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c 1897




Bram Stoker




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-


I found my smattering of German very useful here,in-

deed, I don't know how I should be able to get on without


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


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


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


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


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


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


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.



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


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-


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


"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


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


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


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!



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


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


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.



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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


"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


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!




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


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.???



17, Chatham Street


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.


P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. Goodnight

again. L.


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.


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 . . .


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.



(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.


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


26 May

Count me in every time. I bear messages which will

make both your ears tingle.





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


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


"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


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.


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


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.


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


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."





From a correspondent.


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.


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'.


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.




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


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


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


I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have

taken care that the door is locked and the window securely


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.



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


"We are, dear Sirs,

"Faithfully yours,




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,



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




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


"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."


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


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


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.




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


"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."


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



"P.S.--Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor


"P.P.S.--We are to be married on 28 September."


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


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.


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.


"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!



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-



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



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."


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


"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."


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.


"4 September.--Patient still better today."


"5 September.--Patient greatly improved. Good appetite,

sleeps naturally, good spirits, color coming back."


"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."




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


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


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


"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that, not the


"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.


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


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


"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!"


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-


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


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.


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.


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


"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


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


"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.




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.


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


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.


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.





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


"`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


I came off too,to report the only exclusive information

that is given today regarding the strange escapade at the



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.


(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.


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.


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


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


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


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!




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


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


"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


"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.


(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."


Mina Harker



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


"Believe me, dear Sir,

"Yours faithfully,

"Patrick Hennessey."



(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"


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-


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


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


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."




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.


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 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?"


"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


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.


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


"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.


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


"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 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.






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".




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.


24 September


"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.



25 September.--Come today by quarter past ten train if

you can catch it. Can see you any time you call.



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


"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


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


"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.


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


"Yours the most faithful,

"Abraham 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."


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."


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


"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!"




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


"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


"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


"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


"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


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


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.



(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.



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


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."




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


"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?


"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-


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


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


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


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."




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!


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


"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


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-


"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.


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."


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.


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



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


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.


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.




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


"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.


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


"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


"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.


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


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


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.


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


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


"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


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


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."




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


"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


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.


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


"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!"


"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.


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.





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


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


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


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


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


"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!


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


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


"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


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


"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


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.


"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,



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 . . .




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


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


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


"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


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


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


"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


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-


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.




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


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


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


"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


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


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


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


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


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


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.




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


"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


"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


"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


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


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.


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


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


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


"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.





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




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


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.


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


"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


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.


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.


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


"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


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-


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


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.




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


"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.


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.




"Czarina Catherine reported this morning from Dardanelles."


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


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


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."


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


"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


"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


"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.




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


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.


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.


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.


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'


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.


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.



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-


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


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.


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


"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-


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.


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


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.


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.


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.




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.


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


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


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 . . .


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.


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 . . .


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.


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.


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


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.


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


"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.