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                          DRACULA


                          c 1897


                            by


                        Bram Stoker



CHAPTER 1

                Jonathan Harker's Journal



     3 May. Bistritz.__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 won-
derful 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 nation-
al dish, I  should be able to get it anywhere along the Car-
pathians.
     I found  my  smattering  of German very useful here,in-
deed, 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  foreknowledge  of the country could
hardly fail to  have  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  Ordance
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 dis-
tinct 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  car-
afe,  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 ot 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 be-
ing 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 a 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 anxious-
ly expecting  you.   Sleep well tonight.   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 seem-
ed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not under-
stand my German.
     This could not be true,because up to then he had under-
stood  it  perfectly;  at  least,  he  answered my questions
exactly as if he did.
     He and his wife, the old lady who had received me,look-
ed 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 start-
ing  that  I  had no time to ask anyone 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 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  be-
fore starting.
     It  was  all  very  ridiculous  but I did not feel com-
fortable.  However, there was business  to be  done,  and  I
could allow nothing to interfere with it.
     I 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 cruci-
fix from her neck offered it to me.
     I did  not  know what to do, for, as an English Church-
man, I have been taught  to  regard  such things  as in some
measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed  so ungracious  to re-
fuse  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 gray 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 called  "robber steak"--bits of
bacon,  onion,  and  beef,  seasoned with  red  pepper,  and
strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in 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 to 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--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 mean the same thing, one being
Slovak and the other Servian for  something that  is  either
werewolf 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  everyone  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 inn yard and its crowd of picturesque figures,all cross-
ing 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 boxseat,--"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 end to the road.  There was everywhere a bewild-
ering 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 differ-
ent 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 for-
eign 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 Car-
pathians 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 him-
self 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 emphasized 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 kneel-
ing  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
peasants's  cart--with  its long, snakelike vertebra, calcu-
lated  to suit  the  inequalities of the road.  On this were
sure to be seated quite a group of homecoming 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 falling 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 of it.  "No, no," he said. "You must not walk here. The
dogs are too fierce."   And then he added, with what he evi-
dently  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  same  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 some-
thing 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 sepa-
rated  two atmospheres,  and  that  now  we had got into the
thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the convey-
ance  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 see now 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 spoke
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 tomor-
row or 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 cross-
ing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up be-
hind 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 tonight, 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  come  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, agonized 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 runaway
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 be-
fore 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
or 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 near-
er, 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 turn-
ing his head to left and right, but I could not see anything
through the darkness.
     Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain 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 gather-
ing 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 moon-
light 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 the 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 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 pull-
ing  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 sky.


CHAPTER 2

            Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued


     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 con-
siderable 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 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  th e 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 jump-
ed again into his seat and shook the reins.The horses start-
ed 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 end-
less, 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 solic-
itor! 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 over-
work.  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 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 flame
burned without a 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 free
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
cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man.
Again he said.
     "Welcome to my house! Enter 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 speak-
ing.  So to make sure, I said interrogatively,  "Count Drac-
ula?"
     He bowed in a courtly was 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 in-
sisted 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 open-
ed 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 chim-
ney.  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 stone-
work,  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 pass-
age of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.
     "I must regret that an attack of gout,  from which mal-
ady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travel-
ling 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 question
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 him-
self 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 point-
ed.  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 leaned 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 protruberant 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
tomorrow 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 cer-
tainly odd deficiencies in  the  house,  considering the ex-
traordinary 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  they were worn and frayed
and moth-eaten.  But still in none  of  the rooms is 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  of 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 permiss-
ion. There was absolutely nothing in the room,  book,  news-
paper, 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 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
center 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 nob-
le.I am a 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 sees me,
or pauses in his speaking if he  hears  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 today, 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 ans-
wered, "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 Eng-
land.  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 ask-
ed 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  un-
checked 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 centur-
ies 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  the old days there were  stirring times,  when the Aust-
rian and the Hungarian came up in  hordes, and the  patriots
went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the chil-
dren 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 trium-
phant 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 un-
discovered, 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 flames 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 day-
light 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, and 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 was sur-
rounded 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 had 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, how-
ever, 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  Tran-
sylvanian  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  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
pull 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 to 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, mani-
festly 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 re-
turned.  "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, chat-
ting  and  asking  questions on every  conceivable  subject,
hour after hour.  I felt that it was getting  very late  in-
deed,  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 dawn or at the
turn of the tide.  Anyone 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 the  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 for-
get  how  time  flies  by  us,"   and with a courtly bow, he
quickly left me.
     I went into  my  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 prosaiac 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 shav-
ing 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 my-
self 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 the 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 that 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
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 pre-
pared, but I could not find the Count anywhere.  So I break-
fasted 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 terrific 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 every-
where, 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 3

          Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

     When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feel-
ing 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 quiet-
ly 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 cau-
tiously to my own room  and found him  making the bed.  This
was odd,  but only confirmed what I had  all  along thought,
that there are 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  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 for  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 some-
thing 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.  Tonight 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 game them,which their Berserkers
displayed  to  such  fell intent on the seaboards of Europe,
aye, and of Asia  and Africa  too,  till the peoples thought
that the werewolves  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 Honfog-
lalas was completed there?And when the Hungarian flood swept
eastward,the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victor-
ious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guard-
ing of the frontier of Turkeyland.  Aye, and more than that,
endless duty of the frontier guard, for  as  the  Turks say,
`water sleeps, and the 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 stand-
ard 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 Turkeyland,who, when he
was beaten back, came 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 with-
out 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, meager 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 so-
licitors 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 difficul-
ty 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
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 residence 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 New-
castle, 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 someone 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'
interest, not mine, and I had to think of  him,  not myself,
and  besides,  while  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 mas-
tery 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 more 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 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 lett-
ers, 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 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 care-
fully, 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 around 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 court-
yard.  Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in pri-
son, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh  air,  though it
were of the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal ex-
istence  tell on me. It is destroying my nerve.  I  start at
my  own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imagin-
ings. 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 black-
ness.  The mere beauty seemed  to cheer me.  There was peace
and comfort in every breath I drew.As I leaned from the win-
dow 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 some many oppor-
tunities 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 the 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 moon-
light, 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 hor-
rible 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 I have  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 dis-
tance was too great to allow a proper angle of sight. I knew
he had left the castle now, and thought to use the opportun-
ity 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 un-
locked, 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 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 rest-
ed 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 win-
dows 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 culv-
erin could  not  reach,  and consequently light and comfort,
impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secu-
red.  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 an 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 moth.My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brill-
iant 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 pre-
sence 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 short-
hand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is the
nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, un-
less 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 hate-
ful 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 not when I think of it, for in
the 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 re-
placed  the  book  and pen  in my  pocket I felt sleepy. The
Count's warning  came  into my mind,  but I took pleasure in
disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon  me,  and with it
the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft moon-
light 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 fol-
lowed 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 dis-
turbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight  opp-
osite 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, 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 masses of gold-
en  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 some-
thing about them that made me uneasy,some longing and at the
same time some deadly fear.I felt in my heart a wicked,burn-
ing 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 waterglasses 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 from 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 volupt-
uousness 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 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 I 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 lang-
uorous 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 pos-
itively 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 in the room 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, soul-
less 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  atten-
tively, 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 tonight?"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 wail,  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 4

           Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

     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  un-
questionable 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 rigorously 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, for 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 sanc-
tuary,  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 door-
way at  the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had been
so forcibly  driven  against the jamb that part of the wood-
work 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  sauvest 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 oppor-
tunities. Something may occur which will give ma 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 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 to 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 calm-
ly 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 soft-
ly. 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 awakened 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 of talk tonight,  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  papers  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 awhile, 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 crackling 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 a Slovak,  with his wide  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 agonized
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 crack-
ling of their whips die away in the distance.

     24 June.--Last night the Count left me early, and lock-
ed 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 ruth-
less 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 not-
ice  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 embra-
sure 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  moats  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. Nay, my very  soul was
struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striv-
ing to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised!
     Quicker and quicker danced the dust.The moonbeams seem-
ed  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 mat-
erialised from the moonbeams, were those 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 throw-
ing it up, peered between the bars.
     There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, hold-
ing her hands over her heart as one distressed with running.
She was leaning against the 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 howl-
ing 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 thing of night, gloom, and fear?

     25 June.--No  man  knows  till he has suffered from the
night how sweet and 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 vaporous 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 mo-
lested 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! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye,  my  faithful
friend and second father.Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina!

     Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God help-
ing 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 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 know pretty well the direc-
tion 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 any-
where.  The only thing I found was a  great  heap of gold in
one corner, gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Aust-
rian,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 pass-
age,  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  ajar,  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 a search 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 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 move-
ment, 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,  I  threw myself panting upon the bed and
tried to think.

     29 June.--Today  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 along 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 could look as he said,"Tomorrow, 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 lett-
er home  has been despatched.  Tomorrow 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 al-
so  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 I asked him point-
blank, "Why may I not go tonight?"
     "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 champ-
ing teeth, and their blunt-clawed  feet as they leaped, came
in through the opening door.  I knew than 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 the last chance I cried out, "Shut the door! I
shall wait till morning."  And I  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 min-
ute 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 list-
ened.  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!  Tonight is mine. Tomorrow 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?  Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me,
and those to whom I am dear!

     30 June.--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 the
door and ran down  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  threw
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  the  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 ex-
pected. 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 restored.
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  down  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 war to those horrid three.  I felt all over the body,
but no sign could I find of the key.Then I stopped and look-
ed 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 work-
men 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 upon me,with all
their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyze
me, and the shovel turned in my  hand  and  glanced from the
face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The sho-
vel 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,blood-stained 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 feel-
ing  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 lint-
els 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 was a sound of hammering.  It is the box being  nailed
down.  Now  I can  hear the heavy feet tramping  again along
the hall, with with many other idle feet coming behind them.
     The door is shut, the chains rattle.  There is a grind-
ing of the key in the lock.  I can hear the  key  withdrawn,
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  horrible 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 near-
est train! Away from the 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 those mon-
sters, and the precipice is steep and high.   At its  foot a
man may sleep, as a man.  Goodbye, all.  Mina!


CHAPTER 5

     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 schoolmist-
ress 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 practicing 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 practicing 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 practice, 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 return-
ing in about a week.  I am longing to hear all his news.  It
must be 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. Goodbye.
    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  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 great 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.  Someone 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
excellant 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 say that I afford him a curious psychological study,
and I humbly think I do.  I do not, as you know,  take suff-
icient 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!  There, that
does me good.
     I  wish  I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire un-
dressing,  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, pray for my happiness.

  Lucy

     P.S.--I  need not tell you this is a secret.  Goodnight
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 today,  not a real pro-
posal, and today I 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 propos-
als!  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 straightfordwardly.  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 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 on-
ly 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 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,and 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 such adventures. I sympathize
with poor Desdemona when she had such a 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. Quincy 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 does-
n'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 wo-
men with  the lamps when  you quit.  Won't you just hitch up
along-side  of me and let us go down the long road together,
driving in double harness?"
     Well, he did look so hood 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 harn-
ess 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, and occasion for him, I would
forgive him.   He really did look serious when he was saying
it, and 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 cry-
ing,  I was  able to look into Mr. Morris' 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 selfish 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, 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 goodbye."
    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 ungrate-
ful to God for all His goodness to me in  sending to me such
a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.
       Goodbye.

   DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
  (Kept in phonograph)

     25 May.--Ebb  tide in appetite today.  Cannot eat, can-
not 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 amongst
the patients.  I picked out one who has afforded  me a study
of much interest.  He is so quaint that I  am  determined to
understand him as well as I can.Today 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 halluci-
nation. In my manner of doing it there was, I now see, some-
thing 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!
If there be anything  behind  this instinct it will be valu-
able  to  trace  it  afterwards  accurately, so I had better
commence  to do so, therefore . . .
     R. M,  Renfield,  age 59.   Sanguine temperament, great
physical strength, morbidly excitable, periods of gloom,end-
ing in some fixed idea which I cannot make out.   I  presume
that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing  in-
fluence 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 of a series
of accidents can balance it.

     LETTER, QUINCEY P. MORRIS TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMOOD

        25 May.

My dear Art,
     We've  told  yarns by the campfire 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
campfire tomorrow 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 heart  that  God
has made and 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 6

                   MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL

     24 July. Whitby.--Lucy  met me  at the station, looking
sweeter and lovlier 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 vall-
ey, 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,  un-
less 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 Abb-
ey, 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 beaut-
iful 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 stret-
ches 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 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 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 light-
house.  A heavy seawall runs along  outside  of  it.  On the
near side, the seawall 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 a-
bout half a mile  a  great  reef, the sharp  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 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  and  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 interest-
ing 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, and 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
on the place.  They  lead from the town 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, visit-
ing with her mother, and as they were only duty calls, I did
not go.

     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 down faces 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 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 sub-
ject 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 and nowt else.These bans an' wafts an' boh-ghosts
an' bar-guests 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 berk-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  ou t of
pulpits, does want to be cuttin' them on the tombstones.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 toge-
ther an' trying' to drag their tombsteans with them to prove
how good they was, some of them trimmlin' an' dithering,with
their hands that dozzened an' slippery from lyin' in the sea
that they can't even keep their gurp 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 kirkgarth."
     I nodded, for I thought it better to assent,  though  I
did  not  quite understand his dialect.  I knew it had some-
thing to do with the church.
     He went on,  "And  you consate that all these steans be
aboon folk that be haped here,  snod  an' snog?"  I assented
again.   "Then  that  be  just where the lie comes in.  Why,
there be scores of  these laybeds  that be toom as old Dun's
`baccabox 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 marin-
er,murdered by pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854,
age 30."  When I came back Mr. Swales went on,
     "Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murd-
ered 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
currants 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  Lowery, 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 aboot it! I tell ye that when they got here they'd
be jommlin' and 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 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-stone," 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 was 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 nigh
the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for
scarin' 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 want 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' ut the grees with the tompstean balan-
ced on his hump, and asks to be took as evidence!"
     I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conver-
sation as she said, rising up,  "Oh,  why did you tell us of
this? It is my favorite 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, and'I must gang.My service
to ye, ladies!"  And off he hobbled.
     Lucy and I sat awhile,  and it was all so beautiful be-
fore 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  Jona-
than 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 to the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating in
the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of donkeys'
hoofs up the paved road below. The band on the pier is play-
ing 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 know.His redeeming quality is a love of animals,
though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it that I some-
times imagine  he is only abnormally cruel.  His pets are of
odd sorts.
     Just  now  his hobby is catching flies.  He has at pre-
sent  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 very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them
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 nui-
sance as his flies, and  today  I  told him that he must get
rid of them.
     He looked very sad at this, so I said that he must 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
blowfly,  bloated with  some  carrion  food, buzzed into the
room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments be-
tween  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  notebook  in which he is always jotting down
something.  whole pages of it are filled with masses of fig-
ures, generally single numbers added up in batches, and then
the totals added in batches again, as though he were focuss-
ing some account, as the auditors put it.

     8 July.--There is a method in his madness,and the rudi-
mentary 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 par-
tially tamed it.  His means of taming is simple, for already
the spiders have diminshed.  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 ob-
literated.   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 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 pm.--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 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 be-
ginning 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 any-
thing odd about him during the day.

     11 am.--The  attendant  has just  been to see 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 pm.--I gave Renfield a strong opiate tonight, enough
to make even him sleep, and took away his pocketbook 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 zoo-
phagous (life-eating) maniac.  What  he desires is to absorb
as many lives as he can, and he has laid  himself out to ac-
hieve 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 exper-
iment.  It  might  be  done  if there were only a sufficient
cause.  Men sneered at vivisection,  and yet look at its re-
sults today!  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 today 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
shall  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 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 my-
self 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 in 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 un-
easy 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 awakened 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 the anemic look which
she had.  I pray it will all last.

     3 August.--Another week gone by, and no news from Jona-
than,  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 under-
stand, 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 sus-
pense 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.
     Today is a gray day,and the sun as I write is hidden in
thick clouds, high over Kettleness.Everything is gray except
the green grass, which seems  like  emerald amongst it, gray
earthy rock, gray clouds,tinged with the sunburst at the far
edge, hang  over  the  gray  sea,  into which the sandpoints
stretch like gray figures.  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  gray
mist.  All vastness, the  clouds  are  piled up  like  giant
rocks, and there is a `brool'  over the sea that sounds like
some passage 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,  and  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 caffin' 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 some-
thin' 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 dis-
tress, 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 rai-
sed 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 tomorrow."


CHAPTER 7

         CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH," 8 AUGUST

            (PASTED IN MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL)

                From a correspondent.

     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  even-
ing 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  neighborhood  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 the  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 northwest.  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 below the black mass of Kettle-
ness, standing boldly athwart the  western sky, its downward
was 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 foolhard-
iness  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 the face of her danger.  Be-
fore the night shut down she was seen with sails idly flapp-
ing 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 dischord in the great har-
mony 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 realize, the  whole  aspect  of nature at once
became convulsed. The waves rose in growing fury, each over-
topping 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 pier from the mass
of onlookers, or else the fatalities of the night would have
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  imagina-
tion 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  at the wreaths of sea-mist
swept by.
     At  times  the  mist cleared, and the sea for some dis-
tance could  be  seen  in  the glare of the lightning, which
came thick and fast, followed by such 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 mount-
ains 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 seabird.  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
onrushing 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 the 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 ves-
sel 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 realized the terr-
ible 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 gray 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 searchlight 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
the 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  southeast 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 church-
yard hangs over the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that
some of the flat tombstones, thruffsteans or through-stones,
as they  call  them  in  Whitby vernacular, actually project
over  where  the  sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disa-
ppeared  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 prox-
imity were either in bed or were out on the  heights  above.
Thus the coastguard on duty on the eastern side of the  har-
bour, who at once ran down to the little pier, was the first
to climb aboard.  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 Draw-
bridge to Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly
good runner, and came well ahead of the crowd.  When I arri-
ved, 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 had
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 examina-
tion, 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 complica-
tions  later  on,  in  the  Admiralty Court, for coastguards
cannot claim  the salvage  which  is  the right 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 complete-
ly sacrificed, his property being held in  contravention  of
the statues 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 honour-
able watch and  ward till death, a steadfastness as noble as
that of the young  Casabianca, and placed in the mortuary to
await inquest.
     Already the sudden storm  is passing,and its fierceness
is abating.  Crowds are scattering  backward, and the sky is
beginning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds.
     I shall send, in time for your  next issue, further de-
tails of the derelict ship which found  her  way  so miracu-
lously into harbour in the storm.

     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
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 took formal 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 today 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 other 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  disa-
ppointment,  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 possibil-
ity, 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
its 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 Deme-
ter,  which was  in  order up to within three days, but con-
tained  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 today produced at
the inquest.  And a more strange narrative than the two bet-
ween 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  transcript,  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 SOME-
THING, 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 the
crew, Petrofsky, was missing.  Could not account for it.Took
larboard watch eight bells last night, was relieved by Amra-
moff, 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 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 deckhouse, as
there was a rain storm, when he saw a tall,thin man, who was
not like any of the crew, come up the companionway,  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 today
search the 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 the handspike.  I let him take  the helm, while
the rest began a 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 Gibral-
tar and out through Straits.  All well.

     24 July.--There seems some doom over this ship. Already
a hand short, and entering the Bay of Biscay with wild  wea-
ther 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
malestrom, 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 tonight, 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 sound-
ly,  awakened 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 he
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 the 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 un-
screw 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 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 ignor-
ant 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 comm-
itted 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 arran-
ged 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 church-
yard 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 pre-
sent state, he would, I believe, be adopted by the town. To-
morrow 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. Strange-
ly enough,Lucy did not wake, but she got up twice and dress-
ed 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 in-
tention, 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
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 today
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 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 rest-
lessness, or if there be, she does not understand it herself.
     There is  an  additional  cause in that poor 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!
      Lucy is  so  sweet and sensitive that she feels influ-
ences 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  fury,
with its eyes savage, and all its hair 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  began  to  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 super sensitive a nature
to go through the world without trouble.  She will be dream-
ing of this tonight, I am  sure.  The whole agglomeration of
things, the ship steered into  port by a dead man, his atti-
tude,  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 8

                    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 every-
thing, except of course, personal fear,and it seemed to wipe
the 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 shock-
ed 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 breed-
ing up a new class of curates, who  don't  take  supper,  no
matter how hard they may be  pressed to, and  who will  know
when girls are tired.
     Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more color
in her  cheeks than  usual, and looks,  oh so sweet.  If Mr.
Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her  only in the draw-
ing room, 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 be-
fore proposing or accepting.  But I suppose the  `New Woman'
won't condescend in  future to accept.  She will do the pro-
posing herself.  And a nice job she  will make  of  it  too!
There's some consolation in that.  I am  so  happy  tonight,
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 Jona-
than . . .   God bless and keep him.

     11 August.--Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well
write.  I am too agitated to sleep.  We have had such an ad-
venture, such an agonizing 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 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  over-mastering
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 favorite 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  churchyard became
gradually visible.  Whatever my expectation was, it was  not
disappointed, for there, on our favorite  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, whe-
ther 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 re-
joiced 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 some-
thing 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, as though she felt the
cold.  I flung  the warm shawl  over her, and drew the edges
tight around  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 to 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 occa-
sionally.  At last, as time was passing  fast, and  for many
other reasons, I wished to get her home at once, I shook her
forcibly, till finally she opened her  eyes and  awoke.  She
did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not
realize 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 some-
what 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
chruchyard,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, pass-
ing 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 Scot-
land.  My  heart  beat  so  loud  all the  time sometimes  I
thought I should faint.I was filled with anxiety about Lucy,
not only for her health, lest she should suffer from the ex-
posure, 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  think too, of how such a story
might become  distorted, nay, 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 ad-
venture 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 join-
ing  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 tonight.

     12 August.--My expectations  were wrong, for twice dur-
ing the night I was wakened by Lucy trying  to get out.  She
seemed, even in her sleep, to be a little impatient at find-
ing the door shut,  and went  back to bed  under  a sort  of
protest.  I woke  with  the dawn, and heard the birds chirp-
ing 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 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 peace-
fully.  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 after-
noon 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
quite 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 head-
ache 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, every-
thing could be well seen, I threw a glance up at our window,
and  saw  Lucy's head leaning out.  I opened my handkerchief
and waved it.  She did not notice or make any movement what-
ever.  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 win-
dow 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 hold-
ing her hand to her throat, as though to protect if from the
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 some-
thing.  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 weak-
ening. 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 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  diagrams
enclosed.  Your agent will easily recognize the locality, as
it is the ancient chapel of the mansion.  The goods leave by
the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be due  at  King's Cross
at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon.  As our client wishes the deliv-
ery 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, 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 busi-
ness 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 received and to return
cheque  of 1 pound, 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."

       MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.

     18 August.--I  am happy today, 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 anemic 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  she  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 lean-
ed 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
agonizing 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 another subject, 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 to
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 morn-
ing  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 near 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 will 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 ST. JOSEPH AND STE. MARY
   BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY

12 August,

"Dear Madam.
     "I write  by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is him-
self  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  vio-
lent 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  want-
ing for belp.
         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 shortly 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 of 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  nothing on him, nothing that anyone could under-
stand.  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 demeanor 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 him-
self.  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 Agust.--Strange  and  sudden change in Renfield last
night. About eight o'clock he began to get excited and 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  tonight,  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 relig-
ious 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  the 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 differ-
ence 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 watch-
ing 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-luster 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 notebook 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  tonight  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!  I must
be careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take
none tonight!  I have thought of Lucy, and I  shall not dis-
honour her by mixing the two.  If need by,  tonight 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 dan-
gerous 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 wrench-
ed 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 fore-
most,  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 Car-
fax, 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,  les t 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 his 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, for 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 tonight.


CHAPTER 9

         LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA

                                      Buda-Pesth, 24 August.

"My dearest Lucy,
     "I know you  will be anxious to hear all that has happ-
ened since we parted at the railway station at Whitby.
      "Well,  my  dear, I got to Hull  all right, and caught
the boat to  Hamburg, 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 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 re-
spect her trust..
     "She is a  sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she
saw I was troubled, she opened  up the  subject 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 him-
self, and you, as his  wife  to be, have no cause to be con-
cerned.  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 for 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 amongst them was his note-
book, and was was going to ask him to let me look at it, for
I knew that I might find some clue to his trouble,but I sup-
pose 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 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
real of the dreaming of a madman.You know I 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 marri-
age.'  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.   have asked Sister Agatha to beg the Super-
ior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her
reply . . ."

     "She has come  and told me that the Chaplain of the En-
glish 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 strong.  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 respon-
sibilities  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, 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  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 wind, 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.  Goodbye, 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 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 were
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. SEWARDS DIARY

     20 August.--The  case  of Renfield grows  even more in-
teresting.  He has now so far quieted that  there are spells
of 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 my-
self disassociated 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.  Tonight 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 tonight play sane wits  against mad  ones.  He escaped
before without our help.  Tonight  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  expected  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 pad-
ded  room, when once he is quiet, until the hour before sun-
rise. 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 wait-
ed  until the  attendant  was  entering the room to inspect.
Then  he dashed  out past him and  flew 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 sere holding
him a strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his eff-
orts, and then as suddenly grew calm.I looked round instinc-
tively, but could see  nothing.  Then I caught the patient's
eye and followed it, but  could trace nothing as  it  looked
into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, which was flapping
its  silent and ghostly way to the west.  Bats usually wheel
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 some-
thing 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 tonight.I shall make an excuse to 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 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 to be getting 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 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
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 tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any
suspicion in Mrs. Westenra,and after lunch Lucy will take an
opportunity  of  being  alone  with you.  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 tonight's post to Ring.  Wire me if neces-
sary."

 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 funct-
al  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 re-
action 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 for him!'  So I am quite free.
     "I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless,but
I could not see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance ,I
was able to test the actual  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 give 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 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 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 rela-
tions  to Miss Westenra.  This,  my dear fellow, is in obed-
ience 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,
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, and indomitable resolution,
self-command, and toleration  exalted from virtues to bless-
ings,  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 tomorrow
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, MD, DPh, D. LiT, ETC, ETC,
    TO DR. SEWARD

        2 September.

"My good Friend,
     "When I 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 for-
tune could do.  But it is pleasure added to do for him, your
friend, it is to  you that I  come.  Have near at  hand, and
please it so arrange that we may see  the young lady not too
late on tomorrow, 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 goodbye,  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 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, be-
cause his very reticence means that all his brains are work-
ing 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 DAILY TELEGRAPH.He seemed not to notice, but
remarked that the smuts of 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 possibly 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 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 pre-
tense of animation  merge into  reality.  Then,  without any
seeming change, he brought  the conversation gently round to
his visit, and sauvely said,
     "`My dear young miss, I  have the so great pleasure be-
cause you are so 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 he pointed me out in 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 madmen to play with,and to bring them back to happi-
ness,  and  to those that love them.  It is much to do, and,
oh, but there are  rewards in that we can bestow such happi-
ness.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 cig-
arette in the garden, whiles you and  I have little talk all
to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and pre-
sently 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 anemic.  I have asked her to
send  me her maid, that I may ask just one or two questions,
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 me the telegram every day,and if there be cause I shall
come again.  The  disease,  for not to be 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 yes-
terday 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 quiet,and finally
sank into a sort of melancholy,in which state he has remain-
ed 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-begone 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 apologized 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 notebook 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 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
very 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 realize 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 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 today 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 today."

   TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM

     "5 September.--Patient greatly improved. Good appetite,
sleeps naturally, good spirits, color 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 Holm-
wood till have seen you."


CHAPTER 10

       LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD

         6 September

"My dear Art,
     "My news  today  is not so good.  Lucy this morning had
gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has
arisen from it. Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concern-
ing 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 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 at Liverpool Street was, "Have you said anything
to our young friend, to 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 will 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 him-
self the same way.  "I have for  myself thoughts at the pre-
sent.  Later I shall unfold to you."
     "Why not now?"  I asked.  "It may do some good.  We may
arrive at some decision."He 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 sun-
shine has not yet begun to paint him with his gold, the hus-
bandman 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 a 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 gravely,
"You were always a careful  student, and your  case book was
ever more full  than  the rest.  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 practice, 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 people say.
Take then good note of it.  Nothing is too small.  I counsel
you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises. Here-
after 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 instru-
ments  and  drugs,  "the ghastly paraphernalia of our bene-
ficial 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  beneficient  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 order-
ed 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 enve-
lope 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 con-
demn any one for the vice of egoism,for there may be deeper
root for its causes than we have knowledge of.
     I  used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual patho-
logy, and set  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 today.
     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  eye-
brows 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 beckon-
ed 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 not 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 a 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 his interruption at such a time, but now, as
he  took  in  his  stalwart  proportions and recognized the
strong young manhood  which seemed to emanate from him, his
eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to him as he held out
his hand,
     "Sir, you have come in time.  You are the lover of our
dear 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 humorous 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 nostrils 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 ex-
plaining 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 con-
sulted,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 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 re-
mained 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 nar-
cotic,  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 sat-
isfied, 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 Hel-
sing 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 weak-
ened.  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 present-
ly."  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.   Goodbye."
     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  Pro-
fessor 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 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  it 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
tonight," he said  "There  are books and things there which
I want.  You  must remain here all  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 a 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.West-
enra 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.It was apparent that
she did not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once.
     "You do not want 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 pre-
sage 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 tonight.  I am here
watching you, and I can promise  that nothing will happen."
     "Ah, I can trust you!" she said.
     I seized the opportunity, and said, "I promise 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 opera-
tion.  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  tonight, as it
might be well to be at hand, and stating that he  was leav-
ing by the night mail and would join  me early in the morn-
ing.

     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 cheer-
ful spirits. When she shook hands with me she looked sharp-
ly in my face and said,
     "No sitting  up tonight 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 dog 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 tonight.  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
only Arthur 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 tonight 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!  Goodnight 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 flood-
ed 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
agonized  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 pro-
longed 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 de-
canter. 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 agonizing 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 of 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
color steal back into  the pallid cheeks and lips.  No  man
knows, till he experiences it, what it is  to feel his  own
lifeblood 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, while 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 occur-
red.  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 any where to show for it.  I think I must have con-
tinued 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 uncon-
scious  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 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 present-
ly said  to  me.  "Now you go home,  and eat much and drink
enough.  Make yourself strong.  I stay  here tonight, 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 the.  Think what you will.  Do not
fear to think even the most not-improbable.  Goodnight."
     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 kind-
ness.  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 Hilling-
ham.  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 im-
pressment,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 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 Conquistadores
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 sternness,  his iron jaw  set and  his  bushy  eyebrows
meeting,
     "No  trifling  with me!  I  never jest!  There is grim
purpose in what 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 obed-
ience, and obedience is to bring you  strong and  well into
loving arms that wait for you.  Now sit still a while. Come
with me, friend John, and you shall help  me deck  the room
with my garlic, which is all the war 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 pharmacopeia that I ever heard of.  First he fasten-
ed 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 scep-
tic 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 tonight 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,"Tonight 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. Tomorrow 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 con-
fidence 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 11

                   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  tonight, 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 sleeplessness, or the pain  of the fear of
sleep, and 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 tonight, 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.  Goodnight, 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 like  the completion  of  nature's  annual work.  The
leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colors,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 replied, "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 aw-
fully  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 odor
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 break-
fasted early.  As she had spoken, I  watched the Professor's
face, and saw it turn ashen gray. 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 seem-
ed 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, send down from 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, 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 must 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 inspir-
ation 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  transfu-
sion of blood.  I had long ago recognized the necessity, and
begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with  a warning
hand.  "No!" he said.  "Today you must operate. I shall pro-
vide.  You are weakened already."  As he  spoke he  took off
his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve.
     Again the operation.   Again the narcotic.   Again some
return of color to the ashy cheeks, and the regular  breath-
ing of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing
recruited himself and rested.
     Presently he  took an opportunity of telling Mrs. West-
enra 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  odor 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 ter-
rible 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 remem-
brance of long,  anxious times of waiting and fearing, dark-
ness  in which there  was  not even the pain of hope to make
present distress  more  poignant.  And  then  long spells 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 from 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.  Tonight 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 wold department  is  in-
cluded.  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 subjucts
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, wish-
ful to get him into a talkative humor.
     " `Ittin' of them over the `ead with a pole is one way.
Scratchin' of their ears  in 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 of the pole part afore I chucks in
their dinner, but I waits till  they've `ad their sherry and
kawffee,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 arskin' of me questions  about my business, and
I that grump-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
offence did I tell yer to go to `ell?"
     "You did."
     "An'  when  you said  you'd report me for usin' 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 of 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 even
get 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 gray
ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off
him four  years 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
cheery 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' yes-
terday 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 ani-
miles 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  get  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 like 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 wolf's 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 keepers.
     " `Nom'  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 oppo-
site  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  gray 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 af-
ter the escape of the wolf was made known,and we had been up
all night a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker,that he remem-
bered 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 laugh-
ed 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 her  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  storybook, 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'hidin' 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 in a coal cellar.  My eye,  won't  some cook get
a rum start when she sees his green  eyes a-shinin'  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 out
walkin' or 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 a 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 a unutterable mixture of comedy and
pathos.  The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed
London and set  all  the children in 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  today  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.  Sud-
denly the door was burst open,and in rushed my patient, with
his  face  distorted with passion.  I was thunderstruck, for
such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the
Superintendent's study is almost unknown.
     Without an instant's notice 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
hand and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist
bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the car-
pet.  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  employ-
ment 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 pro-
longed strain of Lucy's  illness and its  horrible phases is
telling on me. I am over excited and weary, and I need rest,
rest,  rest.  Happily  Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I
need not forego my sleep.  Tonight I could not well do with-
out 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 Hilllingham tonight.
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 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 to-
night.  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  sleep, but I 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 win-
dow 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, she  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 beat-
ing terribly.  After a while there was the 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 gray 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 from 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  seems 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 simoon 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
each have 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 re-
move 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 de-
canter  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.  Goodbye, dear  Arthur, if I should
not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!


CHAPTER 12

                    DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

     18 September.--I drove  at once  to  Hillingham and ar-
rived early.  Keeping  my  cab at the gate, I  went  up  the
avenue alone.  I knocked  gently and rang as quietly as pos-
sible, 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
round us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I had come,
too late?  I know 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
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 ster-
torous 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 drought 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,show-
ing the two little wounds which we had noticed  before,  but
looking horribly white and mangled.  Without a word the Pro-
fessor 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 de-
canter 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 lift-
ed 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 if they
delayed they would sacrifice Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and cry-
ing 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  hall  door.  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 poss-
ible, 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
trifle 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  re-
turned, 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 out-
stretched hands.
     "What brought you her?" 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  im-
proved, and  Van Helsing made  a sub-cutaneous  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 stook 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 horri-
ble 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 if for the pre-
sent. You shall know and understand it all in good time, but
it will be later.  And now what is it that you came to me 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 thatlove 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 fore-stalling 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
is 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 al-
ready what I did today.  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 seem-
ed 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 calcula-
tions 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 move-
ment was to feel in her breast, and to my surprise, produced
the paper which Van Helsing had given me to read.  The care-
ful Professor had replaced it where it  had come from,  lest
on waking she should be alarmed.  Her eyes  then lit  on Van
Helsing and on me too, and gladdened.  Then she looked round
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 was meant,  that she had  real-
ized  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 mater-
ial 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 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 rav-
ages 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  sleep-
ing 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 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 after-
noon she asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed for him.Quinc-
ey 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 color to the pale cheeks.
When he saw her, Arthur was simply choking 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 is  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  tomorrow
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 hus-
band 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 prosper-
ity, 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 out against the old yellow stone of the cath-
edral, and I can  hear  the rooks overhead cawing and cawing
and  chattering and  chattering 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 wish 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 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.  Goodbye, my dearest
Lucy, and blessings on you."
Yours,
Mina Harker

 REPORT FROM PATRICK HENNESSEY, MD, MRCSLK, QCPI, ETC, ETC,
TO JOHN SEWARD, MD
        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 an-
other 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  abut 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 be-
gan to rate him from  within,  and  called  him all the foul
names he could lay his tongue to.  The man, who seemed a de-
cent 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 place he had got to by saying, `Lor' bless yer,
sir, I wouldn't  mind what was said to me in a bloomin' mad-
house.  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 follow-
ed 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 fore-
heads, and were flushed in the face, as if with violent ex-
ercise. 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
horrible 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 lightweight,
and the others were both burly men.  At first he was silent
in his fighting, but as we began to master him, and the at-
tendants 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 pen-
alties  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 labors of any place of public entertainment.
I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass  of
strong 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 occurr-
ing 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.  Jon-
athan is greatly distressed.  It is  not  only that he feels
sorrow, deep sorrow,for the dear,good man who has befriended
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 Jona-
than feels it on another account.  He says the amount of re-
sponsibility  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 someone,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 that day after tomorrow, 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' DIARY

     20 September.--Only  resolution  and  habit  can let me
make an entry tonight. 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 in  her pillow, almost whiter than
the lawn.  She lay quite still, and I looked around 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 hand-
kerchief  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  beside  her, and presently she moved uneas-
ily.  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 around, 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 strug-
gle  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 amy 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 sissing indraw
of 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 ejacula-
tion, "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 dis-
appeared.
     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 re-
mained, 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 Hel-
sing 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 in-
stant 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 hurl-
ed him almost across the room.
    "Not on 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 realized 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 clamped 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 close 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!"   he said 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 part-
ed. Lucy's eyes closed, and Van Helsing, who had been watch-
ing 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 draw-
ing 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 eve. 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 13

               DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont.

     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 was 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  fun-
eral, 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 sol-
icitor 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 tomorrow
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.  Tomorrow  we shall
have much to do, but for the tonight 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 wild-
erness  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 candles 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 cruci-
fix, 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  premoni-
tory tap at the door, he entered, and at once began to speak.
     "Tomorrow 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 what 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 is
I that shall operate, and you must not help. I would like to
do it tonight, but for Arthur I must not.  He  will  be free
after his father's funeral tomorrow, 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 be-
lieve  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 to 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 to 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 solici-
tor came, Mr.Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidder-
dale.  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 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 colli-
sion, 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 senti-
mental 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 under-
taker, 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 adher-
ed 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, say-
ing 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 tight-
ening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison,  are ex-
pressions 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 seem-
ed to be enhancing her loveliness.  It frightened and amazed
me somewhat.  And as for Arthur, he fell to  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 sug-
gest, 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  become  softened and even
resolved into their youthful beauty,that this was especially
so when death had been preceded by any  acute  or  prolonged
suffering. I seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and af-
ter kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her
lovingly and long, he turned aside.I told him that that must
be goodbye, 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 goodbye, so the latter went to the  kitchen
to  tell  the  undertaker's men to proceed with the prepera-
tions 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 is a hard thing
that 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, 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 Hel-
sing did not go to bed at all.  He went  to and  fro, as  if
patroling 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  odor of lily and rose, a
heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

  MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL

     22 September.--In the train to Exeter.  Jonathan sleep-
ing.  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, marr-
ied to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, rich, mas-
ter of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and  Jona-
than with another attack that may harm him.  Some day he may
ask me about it.  Down it all goes.  I am rusty in my short-
hand, 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 repre-
senting 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  the  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 hat, sitting in a victoria outside Guil-
iano'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 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 dis-
turbed, and he answered, evidently  thinking that  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 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.  Th e 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 only I knew!  If
only I knew!" He was distressing himself so much that I fear-
ed to keep  his  mind  on the subject by asking him any ques-
tions, so I  remained silent.  I  drew 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, Jona-
than's eyes closed, and  he  went quickly 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, have I 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 forget-
fulness.  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 the 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 today."
     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  a sweetness out of
his life!  God help us all to bear our troubles.

         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-CONT.

     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 in-
deed.  Van Helsing is lying down, having a  rest preparatory
to his journey.  He goes to Amsterdam  tonight,  but says he
returns tomorrow 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 Hel-
sing'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 humor 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 circum-
stances, but it had no effect.Men and women are so different
in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when
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 char-
acteristic of him, for it  was logical and forceful and mys-
terious.  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 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 ex-
ample 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
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 you, friend John, for we are more  level in experiences
than father and son, yet even at such a 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 smile-
less 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 labor, 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  me  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 expression
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!  Then 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  in-
to my 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 if I even open this
again, it  will be to deal with different people and differ-
ent 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 WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER
 A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY

     The  neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exer-
cised with  a  series  of events  which seem to run on lines
parallel to those of what was known to the writers of  head-
lines and "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 consen-
sus 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 neighborhood 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 nat-
ural as the favorite 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"bloo-
fer 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 winningly 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 ques-
tion,  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 lookout for straying
children, especially  when very  young, in  and around Hamp-
stead Heath, and for any stray dog which may be about.

  THE WESTMINSTER 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 ema-
ciated.It too, when partially restored, had the common story
to tell of being lured away by the "bloofer lady".


CHAPTER 14

                  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 imag-
ination.  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 wedd-
ing 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 its 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, least it may harm. Again your pardon,
and forgive me.
       "VAN HELSING"

    TELEGRAM, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING

     25 September.--Come  today 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 Jona-
than'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 color.  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 I know,so
that he may understand.  I hope I did  right  in  not saying
anything of it to Mrs. Westenra.  I should never forgive my-
self 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 typewritten 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 meet-
ing, 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 cer-
tain 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  tomorrow  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
is  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 med-
ium 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 me at
once as indicative of thought and power.  The head is noble,
well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears.The face, clean-
shaven, 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 that 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 know that the friend of that poor
little 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  an  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 can 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 well be grateful.You will do me much
favor."
     I could  not  resist the temptation of mystifying him a
bit,  I  suppose it is some 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 knew long that
Mr. Jonathan  was  a  man of much thankfulness, but see, his
wife have all the good things.And will you not so much honor
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 typewritten copy from my work basket
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  time 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 so 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 hurried-
ly 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 dazed,  I  am dazzled, 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.  Madame," 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 a happy life and a
good life, and your husband will be  blessed in you."
     "But,  doctor,  you praise me too much,  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 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 is 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 over-wrought 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 about  Lucy,  and so now we
shall not speak of it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Ex-
eter tonight, 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 Jona-
than a madman, that journal is  all  so strange, and I hesi-
tated 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 know 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 may 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 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, as  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,
aye, 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
today I come to see you,for I have learn all at once so much
that again I am  dazzled, dazzled 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 tonight from
Launceston and will be here at 10:18,so that I shall have no
fear tonight.  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 Lond-
on, 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
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 whee 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 know-
ing 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
a 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 be-
fore 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
for 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 turn-
ing them over.  His eyes suddenly seemed to catch  something
in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette", I knew it  by the
color, 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 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 Sun-
day, 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  sett-
ling 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.  Today he  came back,  and  almost
bounded into the room  at about  half-past five o'clock, and
thrust last night's "Westminster 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 des-
cribed small puncture 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,  anx-
iety does help to restore one's spirits, but when  I saw his
face, it sobered me.  Never, even in  the midst  of our des-
pair 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 a great loss or waste
of blood."
     "And how was the blood lost or wasted?" I shook my head.
     He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on,"You
are a 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 contemplated 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 materialization.
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 a student  of  the brain,
how you accept hypnotism and reject the thought reading.  Let
me tell you, my friend, that there  are things done  today in
electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the
very man who discovered electricity, who would themselves not
so long before been burned as wizards.  There are always mys-
teries 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
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 out 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,
and 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 sees  dynasties,
and why the parrot never die only of bite  of cat of  dog  or
other complaint?  Can you tell me why men believe in all ages
and places 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 can make him-
self 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 un-
broken 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 them to tell  me the thing, so that I could have the ob-
ject of  thought in mind all the time.  But now I was without
his 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
madman, and not a sane one, follows  an  idea.  I feel like a
novice lumbering through  a  bog in a midst, jumping from one
tussock to another in the mere  blind effort to move on with-
out knowing where I am going."
     "That is  a  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 fac-
ulty 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 the 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
inure the receptivity of my mind with  regard to some strange
matter.  Do I read your lesson aright?"
     "Ah, you are  my  favorite  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 holes 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 15

                 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-cont.

     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, whey, think you, did I go so far round,
why take so long to tell 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, no 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.Tonight
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 catagory, 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 not be true, then proof will be relief.
At worst it will not harm.  If it be true!  Ah, there is the
dread.  Yet every 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  a 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 churchyard 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 punct-
ures.  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 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 some 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 then it  has been quite a  gala  time with
them.  Even  this  poor  little mite, when he woke up today,
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  not  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 un-
hesitatingly, but, as for me, I was in quite  a  mixup 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 churchyard, 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 West-
enra 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 matchbox and a piece of
candle, proceeded to make a light.  The tomb in the daytime,
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 the time-discolored
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 irr-
esistibly the idea that life,  animal life, was not the only
thing which could pass away.
     Van Helsing went about  his work systematically.  Hold-
ing 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 dan-
gers, 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, "thee are many duplicates, and anyhow it is not diffi-
cult to pick a lock of this 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 ways 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 had 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?"
     "We shall see,"said the Professor, and with one impulse
we took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleep-
ing 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 exclam-
ation of  astonishment,  and then we went away silently.  By
good chance we got a cab near the `Spainiards,' 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 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 mour-
ners had taken  themselves  lazily away, when, looking care-
fully from behind a clump of alder trees, we saw the  sexton
lock  the  gate  after  him.  We knew 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 realized  distinctly
the  perils of the law which we were incurring in our unhal-
lowed work.  Besides, I felt it was all so useless.  Outrag-
eous 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 evi-
dence 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  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 radi-
antly 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,"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 mom-
ent ashamed, I said, "She may have  been placed  here  since
last night."
     "Indeed?  That is so, and by whom?"
     "I do not know.  Someone 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 later, and  in trance  could  he
best come to take more blood.  In  trance she  dies,  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 gar-
lic, 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  forever.  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 today  with a
woman who have not change only to be more rose and more beau-
tiful 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 mis-
taken idea I have done  things  that prevent him say goodbye
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 hun-
dred 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
tonight 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.  Tomorrow  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 tonight,  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 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 not 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 came 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 wo-
man sleeps, and the 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 won-
derful way.  I am loathe to think it, and indeed it would be
almost as great a marvel as the other to find  that Van Hel-
sing was mad, but anyhow I shall watch him carefully.  I may
get some light on the mystery.

     29 September.--Last  night,  at  a  little  before  ten
o'clock, Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room. He
told us all what he wanted us to do, but especially address-
ing 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 be-
ginning, 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  recognized my return to my old
doubting frame of mind without my saying a word. Then, turn-
ing 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 honor 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 pro-
mise.  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 is
it 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 dishonor on her  grave?  Are you mad, that
you speak of such things, or am  I mad  to listen  to  them?
Don't  dare 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 fulfillment even than I am, then,I shall do my
duty, whatever it may seem to me.  And  then, to follow 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 labor 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 come 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 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 16

                  DR SEWARD'S DIARY-cont.

     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 dents of the
heavy clouds that scudded across the sky.  We all kept some-
how 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 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 un-
locked 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 a coffin.Arthur step-
ped 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 ordin-
arily, I wouldn't so dishonor you  as to imply a doubt,  but
this is a mystery that goes beyond any honor or dishonor. Is
this your doing?"
     "I  swear to  you by all that I hold sacred that I have
not removed  or touched  her.  What happened  was this.  Two
nights ago my friend Seward and I came  here, with good pur-
pose, 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 daytime 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 sun-
down the Un-Dead can move.  I waited here all 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 tonight 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 humanizing 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 pur-
pose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was myself tol-
erably 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 at 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 roll-
ing it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices
between  the  door and its setting in the tomb.  I was some-
what 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 there going to do it?"
     "It Is."
     "What is that which you are using?" This time the ques-
tion was  by  Arthur.  Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat
as he answered.
     "The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam.  I have an  In-
dulgence."
     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 assign-
ed 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 repud-
iated 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, 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 ad-
vance, a dim white figure, which  held something dark at its
breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moon-
light  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 warn-
ing 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 recognized 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 be-
cause 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 color, 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 moan-
ing.  There was a  cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a
groan from Arthur.When she advanced to him with outstretched
arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his
hands.
     She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, vol-
uptuous 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 tinkling 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 stop-
ped, as if arrested  by some  irresistible  force.  Then she
turned, and  her  face was shown in the clear burst of moon-
light and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Hel-
sing's 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 color became  livid, the eyes seemed to
throw out sparks of hell  fire, the  brows were  wrinkled as
though the folds of 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,
se remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred clos-
ing 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?"
     "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  with horrified amazement
as we  saw, when he stood  back, the woman, with a corporeal
body  as  real  at that moment  as our own, pass 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 tomorrow.  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  locks the  gate  we shall remain.  Then
there is more to do, but not like this  of  tonight.  As for
this little one,  he is  not  much  harmed, and by  tomorrow
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 a  sore trial,  but  after, when you 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 over-much.  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  behind 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  graveyard by half-past one, and
strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that
when  the gravediggers had completed their task and the sex-
ton 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,some-
thing like a cricketing bag.It was manifestly of fair weight.
     When  we  were alone and had heard the last of the foot-
steps 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 suff-
icient 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 corpse 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.Present-
ly 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  blood  stained,  voluptuous mouth,
which made one shudder to see,the whole carnal and unspirit-
ed  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 small oil lamp, which gave out,
when lit  in  a  corner of  the tomb, gas which  burned at a
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 preperations
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 any-
thing, let me tell you this.  It is out of the lore  and ex-
perience 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 multi-
plying 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 for all time make
more of those  Un-Deads that so have filled  us with horror.
The career  of this  so unhappy dear lady is but just begun.
Those children whose blood she sucked are not as yet so much
the worse,  but if she lives 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 play  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
assimilating 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 well be a fearful ordeal, be not de-
ceived 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 to
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 champed together till the lips were cut, and the
mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never fal-
tered.  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 well-
ed  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 has so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her de-
struction was yielded as a privilege to the one  best entit-
led to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in 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 for ever.
     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 sold-
ered 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 differ-
ent 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 or our work is done, one the most harrowing to our-
selves.  But there remains a greater task, to  find  out the
author of all this or sorrow and  to stamp him out.  I  have
clues which we can follow, but it is a long task,and a diff-
icult one, 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 bitter 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 you about, and you can help
me. Tonight I leave for Amsterdam, but shall return tomorrow
night.  And then begins our great quest.  But  first I shall
have much to say, so that you may know what  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 17

                 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-cont

     When we arrived at the Berkely 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 can-
not stay.  She  must go to your house, friend John. You must
meet her at the station.  Telegraph her en route so that she
may be prepared."
     When the wire was dispatched 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 today.  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 import-
ant.  You have kept a diary of all  these so strange things,
is it not so?  Yes!  Then we shall go  through all these to-
gether when we meet."  He then made ready  for his departure
and shortly 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 com-
mon to arrival platforms,and I was beginning to feel uneasy,
lest I might miss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty look-
ing 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, where-
upon 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 Under-
ground to Fenchurch Street, after I had  sent a wire  to  my
housekeeper to have a sitting room and a 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 un-
able 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  opp-
ortunity 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 someone 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 troubl-
ed 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
honor.  Honest Indian!"
     I could not but smile, at which he grimaced."I gave my-
self away that time!"  he said.  "But do you know that,  al-
though 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 mo-
ment, I thought, and as my eyes ranged the room,unconscious-
ly looking for something or some opportunity to aid me, they
lit on a 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 realized my mean-
ing.
     "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 giv-
ing 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 cer-
tain 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 by 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 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 tomorrow 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 have so far
traveled 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 a 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 all that
followed, was done, I lay back in my chair powerless.  Fort-
unately I am not of a fainting disposition.  When Dr. Seward
saw me he jumped up with a horrified exclamation,  and hurr-
iedly taking a case bottle from  the 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 Lucy was at last at peace, I do not think I could  have
borne it without making a scene.  It is all so wild and mys-
terious, and strange that if I had not known Jonathan's  ex-
perience 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 of 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 seventeenth cy-
linder.  I used  manifold, and so took three copies  of  the
diary, just as I had done with 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 Westminster 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,  had
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
got his wife's wire just before starting.  He is  uncommonly
clever, if one can judge from his face, and full of  energy.
If this 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 pre-
pared to meet a good specimen  of  manhood,  but hardly  the
quiet, business-like gentleman who came here today.

     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 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 tran-
script 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 transcript.  Oh, if we had only had them earl-
ier we might have saved poor Lucy!  Stop! That  way  madness
lies! Harker has gone back, and is again collecting 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 ob-
servation.  As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All those out-
breaks were in some way linked with  the  proximity  of  the
Count.  What then does this 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 al-
ways 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
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.

       JOHNATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

     29 September, in train to London.--When I received  Mr.
Billington's courteous message that he would give me any in-
formation in his power I thought it best to go down to Whit-
by 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 spend the night. They are hospitable, with true York-
shire hospitality, give a  guest  everything and  leave  him
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  acci-
dent in the way of his intentions being carried out.  To use
and 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 the letter to Car-
ter Paterson, and their reply.  Of both 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 harbor master, who kindly put me in commun-
ication with the men who had  actually  received  the boxes.
Their tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to
add to the simple description `fifty cases of common earth',
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
like 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, forever 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 in-
voice. 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
ex post facto manner.
     From thence I went to Carter Paterson'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  more
details. These were, I shortly found, connected almost sole-
ly  with the  dusty  nature  of  the job, and the consequent
thirst engendered in the operators.  On my affording an opp-
ortunity,  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 old chapel, 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 those  boxes
which arrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safe-
ly deposited in the old chapel at Carfax.  There  should  be
fifty of them there, unless any have since  been removed, as
from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.

     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
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, 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 deter-
mination.  We have got everything in order for  tonight.   I
feel myself quite wild with excitement.  I suppose one ought
to pity anything so hunted as the Count.  That is  just  it.
This thing is not human, not even a beast.  To read Dr. Sew-
ard'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 of me, and it seemed that  Dr. Van Helsing,  too,
had 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 conclus-
ion that the best thing I could do would be to post them  on
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 Lucy . . ."
     Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands.
I could hear the tears in his voice.  Mr. Morris,  with  in-
stinctive  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 a 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 op-
enly.  I  sat  down beside him and took his hand.  I hope he
didn't think  it  forward of me, and that if her 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 gentle-
man.I said to him, for I could see that his heart was break-
ing, "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 hy-
sterical,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 in-
finite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly.   With
a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and cried like a wear-
ied 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  in-
voked.  I felt this big sorrowing man's head  resting on me,
as though it were that of a baby that some day may lie 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 him-
self with an apology, though he made no disguise of his emo-
tion.  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 today.  I
shall know better in time, and believe me that, though  I am
not ungrateful  now,  my  gratitude will grow with my under-
standing.  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 say  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 realize 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 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 forget 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 18

                  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 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 favor?  I want to see your pat-
ient, 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 answer-
ed,  "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 easi-
ness 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 anyone?"
     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, under-
stand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so loved  and honored
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, be-
ing some of them hardly in mental  equilibrium,  are apt  to
distort causes and effects.  Since I myself have been an in-
mate of a lunatic asylum, I cannot but notice that the soph-
istic tendencies of some of its  inmates  lean  towards  the
errors of non causa and ignoratio elenche."
     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 favorite topic.
I was again astonished, for he addressed himself to the ques-
tion 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 Scriptural phrase, `For the blood is the
life.'  Though, indeed,  the vendor of a certain nostrum has
vulgarized  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,
"Goodbye,and I hope I may see you often, under auspices plea-
santer to yourself."
     To which, to my astonishment, he replied,  "Goodbye, 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. Madam  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 a wo-
man'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 tonight
she must not have to do with this so 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  tomorrow she say goodbye 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 se-
crets, 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 today.  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 honor 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 in-
formed  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  un-
consciously 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.  Jon-
athan sat next to me.  Opposite us were  Lord Godalming, Dr.
Seward,  and  Mr. Morris, Lord Godalming being next the Pro-
fessor, and Dr. Seward in the center.
     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 known to you
something of the history of this  man, which  has  been  as-
certained 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 ev-
idence  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 trained  myself to  keep an open mind, I could not have
believed until such time as that fact thunder on my ear.`See!
See!  I prove, I prove.' Alas! Had I known at 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 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 strike 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 forever 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. Seward simply nodded.
     The Professor stood up and, after laying his golden cru-
cifix 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 ag-
ainst 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 supersti-
tions.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  flourish in
Germany all over, in France, in India,even in the Chermosese,
and in China, so far from us in all  ways, there  even is he,
and the peoples for 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 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 Jona-
than when he shut the door against the wolves, 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 dis-
tance  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 be-
come 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
he be not  at the  place  whither  he is  bound, he can only
change  himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These
things we are 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
sacred,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 been.
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 me, that our first step should be
to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond
that wall where we look today, or whether any more have been
removed.  If the latter, we must trace . . ."
     Here we were interrupted in a very startling way.  Out-
side 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'  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 them, 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, sterilize 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 tonight, 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, per-
haps 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 five  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 judgement on my case.  By  the  way, you
have not introduced me."
     I was so much astonished, that the oddness of introduc-
ing 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. Jonathan Harker, Mr. Renfield."
     He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn, "Lord
Godalming, I had the honor 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  honored  by  all who
knew him, and in his youth was, I  have heard, the  inventor
of a burnt  rum  punch, much patronized on Derby night.  Mr.
Morris, you should be proud of your great state.  Its recep-
tion  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 Hel-
sing?  Sir,  I  make  no  apology  for dropping all forms of
conventional prefix.  When an individual  has revolutionized
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, human-
itarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it
a  moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as un-
der 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 satis-
fied  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 parti-
cular 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 agree-
ment with the old scytheman it is of the essence of the con-
tract.  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 scrutinized 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 spring 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 con-
viction  that this  sudden change of his entire intellectual
method was  but  yet another  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 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  tonight?  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 com-
plete  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.
Goodnight."
     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  homi-
cidal 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 con-
stantly 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 realized, for when he found that
his appeal would not be successful,he got into quite a fran-
tic 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 tears 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 gaol, 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 sev-
eral 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 occasions, 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 tonight."


CHAPTER 19

               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 lunatics than I do, and
I'm glad of  it, for I fear that if it had been to me to de-
cide 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 any-
thing wrong by helping his fads.I can't forget how he prayed
with almost equal fervor 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
now he 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 they can-
not 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 so 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 mechani-
cal dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead.  Pre-
sently  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 someone 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 seem-
ingly inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps,
in  which  on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hob-
nails 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 ex-
hale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected  such an
odor  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 bloated 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 odor itself, how 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 in-
volved 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, the Pro-
fessor 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.  Some-
where, 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 anyone,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 lamp-
light, 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  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 signi-
ficance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution.
We closed the outer door and barred and locked it,and bring-
ing the dogs with us, began our  search of  the  house.   We
found nothing throughout  except dust  in extraordinary pro-
portions, 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 suc-
cessful.  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  waking 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 tonight.  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 tonight
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 sil-
ence after  such confidence as ours, but I must be resolute,
and tomorrow I shall keep  dark over tonight'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 labor, and the sooner  the matter  is  attended  to  the
better.  I shall look up Thomas Snelling today.

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 so 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 impress-
ion 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 typewritten 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 inter-
view was  short.  When I entered his room he was  sitting on
a stool in  the center,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  me  as  though I had not been in the room
at all. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learn-
ing  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 ear-
nestly,   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 tonight.

         MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL

     1 October.--It is  strange to me to be kept in the dark
as I am today, 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 hus-
band'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 today.  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 every-
thing 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 me 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 in  her sleep.  And if she hadn't gone
there  at night  and asleep, that monster couldn't have des-
troyed 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  just  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 moon-
light 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 recognize in his tones some passionate en-
treaty 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 realize 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 gaslight 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.
Then 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 won-
derful 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 con-
centrated 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 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 gat a new fas-
cination 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 real-
ity through 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.  Tonight I shall  strive  hard to sleep
naturally.  If I do not, I shall tomorrow 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 today I feel terribly  weak and spiritless. I  spent all
yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozing.In the after-
noon, 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 till 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 20

        JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

     1 October, evening.--I found  Thomas  Snelling  in  his
house at Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a condi-
tion 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 of 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, intell-
igent 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-eared note-
book,which he produced from some mysterious receptacle 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 con-
fine himself to two sides of London. He was now fixed on the
far east on 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 very
'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 Purfleet.  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 tonight.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 tonight. But ye'd better be up arter
'im  soon  in  the  mornin',  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 pro-
mised to post the address when found, I took my way to home.
We're on the track anyhow. I am tired tonight, and I want to
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 carpen-
ter'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 Cor-
coran'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 them 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 suggestion that I was willing to pay his days
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 door 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 in if both houses were 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 mous-
tache, 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
upend 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 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 start-
ed off for Piccadilly.I had gained a new painful experience.
The Count could, it was evident, handle the earth boxes him-
self. 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 sat-
isfied  that  this  was  the  next  of the lairs arranged by
Dracula.  The house looked as though it had been long unten-
anted.  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 evi-
dent 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 ownership
of the house.  I  remembered my experience of the investiga-
tion and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that I
could find the former owner there might be some means disco-
vered 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 around
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 strol-
led 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 man-
ner, but uncommunicative  in equal proportion.  Having  once
told me  that the Piccadilly house, which throughout our in-
terview 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 Honorable 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 tonight's post.  It will be a pleasure if we can
so far deviate from our rules as to give the required infor-
mation 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 con-
ferences, and feeling  the sting of our not showing our con-
fidence.  It took  all my  courage to hold to the wise reso-
lution of keeping her out of our grim task.  She seems some-
how 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."
     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 ac-
tive  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 some-
thing, 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.
It's  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 logi-
cally, 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 spirit-
ual 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 dis-
concert 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 cunn-
ing.  "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 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  up on  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 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 around him,
and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspira-
tion for an answer.
     "I don't want any souls!"  He  said in a feeble, apolo-
getic 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 get-
ting 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 here, with
the souls of thousands  of flies and spiders and  birds  and
cats  buzzing  and  twittering  and  moaning all around 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
around 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 chopsticks, as to try to inter-
est me about the  less  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 an
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, to distract me al-
ready, without thinking of souls?"
     He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for anot-
her 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 tol-
erate, and pardon me.  Pray do not put me in a strait waist-
coat. 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 con-
siderable 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 assu-
rance 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 notebook.  We had to come
away as ignorant as we went in.
     His is a curious case indeed. We must watch him tonight.

      LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & 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 infor-
mation concerning the sale and purchase of No.347,Piccadilly.
The original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. Arch-
ibald 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, 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.
     Today 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  sterilize 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 tomorrow 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 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 today
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 21

         DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

     3 October.--Let me  put  down  with  exactness all that
happened, as well as I can remember, 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 re-
ceived some terrible injuries.There seemed none of the 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 bewil-
dered, 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 recognized  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 care-
ful watching, and much attention.  I shall stay with you my-
self, 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, bear-
ing 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."
     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 instant-
ly 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 tre-
phine 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  tomorrow  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
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 breath-
ing 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 agonizing.  I looked at my companions, one after ano-
ther, and saw from their  flushed faces  and damp brows that
they  were enduring equal torture.  There was a nervous sus-
pense 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 think-
ing 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 was softened into a glad surprise, and from
his 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 agonized 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  realized
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 cross-bones on their backs."
     Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to  me uncon-
sciously,  "The Acherontia Atropos 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  color 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 tini-
est crack  and  has  stood  before  me  in all  her size and
splendor."
     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 maybe could  not pro-
ceed 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 blowfly,and when the
moon got up I was pretty angry with him.When he did slide 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 Pro-
fessor 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  has 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 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 tonight 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 ster-
torous.  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 Count'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 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  Harkers' 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  tonight.
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 Pro-
fessor 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 recognized 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 ten-
sion.  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 chest 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, clamped 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 vapor.  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 des-
pairing 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 white-
ness 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 hold-
ing 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 him-
self in the shadow of a great yew tree.  It  puzzled  me  to
think why he was doing this. But at the instant I heard Har-
ker'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 se-
conds, 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 tonight, 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 bedside, and clung to him fiercely.
     Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both.The Professor
held  up his  golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calm-
ness,  "Do not fear, my dear.  We are here, and whilst  this
is close to you no foul thing can approach. You are safe for
tonight, 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  the neck had sent forth drops.
The instant she  saw  it she drew back, with a low wail, 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 calm-
ness 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 cylin-
ders 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 downstairs  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 some-
thing.  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 tonight, for the sky  is  reddening in  the
east, and the dawn is close.  We must work tomorrow!"
     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 beat-
ing.
     Then Van Helsing said, placing his hand 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 ten-
sion 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 pro-
tectingly. 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  hus-
band 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 show-
ing between,  and  the  red eyes that I had seemed to see in
the sunset on the windows  of St. Mary's Church at Witby.  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 paralyzed.  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 pity-
ingly, 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 design! 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 play-
ed  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 to 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 deep-
ened 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 today on no more
miserable house in all the great round of its daily course.


CHAPTER 22

                 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 today.  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 Ren-
field  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 your-
self, 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
was 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 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 Undead, 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 shiv-
ered,  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 earth boxes 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 inten-
tions.  Nay, more, in all probability, he does not know that
such a power  exists  to  us  as can sterilize 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.Today
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 doorway, he
must open the door like a mortal. And so we have this day to
hunt out all his lairs and  sterilize 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 cen-
tral, so quiet,where he come and go by the front or the back
at all hours, 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 Art-
hur 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 in.  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 as 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  not 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
houses 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 London, and
when he went for months of summer to Switzerland and lock up
his  house,  some  burglar come 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 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 in 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 purpose?  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.
     A s 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 under-
stand 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 terr-
ible 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  fore-
head, it had seared it . . . had burned  into the  flesh  as
though it had been a piece of whitehot metal.  My poor darl-
ing'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 sank 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  Judgement
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 fear, 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 simul-
taneously 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 terr-
ible 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
him,  "And now,  my friends,  we have a duty here to do.  We
must sterilize 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 de-
feat 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 screwdriver 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 some-
how seem to mind, for our attention was concentrated  on the
Professor.  Taking from his box a piece of the  Scared 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.  It may be  that with all the others we can be
so successful, then  the sunset of this evening may shine of
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  circum-
stances  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 atten-
tion 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 lookout 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 out and strolled into the Green Park. My heart beat as I
saw the house on which so much of our hope was centered,loom-
ing up grim and silent in its deserted condition amongst its
more lively and spruce-looking neighbors.   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 acqui-
escence,and the man kneeling down placed his bag beside him.
After searching through it, he took out a selection of tools
which he proceeded to lay beside him in orderly fashion.Then
he stood up, looked in 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 se-
cond, 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 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  de-
parted.  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 add-
resses 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 23

                    DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

     3 October.--The time seemed teribly 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.  Today  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 sal-
vation, for if all  go  well, it will tide him over the des-
pairing period.  He will then, in  a kind of way, wake again
to  the realities  o f 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 know-
ledge 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 is
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 experi-
ments.  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 he might not him-
self  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 only he 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 des-
pair, this knowledge came to him just too late!  Already all
of his lairs but one be sterilize 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 not be 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.  Today 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 we  were 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  dispatch.
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 own
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 de-
voted to this cause, and today shall  see the end.  The time
is coming for action.  Today  this  Vampire is  limit to the
powers of man, and till 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 var-
ious 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 Godal-
ming 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  pocketbook.  "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 suspi-
cious, and he went  from Carfax  first to the place where he
would suspect interference least. You must have been at Ber-
mondsey 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 hunt-
ing 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 instinc-
tively.  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  pantherlike  in the
movement, something so unhuman, that it  seemed to  sober us
all from the shock of his coming. The first to act was Hark-
er, 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 eyeteeth 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 organized 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 diabol-
ical quickness of the Count's leap back saved him.  A second
less and the trenchant blade had  shorn  through  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 that I saw 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 fore-
head 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.  Realizing  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 fears time, he fears 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 the wild beast,  and  understand  it  so.
For me, I make sure that nothing here may be of use to  him,
if so that he returns."
     As he spoke  he put  the money remaining in 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 recognize 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 com-
fort 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 cheerful-
ness which did honor 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 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 companion-
ship  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 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 rad-
iant 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 forever 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 wail of a  very loving and sorely
stricken man.  Oh, God, let these poor white hairs go in ev-
idence 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 horr-
ible, 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 loved 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 some-
how  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 tomorrow to think  of,  and
there is no rest for me until . . .

     Later--I must have fallen asleep, for I was awakened 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 whis-
pered 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 hypnotize
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 matt-
ress, 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.
     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 Pro-
fessor 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 today!"
Then turning to her, he said cheerfully,  "And what am I  to
do for you? For at this hour you do not want me for nothing."
     "I want  you to hypnotize me!" she said.  "Do it before
the dawn,  for I feel that then I can speak, and speak free-
ly.  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 min-
utes, 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 im-
pose  silence, the  Professor motioned to  me to  bring  the
others in.They came on tiptoe, 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 ratchet."
     "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 re-
peated 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 at the moment in your so great Port of Lon-
don.  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 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 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 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
nothing 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,  "Be-
cause 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 cen-
turies, 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 24

                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 today.  This is your best and most hol-
iest 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 he 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 earth-
work 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  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 fore-
head.  Whilst  that  lasts, there can be no disbelief.  Mina
and I fear to be idle,  so we have been over all the diaries
again and again.  Somehow, although the reality seem greater
each time, the pain and  the fear seem less.  There is some-
thing  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 some-
where in the Black Sea, since by that way he come.  It was a
dreary blank that was before us.  Omme 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 to other ports and up the Danube.
`So!' 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.  From him we inquire  o f 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 cloth-
ing, 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 gangplank,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 he might pur-
chase 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 gangplank 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 pic-
turesque, when on  questioning  other mariners  who were  on
movement up and down  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
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 to 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 cen-
turies.  Were  another of the Undead, 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 wonderous  way.  The  very
place,  where  he have been alive, Undead for all these cen-
turies, 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 open-
ings 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 ut-
most.  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 sanc-
tion, 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 al-
ready, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross  to re-
deem 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 maneater, as they of India call
the tiger who has once tasted  blood  of the human, care  no
more for the other prey, but prowl unceasing till he get him.
This that we hunt from our village is a tiger, too, a manea-
ter, 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 en-
durance.  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 pro-
mise 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 pol-
itics, 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 sur-
mises.  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
armor, 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 honor 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 conclu-
sions.  Tomorrow, 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 tonight.  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  arose early, and I think that sleep
did much for each and all of us. When we met at early break-
fast 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 realize 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 brill-
iant 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 distills 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 dishonor a noble woman!

     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,"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 charac-
teristics 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 prejudge.  Her teeth are 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  hypnotize 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 in-
tent, and so she cannot tell  what  she know not.  This is a
painful task!  Oh, so painful that it heartbreak me to think
of it, but it must be.  When today 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 per-
sonal 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
realized 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 pre-
serve 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,  "Winchesters it shall be.
Quincey's head is level at times, but most so when there is
to hunt,metaphor be more dishonor 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.
Tonight  and tomorrow 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 plan to her, but he took no
notice.I looked at him significantly and coughed.For answer
he put his finger to his lips and turned away.

       JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

     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 I 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 si-
lence 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 honor. 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 inten-
sity 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 suprem-
ely 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 any-
thing 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 re-
sult 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 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 tonight.  I shall  try it.  Oh!  For a dream-
less 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 occas-
sion for hypnotism, and  without  question went for the Pro-
fessor.  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 as startled as I was.  After a mom-
ent'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 cir-
cumstances . . .  things that have  been."  He paused embar-
rassed.
     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  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 ever-lasting honor.
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 hypnotize me and
so learn that which even I myself do not know."
     Dr. Van Helsing said 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 in-
stant 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
that  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 in-
stinctively 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 may 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 today  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 arrangements 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 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 uneasi-
ness  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 25

                    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 re-
straining  her,  or  inciting  her to  action.  This mood or
condition begins  some  half hour or more before actual sun-
rise 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 abso-
lute freedom  quickly follows.  When,  however, the  freedom
ceases the change back or  relapse  comes quickly, preceeded
only by a spell of warning silence.
     Tonight, 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, she began,  "We are
all here together in  freedom, for perhaps the last time!  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 her.  "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 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 re-
lief 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 questionly, 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 be-
tween 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 it
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 what-
ever 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  falling  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 forgot-
ten 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 warn-
ing, 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 come,
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 inter-
rupted 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 forever, come
what may!"
     "But  oh,  my dear one," he pleaded, "death is 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 anyone, 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 a
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 hus-
band's voice, as in tones so broken and emotional that often
he  had  to  pause, he read the simple and beautiful service
from the Burial  of  the  Dead.   I  cannot  go  on  .  .  .
words  .  .  .  and v-voices  .  .  .  f-fail m-me!
     She  was  right  in  her  instinct.  Strange as it 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 morn-
ing of the  12th, got to Paris  the same night, and took the
places secured for  us in the  Orient  Express.  We traveled
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 color is coming
back.  She sleeps a great deal.  Throughout the  journey she
slept nearly all the time.  Before sunrise and sunset,  how-
ever, she is very wakeful and alert.  And it  has  become  a
habit for Van Helsing to hypnotize her  at  such  times.  At
first, some effort was needed,and he had to make many passes.
But now, she seems to yield 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 at
sea, hastening on her way to Varna.  Lord Godalming has just
returned. He had four telegrams, one each day since we start-
ed,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.  Tomorrow we are
to see the Vice Consul, and to arrange, if we can, about get-
ting on board the ship as soon as she arrives.  Van  Helsing
says that our chance will be to get on the boat between sun-
rise 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 wishes 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  all  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 bribery 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 favoring winds. We are
evidently in good time, and when we hear of the Czarina Cat-
herine 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. Go-
dalming 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 authorization 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 interfer-
ence, 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.  Daily telegrams
to Godalming, but  only the same story.  "Not yet reported."
Mina's morning and evening hypnotic answer is unvaried. Lap-
ping 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 a
diary with a pen is irksome to me!  But  Van Helsing says  I
must. We were all wild with excitement yesterday when Godal-
ming 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 color, 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 noon, 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 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 lookout 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 today.  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 any-
thing 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 as k him more, but Harker
just then came in, and he held up a warning  hand.  We  must
try tonight 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 today."

 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 day 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, it was
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.  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 seconds stood
up with his face sternly set.
     Lord  Godalming grew very pale, and sat breathing heav-
ily.  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  tomorrow morning!"   We  all started, for the
answer came from Mrs. Harker.
     "How on earth do you know?" said Art.
     "You forget,  or  perhaps you do not know, though Jona-
than 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 time
tables 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 yours 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  a search  of the ship just as it was
here.  Quincey Morris, 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 realize  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 Hel-
sing 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!"
     "Here 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 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 centur-
ies, 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 knows  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 for-
getful 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 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,  the  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, hav e 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 ad universale.  There  is
this peculiarity 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 pre-destinate  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 he spoke.  His  finger and thumb
closed  on her pulse, as I thought instinctively  and uncon-
sciously, 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 an 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 sick room 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  too
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 terr-
ible 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 fail!  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 voli-
tion  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  the typewriter all since
she brought the MS to us.


CHAPTER 26

                   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  endeavor, 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 drag-
ged 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 his
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 acqueisced.  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 jump or fly on shore, then, unless he be carried he
cannot escape.  And if he  be carried,  then the customs men
may  discover what the  box contain.  Thus, in  fine,  if he
escape not on shore tonight, 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 re-
maining 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 tonight.
     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 simp-
lest 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,"Some-
thing 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, in-
creasing 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 lan-
guid, 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 anx-
iously looked for by us all. Knowing of the increasing diff-
iculty of procuring the hypnotic trance,  Van  Helsing began
his passes earlier than usual. They produced no effect, how-
ever, 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 agonized 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 amaze-
ment 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 honor you, when a word for your
good, spoken more earnest than ever, can seem so strange be-
cause 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 partic-
ulars 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 them to show us 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
harbor. 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 favorable a run.
     "Man!"  he said,  "but it made us afeard, for we expect
it 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 pur-
pose.  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' til 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 them against the evil eye.
Man!  but  the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly ri-
deeculous!  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 again
the big 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 lookout 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
althegither.  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 sunup, 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' gla d 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 dealt 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 parterage.  That was all he knew.
     We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him.
One of his neighbors,who did not seem to bear him any affec-
tion, said that he had gone away two days before,no one knew
whither.  This was corroborated by his landlord, who had re-
ceived 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 breathless-
ly 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 cry-
ing 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 conclu-
sion.  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 he must 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 con-
clusion 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 exclu-
sions may help us.  By road, by rail, by water?
     1.  By Road.--There  are  endless difficulties, especi-
ally 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 power-
less 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  realize exactly what he has done
as yet.  We may, then, get a light on what his 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 immed-
iate and sole purpose then was to escape. The proof of this,
is the letter of instructions sent ot 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 Skin-
sky 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 favoring wind through fogs
and all till he brought up blindfold at  Galatz.  That  the
Count's arrangements were well made, has been proved.Hilde-
sheim 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 sun-
rise 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 iso-
lation.
     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 to 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 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 this  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 rein-
carnate."
     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  .  .  .  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 per-
chance 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 cof-
fin 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  find  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 sanc-
tify, 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 deathtrap? 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 ever 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 fore-
head 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 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 that which I am giving, possibly  my life?  If
it, were that any one 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 basely used. I felt so thankful that Lord Godal-
ming is rich, and 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 tonight 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 carr-
iage 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 revol-
ver.  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 goodby to my dar-
ling.  We  may  never  meet again.  Courage, Mina!  The Pro-
fessor 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

     30 October, 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 another
on  the Norfolk Broads.  Regarding our plans, we finally de-
cided 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 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 steam-
ing, 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 terr-
ible 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 moveable 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 myster-
ious 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 shut-
ting 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 over-hauled 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, go-
ing 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 contin-
ued 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 feel-
ing 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 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 throb-
bing and doing their utmost.  I wonder how Dr. Seward and Mr.
Morris are getting on.  There seem to be endless streams run-
ning down the mountains into this river, but as none of them
are very large, at present, at all events,  though  they are
doubtless terrible in winter and when  the snow  melts,  the
horsemen may not have met much obstruction.  I hope that be-
fore 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 Novenber.--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 Novenber.--Today we  heard  of the launch having been
detained by an  accident  when  trying to force a way up the
rapids.  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 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 hypnotize
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 color and pictur-
esqueness 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 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 honored him more than I can say, and that my
latest and truest thought will be always for him.


CHAPTER 27

                    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 quali-
ties. 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 hypnotized me,and he says I answered
as usual,"darkness, lapping water and creaking wood." So our
enemy  is still on the river.  I am afraid to think of Jona-
than, 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 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 intense with res-
olution.  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 heav-
iness for want of a better word. I mean that it oppresses us
both.  It is very cold, and only our warm furs keep  us com-
fortable.  At dawn Van Helsing hypnotized me. He says I ans-
wered "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 horse 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 tomorrow 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 Purefleet, 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, tonight 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 hypnotize her, but alas! with  no  effect.  The power has
grown  less and  less  with each day, and tonight 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 swirl-
ing 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 byroad.  It is used but little, and
very different from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bis-
tritz, 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
asleep. 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 shel-
ter, 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 present-
ly 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
hypnotize 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 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, always 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 hun-
ger 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 hypnotize 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 twi-
light.  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
even 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 gar-
ments.  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 materialize till, if God have not
taken away my reason, for I saw it  through my  eyes.  There
were before me in actual flesh the same three women that Jon-
athan 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  color, 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!"
     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 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 hypnotize her.  But she lay in a deep and
sudden sleep, from which I  could not  wake her.  I tried to
hypnotize 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.  Today
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 do
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 to
fight.  Oh, if only Morris and Seward were  with us. We must
only hope!  If I write  no more Goodby 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 the  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 Undead have hypno-
tize 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 the man is weak.And there remain one more victim
in the Vampire  fold.  One more to swell the grim and grisly
ranks of the Undead!  .  .  .
     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 odor 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 paralyze my faculties and
to clog my very soul. It may have been that the need of nat-
ural  sleep, and  the strange oppression of the air were be-
ginning 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 en-
thrall.  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 wail 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 tim e I had searched all the tombs in the chapel, so
far  as I  could  tell.  And as there had been only three of
these Undead phantoms around us in the night, I took it that
there were no more of active Undead 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 Undead 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, Undead, 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 it was terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy,  what would it
not be with these strange ones who had survived through cen-
turies, and who had been strenghtened 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 realization 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 Undead.
     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 fervor.  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 Pro-
fessor 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 w e 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 Drac-
ula's castle cut the sky. For we were so deep under the hill
whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the Car-
pathian 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 some-
thing 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 be-
ginning 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 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 say-
ing, "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 rac-
ing 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 breakneck 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 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 fall-
ing 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 con-
verge 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 realize, or
at least to care, that they were pursued.  They seemed, how-
ever,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 crouc-
hed 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. Instinc-
tively 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 pro-
ceed. They lashed  the horses which sprang forward.  But the
four men raised their Winchester rifles, and in an unmistak-
able 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 wea-
pon 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 pointed 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 Jona-
than in such danger, but that the  ardor 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  endeavor, 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.Noth-
ing seemed to stop or even to hinder them.Neither the level-
led weapons nor the flashing knives of the gypsies in front,
nor 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
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 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 so 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 Jona-
than'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 service!  Oh, God!" he cried suddenly, struggling 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 Transyl-
vania, and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us
so full of vivid and terrible memories.It was almost imposs-
ible 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 mater-
ial of which the record is composed,  there  is  hardly  one
authentic document.Nothing but a mass of typewriting, except
the later notebooks 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