warmth.
I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is
upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the
first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of
my existence from the earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet
seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when
others wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could
only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is
always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has
gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from
his window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window?
The chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I
shall risk it. At the worst it can only be death, and a man's death
is not a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me.
God help me in my task! 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 helping me,
have come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in
order. I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on
the south side, and at once got outside on 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 direction
and distance of the Count's window, and made for it as well as I
could, having regard to the opportunities available. I did not feel
dizzy, I suppose I was too excited, and the time seemed
ridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window sillridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window sill
and trying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation,
however, when I bent down and slid feet foremost in through the
window. Then I looked around for the Count, but with surprise and
gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty! It was barely
furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never been
used.
The furniture was something the same style as that in the south
rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was
not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I
found was a great heap of gold in one corner, gold of all kinds,
Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian,and Greek and
Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain
long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was less than three
hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, some
jewelled, but all of them old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for,
since I could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer
door, which was the main object of my search, I must make further
examination, or all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and
led through a stone passage to a circular stairway, which went
steeply down.
I descended, minding carefully where I went for the stairs were
dark, being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the
bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a
deathly, sickly odour, the odour of old earth newly turned. As I
went through the passage the smell grew closer and heavier. At last
I pulled open a heavy door which stood 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 ofbrought 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 movement, no pulse, no breath, no
beating of the heart.
I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in
vain. He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would
have passed away in a few hours. By the side of the box was its
cover, pierced with holes here and there. I thought he might have
the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and
in them dead though they were, such a look of hate, though
unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and
leaving the Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castle
wall. Regaining my room, 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