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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 cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him.
We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your
heart."
As he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it out to me,
I being nearest to him, "put these flowers round your neck," here
he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms, "for other
enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife, and for aid in all,
these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your breast, and for
all, and above all at the last, this, which we must not desecrate
needless."
This
was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an envelope and handed to me.
Each of the others was similarly equipped.
"Now,"
he said, "friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If so that we can
open the door, we need not break house by the window, as before at Miss
Lucy's."
Dr.
Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical dexterity as a surgeon
standing him in good stead. Presently he got one to suit, after a little
play back and forward the bolt yielded, and with a rusty clang, shot back.
We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened.
It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's
diary of the opening of Miss Westenra's tomb, I fancy that the same idea
seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they shrank back.
The Professor was the first to move forward, and stepped into the
open door.
"In
manus tuas, Domine!"he said, crossing himself as he passed over the
threshold.
We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have lit our lamps
we should possibly attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully
tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from within should we
be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded on
our search.
The
light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the rays
crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great shadows. I
could not for my life get away from the feeling that there was 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 seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent
footsteps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails
where the dust was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and
in the corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered
till they looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly
down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed
label on each.
They had been used several times, for on the table were several
similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the
Professor lifted them.
He
turned to me and said, "You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied
maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to
the chapel?"
I
had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able
to get admission to it, so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings
found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands.
"This
is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small map
of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding
the purchase.
With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch and opened the
door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the
door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of
us 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 involved gave us a strength which rose above merely physical
considerations. After the involuntary shrinking consequent on the first
nauseous whiff, we one and all set about our work as though that loathsome
place were a garden of roses.
We
made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we began,
"The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left, we must then
examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some clue
as to what has become of the rest."
A
glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests
were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.
There
were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, for,
seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted door into
the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my heart stood
still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the high
lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the
red lips, the awful pallor.
It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I
thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed his
inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage.
There was no sign of 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 lamplight,
shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the
place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but
at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then, simultaneously
lifting their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion.
The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we moved out.
Lord
Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed him on the
floor. The
instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to recover his courage, and
rushed at his natural enemies. They fled before him so fast that before he
had shaken the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had by now been
lifted in the same manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had
vanished.
With
their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for the dogs
frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at their
prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in the air
with vicious shakes.
We all seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying
of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief
which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not, but most
certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the
occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance, though we
did not slacken a whit in our resolution.
We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the
dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout
except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own
footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs exhibit
any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we returned to the chapel they
frisked about as though they had been rabbit hunting in a summer wood.
The
morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. Dr. Van
Helsing had taken the key of the hall door from the bunch, and locked the
door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into his pocket when he had done.
"So
far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful. No harm
has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained how
many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our first, and
perhaps our most difficult and dangerous, step has been accomplished without
the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina or troubling her 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 silence
after such confidence as ours, but I must be resolute, and tomorrow I shall
keep dark over tonight's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that
has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.
1
October, later.--I suppose it was natural that we should have all overslept
ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had no rest at all.
Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I slept till the
sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call two or three times
before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that for a few seconds she
did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of blank terror, as one
looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. She complained a little of
being tired, and I let her rest till later in the day.
We now know of twenty-one boxes having been removed, and if it be
that several were taken in any of these removals we may be able to trace
them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our labor, and the sooner
the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up Thomas Snelling today.
DR.
SEWARD'S DIARY
1
October.--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor walking
into my room.
He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and it is quite evident
that last night's work has helped to take some of the brooding weight off
his mind.
After
going over the adventure of the night he suddenly said, "Your patient
interests me much.
May it be that with you I visit him this morning? Or if that you are
too occupy, I can go alone if it may be. It is a new experience to me to
find a lunatic who talk philosophy, and reason so sound."
I
had some work to do which pressed, so I told him that if he would go alone I
would be glad, as then I should not have to keep him waiting, so I called an
attendant and gave him the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left
the room I cautioned him against getting any false impression from my
patient.
"But,"
he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his delusion as to
consuming live things.
He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yesterday, that he
had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend John?"
"Excuse
me," I said, "but the answer is here."
I laid my hand on the typewritten matter."When our sane and
learned lunatic made that very statement of how he used to consume life, his
mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten
just before Mrs. Harker entered the room."
Van
Helsing smiled in turn.
"Good!" he said. "Your memory is true, friend John.
I should have remembered. And yet it is this very obliquity of
thought and memory which makes mental disease such a fascinating study.
Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly of this madman than I
shall from the teaching of the most wise. Who knows?"
I
went on with my work, and before long was through that in hand. It seemed
that the time had been very short indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in
the study.
"Do
I interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door.
"Not
at all," I answered.
"Come in.
My work is finished, and I am free. I can go with you now, if you
like."
"It
is needless, I have seen him!"
"Well?"
"I
fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview 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
learning from this so clever lunatic, so I shall go, if I may, and cheer
myself with a few happy words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John,
it does rejoice me unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to
be worried with our terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it
is better so."
"I
agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I did not
want him to weaken in this matter.
"Mrs. Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bad enough
for us, all men of the world, and who have been in many tight places in our
time, but it is no place for a woman, and if she had remained in touch with
the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked her."
So
Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker, Quincey and Art
are all out following up the clues as to the earth boxes. I shall finish my
round of work and we shall meet tonight.
MINA
HARKER'S JOURNAL
1
October.--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am today, after
Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid
certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late
after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was
the earlier.
He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly,
but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the
Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was.
Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more
than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn
further into this awful work, and I acquiesced.
But to think that he keeps anything from me!
And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my
husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong
men.
That
has done me good.
Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all. And lest it should ever be
that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still
keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it
to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.
I feel strangely sad and low-spirited 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 everything that has been ever since Jonathan came to see
me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing
on relentlessly to some destined end.
Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it 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 destroyed her as he
did. Oh,
why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again!
I wonder what has come over me today. I must hide it from Jonathan,
for if he knew that I had been crying twice in one morning.
. .I, who never cried on my own account, and whom he has never caused
to shed a tear, the dear fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a bold
face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see it. I suppose it is 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 moonlight seeming full of a silent
mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim
and fixed as death or fate, so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept
with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house,
seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the
digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back to bed
I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could not quite
sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again.
The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I
could see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to
the windows.
The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could not
distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognize in his tones some
passionate entreaty on his part.
Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the
attendants were dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept into bed,
and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was
not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought, but I must have fallen asleep,
for except dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when
Jonathan woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to
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 wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently
we can imagine.) The mist grew thicker and thicker and I could see now how
it came in, for I could see it like smoke, or with the white energy of
boiling water, pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings
of the door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became
concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of
which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things began
to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the
room, and through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar of cloud
by day and of fire by night."
Was it indeed 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 fascination
for me, till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me
through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in her momentary
mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows
of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus
that Jonathan had seen those awful women growing into reality 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 afternoon, Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me.
Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand
and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much.
I am crying when I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I
must be careful. Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying.
He and the others were out till dinner time, and they all came in tired.
I did what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort
did me good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed,
and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that they
wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the day. I
could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something important to
communicate.
I was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before they went I
asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept
well the night before. He very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which
he gave to me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild.
. .I have taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof.
I hope I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a
new fear comes, that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the
power of waking. I might want it.
Here comes sleep.
Goodnight.
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