Chapter: When we arrived at the Berkeley Hotel, Van Helsing found a telegram
waiting for him:--

     "Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news.--MINA
     HARKER."

The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he said,
"pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go to your
house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. Telegraph her _en
route_, so that she may be prepared."

When the wire was despatched he had a cup of tea; over it he told me of
a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a typewritten
copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby. "Take these," he
said, "and study them well. When I have returned you will be master of
all the facts, and we can then better enter on our inquisition. Keep
them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. You will need all your
faith, even you who have had such an experience as that of to-day. What
is here told," he laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet of
papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of the end to you and me and
many another; or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the
earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open mind; and if you can add in
any way to the story here told do so, for it is all-important. You have
kept diary of all these so strange things; is it not so? Yes! Then we
shall go through all these together when we meet." He then made ready
for his departure, and shortly after drove off to Liverpool Street. I
took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes before
the train came in.

The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to arrival
platforms; and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my
guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty-looking girl stepped up to me, and,
after a quick glance, said: "Dr. Seward, is it not?"

"And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once; whereupon she held out
her hand.

"I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy; but----" She stopped
suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.

The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for it
was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a
typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I had
sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting-room and bedroom
prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.

In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a
lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a shudder
when we entered.

She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, as
she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my phonograph
diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance of looking at
the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they lie open before
me. I must get her interested in something, so that I may have an
opportunity of reading them. She does not know how precious time is, or
what a task we have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her. Here
she is!


_Mina Harker's Journal._

_29 September._--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward's
study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him talking
with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at
the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered.

To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite alone,
and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the
description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much
interested.

"I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said; "but I stayed at the door
as I heard you talking, and thought there was some one with you."

"Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary."

"Your diary?" I asked him in surprise.

"Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his hand on
the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted out:--

"Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?"

"Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train
for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his face.

"The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it; and as
it is entirely--almost entirely--about my cases, it may be awkward--that
is, I mean----" He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his
embarrassment:--

"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died;
for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, very
dear to me."

To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face:--

"Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!"

"Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me.
Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an excuse.
At length he stammered out:--

"You see, I do not know how to pick out any particular part of the
diary." Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said
with unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the naivete
of a child: "That's quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian!" I could
not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself away that time!" he
said. "But do you know that, although I have kept the diary for months
past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any particular
part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" By this time my mind was
made up that the diary of a doctor who attended Lucy might have
something to add to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being, and
I said boldly:--

"Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my
typewriter." He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said:--

"No! no! no! For all the world, I wouldn't let you know that terrible
story!"

Then it was terrible; my intuition was right! For a moment I thought,
and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for something or
some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch of typewriting on
the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and, without his thinking,
followed their direction. As they saw the parcel he realised my meaning.

"You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers--my own
diary and my husband's also, which I have typed--you will know me
better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart in
this cause; but, of course, you do not know me--yet; and I must not
expect you to trust me so far."

He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy was right about
him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in
order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and
said:--

"You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know you.
But I know you now; and let me say that I should have known you long
ago. I know that Lucy told you of me; she told me of you too. May I make
the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear them--the
first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they will not horrify
you; then you will know me better. Dinner will by then be ready. In the
meantime I shall read over some of these documents, and shall be better
able to understand certain things." He carried the phonograph himself up
to my sitting-room and adjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something
pleasant, I am sure; for it will tell me the other side of a true love
episode of which I know one side already....


_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_29 September._--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan
Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without
thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce
dinner, so I said: "She is possibly tired; let dinner wait an hour," and
I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary, when
she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her eyes were
flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I have had
cause for tears, God knows! but the relief of them was denied me; and
now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened with recent tears, went
straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could:--

"I greatly fear I have distressed you."

"Oh, no, not distressed me," she replied, "but I have been more touched
than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, but it is
cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of your heart.
It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one must hear them
spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I have copied out the
words on my typewriter, and none other need now hear your heart beat, as
I did."

"No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low voice. She
laid her hand on mine and said very gravely:--

"Ah, but they must!"

"Must! But why?" I asked.

"Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor dear Lucy's
death and all that led to it; because in the struggle which we have
before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all
the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the
cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to know;
but I can see that there are in your record many lights to this dark
mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a certain
point; and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 September,
how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought
out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night since Professor Van
Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more information, and he
will be here to-morrow to help us. We need have no secrets amongst us;
working together and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than
if some of us were in the dark." She looked at me so appealingly, and at
the same time manifested such courage and resolution in her bearing,
that I gave in at once to her wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you
like in the matter. God forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible
things yet to learn of; but if you have so far travelled on the road to
poor Lucy's death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the
dark. Nay, the end--the very end--may give you a gleam of peace. Come,
there is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is before us;
we have a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn
the rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask--if there be anything
which you do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were
present."


_Mina Harker's Journal._

_29 September._--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study. He
brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took my typewriter. He
placed me in a comfortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so that I
could touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it in case
I should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with his
back to me, so that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I
put the forked metal to my ears and listened.

When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and--and all that followed, was
done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of a
fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a
horrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case-bottle from a
cupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat restored
me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came through all
the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my dear, dear Lucy
was at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne it without
making a scene. It is all so wild, and mysterious, and strange that if I
had not known Jonathan's experience in Transylvania I could not have
believed. As it was, I didn't know what to believe, and so got out of my
difficulty by attending to something else. I took the cover off my
typewriter, and said to Dr. Seward:--

"Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van Helsing
when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come on here when
he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates are everything,
and I think that if we get all our material ready, and have every item
put in chronological order, we shall have done much. You tell me that
Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let us be able to tell him
when they come." He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I
began to typewrite from the beginning of the seventh cylinder. I used
manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done with
all the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went about
his work of going his round of the patients; when he had finished he
came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not feel too lonely
whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of
good men--even if there _are_ monsters in it. Before I left him I
remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of the Professor's
perturbation at reading something in an evening paper at the station at
Exeter; so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed the
files of "The Westminster Gazette" and "The Pall Mall Gazette," and took
them to my room. I remember how much "The Dailygraph" and "The Whitby
Gazette," of which I had made cuttings, helped us to understand the
terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look
through the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new
light. I am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet.


_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_30 September._--Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He had got his
wife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one can
judge from his face, and full of energy. If this journal be true--and
judging by one's own wonderful experiences, it must be--he is also a man
of great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time was a
remarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it I was
prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but hardly the quiet,
business-like gentleman who came here to-day.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Later._--After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own room,
and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the typewriter. They
are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that they are knitting together in
chronological order every scrap of evidence they have. Harker has got
the letters between the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and the
carriers in London who took charge of them. He is now reading his wife's
typescript of my diary. I wonder what they make out of it. Here it
is....

     Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be
     the Count's hiding-place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues
     from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters
     relating to the purchase of the house were with the typescript. Oh,
     if we had only had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy!
     Stop; that way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and is again
     collating his material. He says that by dinner-time they will be
     able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the
     meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of
     index to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly see this yet,
     but when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing
     that Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could have
     found the dates otherwise....

     I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands
     folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any
     one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of
     subjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own
     accord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my
     knowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite
     confidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I
     not had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of
     his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him after a
     brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All
     those outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the
     Count. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that
     his instinct is satisfied as to the vampire's ultimate triumph?
     Stay; he is himself zooephagous, and in his wild ravings outside the
     chapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of "master." This
     all seems confirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came
     away; my friend is just a little too sane at present to make it
     safe to probe him too deep with questions. He might begin to think,
     and then--! So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of his; so
     I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after him, and to
     have a strait-waistcoat ready in case of need.


_Jonathan Harker's Journal._

_29 September, in train to London._--When I received Mr. Billington's
courteous message that he would give me any information in his power I
thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the spot, such
inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo
of the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be able to deal
with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, and
brought me to his father's house, where they had decided that I must
stay the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality:
give a guest everything, and leave him free to do as he likes. They all
knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington had
ready in his office all the papers concerning the consignment of boxes.
It gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which I had
seen on the Count's table before I knew of his diabolical plans.
Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically and
with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which
might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions being carried
out. To use an Americanism, he had "taken no chances," and the absolute
accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled, was simply the
logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it:
"Fifty cases of common earth, to be used for experimental purposes."
Also the copy of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply; of both of
these I got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could
give me, so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs
officers and the harbour-master. They had all something to say of the
strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in local
tradition; but no one could add to the simple description "Fifty cases
of common earth." I then saw the station-master, who kindly put me in
communication with the men who had actually received the boxes. Their
tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to add except that
the boxes were "main and mortal heavy," and that shifting them was dry
work. One of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn't any
gentleman "such-like as yourself, squire," to show some sort of
appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form; another put in a rider
that the thirst then generated was such that even the time which had
elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I took care
before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source of
reproach.

       *       *       *       *       *

_30 September._--The station-master was good enough to give me a line to
his old companion the station-master at King's Cross, so that when I
arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrival of
the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication with the proper
officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the original
invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been here
limited; a noble use of them had, however, been made, and again I was
compelled to deal with the result in an _ex post facto_ manner.

From thence I went on to Carter Paterson's central office, where I met
with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in their
day-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King's Cross
office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming
were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, sending
also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected with the
delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeing
exactly; the carriers' men were able to supplement the paucity of the
written words with a few details. These were, I shortly found, connected
almost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequent
thirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an opportunity,
through the medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a
later period, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked:--

"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! but it
ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thick in
the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of yer bones;
an' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave smelled ole
Jerusalem in it. But the ole chapel--that took the cike, that did! Me
and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick enough. Lor', I
wouldn't take less nor a quid a moment to stay there arter dark."

Having been in the house, I could well believe him; but if he knew what
I know, he would, I think, have raised his terms.

Of one thing I am now satisfied: that _all_ the boxes which arrived at
Whitby from Varna in the _Demeter_ were safely deposited in the old
chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any have
since been removed--as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.

I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax when
Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn a good
deal.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Later._--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papers
into order.


_Mina Harker's Journal_

_30 September._--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain myself.
It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which I have had:
that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old wound might act
detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave a
face as I could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort has,
however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never so strong, never
so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It is just as that dear, good
Professor Van Helsing said: he is true grit, and he improves under
strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and
hope and determination; we have got everything in order for to-night. I
feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity any
thing so hunted as is the Count. That is just it: this Thing is not
human--not even beast. To read Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy's
death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in
one's heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Later._--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we
expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan with
him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for it
brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months ago. Of
course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr. Van
Helsing, too, has been quite "blowing my trumpet," as Mr. Morris
expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all
about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to
say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so they
had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter over, and
came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to post
them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's diary that
they had been at Lucy's death--her real death--and that I need not fear
to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, as well as I
could, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my husband
and I, having typewritten them, had just finished putting them in order.
I gave them each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got
his and turned it over--it does make a pretty good pile--he said:--

"Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?"

I nodded, and he went on:--

"I don't quite see the drift of it; but you people are all so good and
kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, that all
I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. I have
had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a man humble
to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poor Lucy--"
Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could hear
the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy, just laid
a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked quietly out of the
room. I suppose there is something in woman's nature that makes a man
free to break down before her and express his feelings on the tender or
emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his manhood; for when
Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down on the sofa and
gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I
hope he didn't think it forward of me, and that if he ever thinks of it
afterwards he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him; I
_know_ he never will--he is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for I
could see that his heart was breaking:--

"I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to
her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let
me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have
had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can
help in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service--for
Lucy's sake?"

In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It seemed
to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found a
vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat
his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat
down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinite
pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his
head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with
emotion.

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above
smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big
sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby
that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he
were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all was.

After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an
apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that for
days and nights past--weary days and sleepless nights--he had been
unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of
sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or with
whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow was
surrounded, he could speak freely. "I know now how I suffered," he said,
as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet--and none other can
ever know--how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall
know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful
now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be
like a brother, will you not, for all our lives--for dear Lucy's sake?"

"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for your
own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are ever worth
the winning, you have won mine to-day. If ever the future should bring
to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you will not call
in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to break the
sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come, promise me that you
will let me know." He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that
I felt it would comfort him, so I said:--

"I promise."

As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window.
He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he said. Then noticing
my red eyes, he went on: "Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor
old fellow! he needs it. No one but a woman can help a man when he is in
trouble of the heart; and he had no one to comfort him."

He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw the
manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would realise
how much I knew; so I said to him:--

"I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me
be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You
will know, later on, why I speak." He saw that I was in earnest, and
stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed
but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I
bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a
momentary choking in his throat; he said quite calmly:--

"Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so long
as ever you live!" Then he went into the study to his friend.

"Little girl!"--the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he
proved himself a friend!





_30 September._--I got home at five o'clock, and found that Godalming
and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript
of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife
had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the
carriers' men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave
us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time since I
have lived in it, this old house seemed like _home_. When we had
finished, Mrs. Harker said:--

"Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr.
Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary
interests me so much!" She looked so appealing and so pretty that I
could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should; so
I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a
lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered: "Why?"

"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it," I
answered. "Oh, very well," he said; "let her come in, by all means; but
just wait a minute till I tidy up the place." His method of tidying was
peculiar: he simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes
before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was
jealous of, some interference. When he had got through his disgusting
task, he said cheerfully: "Let the lady come in," and sat down on the
edge of his bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised so that
he could see her as she entered. For a moment I thought that he might
have some homicidal intent; I remembered how quiet he had been just
before he attacked me in my own study, and I took care to stand where I
could seize him at once if he attempted to make a spring at her. She
came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would at once command
the respect of any lunatic--for easiness is one of the qualities mad
people most respect. She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and
held out her hand.

"Good-evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you, for Dr.
Seward has told me of you." He made no immediate reply, but eyed her all
over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way to one
of wonder, which merged in doubt; then, to my intense astonishment, he
said:--

"You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be,
you know, for she's dead." Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied:--

"Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before I ever
saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward."

"Then don't stay."

"But why not?" I thought that this style of conversation might not be
pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined in:--

"How did you know I wanted to marry any one?" His reply was simply
contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned his eyes from Mrs.
Harker to me, instantly turning them back again:--

"What an asinine question!"

"I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield," said Mrs. Harker, at once
championing me. He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as
he had shown contempt to me:--

"You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so
loved and honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of
interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not only by his
household and his friends, but even by his patients, who, being some of
them hardly in mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and
effects. Since I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I
cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates
lean towards the errors of _non causa_ and _ignoratio elenchi_." I
positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was my own pet
lunatic--the most pronounced of his type that I had ever met
with--talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner of a polished
gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's presence which had touched
some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, or in any
way due to her unconscious influence, she must have some rare gift or
power.

We continued to talk for some time; and, seeing that he was seemingly
quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me questioningly as she
began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I was again astonished, for
he addressed himself to the question with the impartiality of the
completest sanity; he even took himself as an example when he mentioned
certain things.

"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. Indeed,
it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on my being
put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive and
perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no
matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely prolong
life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually tried to
take human life. The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I
tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers by
the assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of his
blood--relying, of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, 'For the blood is
the life.' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has
vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn't that true,
doctor?" I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what to
either think or say; it was hard to imagine that I had seen him eat up
his spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch, I
saw that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs.
Harker that it was time to leave. She came at once, after saying
pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: "Good-bye, and I hope I may see you often,
under auspices pleasanter to yourself," to which, to my astonishment, he
replied:--

"Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face again.
May He bless and keep you!"

When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys behind
me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy first took
ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he has been for
many a long day.

Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager nimbleness of a
boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying:--

"Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been busy, for I come
here to stay if need be. All affairs are settled with me, and I have
much to tell. Madam Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And
Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too? Good!"

As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of how my own
diary had come to be of some use through Mrs. Harker's suggestion; at
which the Professor interrupted me:--

"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain--a brain that a man
should have were he much gifted--and a woman's heart. The good God
fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good
combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman of help
to us; after to-night she must not have to do with this so terrible
affair. It is not good that she run a risk so great. We men are
determined--nay, are we not pledged?--to destroy this monster; but it is
no part for a woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her
in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in
waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. And, besides,
she is young woman and not so long married; there may be other things to
think of some time, if not now. You tell me she has wrote all, then she
must consult with us; but to-morrow she say good-bye to this work, and
we go alone." I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what we
had found in his absence: that the house which Dracula had bought was
the very next one to my own. He was amazed, and a great concern seemed
to come on him. "Oh that we had known it before!" he said, "for then we
might have reached him in time to save poor Lucy. However, 'the milk
that is spilt cries not out afterwards,' as you say. We shall not think
of that, but go on our way to the end." Then he fell into a silence that
lasted till we entered my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for
dinner he said to Mrs. Harker:--

"I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend John that you and your husband have
put up in exact order all things that have been, up to this moment."

"Not up to this moment, Professor," she said impulsively, "but up to
this morning."

"But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light all the
little things have made. We have told our secrets, and yet no one who
has told is the worse for it."

Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her pockets, she
said:--

"Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must go in. It
is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need of putting down at
present everything, however trivial; but there is little in this except
what is personal. Must it go in?" The Professor read it over gravely,
and handed it back, saying:--

"It need not go in if you do not wish it; but I pray that it may. It can
but make your husband love you the more, and all us, your friends, more
honour you--as well as more esteem and love." She took it back with
another blush and a bright smile.

And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are complete
and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study after dinner,
and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine o'clock. The rest of us
have already read everything; so when we meet in the study we shall all
be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle with this
terrible and mysterious enemy.


_Mina Harker's Journal._

_30 September._--When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours after
dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously formed a sort of
board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took the head of the table, to
which Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He made me sit
next to him on his right, and asked me to act as secretary; Jonathan sat
next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr.
Morris--Lord Godalming being next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in the
centre. The Professor said:--

"I may, I suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with the facts
that are in these papers." We all expressed assent, and he went on:--

"Then it were, I think good that I tell you something of the kind of
enemy with which we have to deal. I shall then make known to you
something of the history of this man, which has been ascertained for me.
So we then can discuss how we shall act, and can take our measure
according.

"There are such beings as vampires; some of us have evidence that they
exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the
teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane
peoples. I admit that at the first I was sceptic. Were it not that
through long years I have train myself to keep an open mind, I could not
have believe until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. 'See! see!
I prove; I prove.' Alas! Had I known at the first what now I know--nay,
had I even guess at him--one so precious life had been spared to many of
us who did love her. But that is gone; and we must so work, that other
poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The _nosferatu_ do not die
like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger; and being
stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This vampire which is
amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men; he is of
cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages; he have
still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the
divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are
for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil in
callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within limitations, appear
at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to him; he
can, within his range, direct the elements; the storm, the fog, the
thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and
the bat--the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and become
small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to
begin our strike to destroy him? How shall we find his where; and having
found it, how can we destroy? My friends, this is much; it is a terrible
task that we undertake, and there may be consequence to make the brave
shudder. For if we fail in this our fight he must surely win; and then
where end we? Life is nothings; I heed him not. But to fail here, is not
mere life or death. It is that we become as him; that we henceforward
become foul things of the night like him--without heart or conscience,
preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best. To us for
ever are the gates of heaven shut; for who shall open them to us again?
We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of God's
sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are face
to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink? For me, I say, no;
but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his
song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You others are
young. Some have seen sorrow; but there are fair days yet in store. What
say you?"

Whilst he was speaking, Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared, oh so
much, that the appalling nature of our danger was overcoming him when I
saw his hand stretch out; but it was life to me to feel its touch--so
strong, so self-reliant, so resolute. A brave man's hand can speak for
itself; it does not even need a woman's love to hear its music.

When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my eyes, and I
in his; there was no need for speaking between us.

"I answer for Mina and myself," he said.

"Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconically as usual.

"I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if for no other
reason."

Dr. Seward simply nodded. The Professor stood up and, after laying his
golden crucifix on the table, held out his hand on either side. I took
his right hand, and Lord Godalming his left; Jonathan held my right with
his left and stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took hands our
solemn compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it did not even
occur to me to draw back. We resumed our places, and Dr. Van Helsing
went on with a sort of cheerfulness which showed that the serious work
had begun. It was to be taken as gravely, and in as businesslike a way,
as any other transaction of life:--

"Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are not
without strength. We have on our side power of combination--a power
denied to the vampire kind; we have sources of science; we are free to
act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours equally.
In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, and we are
free to use them. We have self-devotion in a cause, and an end to
achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much.

"Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us are
restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us consider the
limitations of the vampire in general, and of this one in particular.

"All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions. These do not
at the first appear much, when the matter is one of life and death--nay
of more than either life or death. Yet must we be satisfied; in the
first place because we have to be--no other means is at our control--and
secondly, because, after all, these things--tradition and
superstition--are everything. Does not the belief in vampires rest for
others--though not, alas! for us--on them? A year ago which of us would
have received such a possibility, in the midst of our scientific,
sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We even scouted a belief
that we saw justified under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the
vampire, and the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest for the
moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is known everywhere
that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome; he flourish in Germany
all over, in France, in India, even in the Chernosese; and in China, so
far from us in all ways, there even is he, and the peoples fear him at
this day. He have follow the wake of the berserker Icelander, the
devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon, the Magyar. So far, then, we
have all we may act upon; and let me tell you that very much of the
beliefs are justified by what we have seen in our own so unhappy
experience. The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of the
time; he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood of the
living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he can even grow
younger; that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem as though
they refresh themselves when his special pabulum is plenty. But he
cannot flourish without this diet; he eat not as others. Even friend
Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him to eat, never!
He throws no shadow; he make in the mirror no reflect, as again
Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his hand--witness again
Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him
from the diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather
from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as
bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John
saw him fly from this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at
the window of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create--that noble
ship's captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance
he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He
come on moonlight rays as elemental dust--as again Jonathan saw those
sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small--we ourselves saw
Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the
tomb door. He can, when once he find his way, come out from anything or
into anything, no matter how close it be bound or even fused up with
fire--solder you call it. He can see in the dark--no small power this,
in a world which is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me
through. He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay; he is even
more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in his cell.
He cannot go where he lists; he who is not of nature has yet to obey
some of nature's laws--why we know not. He may not enter anywhere at the
first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come;
though afterwards he can come as he please. His power ceases, as does
that of all evil things, at the coming of the day. Only at certain times
can he have limited freedom. If he be not at the place whither he is
bound, he can only change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset.
These things are we told, and in this record of ours we have proof by
inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will within his limit, when he
have his earth-home, his coffin-home, his hell-home, the place
unhallowed, as we saw when he went to the grave of the suicide at
Whitby; still at other time he can only change when the time come. It is
said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or the flood
of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict him that he has no
power, as the garlic that we know of; and as for things sacred, as this
symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst us even now when we resolve, to
them he is nothing, but in their presence he take his place far off and
silent with respect. There are others, too, which I shall tell you of,
lest in our seeking we may need them. The branch of wild rose on his
coffin keep him that he move not from it; a sacred bullet fired into the
coffin kill him so that he be true dead; and as for the stake through
him, we know already of its peace; or the cut-off head that giveth rest.
We have seen it with our eyes.

"Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we can confine
him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we know. But he is
clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to
make his record; and, from all the means that are, he tell me of what he
has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his
name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of
Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common man; for in that time,
and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most
cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond the
forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his
grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says
Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who
were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They
learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake
Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the
records are such words as 'stregoica'--witch, 'ordog,' and
'pokol'--Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is
spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well. There have been
from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their
graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it
is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in
all good; in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest."

Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at the window,
and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room. There was a little
pause, and then the Professor went on:--

"And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data, and we must
proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the inquiry of Jonathan
that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which
were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some of these boxes
have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step should be to
ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall
where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the
latter, we must trace----"

Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the house came
the sound of a pistol-shot; the glass of the window was shattered with a
bullet, which, ricochetting from the top of the embrasure, struck the
far wall of the room. I am afraid I am at heart a coward, for I shrieked
out. The men all jumped to their feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the
window and threw up the sash. As he did so we heard Mr. Morris's voice
without:--

"Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you about
it." A minute later he came in and said:--

"It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs.
Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened you terribly. But
the fact is that whilst the Professor was talking there came a big bat
and sat on the window-sill. I have got such a horror of the damned
brutes from recent events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to
have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings, whenever I have
seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art."

"Did you hit it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing.

"I don't know; I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood." Without
saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume his
statement:--

"We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are ready, we must
either capture or kill this monster in his lair; or we must, so to
speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in it.
Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the hours of
noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his most weak.

"And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be well.
You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we part to-night, you
no more must question. We shall tell you all in good time. We are men
and are able to bear; but you must be our star and our hope, and we
shall act all the more free that you are not in the danger, such as we
are."

All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved; but it did not seem to me
good that they should brave danger and, perhaps, lessen their
safety--strength being the best safety--through care of me; but their
minds were made up, and, though it was a bitter pill for me to swallow,
I could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me.

Mr. Morris resumed the discussion:--

"As there is no time to lose, I vote we have a look at his house right
now. Time is everything with him; and swift action on our part may save
another victim."

I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action came so
close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater fear that if I
appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work, they might even leave
me out of their counsels altogether. They have now gone off to Carfax,
with means to get into the house.

Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep; as if a woman can
sleep when those she loves are in danger! I shall lie down and pretend
to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety about me when he returns.


_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_1 October, 4 a. m._--Just as we were about to leave the house, an
urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see
him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me.
I told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the
morning; I was busy just at the moment. The attendant added:--

"He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him so eager. I don't
know but what, if you don't see him soon, he will have one of his
violent fits." I knew the man would not have said this without some
cause, so I said: "All right; I'll go now"; and I asked the others to
wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my "patient."

"Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor. "His case in your
diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on _our_
case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is
disturbed."

"May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming.

"Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I nodded, and
we all went down the passage together.

We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more
rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There was an
unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I had ever
met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his reasons would
prevail with others entirely sane. We all four went into the room, but
none of the others at first said anything. His request was that I would
at once release him from the asylum and send him home. This he backed up
with arguments regarding his complete recovery, and adduced his own
existing sanity. "I appeal to your friends," he said, "they will,
perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way, you have
not introduced me." I was so much astonished, that the oddness of
introducing a madman in an asylum did not strike me at the moment; and,
besides, there was a certain dignity in the man's manner, so much of
the habit of equality, that I at once made the introduction: "Lord
Godalming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of Texas; Mr.
Renfield." He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn:--

"Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the
Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no
more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and in his
youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much
patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your great
state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which may have
far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may hold
alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a
vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true
place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at
meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of
conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised therapeutics
by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-matter,
conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to
one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity, or by
the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective
places in the moving world, I take to witness that I am as sane as at
least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties.
And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as
well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to
be considered as under exceptional circumstances." He made this last
appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own
charm.

I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the
conviction, despite my knowledge of the man's character and history,
that his reason had been restored; and I felt under a strong impulse to
tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about the
necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought it
better to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of old
I knew the sudden changes to which this particular patient was liable.
So I contented myself with making a general statement that he appeared
to be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer chat with him
in the morning, and would then see what I could do in the direction of
meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy him, for he said
quickly:--

"But I fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to
go at once--here--now--this very hour--this very moment, if I may. Time
presses, and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman it is of
the essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to put
before so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet so
momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment." He looked at me keenly, and
seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others, and scrutinised
them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response, he went on:--

"Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?"

"You have," I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally.
There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:--

"Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask for
this concession--boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to implore
in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of others. I
am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons; but you may, I
assure you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and
unselfish, and spring from the highest sense of duty. Could you look,
sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full the sentiments which
animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst the best and truest of
your friends." Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing
conviction that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was
but yet another form or phase of his madness, and so determined to let
him go on a little longer, knowing from experience that he would, like
all lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at
him with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting
with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone
which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it
afterwards--for it was as of one addressing an equal:--

"Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free
to-night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy even me--a stranger,
without prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind--Dr.
Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own responsibility, the
privilege you seek." He shook his head sadly, and with a look of
poignant regret on his face. The Professor went on:--

"Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in the
highest degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete
reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to doubt, since
you are not yet released from medical treatment for this very defect. If
you will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest course, how can
we perform the duty which you yourself put upon us? Be wise, and help
us; and if we can we shall aid you to achieve your wish." He still shook
his head as he said:--

"Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is complete, and
if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not my
own master in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am
refused, the responsibility does not rest with me." I thought it was now
time to end the scene, which was becoming too comically grave, so I went
towards the door, simply saying:--

"Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night."

As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the patient. He
moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared that he was
about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however, were
groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made his
petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his
emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old
relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van Helsing,
and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes; so I became a little more
fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him that his
efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of the same
constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some request of
which at the time he had thought much, such, for instance, as when he
wanted a cat; and I was prepared to see the collapse into the same
sullen acquiescence on this occasion. My expectation was not realised,
for, when he found that his appeal would not be successful, he got into
quite a frantic condition. He threw himself on his knees, and held up
his hands, wringing them in plaintive supplication, and poured forth a
torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, and his
whole face and form expressive of the deepest emotion:--

"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me out
of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you will;
send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me in a
strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let me go
out of this. You don't know what you do by keeping me here. I am
speaking from the depths of my heart--of my very soul. You don't know
whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not tell.
By all you hold sacred--by all you hold dear--by your love that is
lost--by your hope that lives--for the sake of the Almighty, take me out
of this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you hear me, man? Can't you
understand? Will you never learn? Don't you know that I am sane and
earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man fighting
for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let me go!"

I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get, and so
would bring on a fit; so I took him by the hand and raised him up.

"Come," I said sternly, "no more of this; we have had quite enough
already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly."

He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments. Then,
without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of the
bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasion, just as I had
expected.

When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a
quiet, well-bred voice:--

"You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later
on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night."




_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.

 Dr. Seward's diary continues sometime later, and he details for us his first meeting with Mina Harker. Mina, he says, will travel with Seward to Seward's asylum, where she will stay as a guest. In her journal, Mina details the discussion which she and Seward had concerning Lucy's death. Mina agrees to type out Seward's diary, which has heretofore been kept on a phonograph. Seward is horror-struck that Mina may discover the true nature of Lucy's death, but Mina, through her persistence, convinces Seward to allow her to listen to the phonograph cylinders. Later, both Seward and Mina express their dismay at the stories which they read in each other's respective diaries. The next day , Jonathan arrives, and Seward expresses his admiration for Jonathan's courage. For the first time, Seward realizes that Count Dracula might be next door, at the estate at Carfax. Seward concludes his diary, noting that Renfield has been calm for several days. Seward assumes that Renfield's outbreak was due to Dracula's proximity. Jonathan Harker discovers from his journey to Whitby that the "fifty cases of common earth" which arrived on Dracula's ship have been sent to the old chapel at Carfax. While Jonathan assumes that all fifty cases are still at Carfax, we later learn that Count Dracula has had them sent to various locations in and around London. Mina is both pleased and inspired by the resolute, determined energy which she now sees in Jonathan; he now seems cured of his illness, full "of life and hope and determination." Later on the 30th, Arthur Holmwood -- now referred to as Lord Godalming -- and Quincey Morris arrive. Lord Godalming is still physically shaken by the deaths of his father, Mrs. Westenra, and Lucy. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he breaks down and cries like a baby on Mina's breast. In Chapter 18, Dr. Seward notes that Mina Harker wishes to see Renfield. He takes her to Renfield's room, and Renfield, curiously, asks them to wait until he tidies things up. "His method of tidying was peculiar. He simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes . . ." Renfield is extremely polite to Mina and seems to respond in a most sane way to her inquiries. Van Helsing arrives and is pleased to discover that all the records -- diaries, journals, etc. -- are in order and that all those intimate with the Count now are to be presented with the facts surrounding the case. Mina Harker, in her journal , recalls in detail many of the things known about vampires, a subject which prior to this time she has been ignorant of. Van Helsing presents many conclusions about the nosferatu : They do not die; can be as strong as twenty men; can direct the elements -- storms, fog, thunder, etc.; can command the rat, the owl, the bat, the wolf, the fox, and the dog; can grow large or become small at will; can, at times, vanish and "become unknown"; and can appear at will in different forms. The problem which the vampire's adversary must overcome is how to deal successfully with all of these obstacles. They all make a pact to work together in order to see how "the general powers arrayed against us can be controlled and to consider the limitations of the vampire." Van Helsing points out that the vampire has been known in all lands all over the world. From the world's information about vampires, it is known that: the vampire cannot die due to the passing of time; the vampire flourishes on the blood of human beings; the vampire grows younger after feeding on blood; its physical strength and vital faculties are refreshed by blood; it cannot survive without blood; it can survive for great lengths of time without any nourishment; it throws no shadow; it makes no reflection in a mirror; it has the strength of many; it can control wild packs of wolves and can become a wolf ; the vampire can transform itself into a bat; it can appear in a mist, which it itself can create; the vampire can travel on moonlight rays as elemental dust; it can become so small and transparent that it can pass through the tiniest crevices; and it can see perfectly in the dark. Its limitations are as follows: it cannot enter a household unless it is summoned first; its power ceases at daylight; in whatever form it is in when daylight comes, it will remain in that form until sunset; the vampire must always return to the unhallowed earth of its coffin, which restores its strength ; garlic is abhorrent to a vampire; the crucifix, holy water, and holy wafers are anathemas; it is rendered inactive if a wild rose is placed over it; and death occurs when a wooden stake is driven through the heart, the head cut off, and garlic stuffed in the mouth. As Van Helsing concludes his lecture, Quincey Morris leaves the room, and a shot is heard outside. Morris explains that he saw a bat and fired at it. On October 1st, early in the morning, Dr. Seward records that as they were about to leave the asylum, he received an urgent message from Renfield. The others ask if they may attend the meeting with Renfield, and they are astonished at the brilliance and lucidity of Renfield's plea to be released immediately. His scholarly logic and perfect elocution are that of a totally sane man. His request is denied. In Chapter 19, in his journal, Jonathan Harker records that Seward believes Renfield's erratic behavior to be directly influenced by the immediate proximity of Count Dracula. Later, as they are about to enter Dracula's Carfax residence, Van Helsing distributes objects which will protect each of them from the vampire. The house, they discover, is musty, dusty, and malodorous. They immediately search out the chapel and, to their horror, they can find only twenty-nine of the original fifty boxes of earth. Suddenly, the chapel is filled by a mass of rats. Towards noon, Seward records that Van Helsing is deeply fascinated by Renfield. On the same day, Mina feels strange to be left out of Jonathan's confidence, because she has no idea what happened last night, but she does remember that just before falling asleep, she heard unusual sounds and noises outside her window, and she felt as if she were in the grip of a strange lethargy. She thought that she saw a poor man "with some passionate entreaty on his part" who wanted inside. She put on her clothes, but she must have fallen asleep or gone into a trance, accompanied by strange dreams. When she awakened she noticed that the window of her bedroom was open, and she was certain that she closed it before she went to sleep. Things became confused in her mind, but she recalls seeing two red eyes which alarmed her extremely. On the second of October, she records that she slept but felt very weak that day and asked for an opiate to help her sleep. The chapter closes as Mina feels sleep coming upon her.

