prompt:
Chapter: _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 of lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of it,
for I fear that if it had been to me to decide 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 anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't forget how
he prayed with almost equal fervour 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 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 some one 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 odour 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 gloated 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 odour 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 any one; 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 to-night.
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 to-night 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 to-morrow I shall keep
dark over to-night'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 labour, and the
sooner the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up Thomas
Snelling to-day.

_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
type-written 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 centre, 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 to-night.

_Mina Harker's Journal._

_1 October._--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day;
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 to-day. 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 may 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 there 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 to-day. 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 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 recognise 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 realise 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 some 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 got 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. To-night I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If I do
not, I shall to-morrow 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 to-day 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. Good-night.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Includes the October 1st entries of Jonathan Harker's journal, Dr. Seward's diary, and Mina Harker's journal; as well as the October 2nd entry of Mina Harker's journal. Armed with crucifixes, garlic, holy communion wafers, electric lamps, knives, and revolvers, the men go to investigate Carfax. The break into the house, and, after they find some keys, Jonathan, having seen the plans to the place, is able to lead them to the chapel. The chapel is full of a nauseating smell, and the men investigate to find that twenty-one of the boxes are missing. A few of the men think that they see Dracula's face outside the window, but dismiss it after a moment as a trick of the light. The room then becomes overrun by thousands of rats. Arthur takes the keys and throws open a chapel door to the outside. He blows a whistle and his dogs, which he has brought to Seward's house, come to the rescue. Although initially timid at the chapel's threshold, once encouraged the dogs send the rats running. The men return, having accounted for only twenty-nine boxes but having survived a crucial first step. Jonathan remarks before going to bed that Mina looks paler than usual. The next morning, Van Helsing asks Seward for permission to see Renfield. The interview is shortRenfield insults Van Helsing and tells him to leave, which he does. Mina reports bad dreams. The night the men go to Carfax, a mist creeps over the lawn outside her window. She can hear Renfield screaming, but he is silenced by the asylum attendants. In a state of half-sleep, she has a dream that mist is pouring into her room. In the mist, she can see two red eyes, and later, she sees a white face bending towards her. The next night, she sleeps but does not dream. She wakes feeling unrefreshed. Renfield asks to see her, and when she does he kisses her hand and asks God to bless her. Later, she asks Seward for a drug to help her sleep, which he provides, but she goes to bed feeling a sudden fear that she might want the power to wake.


prompt:
Chapter: _1 October, evening._--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal
Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition 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 to 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, intelligent 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's-eared
notebook, 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 confine himself to two sides of London. He was now
fixed on the far east of 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 Carfax.

He replied:--

"Well, guv'nor, you've treated me wery '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
Purfect. 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 to-night. 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 to-night. But
ye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the mornin', or maybe ye won't ketch
'im; for Sam gets off main early, never mind the booze the night afore."

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 promised to post the address when found, I took my way
to home. We're on the track anyhow. I am tired to-night, and want 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 carpenter'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 Corcoran'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 these 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
suggesting that I was willing to pay his day's 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 doors 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 into the houses if they were both 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 moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn't throw
a shadder."

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 up-end 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
to 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 it." 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 started
off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count
could, it was evident, handle the earth-boxes himself. 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 satisfied that this was the next of the lairs
arranged by Dracula. The house looked as though it had been long
untenanted. 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 evident 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 investigation and purchase of Carfax, and I could not
but feel that if I could find the former owner there might be some means
discovered 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 round 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 strolled
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 manner, but
uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the
Piccadilly house--which throughout our interview 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 much."

"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 Honourable 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 to-night's post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far
deviate from our rules as to give the required information 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 conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our
confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of
keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow 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; perhaps we shall know when you get his letter in the
morning." 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 active 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. To-morrow will, I hope, mend all this; she will be
herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy!

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_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 something, 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; its 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 logically, 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 zooephagy!"

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 spiritual 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 disconcert 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 cunning. "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 to 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 upon 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 out 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 round
him, and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for
an answer.

"I don't want any souls!" he said in a feeble, apologetic 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 that!"

"But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting 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 there, with
the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing
and twittering and miauing all round 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 round 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 mean?" 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 chop-sticks, as to try to
interest me about the lesser 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 elephant?"

"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, and distract me already,
without thinking of souls!" He looked so hostile that I thought he was
in for another 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
tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not put me in a strait-waistcoat. 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 considerable
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 anything.

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 assurance 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 note-book. We had to come
away as ignorant as we went in.

His is a curious case indeed; we must watch him to-night.

_Letter, Mitchell, Sons and Candy to Lord Godalming._

_"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 information concerning the sale and
purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The original vendors are the executors
of the late Mr. Archibald 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,

"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY."

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_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, and 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.

To-day 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 sterilise 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 to-morrow 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 in 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 to-day 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....

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Includes the October 1st and October 2nd entries of Jonathan Harker's journal; the October 1st entry of Seward's diary; a letter from Mitchell, Sons and Candy to Lord Godalming, dated October 1st; and the October 2nd entry of Seward's diary. Jonathan tracks down the destinations of the missing boxes, which have been deposited in houses in different places in and around London. Twelve boxes have been put into two houses in different parts of London, and the last nine boxes are in a house in Picadilly, a London suburb. The men wonder how they will break into houses in populated areas. Seward speaks with Renfield some more. Renfield seems more articulate, but his ideas are still bizarre. He seems torn by the need to consume life, but he is fearful of consuming souls. Reports of Renfield's behavior show a man in deep conflict; he is at times articulate and at time seems as if he is consumed by a deep remorse. The men try to plan an assault that will destroy all fifty boxes in one day, between sunrise and sunset. Van Helsing researches magical defenses and cures to use against the vampire. Seward characteristically wonders if they have all gone mad, and will wake up in straitjackets. The chapter ends with a report from an attendant that Renfield has had a terrible accident. Dr. Seward goes to investigate.


prompt:
Chapter: _3 October._--Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well
as I can remember it, 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 received some terrible injuries;
there seemed none of that 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
bewildered, 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 broke 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 delay." 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 recognised 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 careful watching, and much
attention. I shall stay with you myself; 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, bearing 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 operation." So 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 instantly if there be anything unusual anywhere."

The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the patient.
The wounds of the face was 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 trephine 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 to-morrow 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 patience.

"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 that 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 breathing 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
agonising. I looked at my companions, one after another, and saw from
their flushed faces and damp brows that they were enduring equal
torture. There was a nervous suspense 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 thinking 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 softened into a glad
surprise, and from the 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 agonised 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 realised 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 unconsciously:--

"The _Acherontia Aitetropos 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 colour 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 tiniest crack and has stood before me in all her size and
splendour."

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 proceed 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 blow-fly, and when the moon got up I was pretty angry with him.
When he slid 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 Professor 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 had 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 had 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 to-night 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 stertorous. 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 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 heart.

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 to-night. 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 Professor 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 recognised
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 tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck,
forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared
with blood, and a thin stream trickled down the man's bare breast 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,
champed 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 vapour. 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 despairing 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 whiteness 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
holding 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 himself in the shadow of a great
yew-tree. It puzzled me to think why he was doing this; but at the
instant I heard Harker'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 seconds, 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
to-night, 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 bed side, and clung to him fiercely.

Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Professor held up his
little golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness:--

"Do not fear, my dear. We are here; and whilst this is close to you no
foul thing can approach. You are safe for to-night; 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 her 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 calmness 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
answered:--

"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
cylinders 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
something; but, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing.
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 to-night; for the sky is reddening in the east, and the
dawn is close. We must work to-morrow!"

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 beating; then Van Helsing said, placing his
hand very 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 tension 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 protectingly.
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 husband 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 showing between; and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in the
sunset on the windows of St. Mary's Church at Whitby. 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
paralysed. 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 pityingly, 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 designs! 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
played 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 of 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 deepened 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 to-day on no more miserable house in
all the great round of its daily course.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The October 3rd entry of Dr. Seward's diary. Renfield's face is bashed and bleeding and his back is broken. The attendant wonders how the straitjacketed Renfield could have injured himself this way: if his back was broken, he wouldn't have been able to beat his own face against the floor, and if he mangled his face before throwing himself off the bed, blood would have been left where he landed. Seward sends an attendant to fetch Van Helsing. Van Helsing performs an emergency operation to relieve the pressure brought on by the skull injuries, so that Renfield can tell them what happened. The dying Renfield tells them that on the night the men went to investigate Carfax, Dracula appeared and offered him countless lives to feast on if Renfield would fall down and worship him. The madman gave the vampire the invitation he needed to enter the asylum; after that, the vampire did not give Renfield any of the promised lives. Two days later, Renfield saw Mina and realized that she had been drained. So tonight, when Dracula entered, Renfield tried to fight with him. The vampire's eyes burned him and deprived him of his strength, and Dracula flung him across the room. The men rush upstairs to the Harkers' room. They find it locked and are forced to break down the door. When they enter, they see Jonathan Harker unconscious and Mina Harker being forced to drink blood from a cut on Dracula's chest. The vampire throws Mina aside and prepares to attack, but Van Helsing brandishes a holy wafer, and the men advance with their crucifixes. Dracula draws back, and the room is enveloped in darkness as a cloud obscures the moon. He becomes mist and escapes. Mina screams with horror and despair. They wake Jonathan, who is terribly confused, and Mina keeps crying that she has been made unclean. Arthur and Quincey, who left to pursue Dracula, return to report that the vampire destroyed the studyincluding the papers compiled by Mina and Jonathan. Fortunately, another copy is hidden in the safe. The two men went to Renfield's room and found him dead. Quincey reports that he saw a bat flying from Renfield's window, though not back in the direction of Carfax. Mina tells the men that she woke to see Dracula standing there, her unconscious husband beside him; he threatened to kill her husband if she screamed for help. Assuring her that it was not the first time he had drained her, he then drank from her throat. Dracula then promised that she would be "flesh of my flesh" and "blood of my blood," telling her that she would soon become his companion and helper. When he calls, she will have no choice but to come. He then forced her to drink the blood from a wound he made in his chest.