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 somehow close together, with
Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come
close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur, for I feared the
proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset
him, but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of
the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief. The
Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation
amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by entering
first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. He
then lit a dark lantern and pointed to a coffin. Arthur stepped
forward hesitatingly. Van Helsing said to me, "You were with me
here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?"
"It was."
The Professor turned to the rest saying, "You hear, and yet
there is no one who does not believe with me.'
He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the
coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent. When the lid was
removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there
was a leaden coffin, or at any rate, had not thought of it. When he
saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an
instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a
ghastly whiteness. He was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the
leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.
The coffin was empty!
For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken
by Quincey Morris, "Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all
I want. I wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily, I wouldn't so
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 myremoved or touched her. What happened was this. Two nights ago my
friend Seward and I came here, with good purpose, believe me. I
opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it as
now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come through
the trees. The next day we came here in daytime and she lay there.
Did she not, friend John?
"Yes."
"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was
missing, and we find it, thank God,unharmed amongst the graves.
Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown 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 purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was
myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside
doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris wasdoubt 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 rolling it
into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the
door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this,
and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur
and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious.
He answered, "I am closing the tomb so that the Un-Dead may not
enter."
"And is that stuff you have there going to do it?"
"It Is."
"What is that which you are using?" This time the question was
by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he
answered.
"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an
Indulgence."
It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we
felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as
the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most
sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful
silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but
hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others,
especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former
visits to this watching horror, and yet I, who had up to an hour
ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did
tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper
so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass
wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously,