- for that his ship will leave the place- of blood- before        
the turn of the tide- with blood. Then the thin man smile and say that      
of course he must go when he think fit; but he will be surprise if          
he go quite so soon. The captain swear again, polyglot, and the thin        
man make him bow, and thank him, and say that he will so far intrude        
on his kindness as to come aboard before the sailing. Final the             
captain, more red than ever, and in more tongues, tell him that he          
doesn't want no Frenchmen- with bloom upon them and also with blood-        
in his ship- with blood on her also. And so, after asking where             
there might be close at hand a shop where he might purchase ship            
forms, he departed.                                                         
  "No one knew where he went 'or bloomin' well cared,' as they said,        
for they had something else to think of- well with blood again; for it      
soon became apparent to all that the Czarina Catherine would not            
sail as was expected. A thin mist began to creep up from the river,         
and it grew, and grew, till soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and         
all around her. The captain swore polyglot- very polyglot- polyglot         
with bloom and blood; but he could do nothing. The water rose and           
rose; and he began to fear that he would lose the tide altogether.          
He was in no friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man            
came up the gang-plank again and asked to see where his box had been        
stowed. Then the captain replied that he wished that he and his box-        
old and with much bloom and blood- were in hell. But the thin man           
did not be offend, and went down with the mate and saw where it was         
place, and came up and stood awhile on deck in fog. He must have            
come off by himself, for none notice him. Indeed they thought not of        
him; for soon the fog begin to melt away, and all was clear again.          
My friends of the thirst and the language that was of bloom and             
blood laughed, as they told how the captain's swears exceeded even his      
usual polyglot, and was more than ever full of picturesque, when on         
questioning other mariners who were on movement up and down on the          
river that hour, he found that few of them had seen any of fog at all,      
except where it lay round the wharf! However, the ship went out on the      
ebb tide; and was doubtless by morning far down the river mouth. She        
was by then, when they told us, well out to sea.                            
  "And so my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a time,        
for our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his command, on his way        
to the Danube mouth. To sail a ship takes time, go she never so quick;      
and when we start we go on land more quick, and we meet him there. Our      
best hope is to come on him when in the box between sunrise and             
sunset; for then he can make no struggle, and we may deal with him          
as we should. There are days for us, in which we can make ready our         
plan. We know all about where he go; for we have seen the owner of the      
ship, who have shown us invoices and all papers that can be. The box        
we seek is to be landed in Varna, and to be given to an agent, one          
Ristics who will there present his credentials; and so our merchant         
friend will have done his part. When he ask if there be any wrong, for      
that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made at Varna, we say 'no;'      
for what is to be done is not for police or of the customs. It must be      
done by us alone and in our own way."                                       
  When Dr. Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he were            
certain that the Count had remained on board the ship. He replied: "We      
have the best proof of that: your own evidence, when in the hypnotic        
trance this morning." I asked him again if it were really necessary         
that they should pursue the Count, for oh! I dread Jonathan leaving         
me, and I know that he would surely go if the others went. He answered      
in growing passion, at first quietly. As he went on, however, he            
grew more angry and more forceful, till in the end we could not but         
see wherein was at least some of that personal dominance which made         
him so long a master amongst men:-                                          
  "Yes it is necessary- necessary- necessary! For your sake in the          
first, and then for the sake of humanity. This monster has done much        
harm already, in the narrow scope where he find himself, and in the         
short time when as yet he was only as a body groping his so small           
measure in darkness and not knowing. All this have I told these             
others; you, my dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of my      
friend John, or in that of your husband. I have told them how the           
measure of leaving his own barren land- barren of peoples- and              
coming to a new land where life of man teems till they are like the         
multitude of standing corn, was the work of centuries. Were another of      
the Un-Dead, like him, to try to do what he has done, perhaps not           
all the centuries of the world that have been, or that will be,             
could aid him. With this one, all the forces of nature that are occult      
and deep and strong must have worked together in some wondrous way.         
The very place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead for all these             
centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and chemical              
world. There are deep caverns and fissures that reach none know             
whither. There have been volcanoes, some of whose openings still            
send out waters of strange properties, and gases that kill or make          
to vivify. Doubtless, there is something magnetic or electric in            
some of these combinations of occult forces which work for physical         
life in strange way; and in himself were from the first some great          
qualities. In a hard and warlike time he was celebrate that he have         
more iron nerve, more subtle brain, more braver heart, than any man.        
In him some vital principle have in strange way found their utmost;         
and as his body keep strong and grow and thrive, so his brain grow          
too. All this without that diabolic aid which is surely to him; for it      
have to yield to the powers that come from, and are, symbolic of good.      
And now this is what he is to us. He have infect you- oh forgive me,        
my dear, that I must say such; but it is for good of you that I speak.      
He infect you in such wise, that even if he do no more, you have            
only to live- to live in your own old, sweet way; and so in time,           
death, which is of man's common lot and with God's sanction, shall          
make you like to him. This must not be! We have sworn together that it      
must not. Thus are we ministers of God's own wish: that the world, and      
men for whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, whose         
very existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one soul      
already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem more.      
Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise; and like them, if we         
fall, we fall in good cause." He paused and I said:-                        
  "But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely? Since he has been         
driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a tiger does the village      
from which he has been hunted?"                                             
  "Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I             
shall adopt him. Your man-eater, as they of India call the tiger who        
has once taste blood of the human, care no more for other prey, but         
prowl unceasing till he get him. This that we hunt from our village is      
a tiger, too, a man-eater, and he never cease to prowl. Nay in himself      
he is not one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his living life,        
he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on his own ground;      
he be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and again,           
and again. Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain      
that was to him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a         
great city. What does he do? He find out the place of all the world         
most of promise for him. Then he deliberately set himself down to           
prepare for the task. He find in patience just how is his strength,         
and what are his powers. He study new tongues. He learn new social          
life; new environment of old ways, the politic, the law, the                
finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new people who          
have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have had, whet his        
appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him to grow as to         
his brain; for it all prove to him how right he was at the first in         
his surmises. He have done this alone; all alone! from a ruin tomb          
in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the greater world of      
thought is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know him;         
who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole peoples.      
Oh! if such an one was to come from God, and not the Devil, what a          
force for good might he not be in this old world of ours. But we are        
pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our         
efforts all in secret; for in this enlightened age, when men believe        
not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest      
strength. It would be at once his sheath and his armour, and his            
weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even           
our own souls for the safety of one we love- for the good of                
mankind, and for the honour and glory of God."                              
  After a general discussion it was determined that for tonight             
nothing be definitely settled; that we should all sleep on the              
facts, and try to think out the proper conclusions. To-morrow at            
breakfast we are to meet again, and, after making our conclusions           
known to one another, we shall decide on some definite cause of             
action.                                                                     
  I feel a wonderful peace and rest to-night. It is as if some              
haunting presence were removed from me. Perhaps...                          
  My surmise was not finished, could not be; for I caught sight in the      
mirror of the red mark upon my forehead; and I knew that I was still        
unclean.                                                                    
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  5 October.- We all rose early, and I think that sleep did much for        
each and all of us. When we met at early breakfast there was more           
general cheerfulness than any of us had ever expected to experience         
again.                                                                      
  It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature.      
Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way- even      
by death- and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment.        
More than once as we sat around the table, my eyes opened in wonder         
whether the whole of the past days had not been a dream. It was only        
when I caught sight of the red blotch on Mrs. Harker's forehead that I      
was brought back to reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving the      
matter, it is almost impossible to realise that the cause of all our        
trouble is still existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her      
trouble for whole spells; it is only now and again, when something          
recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her terrible scar. We are        
to meet here in my study in half an hour and decide on our course of        
action. I see only one immediate difficulty, I know it by instinct          
rather than reason: we shall all have to speak frankly; and yet I fear      
that in some mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker's tongue is tied. I            
know that she forms conclusions of her own, and from all that has been      
I can guess how brilliant and how true they must be; but she will not,      
or cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned this to Van                
Helsing, and he and I are to talk it over when we are alone. I suppose      
it is some of that horrid poison which has got into her veins               
beginning to work. The Count had his own purposes when he gave her          
what Van Helsing called "the Vampire's baptism of blood." Well,             
there may be a poison that distils itself out of good things; in an         
age when the existence of ptomaines is a mystery we should not              
wonder at anything! One thing I know: that if my instinct be true           
regarding poor Mrs. Harker's silences, then there is a terrible             
difficulty- an unknown danger- in the work before us. The same power        
that compels her silence may compel her speech. I dare not think            
further; for so I should in my thoughts dishonour a noble woman!            
  Van Helsing is coming to my study a little before the others. I           
shall try to open the subject with him.                                     
-                                                                           
  Later.- When the Professor came in, we talked over the state of           
things. I could see that he had something on his mind which he              
wanted to say, but felt some hesitancy about broaching the subject.         
After beating about the bush a little, he said suddenly:-                   
  "Friend John, there is something that you and I must talk of              
alone, just at the first at any rate. Later, we may have to take the        
others into our confidence;" then he stopped, so I waited; he went          
on:-                                                                        
  "Madam Mina, our poor, dear Madam Mina is changing." A cold shiver        
ran through me to find my worst fears thus endorsed. Van Helsing            
continued:-                                                                 
  "With the sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time be warned        
before things go too far. Our task is now in reality more difficult         
than ever, and this new trouble makes every hour of the direst              
importance. I can see the characteristics of the vampire coming in her      
face. It is now but very, very slight; but it is to be seen if we have      
eyes to notice without to prejudge. Her teeth are some sharper, and at      
times her eyes are more hard. But these are not all, there is to her        
the silence now often; as so it was with Miss Lucy. She did not speak,      
even when she wrote that which she wished to be known later. Now my         
fear is this. If it be that she can, by our hypnotic trance, tell what      
the Count see and hear, is it not more true that he who have hypnotise      
her first, and who have drink of her very blood and make her drink          
of his, should, if he will, compel her mind to disclose to him that         
which she know?" I nodded acquiescence; he went on:-                        
  "Then, what we must do is to prevent this; we must keep her ignorant      
of our intent, and so she cannot tell what she know not. This is a          
painful task! Oh! so painful that it heart-break me to think of, but        
it must be. When to-day we meet, I must tell her that for reason which      
we will not to speak she must not more be of our council, but be            
simply guarded by us." He wiped his forehead, which had broken out          
in profuse perspiration at the thought of the pain which he might have      
to inflict upon the poor soul already so tortured. I knew that it           
would be some sort of comfort to him if I told him that I also had          
come to the same conclusion; for at any rate it would take away the         
pain of doubt. I told him, and the effect was as I expected.                
  It is now close to the time of our general gathering. Van Helsing         
has gone away to prepare for the meeting, and his painful part of           
it. I really believe his purpose is to be able to pray alone.               
-                                                                           
  Later.- At the very outset of our meeting a great personal relief         
was experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs. Harker had sent a      
message by her husband to say that she would not join us at present,        
as she thought it better that we should be free to discuss our              
movements without her presence to embarrass us. The Professor and I         
looked at each other for an instant, and somehow we both seemed             
relieved. For my own part, I thought that if Mrs. Harker realised           
the danger herself, it was much pain as well as much danger averted.        
Under the circumstances we agreed, by a questioning look and answer,        
with finger on lip, to preserve silence in our suspicions, until we         
should have been able to confer alone again. We went at once into           
our Plan of Campaign. Van Helsing roughly put the facts before us           
first:-                                                                     
  "The Czarina Catherine left the Thames yesterday morning. It will         
take her at the quickest speed she has ever made at least three             
weeks to reach Varna; but we can travel overland to the same place          
in three days. Now, if we allow for two days less for the ship's            
voyage, owing to such weather influences as we know that the Count can      
bring to bear, and if we allow a whole day and night for any delays         
which may occur to us, then we have a margin of nearly two weeks.           
Thus, in order to be quite safe, we must leave here on 17th at latest.      
Then we shall at any rate be in Varna a day before the ship arrives,        
and able to make such preparations as may be necessary. Of course we        
shall all go armed- armed against evil things, spiritual as well as         
physical." Here Quincey Morris added:-                                      
  "I understand that the Count comes from a wolf country, and it may        
be that he shall get there before us. I propose that we add                 
Winchesters to our armament. I have a kind of belief in a Winchester        
when there is any trouble of that sort around. Do you remember Art,         
when we had the pack after us at Tobolsk? What wouldn't we have             
given then for a repeater apiece!"                                          
  "Good!" said Van Helsing, "Winchester's it shall be. Quincey's            
head is level at all times, but most so when there is to hunt,              
though my metaphor be more dishonour to science than wolves be of           
danger to man. In the meantime we can do nothing here; and as I             
think that Varna is not familiar to any of us, why not go there more        
soon? It is as long to wait here as there. To-night and to-morrow we        
can get ready, and then, if all be well, we four can set out on our         
journey."                                                                   
  "We four?" said Harker interrogatively, looking from one to               
another of us.                                                              
  "Of course!" answered the Professor quickly, "you must remain to          
take care of your so sweet wife!" Harker was silent for awhile and          
then said in a hollow voice:-                                               
  "Let us talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to consult         
with Mina." I thought that now was the time for Van Helsing to warn         
him not to disclose our plans to her, but he took no notice. I              
looked at him significantly and coughed. For answer he put his              
finger on his lips and turned away.                                         
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  5 October, afternoon.- For some time after our meeting this               
morning I could not think. The new phases of things leave my mind in a      
state of wonder which allows no room for active thought. Mina's             
determination not to take any part in the discussion set me                 
thinking; and as I could not argue the matter with her, I could only        
guess. I am as far as ever from a solution now. The way the others          
received it, too, puzzled me; the last time we talked of the subject        
we agreed that there was to be no more concealment of anything amongst      
us. Mina is sleeping now, calmly and sweetly like a little child.           
Her lips are curved and her face beams with happiness. Thank God there      
are such moments still for her.                                             
-                                                                           
  Later.- How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina's happy sleep,         
and came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I shall ever be.        
As the evening drew on, and the earth took its shadows from the sun         
sinking lower, the silence of the room grew more and more solemn to         
me. All at once Mina opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly,           
said:-                                                                      
  "Jonathan, I want you to promise me something on your word of             
honour. A promise made to me, but made holily in God's hearing, and         
not to be broken though I should go down on my knees and implore you        
with bitter tears. Quick, you must make it to me at once."                  
  "Mina," I said, "a promise like that, I cannot make at once. I may        
have no right to make it."                                                  
  "But, dear one," she said, with such spiritual intensity that her         
eyes were like pole stars, "It is I who wish it; and it is not for          
myself. You can ask Dr. Van Helsing if I am not right; if he disagrees      
you may do as you will. Nay more, if you all agree, later, you are          
absolved from the promise."                                                 
  "I promise!" I said, and for a moment she looked supremely happy;         
though to me all happiness for her was denied by the red scar on her        
forehead. She said:-                                                        
  "Promise me that you will not tell me anything of the plans formed        
for the campaign against the Count. Not by word, or inference, or           
implication; not at any time whilst this remains to me!" and she            
solemnly pointed to the scar. I saw that she was in earnest, and            
said solemnly:-                                                             
  "I promise!" and as I said it I felt that from that instant a door        
had been shut between us.                                                   
-                                                                           
  Later, midnight- Mina has been bright and cheerful all the                
evening. So much so that all the rest seemed to take courage, as if         
infected somewhat with her gaiety; as a result even I myself felt as        
if the pall of gloom which weighs us down were somewhat lifted. We all      
retired early. Mina is now sleeping like a little child; it is a            
wonderful thing that her faculty of sleep remains to her in the             
midst of her terrible trouble. Thank God for it, for then at least she      
can forget her care. Perhaps her example may affect me as her gaiety        
did to-night. I shall try it. Oh! for a dreamless sleep.                    
-                                                                           
  6 October, morning.- Another surprise. Mina woke me early, about the      
same time as yesterday, and asked me to bring Dr. Van Helsing. I            
thought that it was another occasion for hypnotism, and without             
question went for the Professor. He had evidently expected some such        
call, for I found him dressed in his room. His door was ajar, so            
that he could hear the opening of the door of our room. He came at          
once; as he passed into the room, he asked Mina if the others might         
come too.                                                                   
  "No," she said quite simply, "It will not be necessary. You can tell      
them just as well. I must go with you on your journey."                     
  Dr. Van Helsing was startled as I was. After a moment's pause he          
asked:-                                                                     
  "But why?"                                                                
  "You must take me with you. I am safer with you, and you shall be         
safer too."                                                                 
  "But why, dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety is our               
solemnest duty. We go into danger, to which you are, or may be, more        
liable than any of us from- from circumstances- things that have            
been." He paused embarrassed.                                               
  As she replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her forehead:-       
  "I know. That is why I must go. I can tell you now, whilst the sun        
is coming up; I may not be able again. I know that when the Count           
wills me I must go. I know that if he tells me to come in secret, I         
must come by wile; by any device to hoodwink- even Jonathan." God           
saw the look that she turned on me as she spoke, and if there be            
indeed a Recording Angel that look is noted to her everlasting honour.      
I could only clasp her hand. I could not speak; my emotion was too          
great for even the relief of tears. She went on:-                           
  "You men are brave and strong. You are strong in your numbers, for        
you can defy that which would break down the human endurance of one         
who had to guard alone. Besides, I may be of service, since you can         
hypnotise me and so learn that which even I myself do not know." Dr.        
Van Helsing said very gravely:-                                             
  "Madam Mina you are, as always, most wise. You shall with us come;        
and together we shall do that which we go forth to achieve." When he        
had spoken, Mina's long spell of silence made me look at her. She           
had fallen back on her pillow asleep; she did not even wake when I had      
pulled up the blind and let in the sunlight which flooded the room.         
Van Helsing motioned to me to come with him quietly. We went to his         
room, and within a minute Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris        
were with us also. He told them what Mina had said, and went on:-           
  "In the morning we shall leave for Varna. We have now to deal with a      
new factor: Madam Mina. Oh, but her soul is true. It is to her an           
agony to tell us so much as she has done; but it is most right, and we      
are warned in time. There must be no chance lost, and in Varna we must      
be ready to act the instant when that ship arrives."                        
  "What shall we do exactly?" asked Mr. Morris laconically. The             
Professor paused before replying:-                                          
  "We shall at the first board that ship; then, when we have                
identified the box, we shall place a branch of the wild rose on it.         
This we shall fasten, for when it is there none can emerge; so at           
least says the superstition. And to superstition must we trust at           
the first; it was man's faith in the early, and it have its root in         
faith still. Then, when we get the opportunity that we seek, when none      
are near to see, we shall open the box, and- and all will be well."         
  "I shall not wait for any opportunity," said Morris. "When I see the      
box I shall open it and destroy the monster, though there were a            
thousand men looking on, and if I am to be wiped out for it the next        
moment!" I grasped his hand instinctively and found it as firm as a         
piece of steel. I think he understood my look; I hope he did.               
  "Good boy," said Dr. Van Helsing. "Brave boy. Quincey is all man,         
God bless him for it. My child, believe me none of us shall lag behind      
or pause from any fear. I do but say what we may do- what we must           
do. But, indeed, indeed we cannot say what we shall do. There are so        
many things which may happen, and their ways and their ends are so          
various that until the moment we may not say. We shall all be armed,        
in all ways; and when the time for the end has come, our effort             
shall not be lack. Now let us to-day put all our affairs in order. Let      
all things which touch on others dear to us, and who on us depend,          
be complete; for none of us can tell what, or when, or how, the end         
may be. As for me, my own affairs are regulate; and as I have               
nothing else to do, I shall go make arrangement for the travel. I           
shall have all tickets and so forth for our journey."                       
  "There was nothing further to be said, and we parted. I shall now         
settle up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for whatever may            
come...                                                                     
-                                                                           
  Later.- It is all done; my will is made, and all complete. Mina if        
she survive is my sole heir. If it should not be so, then the others        
who have been so good to us shall have remainder.                           
  It is now drawing towards the sunset; Mina's uneasiness calls my          
attention to it. I am sure that there is something on her mind which        
the time of exact sunset will reveal. These occasions are becoming          
harrowing times for us all, for each sunrise and sunset opens up            
some new danger- some new pain, which, however, may in God's will be        
means to a good end. I write all these things in the diary since my         
darling must not hear them now, but if it may be that she can see them      
again, they shall be ready."                                                
  She is calling to me.                                                     
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXV                                                                 
                             CHAPTER XXV.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  11 October, Evening.- Jonathan Harker has asked me to note this,          
as he says he is hardly equal to the task, and he wants an exact            
record kept.                                                                
  I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked to see          
Mrs. Harker a little before the time of sunset. We have of late come        
to understand that sunrise and sunset are to her times of peculiar          
freedom; when her old self can be manifest without any controlling          
force subduing or restraining her, or inciting her to action. This          
mood or condition begins some half hour or more before actual               
sunrise or sunset, and lasts till either the sun is high, or whilst         
the clouds are still aglow with the rays streaming above the                
horizon. At first there is a sort of negative condition, as if some         
tie were loosened, and then the absolute freedom quickly follows;           
when, however, the freedom ceases the change-back or relapse comes          
quickly, preceded only by a spell of warning silence.                       
  To-night, when we met she was somewhat constrained, and bore all the      
signs of an internal struggle. I put it down myself to her making a         
violent effort at the earliest instant she could do so. A very few          
minutes, however, gave her complete control of herself, then,               
motioning her husband to sit beside her on the sofa where she was half      
reclining, she made the rest of us bring chairs up close. Taking her        
husband's hand in hers began:-                                              
  "We are all here together in freedom, for perhaps the last time! I        
know, dear; I know that you will always be with me to the end." This        
was to her husband whose hand had, as we could see, tightened upon          
hers. "In the morning we go out upon our task, and God alone knows          
what may be in store for any of us. You are going to be so good to          
me as to take me with you. I know that all that brave earnest men           
can do for a poor weak woman, whose soul perhaps is lost- no, no,           
not yet, but is at any rate at stake- you will do. But you must             
remember that I am not as you are. There is a poison in my blood, in        
my soul, which may destroy me; which must destroy me, unless some           
relief comes to us. Oh, my friends, you know as well as I do, that          
my soul is at stake; and though I know there is one way out for me,         
you must not and I must not take it!" She looked appealingly to us all      
in turn, beginning and ending with her husband.                             
  "What is that way?" asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice. "What is         
that way, which we must not- may not- take?"                                
  "That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of another,            
before the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know, and you know,          
that were I once dead you could and would set free my immortal spirit,      
even as you did my poor Lucy's. Were death, or the fear of death,           
the only thing that stood in the way I would not shrink to die here,        
now, amidst the friends who love me. But death is not all. I cannot         
believe that to die in such a case, when there is hope before us and a      
bitter task to be done, is God's will. Therefore, I on my part, give        
up here the certainty of eternal rest, and go out into the dark             
where may be the blackest things that the world or the nether world         
holds!" We were all silent, for we knew instinctively that this was         
only a prelude. The faces of the others were set, and Harker's grew         
ashen grey; perhaps he guessed better than any of us what was               
coming. She continued:-                                                     
  "This is what I can give into the hotch-pot." I could not but note        
the quaint legal phrase which she used in such a place, and with all        
seriousness. "What will each of you give? Your lives I know," she went      
on quickly, "that is easy for brave men. Your lives are God's, and you      
can give them back to Him; but what will you give to me?" She looked        
again questioningly, but this time avoided her husband's face. Quincey      
seemed to understand; he nodded, and her face lit up. "Then I shall         
tell you plainly what I want, for there must be no doubtful matter          
in this connection between us now. You must promise me, one and all-        
even you my beloved husband- that, should the time come, you will kill      
me."                                                                        
  "What is that time?" The voice was Quincey's, but was low and             
strained.                                                                   
  "When you shall be convinced that I am so changed that it is              
better that I die that I may live. When I am thus dead in the flesh,        
then you will, without a moment's delay, drive a stake through me           
and cut off my head; or do whatever else may be wanting to give me          
rest!"                                                                      
  Quincey was the first to rise after the pause. He knelt down              
before her and taking her hand in his said solemnly:-                       
  "I'm only a rough fellow, who hasn't, perhaps, lived as a man should      
to win such a distinction, but I swear to you by all that I hold            
sacred and dear that, should the time ever come, I shall not flinch         
from the duty that you have set us. And I promise you, too, that I          
shall make all certain, for if I am only doubtful I shall take it that      
the time has come!"                                                         
  "My true friend!" was all she could say amid her fast falling tears,      
as, bending over, she kissed his hand.                                      
  "I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!" said Van Helsing.                 
  "And I!" said Lord Godalming, each of them in turn kneeling to her        
to take the oath. I followed, myself. Then her husband turned to her        
wan-eyed and with a greenish pallor which subdued the snowy                 
whiteness of his hair, and asked:-                                          
  "And must I, too, make such a promise, oh my wife?"                       
  "You too, my dearest," she said, with infinite yearning of pity in        
her voice and eyes. "You must not shrink. You are nearest and               
dearest and all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for           
all life and all time. Think dear, that there have been times when          
brave men have killed their wives and their womenkind, to keep them         
from failing into the hands of the enemy. Their hands did not falter        
any the more because those that they loved implored them to slay them.      
It is men's duty towards those whom they love, in such times of sore        
trial! And oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any        
hand, let it be at the hand of him that loves me best. Dr. Van              
Helsing, I have not forgotten your mercy in poor Lucy's case to him         
who loved"- she stopped with a flying blush, and changed her phrase-        
"to him who had best right to give her peace. If that time shall            
come again, I look to you to make it a happy memory of my husband's         
life that it was his loving hand which set me free from the awful           
thrall upon me."                                                            
  "Again I swear!" came the Professor's resonant voice. Mrs. Harker         
smiled, positively smiled, as with a sigh of relief she leaned back         
and said:-                                                                  
  "And now one word of warning, a warning which you must never forget:      
this time, if it ever come, may come quickly and unexpectedly, and          
in such case you must lose no time in using your opportunity. At            
such a time I myself might be- nay! If the time ever comes, shall           
be- leagued with your enemy against you."                                   
  "One more request;" she became very solemn as she said this, "it          
is not vital and necessary like the other, but I want you to do one         
thing for me, if you will." We all acquiesced, but no one spoke; there      
was no need to speak:-                                                      
  "I want you to read the Burial Service." She was interrupted by a         
deep groan from her husband; taking his hand in hers, she held it over      
her heart, and continued. "You must read it over me some day. Whatever      
may be the issue of all this fearful state of things, it will be a          
sweet thought to all or some of us. You, my dearest, will I hope            
read it, for then it will be in your voice in my memory for ever- come      
what may!"                                                                  
  "But oh, my dear one," he pleaded, "death afar off from you."             
  "Nay," she said, holding up a warning hand. "I am deeper in death at      
this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay heavy upon me!"      
  "Oh my wife, must I read it?" he said, before he began.                   
  "It would comfort me, my husband!" was all she said; and he began to      
read when she had got the book ready.                                       
  "How can I- how could any one- tell of that strange scene, its            
solemnity, its gloom, its sadness, its horror; and withal, its              
sweetness. Even a sceptic, who can see nothing but travesty of              
bitter truth in anything holy or emotional, would have been melted          
to the heart had he seen that little group of loving and devoted            
friends kneeling round that stricken and sorrowing lady; or heard           
the tender passion of her husband's voice, as in tones so broken            
with emotion that often he had to pause, he read the simple and             
beautiful service from the Burial of the Dead. I- I cannot go on-           
words- and- v-voice- f-fail m-me!"...                                       
  She was right in her instinct. Strange as it all was, bizarre as          
it may hereafter seem even to us who felt its potent influence at           
the time, it comforted us much; and the silence, which showed Mrs.          
Harker's coming relapse from her freedom of soul, did not seem so full      
of despair to any of us as we had dreaded.                                  
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  15 October, Varna.- We left Charing Cross on the morning of the           
12th, got to Paris the same night, and took the places secured for          
us in the Orient Express. We travelled night and day, arriving here at      
about five o'clock. Lord Godalming went to the Consulate to see if any      
telegram had arrived for him, whilst the rest of us came on to this         
hotel- "the Odessus." The journey may have had incidents; I was,            
however, too eager to get on, to care for them. Until the Czarina           
Catherine comes into port there will be no interest for me in anything      
in the wide world. Thank God! Mina is well, and looks to be getting         
stronger; her colour is coming back. She sleeps a great deal;               
throughout the journey she slept nearly all the time. Before sunrise        
and sunset, however, she is very wakeful and alert; and it has              
become a habit for Van Helsing to hypnotise her at such times. At           
first, some effort was needed, and he had to make many passes; but          
now, she seems to yeild at once, as if by habit, and scarcely any           
action is needed. He seems to have power at these particular moments        
to simply will, and her thoughts obey him. He always asks her what she      
can see and hear. She answers to the first:-                                
  "Nothing; all is dark." And to the second:-                               
  "I can hear the waves lapping against the ship, and the water             
rushing by. Canvas and cordage strain and masts and yards creak. The        
wind is high- I can hear it in the shrouds, and the bow throws back         
the foam." It is evident that the Czarina Catherine is still a sea,         
hastening on her way to Varna. Lord Godalming has just returned. He         
had four telegrams, one each day since we started, and all to the same      
effect: that the Czarina Catherine had not been reported to Lloyd's         
from anywhere. He had arranged before leaving London that his agent         
should send him every day a telegram saying if the ship had been            
reported. He was to have a message even if she were not reported, so        
that he might be sure that there was a watch being kept at the other        
end of the wire.                                                            
  We had dinner and went to bed early. To-morrow we are to see the          
Vice-Counsul, and to arrange, if we can, about getting on board the         
ship as soon as she arrives. Van Helsing says that our chance will          
be to get on the boat between sunrise and sunset. The Count, even if        
he takes the form of a bat, cannot cross the running water of his           
own volition, and so cannot leave the ship. As he dare not change to        
man's form without suspicion- which he evidently washes to avoid- he        
must remain in the box. If, then, we can come on board after                
sunrise, he is at our mercy; for we can open the box and make sure          
of him, as we did of poor Lucy, before he wakes. What mercy he shall        
get from us will not count for much. We think that we shall not have        
much trouble with officials or the seamen. Thank God! this is the           
country where bibery can do anything, and we are well supplied with         
money. We have only to make sure that the ship cannot come into port        
between sunset and sunrise without our being warned, and we shall be        
safe. Judge Moneybag will settle this case, I think!                        
-                                                                           
  16 October.- Mina's report still the same: lapping waves and rushing      
water, darkness and favouring winds. We are evidently in good time,         
and when we hear of the Czarina Catherine we shall be ready. As she         
must pass the Dardanelles we are sure to have some report.                  
-                                                                           
  17 October.- Everything is pretty well fixed now, I think, to             
welcome the Count on his return from his tour. Godalming told the           
shippers that he fancied that the box sent aboard might contain             
something stolen from a friend of his, and got a half consent that          
he might open it at his own risk. The owner gave him a paper telling        
the Captain to give him every facility in doing whatever he chose on        
board the ship, and also a similar authorisation to his agent at            
Varna. We have seen the agent, who was much impressed with Godalming's      
kindly manner to him, and we are all satisfied that whatever he can do      
to aid our wishes will be done. We have already arranged what to do in      
case we get the box open. If the Count is there, Van Helsing and            
Seward will cut off his head at once and drive a stake through his          
heart. Morris and Godalming and I shall prevent interference, even          
if we have to use the arms which we shall have ready. The Professor         
says that if we can so treat the Count's body, it will soon after fall      
into dust. In such case there would be no evidence against us, in case      
any suspicion of murder were aroused. But even if it were not, we           
should stand or fall by our act, and perhaps some day this very script      
may be evidence to come between some of us and a rope. For myself, I        
should take the chance only too thankfully if it were to come. We mean      
to leave no stone unturned to carry out our intent. We have arranged        
with certain officials that the instant the Czarina Catherine is seen,      
we are to be informed by a special messenger.                               
-                                                                           
  24 October.- A whole week of waiting. Dally telegrams to                  
Godalming, but only the same story: "Not yet reported." Mina's morning      
and evening hypnotic answer is unvaried: lapping waves, rushing water,      
and creaking masts.                                                         
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                                              Telegram, October 24th.       
-                                                                           
       Rufus Smith, Lloyd's London, to Lord Godalming, care of              
                      H.B.M. Vice-Consul, Varna.                            
-                                                                           
  "Czarina Catherine reported this morning from Dardanelles."               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  25 October.- How I miss my phonograph! To write diary with a pen          
is irksome to me; but Van Helsing says I must. We were all wild with        
excitement yesterday when Godalming got his telegram from Lloyd's. I        
know now what men feel in battle when the call to action is heard.          
Mrs. Harker, alone of our party, did not show any signs of emotion.         
After all, it is not strange that she did not; for we took special          
care not to let her know anything about it, and we all tried not to         
show any excitement when we were in her presence. In old days she           
would, I am sure, have noticed, no matter how we might have tried to        
conceal it; but in this way she is greatly changed during the past          
three weeks. The lethargy grows upon her, and though she seems              
strong and well, and is getting back some of her colour, Van Helsing        
and I are not satisfied. We talk of her often; we have not, however,        
said a word to the others. It would break poor Harker's heart-              
certainly his nerve- if he knew that we had even a suspicion on the         
subject. Van Helsing examines, he tells me, her teeth very                  
carefully, whilst she is in the hypnotic condition, for he says that        
so long as they do not begin to sharpen there is no active danger of a      
change in her. If this change should come, it would be necessary to         
take steps!... We both know what those steps would have to be,              
though we do not mention our thoughts to each other. We should neither      
of us shrink from the task- awful though it be to contemplate.              
"Euthanasia" is an excellent and a comforting word! I am grateful to        
whoever invented it.                                                        
  It is only about 24 hours' sail from the Dardanelles to here, at the      
rate the Czarina Catherine has come from London. She should                 
therefore arrive some time in the morning; but as she cannot                
possibly get in before then, we are all about to retire early. We           
shall get up at one o'clock, so as to be ready.                             
-                                                                           
  25 October, Noon.- No news yet of the ship's arrival. Mrs.                
Harker's hypnotic report this morning was the same as usual, so it          
is possible that we may get news at any moment. We men are all in a         
fever of excitement, except Harker, who is calm; his hands are as cold      
as ice, and an hour ago I found him whetting the edge of the great          
Ghoorka knife which he now always carries with him. It will be a bad        
look out for the Count if the edge of that "Kukri" ever touches his         
throat, driven by that stern, ice-cold hand!                                
  Van Helsing and I were a little alarmed about Mrs. Harker to-day.         
About noon she got into a sort of lethargy which we did not like;           
although we kept silence to the others, we were neither of us happy         
about it. She had been restless all the morning, so that we were at         
first glad to know that she was sleeping. When, however, her husband        
mentioned casually that she was sleeping so soundly that he could           
not wake her, we went to her room to see for ourselves. She was             
breathing naturally and looked so well and peaceful that we agreed          
that the sleep was better for her than anything else. Poor girl, she        
has so much to forget that it is no wonder that sleep, if it brings         
oblivion to her, does her good.                                             
-                                                                           
  Later.- Our opinion was justified, for when after a refreshing sleep      
of some hours she woke up, she seemed brighter and better than she had      
been for days. At sunset she made the usual hypnotic report.                
Wherever he may be in the Black Sea, the Count is hurrying to his           
destination. To his doom, I trust!                                          
-                                                                           
  26 October.- Another day and no tidings of the Czarina Catherine.         
She ought to be here by now. That she is still journeying somewhere is      
apparent, for Mrs. Harker's hypnotic report at sunrise was still the        
same. It is possible that the vessel may be lying by, at times, for         
fog; some of the steamers which came in last evening reported               
patches of fog both to north and south of the port. We must continue        
our watching, as the ship may now be signalled any moment.                  
-                                                                           
  27 October, Noon.- Most strange; no news yet of the ship we wait          
for. Mrs. Harker reported last night and this morning as usual:             
"lapping waves and rushing water," though she added that "the waves         
were very faint." The telegrams from London have been the same: "no         
further report." Van Helsing is terribly anxious, and told me just now      
that he fears the Count is escaping us. He added significantly:-            
  "I did not like that lethargy of Madam Mina's. Souls and memories         
can do strange things during trance." I was about to ask him more, but      
Harker just then came in, and he held up a warning hand. We must try        
to-night at sunset to make her speak more fully when in her hypnotic        
state.                                                                      
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
         28 October.- Telegram. Rufus Smith, London, to Lord                
              Godalming, care H.B.M. Vice Consul, Varna.                    
-                                                                           
  "Czarina Catherine reported entering Galatz at one o'clock to-day."       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  28 October.- When the telegram came announcing the arrival in Galatz      
I do not think it was such a shock to any of us as might have been          
expected. True, we did not know whence, or how, or when, the bolt           
would come; but I think we all expected that something strange would        
happen. The delay of arrival at Varna made us individually satisfied        
that things would not be just as we had expected; we only waited to         
learn where the change would occur. None the less, however, was it a        
surprise. I suppose that nature works on such a hopeful basis that          
we believe against ourselves that things will be as they ought to           
be, not as we should know that they will be. Transcendentalism is a         
beacon to the angels, even if it be a will-o'-the-wisp to man. It           
was an odd experience and we all took it differently. Van Helsing           
raised his hand over his head for a moment, as though in                    
remonstrance with the Almighty; but he said not a word, and in a few        
second stood up with his face sternly set. Lord Godalming grew very         
pale, and sat breathing heavily. I was myself half stunned and              
looked in wonder at one after another. Quincey Morris tightened his         
belt with that quick movement which I knew so well; in our old              
wandering days it meant "action." Mrs. Harker grew ghastly white, so        
that the scar on her forehead seemed to burn, but she folded her hands      
meekly and looked up in prayer. Harker smiled- actually smiled- the         
dark, bitter smile of one who is without hope; but at the same time         
his action belied his words, for his hands instinctively sought the         
hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested there. "When does the next         
train start for Galatz?" said Van Helsing to us generally.                  
  "At 6:30 to-morrow morning!" We all stared, for the answer came from      
Mrs. Harker.                                                                
  "How on earth do you know?" said Art.                                     
  "You forget- or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so      
does Dr. Van Helsing- that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I        
always used to make up the time-tables, so as to be helpful to my           
husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of      
the timetables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to              
Castle Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate through               
Bucharest, so I learned the times very carefully. Unhappily there           
are not many to learn, as the only train tomorrow leaves as I say."         
  "Wonderful woman!" murmured the Professor.                                
  "Can't we get a special?" asked Lord Godalming. Van Helsing shook         
his head: "I fear not. This land is very different from your's or           
mine; even if we did have a special, it would probably not arrive as        
soon as our regular train. Moreover, we have something to prepare.          
We must think. Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the           
train and get the tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to go        
in the morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of the ship        
and get from him letters to the agent in Galatz, with authority to          
make search the ship just as it was here. Morris Quincey, you see           
the Vice-Consul, and get his aid with his fellow in Galatz and all          
he can do to make our way smooth, so that no times be lost when over        
the Danube. John will stay with Madam Mina and me, and we shall             
consult. For so if time be long you may be delayed; and it will not         
matter when the sun set, since I am here with Madam to make report."        
  "And I," said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old self            
than she had been for many a long day, "shall try to be of use in           
all ways, and shall think and write for you as I used to do. Something      
is shifting from me in some strange way, and I feel freer than I            
have been of late!" The three younger men looked happier at the moment      
as they seemed to realise the significance of her words; but Van            
Helsing and I, turning to each other, met each a grave and troubled         
glance. We said nothing at the time, however.                               
  When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Helsing asked          
Mrs. Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find him the part        
of Harker's journal at the Castle. She went away to get it; when the        
door was shut upon her he said to me:-                                      
  "We mean the same! speak out!"                                            
  "There is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick, for it may        
deceive us."                                                                
  "Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the manuscript?"            
  "No!" said I, "unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing me           
alone."                                                                     
  "You are in part right, friend John, but only in part. I want to          
tell you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking a great- a               
terrible- risk; but I believe it is right. In the moment when Madam         
Mina said those words that arrest both our understanding, an                
inspiration came to me. In the trance of three days ago the Count sent      
her his spirit to read her mind; or more like he took her to see him        
in his earth-box in the ship with water rushing, just as it go free at      
rise and set of sun. He learn then that we are here; for she have more      
to tell in her open life with eyes to see and ears to hear than he,         
shut, as he is, in his coffin-box. Now he make his most effort to           
escape us. At present he want her not.                                      
  "He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at his         
call; but he cut her off- take her, as he can do, out of his own            
power, that so she come not to him. Ah! there I have hope that our          
man-brains that have been of man so long and that have not lost the         
grace of God, will come, higher than his child-brain that lie in his        
tomb for centuries, that grow not yet to our stature, and that do only      
work selfish and therefore small. Here comes Madam Mina; not a word to      
her of her trance! She know it not; and it would overwhelm her and          
make despair just when we want all her hope all her courage; when most      
we want all her great brain which is trained like man's brain, but          
is of sweet woman and have a special power which the Count give her,        
and which he may not take away altogether- though he think not so.          
Hush! let me speak, and you shall learn. Oh, John, my friend, we are        
in awful straits. I fear, as I never feared before. We can only             
trust the good God. Silence! here she comes!"                               
  I thought that the Professor was going to break down and have             
hysterics, just as he had when Lucy died, but with a great effort he        
controlled himself and was at perfect nervous poise when Mrs. Harker        
tripped into the room, bright and happy-looking and, in the doing of        
work, seemingly forgetful of her misery. As she came in, she handed         
a number of sheets of typewriting to Van Helsing. He looked over            
them gravely, his face brightening up as he read. Then holding the          
pages between his finger and thumb he said:-                                
  "Friend John, to you with so much of experience already- and you,         
too, dear Madam Mina, that are young,- here is a lesson: do not fear        
ever to think. A half-thought has been buzzing often in my brain,           
but I fear to let him loose his wings. Here now, with more                  
knowledge, I go back to where that half-thought come from, and I            
find that he be no half-thought at all; that be a whole thought,            
though so young that he is not yet strong to use his little wings.          
Nay, like the "Ugly Duck" of my friend Hans Andersen, he be no              
duck-thought at all, but a big swan-thought that sail nobly on big          
wings, when the time come for him to try them. See I read here what         
Jonathan have written:-                                                     
  "That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again,             
brought his forces over The Great River into Turkey Land; who, when he      
was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to         
come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being                
slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph."         
  "What does this tell us? Not much? no! The Count's child-thought see      
nothing; therefore he speak so free. Your man-thought see nothing;          
my man-thought see nothing, till just now. No! But there comes another      
word from some one who speak without thought because she, too, know         
not what it mean- what it might mean. Just as there are elements which      
rest, yet when in nature's course they move on their way and they           
touch- then pouf! and there comes a flash of light, heaven wide,            
that blind and kill and destroy some: but that show up all earth below      
for leagues and leagues. Is it not so? Well, I shall explain. To            
begin, have you ever study the philosophy of crime. 'Yes' and 'No.'         
You, John, yes; for it is a study of insanity. You, no, Madam Mina;         
for crime touch you not- not but once. Still, your mind works true,         
and argues not a particulari and universale. There is this                  
pecularity in criminals. It is so constant, in all countries and at         
all times, that even police, who know not much from philosophy, come        
to know it empirically, that it Is. That is to be empiric. The              
criminal always work at one crime- that is the true criminal who seems      
predestinate to crime, and who will of none other. This criminal has        
not full man-brain. He is clever and cunning and resourceful; but he        
be not of man-stature as to brain. He be of child-brain in much. Now        
this criminal of ours is predestinate to crime also; he, too, have          
child-brain, and it is of the child to do what he have done. The            
little bird, the little fish, the little animal learn not by                
principle, but empirically; and when he learn to do, then there is          
to him the ground to start from to do more. 'Dos pou sto,' said             
Archimedes. 'Give me a fulcrum, and I shall move the world!' To do          
once, is the fulcrum whereby child-brain become man-brain; and until        
he have the purpose to do more, he continue to do the same again every      
time, just as he have done before! Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes        
are opened, and that to you the lightning flash show all the leagues,"      
for Mrs. Harker began to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled. He went      
on:-                                                                        
  "Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of science what you see         
with those so bright eyes." He took her hand and held it whilst she         
spoke. His finger and thumb closed on her pulse, as I thought               
instinctively and unconsciously, as she spoke:-                             
  "The Count is a criminal and of criminal type. Nordau and Lombroso        
would so classify him, and qua criminal he is of imperfectly formed         
mind. Thus, in a difficulty he has to seek resource in habit. His past      
is a clue, and the one page of it that we know- and that from his           
own lips- tells that once before, when in what Mr. Morris would call a      
'tight place,' he went back to his own country from the land he had         
tried to invade, and thence, without losing purpose, prepared               
himself for a new effort. He came again better equipped for his             
work; and won. So he came to London to invade a new land. He was            
beaten, and when all hope of success was lost, and his existence in         
danger, he fled back over the sea to his home; just as formerly he had      
fled back over the Danube from Turkey Land."                                
  "Good, good! oh, you so clever lady?" said Van Helsing,                   
enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later he      
said to me, as calmly as though we had been having a sickroom               
consultation:-                                                              
  "Seventy-two only; and in all this excitement. I have hope." Turning      
to her again, he said with keen expectation:-                               
  "But go on. Go on! there is more to tell if you will. Be not afraid;      
John and I know. I do in any case, and shall tell you if you are            
right. Speak, without fear!"                                                
  "I will try to; but you will forgive me if I seem egotistical."           
  "Nay! fear not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that we             
think."                                                                     
  "Then, as he is criminal he is selfish; and as his intellect is           
small and his action is based on selfishness, he confines himself to        
one purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he fled back over the          
Danube, leaving his forces to be cut to pieces, so now he is intent on      
being safe, careless of all. So, his own selfishness frees my soul          
somewhat from the terrible power which he acquired over me on that          
dreadful night. I felt it! Oh, I felt it! Thank God, for His great          
mercy! My soul is freer than it has been since that awful hour; and         
all that haunts me is a fear lest in some trance or dream he may            
have used my knowledge for his ends." The Professor stood up:-              
  "He has so used your mind; and by it he has left us here in Varna,        
whilst the ship that carried him rushed through enveloping fog up to        
Galatz, where, doubtless, he had made preparation for escaping from         
us. But his child-mind only saw so far, and it may be that, as ever is      
in God's Providence, the very thing that the evil-doer most reckoned        
on for his selfish good, turns out to be his chiefest harm. The hunter      
is taken in his own snare, as the great Psalmist says, For now that he      
think he is free from every trace of us all, and that he has escaped        
us with so many hours to him, then his selfish child-brain will             
whisper him to sleep. He think, too, that as he cut himself off from        
knowing your mind, there can be no knowledge of him to you; there is        
where he fall! That terrible baptism of blood which he give you             
makes you free to go to him in spirit, as you have as yet done in your      
times of freedom, when the sun rise and set. At such times you go by        
my volition and not by his; and this power to good of you and               
others, you have won from your suffering at his hands. This is now all      
more precious that he know it not, and to guard himself have even           
cut himself off from his knowledge of our where. We, however, are           
not selfish, and we believe that God is with us through all this            
blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall follow him; and we           
shall not flinch; even if we peril ourselves that we become like            
him. Friend John, this has been a great hour, and it have done much to      
advance us on our way. You must be scribe and write him all down, so        
that when the others return from their work you can give it to them;        
then they shall know as we do.'                                             
  And so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and Mrs.            
Harker has written with her typewriter all since she brought the MS.        
to us.                                                                      
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXVI                                                                
                            CHAPTER XXVI.                                   
                         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.                                
-                                                                           
  29 October.- This is written in the train from Varna to Galatz. Last      
night we all assembled a little before the time of sunset. Each of          
us had done his work as well as he could; so far as thought, and            
endeavour, and opportunity go, we are prepared for the whole of our         
journey, and for our work when we get to Galatz. When the usual time        
came round Mrs. Harker prepared herself for her hypnotic effort; and        
after a longer and more serious effort on the part of Van Helsing than      
has been usually necessary, she sank into the trance. Usually she           
speaks on a hint; but this time the Professor had to ask her                
questions, and to ask them pretty resolutely, before we could learn         
anything; at last her answer came:-                                         
  "I can see nothing; we are still; there are no waves lapping, but         
only a steady swirl of water softly running against the hawser. I           
can hear men's voices calling, near and far, and the roll and creak of      
oars in the rowlocks. A gun is fired somewhere; the echo of it seems        
far away. There is tramping of feet overhead, and ropes and chains are      
dragged along. What is this? There is a gleam of light; I can feel the      
air blowing upon me."                                                       
  Here she stopped. She had risen, as if impulsively, from where she        
lay on the sofa, and raised both her hands, palms upwards, as if            
lifting a weight. Van Helsing and I looked at each other with               
understanding. Quincey raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at           
her intently, whilst Harker's hand instinctively closed round the hilt      
of his Kukri. There was a long pause. We all knew that the time when        
she could speak was passing; but we felt that it was useless to say         
anything. Suddenly she sat up, and, as she opened her eyes, said            
sweetly:-                                                                   
  "Would none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be so tired!"          
We could only make her happy, and so acquiesced. She bustled off to         
get tea; when she had gone Van Helsing said:-                               
  "You see, my friends. He is close to land: he has left his                
earth-chest. But he has yet to get on shore. In the night he may lie        
hidden somewhere; but if he be not carried on shore, or if the ship do      
not touch it, he cannot achieve the land. In such case he can, if it        
be in the night, change his form and can jump or fly on shore, as he        
did at Whitby. But if the day come before he get on shore, then,            
unless he be carried he cannot escape. And if he be carried, then           
the customs men may discover what the box contains. Thus, in fine,          
if he escape not on shore to-night, or before dawn, there will be           
the whole day lost to him. We may then arrive in time; for if he            
escape not at night we shall come on him in daytime, boxed up and at        
our mercy; for he dare not be his true self, awake and visible, lest        
he be discovered."                                                          
  There was no more to be said, so we waited in patience until the          
dawn; at which time we might learn more from Mrs. Harker.                   
  Early this morning we listened, with breathless anxiety, for her          
response in her trance. The hypnotic stage was even longer in coming        
than before; and when it came the time remaining until full sunrise         
was so short that we began to despair. Van Helsing seemed to throw his      
whole soul into the effort; at last, in obedience to his will she made      
reply:-                                                                     
  "All is dark. I hear lapping water, level with me, and some creaking      
as of wood on wood." She paused, and the red sun shot up. We must wait      
till to-night.                                                              
  And so it is that we are travelling towards Galatz in an agony of         
expectation. We are due to arrive between two and three in the              
morning; but already, at Bucharest, we are three hours late, so we          
cannot possibly get in till well after sunup. Thus we shall have two        
more hypnotic messages from Mrs. Harker, either or both may possibly        
throw more light on what is happening.                                      
-                                                                           
  Later.- Sunset has come and gone. Fortunately it came at a time when      
there was no distraction; for had it occurred whilst we were at a           
station, we might not have secured the necessary calm and isolation.        
Mrs. Harker yielded to the hypnotic influence even less readily than        
this morning. I am in fear that her power of reading the Count's            
sensations may die away just when we want it most. It seems to me that      
her imagination is beginning to work. Whilst she has been in the            
trance hitherto she has confined herself to the simplest of facts.          
If this goes on it may ultimately mislead us. If I thought that the         
Count's power over her would die away equally with her power of             
knowledge it would be a happy thought; but I am afraid that it may not      
be so. When she did speak, her words were enigmatical:-                     
  "Something is going out; I can feel it pass me like a cold wind. I        
can hear, far off, confused sounds- as of men talking in strange            
tongues, fierce- falling water, and the howling of wolves." She             
stopped and a shudder ran through her, increasing in intensity for a        
few seconds, till, at the end, she shook as though in a palsy. She          
said no more, even in answer to the Professor's imperative                  
questioning. When she woke from the trance, she was cold, and               
exhausted, and languid; but her mind was all alert. She could not           
remember anything, but asked what she had said; when she was told, she      
pondered over it deeply, for a long time and in silence.                    
-                                                                           
  30 October, 7 a.m.- We are near Galatz now, and I may not have            
time to write later. Sunrise this morning was anxiously looked for          
by us all. Knowing of the increasing difficulty of procuring the            
hypnotic trance, Van Helsing began his passes earlier than usual. They      
produced no effect, however, until the regular time, when she               
yielded with a still greater difficulty, only a minute before the           
sun rose. The Professor lost no time in his questioning; her answer         
came with equal quickness:-                                                 
  "All is dark. I hear water swirling by, level with my ears, and           
the creaking of wood on wood. Cattle low far off. There is another          
sound, a queer one like-" she stopped and grew white, and whiter            
still.                                                                      
  "Go on; go on! Speak, I command you!" said Van Helsing in an              
agonised voice. At the same time there was despair in his eyes, for         
the risen sun was reddening even Mrs. Harker's pale face. She opened        
her eyes, and we all started as she said, sweetly and seemingly with        
the utmost unconcern:-                                                      
  "Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I can't? I don't           
remember anything." Then, seeing the look of amazement on our faces,        
she said, turning from one to the other with a troubled look:-              
  "What have I said? What have I done? I know nothing, only that I was      
lying here, half asleep, and heard you say 'go on! speak, I command         
you!' it seemed so funny to hear you order me about, as if I were a         
bad child!"                                                                 
  "Oh, Madam Mina," he said, sadly, "it is proof, if proof be needed,       
of how I love and honour you, when a word for your good, spoken more        
earnest than ever, can seem so strange because it is to order her whom      
I am proud to obey!"                                                        
  The whistles are sounding; we are nearing Galatz. We are on fire          
with anxiety and eagerness.                                                 
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  30 October.- Mr. Morris took me to the hotel where our rooms had          
been ordered by telegraph, he being the one who could best be               
spared, since he does not speak any foreign language. The forces            
were distributed much as they had been at Varna, except that Lord           
Godalming went to the Vice-Consul, as his rank might serve as an            
immediate guarantee of some sort to the official, we being in               
extreme hurry. Jonathan and the two doctors went to the shipping agent      
to learn particulars of the arrival of the Czarina Catherine.               
-                                                                           
  Later.- Lord Godalming has returned. The Consul is away, and the          
Vice-Consul sick; so the routine work has been attended to by a clerk.      
He was very obliging, and offered to do anything in his power.              
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  30 October.- At nine o'clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Seward, and I           
called on Messrs. Mackenzie & Steinkoff, the agents of the London firm      
of Hapgood. They had received a wire from London, in answer to Lord         
Godalming's telegraphed request, asking us to show them any civility        
in their power. They were more than kind and courteous, and took us at      
once on board the Czarina Catherine, which lay at anchor out in the         
river harbour. There we saw the Captain, Donelson by name, who told us      
of his voyage. He said that in all his life he had never had so             
favourable a run.                                                           
  "Man!" he said, "but it made us afeard, for we expeckit that we           
should have to pay for it wi' some rare piece o' ill luck, so as to         
keep up the average. It's no canny to run frae London to the Black Sea      
wi' a wind ahint ye, as though the Deil himself were blawin' on yer         
sail for his ain purpose An' a' the time we could no speer a thing.         
Gin we were nigh a ship, or a port, or a headland, a fog fell on us         
and travelled wi' us, till when after it had lifted and we looked out,      
the deil a thing could we see. We ran by Gibraltar wi'oot bein' able        
to signal; an'till we came to the Dardanelles and had to wait to get        
our permit to pass, we never were within hail o' aught. At first I          
inclined to slack off sail and beat about till the fog was lifted; but      
whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to get us into the             
Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would or no. If we         
had a quick voyage it would be no to our miscredit wi' the owners,          
or no hurt to our traffic; an' the Old Mon who had served his ain           
purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no hinderin' him." This          
mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and commercial           
reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said:-                                  
  "Mine friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought by             
some; and he know when he meet his match!" The skipper was not              
displeased with the compliment, and went on:-                               
  "When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumble; some o'         
them, the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box        
which had been put on board by a queer lookin' old man just before          
we had started frae London. I had seen them speer at the fellow, and        
put out their twa fingers when they saw him, to guard against the evil      
eye. Man! but the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly                 
rideeculous! I sent them aboot their business pretty quick; but as          
just after a fog closed in on us, I felt a wee bit as they did anent        
something, though I wouldn't say it was agin the bit box. Well, on          
we went, and as the fog didn't let up for five days I joost let the         
wind carry us; for if the Deil wanted to get somewheres- well, he           
would fetch it up a'reet. An' if he didn't, well, we'd keep a sharp         
look out anyhow. Sure eneuch, we had a fair way and deep water all the      
time; and two days ago, when the mornin' sun came through the fog,          
we found ourselves just in the river opposite Galatz. The Roumanians        
were wild, and wanted me right or wrong to take out the box and             
fling it in the river. I had to argy wi' them aboot it wi' a                
handspike; an' when the last o' them rose off the deck, wi' his head        
in his hand, I had convinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the        
property and the trust of my owners were better in my hands than in         
the river Danube. They had, mind ye, taken the box on the deck ready        
to fling in, and as it was marked Galatz via Varna, I thocht I'd let        
it lie till we discharged in the port an' get rid o't athegither. We        
didn't do much clearin' that day, an' had to remain the nicht at            
anchor, but in the mornin', braw an' airly, an hour before sun-up, a        
man came aboard wi' an order, written to him from England, to               
receive a box marked for one Count Dracula. Sure eneuch the matter was      
one ready to his hand. He had his papers a' reet, an' glad I was to be      
rid o' the dam thing, for I was beginnin' masel' to feel uneasy at it.      
If the Deil did have any luggage aboord the ship, I'm thinkin' it           
was nane ither than that same!"                                             
  "What was the name of the man who took it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing         
with restrained eagerness.                                                  
  "I'll be tellin' ye quick!" he answered, and, stepping down to his        
cabin, produced a receipt signed "Immanuel Hildesheim." Burgen-strasse      
16 was the address. We found out that this was all the Captain knew;        
so with thanks we came away.                                                
  We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the Adelphi         
Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fez. His arguments            
were pointed with specie- we doing the punctuation- and with a              
little bargaining he told us what he knew. This turned out to be            
simple but important. He had received a letter from Mr. de Ville of         
London, telling him to receive, if possible before sunrise so as to         
avoid customs, a box which would arrive at Galatz in the Czarina            
Catherine. This he was to give in charge to a certain Petrof                
Skinsky, who dealth with the Slovaks who traded down the river to           
the port. He had been paid for his work by an English bank note, which      
had been duly cashed for gold at the Danube international Bank. When        
Skinsky had come to him, he had taken him to the ship and handed            
over the box, so as to save porterage. That was all he knew.                
  We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him. One of           
his neighbours, who did not seem to bear him any affection, said            
that he had gone away two days before, no one knew whither. This was        
corroborated by his landlord, who had received by messenger the key of      
the house together with the rent due, in English money. This had            
been between ten and eleven o'clock last night. We were at a                
standstill again.                                                           
  Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly gasped           
out that the body of Skinsky had been found inside the wall of the          
churchyard of St. Peter, and that the throat had been torn open as          
if by some wild animal. Those we had been speaking with ran off to see      
the horror, the women crying out "This is the work of a Slovak!" We         
hurried away lest we should have been in some way drawn into the            
affair, and so detained.                                                    
  As we came home we could arrive at no definite conclusion. We were        
all convinced that the box was on its way, by water, to somewhere; but      
where that might be we would have to discover. With heavy hearts we         
came home to the hotel to Mina.                                             
  When we met together, the first thing was to consult as to taking         
Mina again into our confidence. Things are getting desperate, and it        
is at least a chance, though a hazardous one. As a preliminary step, I      
was released from my promise to her.                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  30 October, evening.- They were so tired and worn out and dispirited      
that there was nothing to be done till they had some rest; so I             
asked them all to lie down for half an hour whilst I should enter           
everything up to the moment. I feel so grateful to the man who              
invented the "Traveller's" typewriter, and to Mr. Morris for getting        
this one for me. I should have felt quite astray doing the work if I        
had to write with a pen...                                                  
  It is all done; poor dear, dear Jonathan, what he must have               
suffered, what must he be suffering now. He lies on the sofa hardly         
seeming to breathe, and his whole body appears in collapse. His             
brows are knit; his face is drawn with pain. Poor fellow, maybe he          
is thinking, and I can see his face all wrinkled up with the                
concentration of his thoughts. Oh! if I could only help at all... I         
shall do what I can.                                                        
  I have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the papers            
that I have not yet seen... Whilst they are resting, I shall go over        
all carefully, and perhaps I may arrive at some conclusion. I shall         
try to follow the Professor's example, and think without prejudice          
on the facts before me...                                                   
  I do believe that under God's providence I have made a discovery.         
I shall get the maps and look over them...                                  
  I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion is            
ready, so I shall get our party together and read it. They can judge        
it; it is well to be accurate, and every minute is precious.                
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Mina Harker's Memorandum.                             
-                                                                           
                      (Entered in her Journal.)                             
-                                                                           
  Ground of inquiry.- Count Dracula's problem is to get back to his         
own place.                                                                  
  (a) He must be brought back by some one. This is evident; for had he      
power to move himself as he wished he could go either as man, or wolf,      
or bat, or in some other way. He evidently fears discovery or               
interference, in the state of helplessness in which he must be              
confined as he is between dawn and sunset in his wooden box.                
  (b) How is he to be taken?- Here a process of exclusions may help         
us. By road, by rail, by water?                                             
  1. By Road.- There are endless difficulties, especially in leaving        
the city.                                                                   
  (x) There are people; and people are curious, and investigate. A          
hint, a surmise, a doubt as to what might be in the box, would destroy      
him.                                                                        
  (y) There are, or there may be, customs and octroi officers to pass.      
  (z) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear; and in           
order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so far as he can,      
even his victim- me!                                                        
  2. By Rail.- There is no one in charge of the box. It would have          
to take its chance of being delayed; and delay would be fatal, with         
enemies on the track. True, he might escape at night, but what would        
he be, if left in a strange place with no refuge that he could fly to.      
This is not what he intends; and he does not mean to risk it.               
  3. By Water.- Here is the safest way, in one respect, but with            
most danger in another. On the water he is powerless except at              
night; even then he can only summon fog and storm and snow and his          
wolves. But were he wrecked, the living water would engulf him,             
helpless; and he would indeed be lost. He could have the vessel             
drive to land; but if it were unfriendly land, wherein he was not free      
to move, his position would still be desperate.                             
  We know from the record that he was on the water, so what we have to      
do is to ascertain what water.                                              
  The first thing is to realise exactly what he has done as yet; we         
may, then, get a light on what his later task is to be.                     
  Firstly.- We must differentiate between what he did in London as          
part of his general plan of action, when he was pressed for moments         
and had to arrange as best he could.                                        
  Secondly.- we must see, as well as we can surmise it from the             
facts we know of, what he has done here.                                    
  As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz, and sent      
invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascertain his means of        
exit from England; his immediate and sole purpose then was to               
escape. The proof of this, is the letter of instructions sent to            
immanuel Hildesheim to clear and take away the box before sunrise.          
There is also the instruction to Petrof Skinsky. These we must only         
guess at; but there must have been some letter or message, since            
Skinsky came to Hildesheim.                                                 
  That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The Czarina              
Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey- so much so that Captain        
Donelson's suspicions were aroused; but his superstition united with        
his canniness played the Count's game for him, and he ran with his          
favouring wind through fogs and all till he brought up blindfold at         
Galatz. That the Count's arrangements were well made, has been proved.      
Hildesheim cleared the box, took it off, and gave it to Skinsky.            
Skinsky took it- and here we lose the trail. We only know that the box      
is somewhere on the water, moving along. The customs and the octroi;        
if there be any, have been avoided.                                         
  Now we come to what the Count must have done after his arrival- on        
land, at Galatz.                                                            
  The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise the Count         
could appear in his own form. Here, we ask why Skinsky was chosen at        
all to aid in the work? In my husband's diary, Skinsky is mentioned as      
dealing with the Slovaks who trade down the river to the port; and the      
man's remark, that the murder was the work of a Slovak, showed the          
general feeling against his class. The Count wanted isolation.              
  My surmise is, this: that in London the Count decided to get back to      
his castle by water, as the most safe and secret way. He was brought        
from the castle by Szgany, and probably they delivered their cargo          
to Slovaks who took the boxes to Varna, for there they were shipped         
for London. Thus the Count had knowledge of the persons who could           
arrange this service. When the box was on land, before sunrise or           
after sunset, he came out from his box, met Skinsky and instructed him      
what to do as to arranging the carriage of the box up some river. When      
this was done, and he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his        
traces, as he thought, by murdering his agent.                              
  I have examined the map and find that the river most suitable for         
the Slovaks to have ascended is either the Pruth or the Sereth. I read      
in the typescript that in my trance I heard cows low and water              
swirling level with my ears and the creaking of wood. The Count in his      
box, then, was on a river in an open boat- propelled probably either        
by oars or poles, for the banks are near and it is working against          
stream. There would be no such sound if floating down stream.               
  Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth, but we may        
possibly investigate further. Now of these two, the Pruth is the            
more easily navigated, but the Sereth is, at Fundu, joined by the           
Bistritza which runs up round the Borgo pass. The loop it makes is          
manifestly as close to Dracula's castle as can be got by water.             
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                  Mina Harker's Journal- continued.                         
-                                                                           
  When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms and kissed me.      
The others kept shaking me by both hands, and Dr. Van Helsing said:-        
  "Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her eyes have been         
where we were blinded. Now we are on the track once again, and this         
time we may succeed. Our enemy is at his most helpless; and if we           
can come on him by day, on the water, our task will be over. He has         
a start, but he is powerless to hasten, as he may not leave his box         
lest those who carry him may suspect; for them to suspect would be          
to prompt them to throw him in the stream where he perish. This he          
knows, and will not. Now men, to our Council of War, for, here and          
now, we must plan what each and all shall do."                              
  "I shall get a steam launch and follow him," said Lord Godalming.         
  "And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land," said        
Mr. Morris.                                                                 
  "Good!" said the Professor, "both good. But neither must go alone.        
There must be force to overcome force if need be; the Slovak is strong      
and rough, and he carries rude arms." All the men smiled, for               
amongst them they carried a small arsenal. Said Mr. Morris:-                
  "I have brought some Winchesters; they are pretty handy in a              
crowd, and there may be wolves. The Count, if you remember, took            
some other precautions; he made some requisitions on others that            
Mrs. Harker could not quite hear or understand. We must be ready at         
all points." Dr. Seward said:-                                              
  "I think I had better go with Quincey. We have been accustomed to         
hunt together, and we two, well armed, will be a match for whatever         
may come along. You must not be alone Art. It may be necessary to           
fight the Slovaks, and a chance thrust- for I don't suppose these           
fellows carry guns- would undo all our plans. There must be no              
chances, this time; we shall not rest until the Count's head and            
body have been separated, and we are sure that he cannot                    
re-incarnate." He looked at Jonathan as he spoke, and Jonathan              
looked at me. I could see that the poor dear was torn about in his          
mind. Of course he wanted to be with me; but then the boat service          
would, most likely, be the one which would destroy the... the...            
the... Vampire. (Why did I hesitate to write the word?) He was              
silent awhile, and during his silence Dr. Van Helsing spoke:-               
  "Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons. First, because        
you are young and brave and can fight, and all energies may be              
needed at the last; and again that it is your right to destroy him-         
that- which has wrought such woe to you and yours. Be not afraid for        
Madam Mina; she will be my care, if I may. I am old. My legs are not        
so quick to run as once; and I am not used to ride so long or to            
pursue as need be, or to fight with lethal weapons. But I can be of         
other service; I can fight in other way. And I can die, if need be, as      
well as younger men. Now let me say that what I would is this: while        
you, my Lord Godalming, and friend Jonathan go in your so swift little      
steamboat up the river, and whilst John and Quincey guard the bank          
where perchance he might be landed, I will take Madam Mina right            
into the heart of the enemy's country. Whilst the old fox is tied in        
his box, floating on the running stream whence he cannot escape to          
land-where he dares not raise the lid of his coffin-box lest his            
Slovak carriers should in fear leave him to perish- we shall go in the      
track where Jonathan went,- from Bistritz over the Borgo, and find our      
way to the Castle of Dracula. Here, Madam Mina's hypnotic power will        
surely help, and we shall And our way- all dark and unknown otherwise-      
after the first sunrise when we are near that fateful place. There          
is much to be done, and other places to be made sanctify, so that that      
nest of vipers be obliterated." Here Jonathan interrupted him hotly:-       
  "Do you mean to say, Professor Van Helsing, that you would bring          
Mina, in her sad case and tainted as she is with that devil's illness,      
right into the jaws of his death-trap? Not for the world! Not for           
Heaven or Hell!" He became almost speechless for a minute, and then         
went on:-                                                                   
  "Do you know what the place is? Have you seen that awful den of           
hellish infamy- with the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes,           
and every speck of dust that whirls in the wind a devouring monster in      
embryo? Have you felt the Vampire's lips upon your throat?" Here he         
turned to me, and as his eyes lit on my forehead, he threw up his arms      
with a cry: "Oh, my God, what have we done to have this terror upon         
us!" and he sank down on the sofa in a collapse of misery. The              
Professor's voice, as he spoke in clear, sweet tones, which seemed          
to vibrate in the air, calmed us all:-                                      
  "Oh my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina from that awful      
place that I would go. God forbid that I should take her into that          
place. There is work- wild work- to be done there, that her eyes may        
not see. We men here, all save Jonathan, have seen with their own eyes      
what is to be done before that place can be purify. Remember that we        
are in terrible straits. If the Count escape us this time- and he is        
strong and subtle and cunning- he may choose to sleep him for a             
century, and then in time our dear one"- he took my hand- "would            
come to him to keep him company, and would be as those others that          
you, Jonathan, saw. You have told us of their gloating lips; you heard      
their ribald laugh as they clutched the moving bag that the Count           
threw to them, You shudder, and well may it be. Forgive me that I make      
you so much pain, but it is necessary. My friend, is it not a dire          
need for the which I am giving, possibly my life? If it were that           
anyone went into that place to stay, it is I who would have to go,          
to keep them company."                                                      
  "Do as you will;" said Jonathan with a sob that shook him all             
over, "we are in the hands of God!"                                         
-                                                                           
  Later.- "Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave men           
worked. How can women help loving men when they are so earnest, and so      
true, and so brave! And, too, it made me think of the wonderful             
power of money What can it not do when it is properly applied; and          
what might it do when basely used. I felt so thankful that Lord             
Godalming is rich, and that both he and Mr. Morris, who also has            
plenty of money, are willing to spend it so freely. For if they did         
not, our little expedition could not start, either so promptly or so        
well equipped, as it will within another hour. It is not three hours        
since it was arranged what part each of us was to do; and now Lord          
Godalming and Jonathan have a lovely steam launch, with steam up ready      
to start at a moment's notice. Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris have half a        
dozen good horses, well appointed. We have all the maps and appliances      
of various kinds that can be had. Professor Van Helsing and I are to        
leave by the 11:40 train to-night for Veresti, where we are to get a        
carriage to drive to the Borgo Pass. We are bringing a good deal of         
ready money, as we are to buy a carriage and horses. We shall drive         
ourselves, for we have no one whom we can trust in the matter. The          
Professor knows something of a great many languages, so we shall get        
on all right. We have all got arms, even for me a large-bore revolver,      
Jonathan would not be happy unless I was armed like the rest. Alas!         
I cannot carry one arm that the rest do; the scar on my forehead            
forbids that. Dear Dr. Van Helsing comforts me by telling me that I am      
fully armed as there may be wolves; the weather is getting colder           
every hour, and there are snow-flurries which come and go as warnings.      
-                                                                           
  Later.- It took all my courage to say good-bye to my darling. We may      
never meet again. Courage, Mina! the Professor is looking at you            
keenly; his look is a warning. There must be no tears now- unless it        
may be that God will let them fall in gladness.                             
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  October 30. Night.- I am writing this in the light from the               
furnace door of the steam launch; Lord Godalming is firing up. He is        
an experienced hand at the work, as he has had for years a launch of        
his own on the Thames, and an other on the Norfolk Broads. Regarding        
our plans, we finally decided that Mina's guess was correct, and            
that if any waterway was chosen for the Count's escape back to his          
Castle, the Sereth and then the Bistritza at its junction, would be         
the one. We took it, that somewhere about the 47th degree, north            
latitude, would be the place chosen for the crossing the country            
between the river and the Carpathians. We have no fear in running at        
good speed up the river at night; there is plenty of water, and the         
banks are wide enough apart to make steaming, even in the dark, easy        
enough. Lord Godalming tells me to sleep for a while, as it is              
enough for the present for one to be on watch. But I cannot sleep- how      
can I with the terrible danger hanging over my darling, and her             
going out into that awful place... My only comfort is that we are in        
the hands of God. Only for that faith it would be easier to die than        
to live, and so be quit of all the trouble. Mr. Morris and Dr.              
Seward were off on their long ride before we started; they are to keep      
up the right bank, far enough off to get on higher lands where they         
can see a good stretch of river and avoid the following of its curves.      
They have, for the first stages, two men to ride and lead their             
spare horses- four in all, so as not to excite curiosity. When they         
dismiss the men, which shall be shortly, they shall themselves look         
after the horses. It may be necessary for us to join forces; if so          
they can mount our whole party. One of the saddles has a movable horn,      
and can be easily adapted for Mina, if required.                            
  It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing along           
through the darkness, with the cold from the river seeming to rise          
up and strike us; with all the mysterious voices of the night around        
us, it all comes home. We seem to be drifting into unknown places           
and unknown ways; into a whole world of dark and dreadful things.           
Godalming is shutting the furnace door...                                   
-                                                                           
  31 October.- Still hurrying along. The day has come, and Godalming        
is sleeping. I am on watch. The morning is bitterly cold; the               
furnace heat is grateful, though we have heavy fur coats. As yet we         
have passed only a few open boats, but none of them had on board any        
box or package of anything like the size of the one we seek. The men        
were scared every time we turned our electric lamp on them, and fell        
on their knees and prayed.                                                  
-                                                                           
  1 November, evening.- No news all day; we have found nothing of           
the kind we seek. We have now passed into the Bistritza; and if we are      
wrong in our surmise our chance is gone. We have overhauled every           
boat, big and little. Early this morning, one crew took us for a            
Government boat, and treated us accordingly. We saw in this a way of        
smoothing matters, so at Fundu, where the Bistritza runs into the           
Sereth, we got a Roumanian flag which we now fly conspicuously. With        
every boat which we have overhauled since then this trick has               
succeeded; we have had every deference shown to us, and not once any        
objection to whatever we chose to ask or do. Some of the Slovaks            
tell us that a big boat passed them, going at more than usual speed as      
she had a double crew on board. This was before they came to Fundu, so      
they could not tell us whether the boat turned into the Bistritza or        
continued on up the Sereth. At Fundu we could not hear of any such          
boat, so she must have passed there in the night. I am feeling very         
sleepy; the cold is perhaps beginning to tell upon me, and nature must      
have rest some time. Godalming insists that he shall keep the first         
watch. God bless him for all his goodness to poor dear Mina and me.         
-                                                                           
  2 November, morning.- It is broad daylight. That good fellow would        
not wake me. He says it would have been a sin to, for I slept so            
peacefully and was forgetting my trouble. It seems brutally selfish to      
me to have slept so long, and let him watch all night; but he was           
quite right. I am a new man this morning; and, as I sit here and watch      
him sleeping, I can do all that is necessary both as to minding the         
engine, steering, and keeping watch. I can feel that my strength and        
energy are coming back to me. I wonder where Mina is now, and Van           
Helsing. They should have got to Veresti about noon on Wednesday. It        
would take them some time to get the carriage and horses; so if they        
had started and travelled hard, they would be about now at the Borgo        
Pass. God guide and help them! I am afraid to think what may happen.        
If we could only go faster! but we cannot; the engines are throbbing        
and doing their utmost. I wonder how Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris are          
getting on. There seem to be endless streams running down from the          
mountains into this river, but as none of them are very large- at           
present, at all events, though they are terrible doubtless in winter        
and when the snow melts- the horsemen may not have met much                 
obstruction. I hope that before we get to Strasba we may see them; for      
if by that time we have not overtaken the Count, it may be necessary        
to take counsel together what to do next.                                   
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  2 November.- Three days on the road. No news, and no time to write        
it if there had been, for every moment is precious. We have had only        
the rest needful for the horses; but we are both bearing it                 
wonderfully. Those adventurous days of ours are turning up useful.          
We must push on; we shall never feel happy till we get the launch in        
sight again.                                                                
-                                                                           
  3 November.- We heard at Fundu that the launch had gone up the            
Bistritza. I wish it wasn't so cold. There are signs of snow coming;        
and if it falls heavy it will stop us. In such case we must get a           
sledge and go on, Russian fashion.                                          
-                                                                           
  4 November.- To-day we heard of the launch having been detained by        
an accident when trying to force a way up the rapid. The Slovak             
boats get up all right, by aid of a rope, and steering with knowledge.      
Some went up only a few hours before. Godalming is an amateur fitter        
himself, and evidently it was he who put the launch in trim again.          
Finally, they got up the Rapids all right, with local help, and are         
off on the chase afresh. I fear that the boat is not any better for         
the accident; the peasantry tell us that after she got upon the smooth      
water again, she kept stopping every now and again so long as she           
was in sight. We must push on harder than ever; our help may be wanted      
soon.                                                                       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  31 October.- Arrived at Veresti at noon. The Professor tells me that      
this morning at dawn he could hardly hypnotise me at all, and that all      
I could say was: "dark and quiet." He is off now buying a carriage and      
horses. He says that he will later on try to buy additional horses, so      
that we may be able to change them on the way. We have something            
more than 70 miles before us. The country is lovely, and most               
interesting; if only we were under different conditions, how                
delightful it would be to see it all. If Jonathan and I were driving        
through it alone what a pleasure it would be. To stop and see               
people, and learn something of their life, and to fill our minds and        
memories with all the colour and picturesqueness of the whole wild,         
beautiful country and the quaint people! But, alas!                         
-                                                                           
  Later.- Dr. Van Helsing has returned. He has got the carriage and         
horses; we are to have some dinner, and to start in an hour. The            
landlady is putting us up a huge basket of provisions; it seems enough      
for a company of soldiers. The Professor encourages her, and                
whispers to me that it may be a week before we can get any good food        
again. He has been shopping too, and has sent home such a wonderful         
lot of fur coats and wraps, and all sorts of warm things. There will        
not be any chance of our being cold.                                        
  We shall soon be off. I am afraid to think what may happen to us. We      
are truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may be, and I            
pray Him, with all the strength of my sad and humble soul, that He          
will watch over my beloved husband; that whatever may happen, Jonathan      
may know that I loved him and honoured him more than I can say, and         
that my latest and truest thought will be always for him.                   
                                                                            
CHAPTER_XXVII                                                               
                            CHAPTER XXVII.                                  
                        MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.                              
-                                                                           
  1 November.- All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed.         
The horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they        
go willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many        
changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged        
to think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is           
laconic; he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and          
pays them well to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or          
coffee, or tea; and off we go. It is a lovely country; full of              
beauties of all imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and             
strong, and simple, and seem full of nice qualities. They are very,         
very superstitious. In the first house where we stopped, when the           
woman who served us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed herself        
and put out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil eye. I             
believe they went to the trouble of putting an extra amount of              
garlic into our food; and I can't abide garlic. Ever since then I have      
taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and so have escaped their        
suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as we have no driver with us        
to carry tales, we go ahead of scandal; but I daresay that fear of the      
evil eye will follow hard behind us all the way. The Professor seems        
tireless; all day he would not take any rest, though he made me             
sleep for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotised me, and he says        
that I answered as usual "darkness, lapping water and creaking              
wood;" so our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of          
Jonathan, but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself I           
write this whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be got           
ready. Dr. Van Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired and      
old and grey, but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror's; even in      
his sleep he is instinct with resolution. When we have well started         
I must make him rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have          
days before us, and he must not break down when most of all his             
strength will be needed... All is ready; we are off shortly.                
-                                                                           
  2 November, morning.- I was successful, and we took turns driving         
all night; now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a             
strange heaviness in the air- I say heaviness for want of a better          
word; I mean that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only           
our warm furs keep us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotised           
me; he says I answered "darkness, creaking wood and roaring water," so      
the river is changing as they ascend. I do hope that my darling will        
not run any chance of danger- more than need be; but we are in God's        
hands.                                                                      
-                                                                           
  2 November, night.- All day long driving. The country gets wilder as      
we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed      
so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round          
us and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits; I think we make        
an effort each to cheer the other; in the doing so we cheer ourselves.      
Dr. Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass.         
The houses are very few here now, and the Professor says that the last      
horses we got will have to go on with us, as we may not be able to          
change. He got two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we        
have a rude four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and         
they give us no trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, and      
so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight; we do not        
want to arrive before. So we take it easy, and have each a long rest        
in turn. Oh, what will to-morrow bring to us? We go to seek the             
place where my poor darling suffered so much. God grant that we may be      
guided aright, and that He will deign to watch over my husband and          
those dear to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me,         
I am not worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and           
shall be until He may deign to let me stand forth in His sight as           
one of those who have not incurred His wrath.                               
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                  Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing.                        
-                                                                           
  4 November.- This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.D., of         
Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may explain. It is          
morning, and I write by a fire which all the night I have kept              
alive- Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold; so cold that the grey        
heavy sky is full of snow, which when it falls will settle for all          
winter as the ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have           
affected Madam Mina; she has been so heavy of head all day that she         
was not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She, who          
is usual so alert, have done literally nothing all the day; she even        
have lost her appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she        
who write so faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all      
is not well. However to-night she is more vif. Her long sleep all           
day have refresh and restore her, for now she is all sweet and              
bright as ever. At sunset I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no         
effect; the power has grown less and less with each day, and                
to-night it fail me altogether. Well, God's will be done- whatever          
it may be, and whithersoever it may lead!                                   
  Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her                 
stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each day of        
us may not go unrecorded.                                                   
  We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday morning.            
When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the hypnotism. We          
stopped our carriage, and got down so that there might be no                
disturbance. I made a couch with furs, and Madam Mina, lying down,          
yield herself as usual, but more slow and more short time than ever,        
to the hypnotic sleep. As before, came the answer: "darkness and the        
swirling of water." Then she woke, bright and radiant, and we go on         
our way and soon reach the Pass. At this time and place she become all      
on fire with zeal; some new guiding power be in her manifested, for         
she point to a road and say:-                                               
  "This is the way."                                                        
  "How know you it?" I ask.                                                 
  "Of course I know it," she answer, and with a pause, add: "Have           
not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?"                      
  At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be only      
one such by-road. It is used but little, and very different from the        
coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more wide and hard,      
and more of use.                                                            
  So we came down this road; when we meet other ways- not always            
were we sure that they were roads at all, for they be neglect and           
light snow have fallen- the horses know and they only. I give rein          
to them, and they go on so patient. By-and-by we find all the things        
which Jonathan have note in that wonderful diary of him. Then we go on      
for long, long hours and hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to          
sleep; she try, and she succeed. She sleep all the time; till at the        
last, I feel myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But        
she sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to         
try too hard lest I harm her; for I know that she have suffer much,         
and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse myself,           
for all of sudden I feel guilt, as though I have done something; I          
find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and the good horses go      
along jog, jog, just as ever. I look down and find Madam Mina still         
sleep. It is now not far off sunset time, and over the snow the             
light of the sun flow in big yellow flood, so that we throw great long      
shadow on where the mountain rise so steep. For we are going up, and        
up; and all is oh so wild and rocky, as though it were the end of           
the world.                                                                  
  Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much                
trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she sleep         
not, being as though I were not. Still I try and try, till all at once      
I find her and myself in dark; so I look round, and find that the           
sun have gone down. Madam Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her.           
She is now quite awake, and look so well as I never saw her since that      
night at Carfax when we first enter the Count's house. I am amaze, and      
not at ease then; but she is so bright and tender and thoughtful for        
me that I forget all fear. I light a fire, for we have brought              
supply of wood with us, and she prepare food while I undo the horses        
and set them, tethered in shelter, to feed. Then when I return to           
the fire she have my supper ready. I go to help her, but she smile,         
and tell me that she have eat already- that she was so hungry that she      
would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts; but I fear          
to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me and I eat            
alone; and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the fire, and I tell her      
to sleep while I watch. But presently I forget all of watching; and         
when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her lying quiet, but            
awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes. Once, twice more the          
same occur, and I get much sleep till before morning. When I wake I         
try to hypnotise her; but alas! though she shut her eyes obedient, she      
may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up; and then sleep come to      
her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. I have to lift           
her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when I have harnessed        
the horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep, and sleep; and she        
look in her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like      
it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid!- I am afraid of all things-        
even to think; but I must go on my way. The stake we play for is            
life and death, or more than these, and we must not flinch.                 
-                                                                           
  5 November, morning.- Let me be accurate in everything, for though        
you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first      
think that I, Van Helsing, am mad- that the many horrors and the so         
long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.                        
  All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, and        
moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great,          
frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seem to have         
held sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still sleep and sleep; and           
though I did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken her-            
even for food. I began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was        
upon her, tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism. "Well," said         
I to myself, "if it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be         
that I do not sleep at night." As we travel on the rough road, for a        
road of an ancient and imperfect kind there was, I held down my head        
and slept. Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and      
found Madam Mina still sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was          
indeed changed; the frowning mountains seemed further away, and we          
were near the top of a steep-rising hill, on summit of which was            
such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At once I exulted           
and feared; for now, for good or ill, the end was near.                     
  I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotise her, but alas!            
unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came upon us- for        
even after down-sun the heavens reflected the gone sun on the snow,         
and all was for a time in a great twilight- I took out the horses           
and fed them in what shelter I could. Then I make a fire; and near          
it I make Madam Mina, now awake and more charming than ever, sit            
comfortable amid her rugs. I got ready food: but she would not eat,         
simply saying that she had not hunger. I did not press her, knowing         
her unavailingness. But I myself eat, for I must needs now be strong        
for all. Then, with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring          
so big for her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat; and over the            
ring I passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was        
well guarded. She sat still all the time- so still as one dead; and         
she grew whiter and ever whiter till the snow was not more pale; and        
no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and I could        
know that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with a tremor that      
was pain to feel. I said to her presently, when she had grown more          
quiet:-                                                                     
  "Will you not come over to the fire?" for I wished to make a test of      
what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a step she        
stopped, and stood as one stricken.                                         
  "Why not go on?" I asked. She shook her head, and, coming back,           
sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, as of one        
waked from sleep, she said simply:-                                         
  "I cannot!" and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what         
she could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might      
be danger to her body, yet her soul was safe!                               
  Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their tethers till      
I came to them and quieted them. When they did feel my hands on             
them, they whinnied low as in joy, and licked at my hands and were          
quiet for a time. Many times through the night did I come to them,          
till it arrive to the cold hour when all nature is at lowest; and           
every time my coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire      
began to die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish it, for           
now the snow came in flying sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in        
the dark there was a light of some kind, as there ever is over snow;        
and it seemed as though the snow-flurries and the wreaths of mist took      
shape as of women with trailing garments. All was in dead, grim             
silence only that the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror          
of the worst. I began to fear- horrible fears; but then came to me the      
sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began, too, to think        
that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom, and the unrest         
that I have gone through, and all the terrible anxiety. It was as           
though my memories of all Jonathan's horrid experience were                 
befooling me; for the snow flakes and the mist began to wheel and           
circle round, till I could get as though a shadowy glimpse of those         
women that would have kissed him. And then the horses cowered lower         
and lower, and moaned in terror as men do in pain. Even the madness of      
fright was not to them, so that they could break away. I feared for my      
dear Madam Mina when these weird figures drew near and circled              
round. I looked at her, but she sat calm, and smiled at me; when I          
would have stepped to the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held      
me back, and whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so low      
it was:-                                                                    
  "No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!" I turned to her, and      
looking in her eyes, said:-                                                 
  "But you? It is for you that I fear!" whereat she laughed- a              
laugh, low and unreal, and said:-                                           
  "Fear for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from them      
than I am," and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a puff of        
wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her forehead.        
Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have learned, for the           
wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer, but keeping ever             
without the Holy circle. Then they began to materialise, till- if           
God have not take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes-             
there were before me in actual flesh the same three women that              
Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed his throat. I         
knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard eyes, the white teeth,        
the ruddy colour, the voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear        
Madam Mina; and as their laugh came through the silence of the              
night, they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so      
sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable             
sweetness of the water-glasses:-                                            
  "Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!" in fear I turned to my            
poor Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame; for           
oh! the terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a         
story to my heart that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not,         
yet, of them. I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and            
holding out some of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They      
drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid laugh. I fed the          
fire, and feared them not; for I knew that we were safe within our          
protections. They could not approach me, whilst so armed, nor Madam         
Mina whilst she remained within the ring, which she could not leave no      
more than they could enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay          
still on the ground; the snow fell on them softly, and they grew            
whiter. I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more of terror.        
  And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through         
the snow-gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror,      
but when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to          
me again. At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in      
the whirling mist and snow; the wreaths of transparent gloom moved          
away towards the castle, and were lost.                                     
  Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina,              
intending to hypnotise her, but she lay in a deep and sudden sleep,         
from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotise through her           
sleep, but she made no response, none at all; and the day broke. I          
fear yet to stir. I have made my fire and have seen the horses, they        
are all dead. To-day I have much to do here, and I keep waiting till        
the sun is up high; for there may be places where I must go, where          
that sunlight, though snow and mist obscure it, will be to me a             
safety.                                                                     
  I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will to my                
terrible work. Madam Mina still sleeps; and, God be thanked she is          
calm in her sleep...                                                        
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                      Jonathan Harker's Journal.                            
-                                                                           
  4 November, evening.- The accident to the launch has been a terrible      
thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long            
ago; and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to think          
of her, off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses,        
and we follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is getting         
ready. We have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they mean              
fight. Oh, if only Morris and Seward were with us. We must only             
hope! if I write no more Good-bye Mina! God bless and keep you.             
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                         Dr. Seward's Diary.                                
-                                                                           
  5 November.- With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us            
dashing away from the river with their leiter-wagon. They surrounded        
it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The snow is             
falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air. It may        
be our own feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I hear the      
howling of wolves; the snow brings them down from the mountains, and        
there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The horses are          
nearly ready, and we are soon off. We ride to death of some one. God        
alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be...            
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                    Dr. Van Helsing's Memorandum.                           
-                                                                           
  5 November, afternoon.- I am at least sane. Thank God for that mercy      
at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful. When I left         
Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy circle, I took my way to the            
castle. The blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage from             
Veresti was useful; though the doors were all open I broke them off         
the rusty hinges, lest some ill-intent or ill-chance should close           
them, so that being entered I might not get out. Jonathan's bitter          
experience served me here. By memory of his diary I found my way to         
the old chapel, for I knew that here my work lay. The air was               
oppressive; it seemed as if there was some sulphurous fume, which at        
times made me dizzy. Either there was a roaring in my ears or I             
heard afar off the howl of wolves. Then I bethought me of my dear           
Madam Mina, and I was in terrible plight. The dilemma had me between        
his horns. Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left            
safe from the Vampire in that Holy circle; and yet even there would be      
the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay here, and that as to the            
wolves we must submit, if it were God's will. At any rate it was            
only death and freedom beyond. So did I choose for her. Had it but          
been for myself the choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were          
better to rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I make my choice        
to go on with my work.                                                      
  I knew that there were at least three graves to find- graves that         
are inhabit; so I search, and search, and I find one of them. She           
lay in her vampire sleep, so full of life and voluptuous beauty that I      
shudder as though I have come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in         
old time, when such things were, many a man who set forth to do such a      
task as mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his            
nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the      
fascination of the wanton Un-Dead have hypnotise him; and he remain         
on, and on, till sunset come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then           
the beautiful eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the            
voluptuous mouth present to a kiss- and man is weak. And there              
remain one more victim in the Vampire fold; one more to swell the grim      
and grisly ranks of the Un-dead!...                                         
  There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere            
presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted            
with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that         
horrid odour such as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was            
moved- I, Van Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive for           
hate- I was moved to a yearning for delay which seemed to paralyse          
my faculties and to clog my very soul. It may have been that the            
need of natural sleep, and the strange oppression of the air were           
beginning to overcome me. Certain it was that I was lapsing into            
sleep, the open-eyed sleep of one who yields to a sweet fascination,        
when there came through the snow-stilled air a long, low wail, so full      
of woe and pity that it woke me like the sound of a clarion. For it         
was the voice of my dear Madam Mina that I heard.                           
  Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by wrenching      
away tomb-tops one other of the sisters, the other dark one. I dared        
not pause to look on her as I had on her sister, lest once more I           
should begin to be enthrall; but I go on searching until, presently, I      
find in a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved that other         
fair sister which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of        
the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly             
beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in      
me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers,          
made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be thanked, that               
soul-wall of my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears; and,           
before the spell could be wrought further upon me, I had nerved myself      
to my wild work. By this time I had searched all the tombs in the           
chapel, so far as I could tell; and as there had been only three of         
these Un-Dead phantoms around us in the night, I took it that there         
were no more of active Un-Dead existent. There was one great tomb more      
lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it        
was but one word                                                            
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                               DRACULA.                                     
-                                                                           
  This then was the Un-Dead home of the King-Vampire, to whom so            
many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to make certain            
what I knew. Before I began to restore these women to their dead            
selves through my awful work, I laid in Dracula's tomb some of the          
Wafer, and so banished him from it, Un-Dead, for ever.                      
  Then began my terrible task, and, I dreaded it. Had it been but one,      
it had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin twice more after         
I had been through a deed of horror, for if it was terrible with the        
sweet Miss Lucy, what would it not be with these strange ones who           
had survived through centuries, and who had been strengthened by the        
passing of the years; who would, if they could, have fought for             
their foul lives...                                                         
  Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work; had I not been nerved        
by thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom hung such a          
pall of fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble and tremble even          
yet, though till all was over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had      
I not seen the repose in the first place, and the gladness that             
stole over it just ere the final dissolution came, as realisation that      
the soul had been won, I could not have gone further with my butchery.      
I could not have endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove           
home; the plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I should      
have fled in terror and left my work undone. But it is over! And the        
poor souls, I can pity them now and weep, as I think of them placid         
each in her full sleep of death, for a short moment ere fading. For,        
friend John, hardly had my knife severed the head of each, before           
the whole body began to melt away and crumble into its native dust, as      
though the death that should have come centuries agone had at last          
assert himself and say at once and loud "I am here!"                        
  Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more         
can the Count enter there Un-dead.                                          
  When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she woke from      
her sleep, and, seeing me, cried out in pain that I had endured too         
much.                                                                       
  "Come!" she said, "come away from this awful place! Let us go to          
meet my husband who is, I know, coming towards us." She was looking         
thin and pale and weak; but her eyes were pure and glowed with              
fervour. I was glad to see her paleness and her illness, for my mind        
was full of the fresh horror of that ruddy vampire sleep.                   
  And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go eastward          
to meet our friends- and him- whom Madam Mina tell me that she know         
are coming to meet us.                                                      
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                        Mina Harker's Journal.                              
-                                                                           
  6 November.- it was late in the afternoon when the Professor and I        
took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was coming. We         
did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill, for we had to         
take heavy rugs and wraps with us; we dared not face the possibility        
of being left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to            
take some of our provisions too, for we were in a perfect                   
desolation, and, so far as we could see through the snowfall, there         
was not even the sign of habitation. When we had gone about a mile,         
I was tired with the heavy walking and sat down to rest. Then we            
looked back and saw where the clear line of Dracula's castle cut the        
sky; for we were so deep under the hill whereon it was set that the         
angle of perspective of the Carpathian mountains was far below it.          
We saw it in all its grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the summit        
of a sheer precipice, and with seemingly a great gap between it and         
the steep of the adjacent mountain on any side. There was something         
wild and uncanny about the place. We could hear the distant howling of      
wolves. They were far off, but the sound, even though coming muffled        
through the deadening snowfall, was full of terror. I knew from the         
way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about that he was trying to seek          
some strategic point, where we would be less exposed in case of             
attack. The rough roadway still led downwards; we could trace it            
through the drifted snow.                                                   
  In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and          
joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow in      
a rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders. He            
took me by the hand and drew me in. "See!" he said, "here you will          
be in shelter, and if the wolves do come I can meet them one by             
one." He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out      
some provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat; to            
even try to do so was repulsive to me, and, much as I would have liked      
to please him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very      
sad, but did not reproach me. Taking his field-glasses from the             
case, he stood on the top of the rock, and began to search the              
horizon. Suddenly he called out:-                                           
  "Look! Madam Mina, look! look!" I sprang up and stood beside him          
on the rock; he handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow was now         
falling more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high wind           
was beginning to blow. However there were times when there were pauses      
between the snow flurries and I could see a long way round. From the        
height where we were it was possible to see a great distance; and           
far off, beyond the white waste of snow, I could see the river lying        
like a black ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight        
in front of us and not far off- in fact so near that I wondered we had      
not noticed before- came a group of mounted men hurrying along. In the      
midst of them was a cart, a long leiter-wagon which swept from side to      
side, like a dog's tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the          
road. Outlined against the snow as they were, I could see from the          
men's clothes that they were peasants or gypsies of some kind.              
  On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw it,        
for I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing close,      
and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then               
imprisoned there, would take new freedom and could in any of many           
forms elude all pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor, to my           
consternation, however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw           
him below me. Round the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had          
found shelter in last night. When he had completed it he stood              
beside me again, saying:-                                                   
  "At least you shall be safe here from him!" He took the glasses from      
me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below us.        
"See," he said, "they come quickly; they are flogging the horses,           
and galloping as hard as they can." He paused and went on in a              
hollow voice:-                                                              
  "They are racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God's will be        
done!" Down came another blinding rush of driving snow, and the             
whole landscape was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and once          
more his glasses were fixed on the plain. Then came a sudden cry:-          
  "Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up from the      
south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look, before the        
snow blots it all out!" I took it and looked. The two men might be Dr.      
Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was        
Jonathan. At the same time I knew that Jonathan was not far off,            
looking around I saw on the north side of the coming party two other        
men, riding at break-neck speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan,           
and the other I took, of course, to be Lord Godalming. They, too, were      
pursuing the party with the cart. When I told the Professor he shouted      
in glee like a schoolboy, and, after looking intently till a snow fall      
made sight impossible, he laid his Winchester rifle ready for use           
against the boulder at the opening of our shelter. "They are all            
converging," he said. "When the time comes we shall have the gypsies        
on all sides." I got out my revolver ready to hand, for whilst we were      
speaking the howling of wolves came louder and closer. When the snow        
storm abated a moment we looked again. It was strange to see the            
snow falling in such heavy flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun          
shining more and more brightly as it sank down towards the far              
mountain tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could see here and        
there dots moving singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers-         
the wolves were gathering for their prey.                                   
  Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came now in        
fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept upon us        
in circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm's length before        
us; but at others as the hollow-sounding wind swept by us, it seemed        
to clear the air-space around us so that we could see afar off. We had      
of late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that we         
knew with fair accuracy when it would be; and we knew that before long      
the sun would set.                                                          
  It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less than an            
hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the various bodies         
began to converge close upon us. The wind came now with fiercer and         
more bitter sweeps, and more steadily from the north. It seemingly had      
driven the snow clouds from us, for, with only occasional bursts,           
the snow fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of each         
party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued         
did not seem to realise, or at least to care, that they were                
pursued; they seemed, however, to hasten with redoubled speed as the        
sun dropped lower and lower on the mountain tops.                           
  Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down            
behind our rock, and held our weapons ready; I could see that he was        
determined that they should not pass. One and all were quite unaware        
of our presence.                                                            
  All at once two voices shouted out to: "Halt!" One was my                 
Jonathan's, raised in a high key of passion; the other Mr. Morris'          
strong resolute tone of quiet command. The gypsies may not have             
known the language, but there was no mistaking the tone, in whatever        
tongue the words were spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the      
instant Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr.           
Seward and Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of the gypsies, a            
splendid looking fellow who sat his horse like a centaur, waved them        
back, and in a fierce voice gave to his companions some word to             
proceed. They lashed the horses which sprang forward; but the four men      
raised their Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable way commanded        
them to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van Helsing and I rose behind the      
rock and pointed our weapons at them. Seeing that they were surrounded      
the men tightened their reins and drew up. The leader turned to them        
and gave a word at which every man of the gypsy party drew what weapon      
he carried, knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to               
attack. Issue was joined in an instant.                                     
  The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse out        
in front, and pointing first to the sun- now close down on the hill         
tops- and then to the castle, said something which I did not                
understand. For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves          
from their horses and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt           
terrible fear at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardour        
of battle must have been upon me as well as the rest of them; I felt        
no fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing the        
quick movement of our parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a             
command; his men instantly formed round the cart in a sort of               
undisciplined endeavour, each one shouldering and pushing the other in      
his eagerness to carry out the order.                                       
  In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the         
ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the cart;      
it was evident that they were bent on finishing their task before           
the sun should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them.          
Neither the levelled weapons or the flashing knives of the gypsies          
in front, or the howling of the wolves behind, appeared to even             
attract their attention. Jonathan's impetuosity, and the manifest           
singleness of his purpose, seemed to overawe those in front of him;         
instinctively they cowered aside and let him pass. In an instant he         
had jumped upon the cart, and, with a strength which seemed                 
incredible, raised the great box, and flung it over the wheel to the        
ground. In the meantime, Mr. Morris had had to use force to pass            
through his side of the ring of Szgany. All the time I had been             
breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, with the tail of my eye, seen         
him pressing desperately forward, and had seen the knives of the            
gypsies flash as he won a way through them, and they cut at him. He         
had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I thought that he      
too had come through in safety; but as he sprang beside Jonathan,           
who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that with his left         
hand he was clutching at his side, and that the blood was spurting          
through his fingers. He did not delay notwithstanding this, for as          
Jonathan with desperate energy, attacked one end of the chest,              
attempting to prize off the lid with his great Kukri knife, he              
attacked the other frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of         
both men the lid began to yield; the nails drew with a quick                
screeching sound, and the top of the box was thrown back.                   
  By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the                
Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had         
given in and made no further resistance. The sun was almost down on         
the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell long upon        
the snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of      
which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was         
deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with         
the horrible vindictive look which I knew too well.                         
  As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in        
them turned to triumph.                                                     
  But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great         
knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat, whilst at           
the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart.            
  It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the        
drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from      
our sight.                                                                  
  I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of             
final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I         
never could have imagined might have rested there.                          
  The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and every        
stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the light of        
the setting sun.                                                            
  The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the extraordinary      
disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a word, and rode away        
as if for their lives. Those who were unmounted jumped upon the             
leiter-wagon and shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The            
wolves, which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their           
wake, leaving us alone.                                                     
  Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding      
his hand pressed to his side; the blood still gushed through his            
fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me             
back; so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the             
wounded man laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took,        
with a feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was                  
unstained. He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for        
he smiled at me and said:-                                                  
  "I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh, God!" he cried      
suddenly, struggling up to a sitting posture and pointing to me, "It        
was worth for this to die! Look! look!"                                     
  The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red gleams      
fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With one            
impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and earnest "Amen"           
broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of his finger.           
The dying man spoke:-                                                       
  "Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain! See! the snow          
is not more stainless than her forehead The curse has passed away!"         
  And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a         
gallant gentleman.                                                          
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                                NOTE.                                       
-                                                                           
  Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of      
some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. It      
is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy's birthday is the            
same day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I          
know, the secret belief that some of our brave friend's spirit has          
passed into him. His bundle of names links all our little band of           
men together, but we call him Quincey.                                      
  In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and         
went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and      
terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the things      
which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were        
living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The        
castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation.            
  When we got home we were talking of the old time- which we could all      
look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both             
happily married. I took the papers from the safe where they had been        
ever since our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact,            
that in all the mass of material of which the record is composed,           
there is hardly one authentic document; nothing but a mass of               
type-writing, except the later note-books of Mina and Seward and            
myself, and Van Helsing's memorandum. We could hardly ask any one,          
even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a story. Van      
Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our boy on his knee:-             
  "We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will some         
day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he           
knows her sweetness and loving care; later on he will understand how        
some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her sake."               
                                                     Jonathan Harker.       
-                                                                           
-                                                                           
                               THE END                                      
                                                                            
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