when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome
enough, but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank
and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to browns,
when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed
dominance, when the time-discolored stone, and dust-encrusted
mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded
silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect
was more miserable and sordid than could have been imagined. It
conveyed irresistibly the idea that life, animal life, was not the
only thing which could pass away.
Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his
candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it
that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as they
touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another
search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced."
Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally lifted
off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The sight was
almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much an affront to the
dead as it would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her
sleep whilst living. I actually took hold of his hand to stop
him.
He only said, "You shall see,"and again fumbling in his bag took
out a tiny fret saw. Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a
swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole,
which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the saw. I had
expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who
have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to such
things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never
stopped for a moment. He sawed down a couple of feet along one side
of the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side.
Taking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards theTaking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the
foot of the coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture,
motioned to me to look.
I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty. It was certainly a
surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but Van Helsing
was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, and so
emboldened to proceed in his task."Are you satisfied now, friend
John?" he asked.
I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake
within me as I answered him, "I am satisfied that Lucy's body is
not in that coffin, but that only proves one thing."
"And what is that, friend John?"
"That it is not there."
"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do
you, how can you, account for it not being there?"
"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the
undertaker's people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking
folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I could
suggest.
The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said," we must have more
proof. Come with me."
He put on the coffin lid again, gathered up all his things and
placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle
also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he
closed the door and locked it. He handed me the key, saying, "Will
you keep it? You had better be assured."
I laughed, it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to say,
as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said, "thee are
many duplicates, and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock of
this kind."
He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me
to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the
other.
I took up my place behind a yew tree, and I saw his dark figure
move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my
sight. It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I
heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two.
I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for takingI was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking
me on such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and
too sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray
my trust, so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time.
Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a
white streak, moving between two dark yew trees at the side of the
churchyard farthest from the tomb. At the same time a dark mass
moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went
towards it. Then I too moved, but I had to go round headstones and
railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast,
and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little ways off, beyond
a line of scattered juniper trees, which marked the pathway to the
church, a white dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb.
The tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the
figure had disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where
I had first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the
Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held
it out to me, and said, "Are you satisfied now?"
"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.
"Do you not see the child?"
"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it
wounded?"
"We shall see,"said the Professor, and with one impulse we took
our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.
When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump
of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It
was without a scratch or scar of any kind.
"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.
"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.
We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so
consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police station we
should have to give some account of our movements during the night.
At least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we
had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would


had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would
take it to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would
leave it where he could not fail to find it. We would then seek our
way home as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of
Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the
child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he
flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of
astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got
a cab near the `Spainiards,' and drove to town.
I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a
few hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He
insists that I go with him on another expedition.
27 September.—It was two o'clock before we found a suitable
opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all
completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken
themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump
of alder trees, we saw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew
that we were safe till morning did we desire it, but the Professor
told me that we should not want more than an hour at most. Again I
felt that horrid sense of the reality of things, in which any
effort of imagination seemed out of place, and I realized
distinctly the perils of the law which we were incurring in our
unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so useless. Outrageous
as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if a woman dead nearly a
week were really dead, it now seemed the height of folly to open
the tomb again, when we knew, from the evidence of our own
eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I shrugged my shoulders,
however, and rested silent, for Van Helsing had a way of going on
his own road, no matter who remonstrated. He took the key, opened
the vault, and again courteously motioned me to precede. The place
was not so gruesome as last night, but oh, how unutterably mean
looking when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing walked over tolooking when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing walked over to
Lucy's coffin, and I followed. He bent over and again forced back
the leaden flange, and a shock of surprise and dismay shot through
me.
There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night
before her funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful
than ever, and I could not believe that she was dead. The lips were
red, nay redder than before, and on the cheeks was a delicate
bloom.
"Is this a juggle?" I said to him.
"Are you convinced now?" said the Professor, in response, and as
he spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder,
pulled back the dead lips and showed the white teeth. "See," he
went on,"they are even sharper than before. With this and this,"
and he touched one of the canine teeth and that below it, "the
little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friend
John?"
Once more argumentative hostility woke within me. I could not
accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested. So, with an
attempt to argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said,
"She may have been placed here since last night."
"Indeed? That is so, and by whom?"
"I do not know. Someone has done it."
"And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time
would not look so."
I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not
seem to notice my silence. At any rate, he showed neither chagrin
nor triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman,
raising the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening
the lips and examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and
said,
"Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded.
Here is some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by
the vampire when she was in a trance, sleep-walking, oh, you start.
You do not know that, friend John, but you shall know it later, and
in trance could he best come to take more blood. In trance she
dies, and in trance she is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differdies, and in trance she is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ
from all other. Usually when the Un-Dead sleep at home," as he
spoke he made a comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what to
a vampire was `home', "their face show what they are, but this so
sweet that was when she not Un-Dead she go back to the nothings of
the common dead. There is no malign there, see, and so it make hard
that I must kill her in her sleep."
This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn upon me that I
was accepting Van Helsing's theories. But if she were really dead,
what was there of terror in the idea of killing her?
He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in my face, for
he said almost joyously, "Ah, you believe now?"
I answered, "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing
to accept. How will you do this bloody work?"
"I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I
shall drive a stake through her body."
It made me shudder to think of so mutilating the body of the
woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as I
had expected. I was, in fact, beginning to shudder at the presence
of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing called it, and to
loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective, or all
objective?
I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he
stood as if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of
his bag with a snap, and said,
"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is
best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this
moment, what is to be done. But there are other things to follow,
and things that are thousand times more difficult in that them we
do not know. This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though
that is of time, and to act now would be to take danger from her
forever. But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell
him of this? If you, who saw the wounds on Lucy's throat, and saw
the wounds so similar on the child's at the hospital, if you, who


the wounds so similar on the child's at the hospital, if you, who
saw the coffin empty last night and full today with a woman who
have not change only to be more rose and more beautiful in a whole
week, after she die, if you know of this and know of the white
figure last night that brought the child to the churchyard, and yet
of your own senses you did not believe, how then, can I expect
Arthur, who know none of those things, to believe?
"He doubted me when I took him from her kiss when she was dying.
I know he has forgiven me because in some mistaken idea I have done
things that prevent him say goodbye as he ought, and he may think
that in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried alive, and
that in most mistake of all we have killed her. He will then argue
back that it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed her by our
ideas, and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be
sure, and that is the worst of all. And he will sometimes think
that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint his dreams
with horrors of what she must have suffered, and again, he will
think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all,
an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now,
since I know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I
know that he must pass through the bitter waters to reach the
sweet. He, poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very
face of heaven grow black to him, then we can act for good all
round and send him peace. My mind is made up. Let us go. You return
home for tonight to your asylum, and see that all be well. As for
me, I shall spend the night here in this churchyard in my own way.
Tomorrow night you will come to me to the Berkeley Hotel at ten of
the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too, and also that so
fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later we shall all
have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and there
dine, for I must be back here before the sun set."dine, for I must be back here before the sun set."
So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of
the churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to
Piccadilly.
NOTE LEFT BY VAN HELSING IN HIS PORTMANTEAU, BERKELEY HOTEL
DIRECTED TO JOHN SEWARD, M. D. (Not Delivered)
27 September
"Friend John,
"I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to
watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss
Lucy, shall not leave tonight, that so on the morrow night she may
be more eager. Therefore I shall fix some things she like not,
garlic and a crucifix, and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is
young as Un-Dead, and will heed. Moreover, these are only to
prevent her coming out. They may not prevail on her wanting to get
in, for then the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the line of
least resistance, whatsoever it may be. I shall be at hand all the
night from sunset till after sunrise, and if there be aught that
may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy or from her, I have
no fear, but that other to whom is there that she is Un-Dead, he
have not the power to seek her tomb and find shelter. He is
cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all
along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's
life, and we lost, and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have
always the strength in his hand of twenty men, even we four who
gave our strength to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he
can summon his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he came
thither on this night he shall find me. But none other shall, until
it be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt the place.
There is no reason why he should. His hunting ground is more full
of game than the churchyard where the Un-Dead woman sleeps, and the
one old man watch.
"Therefore I write this in case … Take the papers that are
with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and
then find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn histhen find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his
heart or drive a stake through it, so that the world may rest from
him.
"If it be so, farewell.
"VAN HELSING."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
28 September.—It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do
for one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's
monstrous ideas, but now they seem to start out lurid before me as
outrages on common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all.
I wonder if his mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely
there must be some rational explanation of all these mysterious
things. Is it possible that the Professor can have done it himself?
He is so abnormally clever that if he went off his head he would
carry out his intent with regard to some fixed idea in a wonderful
way. I am loathe to think it, and indeed it would be almost as
great a marvel as the other to find that Van Helsing was mad, but
anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may get some light on the
mystery.
29 September.—Last night, at a little before ten o'clock, Arthur
and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room. He told us all what he
wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if
all our wills were centered in his. He began by saying that he
hoped we would all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a
grave duty to be done there. You were doubtless surprised at my
letter?" This query was directly addressed to Lord Godalming. "I
was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble
around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have
been curious, too, as to what you mean.
"Quincey and I talked it over, but the more we talked, the more
puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm about up a
tree as to any meaning about anything."
"Me too," said Quincey Morris laconically.
"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning,
both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back
before he can even get so far as to begin."


before he can even get so far as to begin."
It was evident that he recognized my return to my old doubting
frame of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other
two, he said with intense gravity,
"I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It
is, I know, much to ask, and when you know what it is I propose to
do you will know, and only then how much. Therefore may I ask that
you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be
angry with me for a time, I must not disguise from myself the
possibility that such may be, you shall not blame yourselves for
anything."
"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the
Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest,
and that's good enough for me."
"I thank you, Sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done
myself the honor of counting you one trusting friend, and such
endorsement is dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey
took.
Then Arthur spoke out, "Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to
`buy a pig in a poke', as they say in Scotland, and if it be
anything in which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a
Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can
assure me that what you intend does not violate either of these
two, then I give my consent at once, though for the life of me, I
cannot understand what you are driving at."
"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of
you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine,
you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not
violate your reservations."
"Agreed!" said Arthur. "That is only fair. And now that the
pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"
"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the
churchyard at Kingstead."
Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way,
"Where poor Lucy is buried?"
The Professor bowed.
Arthur went on, "And when there?"
"To enter the tomb!"
Arthur stood up. "Professor, are you in earnest, or is it some"To enter the tomb!"
Arthur stood up. "Professor, are you in earnest, or is it some
monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest." He sat
down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one
who is on his dignity. There was silence until he asked again, "And
when in the tomb?"
"To open the coffin."
"This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing
to be patient in all things that are reasonable, but in this, this
desecration of the grave, of one who … " He fairly choked with
indignation.
The Professor looked pityingly at him."If I could spare you one
pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I would. But this night
our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the
feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"
Arthur looked up with set white face and said, "Take care, sir,
take care!"
"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van
Helsing. "And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose.
Shall I go on?"
"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.
After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort,
"Miss Lucy is dead, is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong
to her. But if she be not dead… "
Arthur jumped to his feet, "Good God!" he cried. "What do you
mean? Has there been any mistake, has she been buried alive?"He
groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften.
"I did not say she was alive, my child. I did not think it. I go
no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead."
"Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare,
or what is it?"
"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by
age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the
verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead
Miss Lucy?"
"Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion.
"Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her
dead body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to
you that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girlyou that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl
do that you should want to cast such dishonor on her grave? Are you
mad, that you speak of such things, or am I mad to listen to them?
Don't dare think more of such a desecration. I shall not give my
consent to anything you do. I have a duty to do in protecting her
grave from outrage, and by God, I shall do it!"
Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated,
and said, gravely and sternly, "My Lord Godalming, I too, have a
duty to do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead,
and by God, I shall do it! All I ask you now is that you come with
me, that you look and listen, and if when later I make the same
request you do not be more eager for its fulfillment even than I
am, then, I shall do my duty, whatever it may seem to me. And then,
to follow your Lordship's wishes I shall hold myself at your
disposal to render an account to you, when and where you will." His
voice broke a little, and he went on with a voice full of pity.
"But I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long
life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which
sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as
now. Believe me that if the time comes for you to change your mind
towards me, one look from you will wipe away all this so sad hour,
for I would do what a man can to save you from sorrow. Just think.
For why should I give myself so much labor and so much of sorrow? I
have come here from my own land to do what I can of good, at the
first to please my friend John, and then to help a sweet young
lady, whom too, I come to love. For her, I am ashamed to say so
much, but I say it in kindness, I gave what you gave, the blood of
my veins. I gave it, I who was not, like you, her lover, but only
her physician and her friend. I gave her my nights and days, before
death, after death, and if my death can do her good even now, when
she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He said thisshe is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He said this
with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by
it.
He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice, "Oh, it
is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand, but at least I
shall go with you and wait."


It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the
churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional
gleams of moonlight between the dents of the heavy clouds that
scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with
Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come
close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur, for I feared the
proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset
him, but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of
the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief. The
Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation
amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by entering
first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. He
then lit a dark lantern and pointed to a coffin. Arthur stepped
forward hesitatingly. Van Helsing said to me, "You were with me
here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?"
"It was."
The Professor turned to the rest saying, "You hear, and yet
there is no one who does not believe with me.'
He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the
coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent. When the lid was
removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there
was a leaden coffin, or at any rate, had not thought of it. When he
saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an
instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a
ghastly whiteness. He was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the
leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.
The coffin was empty!
For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken
by Quincey Morris, "Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all
I want. I wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily, I wouldn't so
dishonor you as to imply a doubt, but this is a mystery that goes
beyond any honor or dishonor. Is this your doing?"
"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not
removed or touched her. What happened was this. Two nights ago myremoved or touched her. What happened was this. Two nights ago my
friend Seward and I came here, with good purpose, believe me. I
opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it as
now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come through
the trees. The next day we came here in daytime and she lay there.
Did she not, friend John?
"Yes."
"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was
missing, and we find it, thank God,unharmed amongst the graves.
Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead
can move. I waited here all night till the sun rose, but I saw
nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid over
the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear,
and other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus,
so tonight before the sundown I took away my garlic and other
things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear with me.
So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me outside,
unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be. So,"
here he shut the dark slide of his lantern,"now to the outside." He
opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the
door behind him.
Oh! But it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the
terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by,
and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds
crossing and passing, like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life.
How sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of
death and decay. How humanizing to see the red lighting of the sky
beyond the hill, and to hear far away the muffled roar that marks
the life of a great city. Each in his own way was solemn and
overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I could see, striving to
grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was
myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside
doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris wasdoubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris was
phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and accepts
them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has at
stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of
tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a
definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like
thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white
napkin. Next he took out a double handful of some whitish stuff,
like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it
into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it
into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the
door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this,
and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur
and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious.
He answered, "I am closing the tomb so that the Un-Dead may not
enter."
"And is that stuff you have there going to do it?"
"It Is."
"What is that which you are using?" This time the question was
by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he
answered.
"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an
Indulgence."
It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we
felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as
the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most
sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful
silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but
hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others,
especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former
visits to this watching horror, and yet I, who had up to an hour
ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did
tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper
so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass
wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously,


wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously,
and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful
presage through the night.
There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then
from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the
avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure,
which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at
the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving
clouds, and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman,
dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face,
for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child.
There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in
sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were
starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as
he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the
white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to
see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold
as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the
features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The
sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the
purity to voluptuous wantonness.
Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all
advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of
the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By the
concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the
lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had
trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death
robe.
We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light
that even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to
me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have
fallen.
When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it
bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as abore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a
cat gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's
eyes in form and color, but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell
fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the
remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing. Had she then to
be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked,
her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed
with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it!
With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a
devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her
breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child
gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a
cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur. When
she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he
fell back and hid his face in his hands.
She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous
grace, said, "Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to
me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together.
Come, my husband, come!"
There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something
of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains
even of us who heard the words addressed to another.
As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from
his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when
Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden
crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted
face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.
When within a foot or two of the door, however,she stopped, as
if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her
face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp,
which had now no quiver from Van Helsing's nerves. Never did I see
such baffled malice on a face, and never, I trust, shall such eversuch baffled malice on a face, and never, I trust, shall such ever
be seen again by mortal eyes. The beautiful color became livid, the
eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell fire, the brows were
wrinkled as though the folds of flesh were the coils of Medusa's
snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouth grew to an open square,
as in the passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face
meant death, if looks could kill, we saw it at that moment.
And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, se
remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her
means of entry.
Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur, "Answer me, oh
my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?"
"Do as you will, friend. Do as you will. There can be no horror
like this ever any more." And he groaned in spirit.
Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his
arms. We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing
held it down. Coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the
chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all
looked on with horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back,
the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own,
pass through the interstice where scarce a knife blade could have
gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor
calmly restoring the strings of putty to the edges of the door.
When this was done, he lifted the child and said, "Come now, my
friends. We can do no more till tomorrow. There is a funeral at
noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends
of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton locks the
gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do, but not like this
of tonight. As for this little one, he is not much harmed, and by
tomorrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the
police will find him, as on the other night, and then to home."
Coming close to Arthur, he said, "My friend Arthur, you have had


Coming close to Arthur, he said, "My friend Arthur, you have had
a sore trial, but after, when you look back, you will see how it
was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this
time tomorrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have
drunk of the sweet waters. So do not mourn over-much. Till then I
shall not ask you to forgive me."
Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each
other on the way. We had left behind the child in safety, and were
tired. So we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.
29 September, night.—A little before twelve o'clock we three,
Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself, called for the Professor. It
was odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black
clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning,
but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We got to the graveyard by
half-past one, and strolled about, keeping out of official
observation, so that when the gravediggers had completed their task
and the sexton under the belief that every one had gone, had locked
the gate, we had the place all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead
of his little black bag, had with him a long leather one,something
like a cricketing bag. It was manifestly of fair weight.
When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die
out up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention,
followed the Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we
entered, closing it behind us. Then he took from his bag the
lantern, which he lit, and also two wax candles, which, when
lighted, he stuck by melting their own ends, on other coffins, so
that they might give light sufficient to work by. When he again
lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all looked, Arthur trembling
like an aspen, and saw that the corpse lay there in all its death
beauty. But there was no love in my own heart, nothing but loathing
for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy's shape without her soul. I
could see even Arthur's face grow hard as he looked. Presently hecould see even Arthur's face grow hard as he looked. Presently he
said to Van Helsing, "Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon
in her shape?"
"It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you shall
see her as she was, and is."
She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there, the
pointed teeth, the blood stained, voluptuous mouth, which made one
shudder to see, the whole carnal and unspirited appearance, seeming
like a devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, with
his usual methodicalness, began taking the various contents from
his bag and placing them ready for use. First he took out a
soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then small oil lamp,
which gave out, when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned
at a fierce heat with a blue flame, then his operating knives,
which he placed to hand, and last a round wooden stake, some two
and a half or three inches thick and about three feet long. One end
of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and was sharpened to a
fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such as in
households is used in the coal cellar for breaking the lumps. To
me, a doctor's preperations for work of any kind are stimulating
and bracing, but the effect of these things on both Arthur and
Quincey was to cause them a sort of consternation. They both,
however, kept their courage, and remained silent and quiet.
When all was ready, Van Helsing said,"Before we do anything, let
me tell you this. It is out of the lore and experience of the
ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the
Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the
curse of immortality. They cannot die, but must go on age after age
adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world. For all
that die from the preying of the Un-dead become themselves Un-dead,
and prey on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening,
like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend
Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of before poor LucyArthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy
die, or again, last night when you open your arms to her, you would
in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they call it
in Eastern europe, and would for all time make more of those
Un-Deads that so have filled us with horror. The career of this so
unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children whose blood she
sucked are not as yet so much the worse, but if she lives on,
Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood and by her power over
them they come to her, and so she draw their blood with that so
wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease. The tiny
wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their play
unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all,
when this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul
of the poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of
working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the
assimilating of it by day, she shall take her place with the other
Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that
shall strike the blow that sets her free. To this I am willing, but
is there none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy
to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is
not, `It was my hand that sent her to the stars. It was the hand of
him that loved her best, the hand that of all she would herself
have chosen, had it been to her to choose?' Tell me if there be
such a one amongst us?"
We all looked at Arthur. He saw too, what we all did, the
infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which
would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory. He
stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his
face was as pale as snow, "My true friend, from the bottom of my
broken heart I thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not
falter!"
Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said,"Brave lad! A


falter!"
Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said,"Brave lad! A
moment's courage, and it is done. This stake must be driven through
her. It well be a fearful ordeal, be not deceived in that, but it
will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more than your
pain was great. From this grim tomb you will emerge as though you
tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun.
Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we
pray for you all the time."
"Go on,"said Arthur hoarsely."Tell me what I am to do."
"Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place to the point
over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin
our prayer for the dead, I shall read him, I have here the book,
and the others shall follow, strike in God's name, that so all may
be well with the dead that we love and that the Un-Dead pass away."
Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was
set on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van
Helsing opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I
followed as well as we could.
Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could
see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his
might.
The thing in the coffin writhed, and a hideous, bloodcurdling
screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered
and twisted in wild contortions. The sharp white champed together
till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson
foam. But Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as
his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the
mercybearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled
and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to
shine through it. The sight of it gave us courage so that our
voices seemed to ring through the little vault.
And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and
the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay
still. The terrible task was over.still. The terrible task was over.
The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and would have
fallen had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from
his forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed
been an awful strain on him, and had he not been forced to his task
by more than human considerations he could never have gone through
with it. For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did
not look towards the coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of
startled surprise ran from one to the other of us. We gazed so
eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and
came and looked too, and then a glad strange light broke over his
face and dispelled altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon
it.
There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we has so
dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was
yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as
we had seen her in life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and
purity. True that there were there, as we had seen them in life,
the traces of care and pain and waste. But these were all dear to
us, for they marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt
that the holy calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and
form was only an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to
reign for ever.
Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and
said to him, "And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not
forgiven?"
The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old
man's hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and
said, "Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her
soul again, and me peace." He put his hands on the Professor's
shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried for a while
silently, whilst we stood unmoving.
When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him, "And now, my
child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she
would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinningwould have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning
devil now, not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer
she is the devil's Un-Dead. She is God's true dead, whose soul is
with Him!"
Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out
of the tomb. The Professor and I sawed the top off the stake,
leaving the point of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and
filled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin,
screwed on the coffin lid, and gathering up our belongings, came
away. When the Professor locked the door he gave the key to
Arthur.
Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang,
and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch.
There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at
rest ourselves on one account, and we were glad, though it was with
a tempered joy.
Before we moved away Van Helsing said,"Now, my friends, one step
or our work is done, one the most harrowing to ourselves. But there
remains a greater task, to find out the author of all this or
sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow, but
it is a long task, and a difficult one, and there is danger in it,
and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe,
all of us, is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes!
And do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?"
Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then
said the Professor as we moved off, "Two nights hence you shall
meet with me and dine together at seven of the clock with friend
John. I shall entreat two others, two that you know not as yet, and
I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend
John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult you about,
and you can help me. Tonight I leave for Amsterdam, but shall
return tomorrow night. And then begins our great quest. But first I
shall have much to say, so that you may know what to do and to
dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew. For theredread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew. For there
is a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the
ploughshare we must not draw back."


When we arrived at the Berkely 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 dispatched 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 today. 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 a
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 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.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 a 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 someone 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 insomething?"
"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 honor. 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


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 realized 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 sweetrelief of them was denied me, and now the sight of those sweet
eyes, brightened by 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
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
tomorrow 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 toGod forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to
learn of. But if you have so far traveled 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 a 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 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 the
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 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


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 of 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 them when they come."
He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began to
typewrite from the beginning of the seventeenth cylinder. I used
manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done
with 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, had 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 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,account of it I was prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood,
but hardly the quiet, business-like gentleman who came here
today.
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 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 transcript 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
transcript. 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 collecting 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 ahis 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 zoophagous, 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 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.
JOHNATHAN 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 spend the night. They are
hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality, give a guest
everything and leave him 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


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 the
letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply. Of both 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 harbor 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 to the simple
description `fifty cases of common earth', 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 like 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, forever 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 ex post facto manner.
From thence I went 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 theirtheir 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 more
details. These were, I shortly found, connected almost solely with
the dusty nature of the job, and 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 old 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 those 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.
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 forwound might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for
Whitby with as brave a face as 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 tonight. I feel
myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity
anything so hunted as the Count. That is just it. This thing is not
human, not even a 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, had 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 on 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,


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 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 a 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 her 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 rainedgrief. 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 a 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 today. 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 today. 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 say Mr. Morris looking out of aAs I came along the corridor I say 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 realize 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 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
forget 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 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 favor? 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,


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 anyone?"
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 honored 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 elenche."
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 whichpolished 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 favorite 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 vulgarized 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,
"Goodbye, and I hope I may see you often, under auspices pleasanter
to yourself."
To which, to my astonishment, he replied, "Goodbye, my dear. I
pray God I may never see your sweet face again. May He bless and
keep you!"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 tonight 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 tomorrow she say goodbye 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.


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 today. 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 honor 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 adinner, 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 center.
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 trained myself to keep
an open mind, I could not have believed until such time as that
fact thunder on my ear.`See! See! I prove, I prove.' Alas! Had I
known at 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 isare 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 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 forever 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


"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 nineteenthmidst 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 Chermosese, and in China, so far from
us in all ways, there even is he, and the peoples for 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 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
wolves, 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"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 we are 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 hellhome, 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