peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would
not know where to look in daylight 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 Icome 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 surrounded 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, however, 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 Transylvanian nobles love not to think thatchapel of old times. We Transylvanian 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, manifestly 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 returned.
"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, chatting and
asking questions on every conceivable subject, hour after hour. I
felt that it was getting very late indeed, 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