very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide
when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life.
I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife,
whither duty has led me, so that in your own married life you too
may be all happy, as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life
may be all it promises, a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind,
no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for
that can never be, but I do hope you will be always as happy as I
am now. Goodbye, my dear. I shall post this at once, and perhaps,
write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking. I
must attend my husband! "Your ever-loving "Mina Harker."
LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA HARKER.
Whitby, 30 August.
"My dearest Mina,
"Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in
your own home with your husband. I wish you were coming home soon
enough to stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore
Jonathan. It has quite restored me. I have an appetite like a
cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to
know that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have
not stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into
it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to
tell you that Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives, and
rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing together, and I love him
more than ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I doubt
that, for at first he told me that he couldn't love me more than he
did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no
more just at present from your loving, "Lucy.
"P. S.—Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear.
"P. P.S.—We are to be married on 28 September."
DR. SEWARDS DIARY
20 August.—The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He
has now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his
passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetuallypassion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually
violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and
kept murmuring to himself. "Now I can wait. Now I can wait."
The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a
look at him. He was still in the strait waistcoat and in the padded
room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes
had something of their old pleading. I might almost say, cringing,
softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed
him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, but finally carried
out my wishes without protest.
It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see
their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all
the while looking furtively at them, "They think I could hurt you!
Fancy me hurting you! The fools!"
It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself
disassociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others,
but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that
I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to
stand together. Or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous
that my well being is needful to Him? I must find out later on.
Tonight he will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a
full-grown cat will not tempt him.
He will only say, "I don't take any stock in cats. I have more
to think of now, and I can wait. I can wait."
After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was
quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy,
and at length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which
exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort of coma.
 … Three nights has the same thing happened, violent all
day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some
clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some
influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall tonight play
sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help.sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help.
Tonight he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and
have the men ready to follow in case they are required.
23 August.—"The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew
life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all
our subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have
proved one thing, that the spells of quietness last a reasonable
time. We shall in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours
each day. I have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut
him in the padded room, when once he is quiet, until the hour
before sunrise. The poor soul's body will enjoy the relief even if
his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am
called. The patient has once more escaped.
Later.—Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until
the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out
past him and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants
to follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house,
and we found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel
door. When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants
seized him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we sere
holding him a strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his
efforts, and then as suddenly grew calm. I looked round
instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I caught the patient's
eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it looked into the
moonlight sky, except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and
ghostly way to the west. Bats usually wheel about, but this one
seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or
had some intention of its own.
The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You
needn't tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back
to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and
shall not forget this night.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


shall not forget this night.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY
Hillingham, 24 August.—I must imitate Mina, and keep writing
things down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder
when it will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so
unhappy. Last night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at
Whitby. Perhaps it is the change of air, or getting home again. It
is all dark and horrid to me, for I can remember nothing. But I am
full of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur
came to lunch he looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't
the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in
mother's room tonight. I shall make an excuse to try.
25 August.—Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my
proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears
to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but
when the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must
have been falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or
flapping at the window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no
more, I suppose I must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish
I could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is
ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong
with my lungs, for I don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall
try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will be
miserable to see me so.
LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD
"Albemarle Hotel, 31 August "My dear Jack,
"I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no
special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every
day. I have asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her
mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in
her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has
confided to me that her doom is spoken, disease of the heart,
though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is
something preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distractedsomething preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distracted
when I think of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I told her I
should ask you to see her, and though she demurred at first, I know
why, old fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task
for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not
hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at
Hillingham tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion
in Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of
being alone with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult
with you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not
fail! "Arthur." TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD
1 September
"Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write
me fully by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary."
LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD
2 September
"My dear old fellow,
"With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know
at once that in my opinion there is not any functal disturbance or
any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means
satisfied with her appearance. She is woefully different from what
she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I
did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish.
Our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even
medical science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you
exactly what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own
conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose
doing.
"I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was
present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying
all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being
anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what
need of caution there is.
"We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be
cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some realcheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real
cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and
Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got
there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and
going.
"As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her
face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her
eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I
at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis.
"She said to me very sweetly, `I cannot tell you how I loathe
talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence
was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She
caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word.
`Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but
for him!' So I am quite free.
"I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless, but I could
not see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance ,I was able to
test the actual quality of her blood, for in opening a window which
was stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with
broken glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an
evident chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have
analysed them.
"The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and
shows, I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In
other physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need
for anxiety, but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to
the conclusion that it must be something mental.
"She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times,
and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but
regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child,
she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit
came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to
East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her. But she assures me that of
late the habit has not returned.


late the habit has not returned.
"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I
have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of
Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in
the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that
all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who
you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow,
is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy
to do anything I can for her.
"Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal
reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his
wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows
what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a
philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced
scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open
mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and
indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from
virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that
beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing
for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as
wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you
may know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to
come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to
meet me at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too
early a repetition of my call.
"Yours always."
John Seward
LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. LiT, ETC, ETC, TO DR.
SEWARD
2 September.
"My good Friend,
"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good
fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who
have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who
have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those
he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck fromhe holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from
my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that
our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when
he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune
could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it
is to you that I come. Have near at hand, and please it so arrange
that we may see the young lady not too late on tomorrow, for it is
likely that I may have to return here that night. But if need be I
shall come again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till
then goodbye, my friend John.
"Van Helsing."
LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD
3 September
"My dear Art,
"Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to
Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was
lunching out, so that we were alone with her.
"Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He
is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not
present all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he
must think. When I told him of our friendship and how you trust to
me in the matter, he said, `You must tell him all you think. Tell
him him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am
not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I
asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when
we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before
starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any
further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very
reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He
will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told
him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were
doing a descriptive special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He
seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were
not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. Inot quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I
am to get his report tomorrow if he can possibly make it. In any
case I am to have a letter.
"Well, as to the visit, Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I
first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something
of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was
normal. She was very sweet to the Professor (as she always is),and
tried to make him feel at ease, though I could see the poor girl
was making a hard struggle for it.
"I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look
under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to chat of
all things except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite
geniality that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation merge
into reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the
conversation gently round to his visit, and sauvely said,
"`My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you
are so much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that
which I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and
that you were of a ghastly pale. To them I say "Pouf!" ' And he
snapped his fingers at me and went on. `But you and I shall show
them how wrong they are. How can he', and he pointed at me with the
same look and gesture as that with which he pointed me out in his
class, on, or rather after, a particular occasion which he never
fails to remind me of, `know anything of a young ladies? He has his
madmen to play with, and to bring them back to happiness, and to
those that love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there are
rewards in that we can bestow such happiness. But the young ladies!
He has no wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves
to the young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many
sorrows and the causes of them. So, my dear, we will send him away
to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little
talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and


talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and
presently the professor came to the window and called me in. He
looked grave, but said, ` I have made careful examination, but
there is no functional cause. With you I agree that there has been
much blood lost, it has been but is not. But the conditions of her
are in no way anemic. I have asked her to send me her maid, that I
may ask just one or two questions, that so I may not chance to miss
nothing. I know well what she will say. And yet there is cause.
There is always cause for everything. I must go back home and
think. You must send me the telegram every day, and if there be
cause I shall come again. The disease, for not to be well is a
disease, interest me, and the sweet, young dear, she interest me
too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I
come.'
"As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were
alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern
watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible
thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position
between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of
duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it. But if need
be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy, so do not be
over-anxious unless you hear from me."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
4 September.—Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in
him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual
time. Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The
attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately
the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of
noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold
him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet,and
finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has
remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst
in the paroxysm were really appalling. I found my hands full when Iin the paroxysm were really appalling. I found my hands full when I
got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened
by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds
disturbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after
the dinner hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a
corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face,
which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I
cannot quite understand it.
Later.—Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in
on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used
to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note
of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between
the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized
for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to
be led back to his own room, and to have his notebook again. I
thought it well to humour him, so he is back in his room with the
window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window
sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating
them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already
examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get
him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts
would be of immense help to me, but he would not rise. For a moment
or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far away voice, as
though saying it rather to himself than to me.
"All over! All over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now
unless I do it myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute
way, he said,"Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have
a little more sugar? I think it would be very good for me."
"And the flies?" I said.
"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I
like it."And there are people who know so little as to think that
madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left himmadmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him
as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could
fathom his mind.
Midnight.—Another change in him. I had been to see Miss
Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was
standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I
heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I
could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to
turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with
its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that
come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realize all the
grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of
breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all. I
reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw
the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied, and
just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert
mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual
recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood
up quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the
attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would
do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs
of sugar. Then he took his fly box, and emptied it outside, and
threw away the box. Then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat
down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him,"Are you
going to keep flies any more?"
"No," said he. "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is
a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of
his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop. There may be
a clue after all, if we can find why today his paroxysms came on at
high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence
of the sun at periods which affects certain natures, as at times
the moon does others? We shall see.
TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAMthe moon does others? We shall see.
TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM
"4 September.—Patient still better today."
TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM
"5 September.—Patient greatly improved. Good appetite, sleeps
naturally, good spirits, color coming back."
TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM
"6 September.—Terrible change for the worse. Come at once. Do
not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen
you."


6 September
"My dear Art,
"My news today is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a
bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it.
Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has
consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the
opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the
great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put
her in his charge conjointly with myself. So now we can come and go
without alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden
death, and this, in Lucy's weak condition, might be disastrous to
her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us, my poor fellow,
but, please God, we shall come through them all right. If any need
I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for
granted that I am simply waiting for news, In haste,
"Yours ever,"
John Seward
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
7 September.—The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met
at Liverpool Street was, "Have you said anything to our young
friend, to lover of her?"
"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my
telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were
coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him
know if need be."
"Right, my friend," he said. "Quite right! Better he not know as
yet. Perhaps he will never know. I pray so, but if it be needed,
then he shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution
you. You deal with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the
other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so
deal with God's madmen too, the rest of the world. You tell not
your madmen what you do nor why you do it. You tell them not what
you think. So you shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may
rest, where it may gather its kind around it and breed. You and I
shall keep as yet what we know here, and here." He touched me on
the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself the samethe heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself the same
way. "I have for myself thoughts at the present. Later I shall
unfold to you."
"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good. We may arrive at
some decision."He looked at me and said,"My friend John, when the
corn is grown, even before it has ripened, while the milk of its
mother earth is in him, and the sunshine has not yet begun to paint
him with his gold, the husbandman he pull the ear and rub him
between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff, and say to
you, 'Look! He's good corn, he will make a good crop when the time
comes.' "
I did not see the application and told him so. For reply he
reached over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully,
as he used long ago to do at lectures, and said, "The good
husbandman tell you so then because he knows, but not till then.
But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted corn to
see if he grow. That is for the children who play at husbandry, and
not for those who take it as of the work of their life. See you
now, friend John? I have sown my corn, and Nature has her work to
do in making it sprout, if he sprout at all, there's some promise,
and I wait till the ear begins to swell." He broke off, for he
evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on gravely, "You were
always a careful student, and your case book was ever more full
than the rest. And I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember,
my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should
not trust the weaker. Even if you have not kept the good practice,
let me tell you that this case of our dear miss is one that may be,
mind, I say may be, of such interest to us and others that all the
rest may not make him kick the beam, as your people say. Take then
good note of it. Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put down in
record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter it may be of
interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure,
not from success!"interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure,
not from success!"
When I described Lucy's symptoms, the same as before, but
infinitely more marked, he looked very grave, but said nothing. He
took with him a bag in which were many instruments and drugs, "the
ghastly paraphernalia of our beneficial trade," as he once called,
in one of his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing
craft.
When we were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed,
but not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of
her beneficient moods has ordained that even death has some
antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may
prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from some cause or other,
the things not personal, even the terrible change in her daughter
to whom she is so attached, do not seem to reach her. It is
something like the way dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an
envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil
that which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an
ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one
for the vice of egoism, for there may be deeper root for its causes
than we have knowledge of.
I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and
set down a rule that she should not be present with Lucy, or think
of her illness more than was absolutely required. She assented
readily, so readily that I saw again the hand of Nature fighting
for life. Van Helsing and I were shown up to Lucy's room. If I was
shocked when I saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her
today.
She was ghastly, chalkily pale. The red seemed to have gone even
from her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out
prominently. Her breathing was painful to see or hear. Van
Helsing's face grew set as marble, and his eyebrows converged till
they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay motionless, and did not
seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent.


seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent.
Then Van Helsing beckoned to me, and we went gently out of the
room. The instant we had closed the door he stepped quickly along
the passage to the next door, which was open. Then he pulled me
quickly in with him and closed the door. "My god!" he said. "This
is dreadful. There is not time to be lost. She will die for sheer
want of blood to keep the heart's action as it should be. There
must be a transfusion of blood at once. Is it you or me?"
"I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me."
"Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am
prepared."
I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a
knock at the hall door. When we reached the hall, the maid had just
opened the door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up
to me, saying in an eager whisper,
"Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your
letter, and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran
down here to see for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing?
I am so thankful to you, sir, for coming."
When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him, he had been
angry at his interruption at such a time, but now, as he took in
his stalwart proportions and recognized the strong young manhood
which seemed to emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause
he said to him as he held out his hand,
"Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear miss.
She is bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that."For
he suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You
are to help her. You can do more than any that live, and your
courage is your best help."
"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do
it. My life is hers' and I would give the last drop of blood in my
body for her."
The Professor has a strongly humorous side, and I could from old
knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer.
"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that, not the last!""My young sir, I do not ask so much as that, not the last!"
"What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open
nostrils quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the
shoulder.
"Come!" he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You
are better than me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked
bewildered, and the Professor went on by explaining in a kindly
way.
"Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she
must have or die. My friend John and I have consulted, and we are
about to perform what we call transfusion of blood, to transfer
from full veins of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John
was to give his blood, as he is the more young and strong than
me."—Here Arthur took my hand and wrung it hard in silence.—"But
now you are here, you are more good than us, old or young, who toil
much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our
blood so bright than yours!"
Arthur turned to him and said, "If you only knew how gladly I
would die for her you would understand … " He stopped with a
sort of choke in his voice.
"Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be
happy that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be
silent. You shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you
must go, and you must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame. You
know how it is with her. There must be no shock, any knowledge of
this would be one. Come!"
We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained
outside. Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing.
She was not asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort.
Her eyes spoke to us, that was all.
Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid them on a
little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and coming
over to the bed, said cheerily, "Now, little miss, here is your
medicine. Drink it off, like a good child. See, I lift you so that
to swallow is easy. Yes." She had made the effort with success.to swallow is easy. Yes." She had made the effort with success.
It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact,
marked the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until
sleep began to flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the
narcotic began to manifest its potency, and she fell into a deep
sleep. When the Professor was satisfied, he called Arthur into the
room, and bade him strip off his coat. Then he added, "You may take
that one little kiss whiles I bring over the table. Friend John,
help to me!" So neither of us looked whilst he bent over her.
Van Helsing, turning to me, said, "He is so young and strong,
and of blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it."
Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing
performed the operation. As the transfusion went on, something like
life seemed to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through
Arthur's growing pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to
shine. After a bit I began to grow anxious, for the loss of blood
was telling on Arthur, strong man as he was. It gave me an idea of
what a terrible strain Lucy's system must have undergone that what
weakened Arthur only partially restored her.
But the Professor's face was set, and he stood watch in hand,
and with his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I
could hear my own heart beat. Presently, he said in a soft voice,
"Do not stir an instant. It is enough. You attend him. I will look
to her."
When all was over, I could see how much Arthur was weakened. I
dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van
Helsing spoke without turning round, the man seems to have eyes in
the back of his head,"The brave lover, I think, deserve another
kiss, which he shall have presently." And as he had now finished
his operation, he adjusted the pillow to the patient's head. As he
did so the narrow black velvet band which she seems always to wear
round her throat, buckled with an old diamond buckle which her


round her throat, buckled with an old diamond buckle which her
lover had given her, was dragged a little up, and showed a red mark
on her throat.
Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of
indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying
emotion. He said nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying,
"Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port wine,
and let him lie down a while. He must then go home and rest, sleep
much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given
to his love. He must not stay here. Hold a moment! I may take it,
sir, that you are anxious of result. Then bring it with you, that
in all ways the operation is successful. You have saved her life
this time, and you can go home and rest easy in mind that all that
can be is. I shall tell her all when she is well. She shall love
you none the less for what you have done. Goodbye."
When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping
gently, but her breathing was stronger. I could see the counterpane
move as her breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking
at her intently. The velvet band again covered the red mark. I
asked the Professor in a whisper, "What do you make of that mark on
her throat?"
"What do you make of it?"
"I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there
proceeded to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein
there were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome looking.
There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn
looking, as if by some trituration. It at once occurred to me that
that this wound, or whatever it was, might be the means of that
manifest loss of blood. But I abandoned the idea as soon as it
formed, for such a thing could not be. The whole bed would have
been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must have
lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion.
"Well?" said Van Helsing.
"Well," said I. "I can make nothing of it.""Well?" said Van Helsing.
"Well," said I. "I can make nothing of it."
The Professor stood up. "I must go back to Amsterdam tonight,"
he said "There are books and things there which I want. You must
remain here all night, and you must not let your sight pass from
her."
"Shall I have a nurse?" I asked.
"We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night.
See that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must
not sleep all the night.Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall
be back as soon as possible. And then we may begin."
"May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?"
"We shall see!" he answered, as he hurried out. He came back a
moment later and put his head inside the door and said with a
warning finger held up, "Remember, she is your charge. If you leave
her, and harm befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter!"
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY—CONTINUED
8 September.—I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked
itself off towards dusk, and she waked naturally. She looked a
different being from what she had been before the operation. Her
spirits even were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I
could see evidences of the absolute prostration which she had
undergone. When I told Mrs. Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had
directed that I should sit up with her, she almost pooh-poohed the
idea, pointing out her daughter's renewed strength and excellent
spirits. I was firm, however, and made preparations for my long
vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the night I came in,
having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by the
bedside.
She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me
gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed
sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself
together and shook it off. It was apparent that she did not want to
sleep, so I tackled the subject at once.
"You do not want to sleep?"
"No. I am afraid."
"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave
for.""No. I am afraid."
"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave
for."
"Ah, not if you were like me, if sleep was to you a presage of
horror!"
"A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?"
"I don't know. Oh, I don't know. And that is what is so
terrible. All this weakness comes to me in sleep, until I dread the
very thought."
"But, my dear girl, you may sleep tonight. I am here watching
you, and I can promise that nothing will happen."
"Ah, I can trust you!" she said.
I seized the opportunity, and said, "I promise that if I see any
evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once."
"You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I
will sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief,
and sank back, asleep.
All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on
and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, healthgiving sleep. Her
lips were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the
regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was
evident that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of
mind.
In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care
and took myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I
sent a short wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the
excellent result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold
arrears, took me all day to clear off. It was dark when I was able
to inquire about my zoophagous patient. The report was good. He had
been quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came from
Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I
should be at Hillingham tonight, as it might be well to be at hand,
and stating that he was leaving by the night mail and would join me
early in the morning.
9 September.—I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to
Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my
brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral
exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook


exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook
hands with me she looked sharply in my face and said,
"No sitting up tonight for you. You are worn out. I am quite
well again. Indeed, I am, and if there is to be any sitting up, it
is I who will sit up with you."
I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy
came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an
excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than
excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room
next her own, where a cozy fire was burning.
"Now," she said. "You must stay here. I shall leave this door
open and my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that
nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there
is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything I shall call
out, and you can come to me at once."
I could not but acquiesce, for I was dog tired, and could not
have sat up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me
if she should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot all
about everything.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY
9 September.—I feel so happy tonight. I have been so miserably
weak, that to be able to think and move about is like feeling
sunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky.
Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his
presence warm about me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness
are selfish things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on
ourselves, whilst health and strength give love rein, and in
thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know where my
thoughts are. If only Arthur knew! My dear, my dear, your ears must
tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of
last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward watching
me. And tonight I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at
hand and within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me.
Thank God! Goodnight Arthur.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
10 September.—I was conscious of the Professor's hand on myDR. SEWARD'S DIARY
10 September.—I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my
head, and started awake all in a second. That is one of the things
that we learn in an asylum, at any rate.
"And how is our patient?"
"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I
answered.
"Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the
room.
The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst
Van Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the
bed.
As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the
room, I heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing
its rarity, a deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over
he moved back, and his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!"
needed no enforcement from his agonized face. He raised his hand
and pointed to the bed, and his iron face was drawn and ashen
white. I felt my knees begin to tremble.
There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more
horribly white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white,
and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we
sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness.
Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct
of his life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he
put it down again softly.
"Quick!" he said. "Bring the brandy."
I flew to the dining room, and returned with the decanter. He
wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and
wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of
agonizing suspense said,
"It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work
is undone. We must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now.
I have to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he
spoke, he was dipping into his bag, and producing the instruments
of transfusion. I had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt
sleeve. There was no possibility of an opiate just at present, and
no need of one. and so, without a moment's delay, we began the
operation.no need of one. and so, without a moment's delay, we began the
operation.
After a time, it did not seem a short time either, for the
draining away of one's blood, no matter how willingly it be given,
is a terrible feeling, Van Helsing held up a warning finger. "Do
not stir," he said. "But I fear that with growing strength she may
wake, and that would make danger, oh, so much danger. But I shall
precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection of morphia." He
proceeded then, swiftly and deftly, to carry out his intent.
The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge
subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal
pride that I could see a faint tinge of color steal back into the
pallid cheeks and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what
it is to feel his own lifeblood drawn away into the veins of the
woman he loves.
The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said.
"Already?" I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art."
To which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied,
"He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work to do for
her and for others, and the present will suffice.
When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I
applied digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, while I
waited his leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little
sick. By and by he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get
a glass of wine for myself. As I was leaving the room, he came
after me, and half whispered.
"Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should
turn up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once
frighten him and enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!"
When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said, "You
are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and
rest awhile, then have much breakfast and come here to me."
I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they
were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my


were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my
strength. I felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of
the amazement at what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa,
however, wondering over and over again how Lucy had made such a
retrograde movement, and how she could have been drained of so much
blood with no sign any where to show for it. I think I must have
continued my wonder in my dreams, for, sleeping and waking my
thoughts always came back to the little punctures in her throat and
the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges, tiny though they
were.
Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly
well and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before.
When Van Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me
in charge, with strict injunctions that I was not to leave her for
a moment. I could hear his voice in the hall, asking the way to the
nearest telegraph office.
Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that
anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested.
When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any
change whatever, but said to me gratefully,
"We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you
really must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking
pale yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit,
that you do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only
momentarily, for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long an
unwonted drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor
as she turned imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid
my finger on my lips. With a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows.
Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to
me. "Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself
strong. I stay here tonight, and I shall sit up with little miss
myself. You and I must watch the case, and we must have none othermyself. You and I must watch the case, and we must have none other
to know. I have grave reasons. No, do not ask the. Think what you
will. Do not fear to think even the most not-improbable.
Goodnight."
In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or
either of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to
let them, and when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either
he or I should sit up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede
with the`foreign gentleman'. I was much touched by their kindness.
Perhaps it is because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it
was on Lucy's account, that their devotion was manifested. For over
and over again have I seen similar instances of woman's kindness. I
got back here in time for a late dinner, went my rounds, all well,
and set this down whilst waiting for sleep. It is coming.
11 September.—This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found
Van Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly
after I had arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the
Professor. He opened it with much impressment, assumed, of course,
and showed a great bundle of white flowers.
"These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said.
"For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!"
"Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are
medicines." Here Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to
take in a decoction or in nauseous form, so you need not snub that
so charming nose, or I shall point out to my friend Arthur what
woes he may have to endure in seeing so much beauty that he so
loves so much distort. Aha, my pretty miss, that bring the so nice
nose all straight again. This is medicinal, but you do not know
how. I put him in your window, I make pretty wreath, and hang him
round your neck, so you sleep well. Oh, yes! They, like the lotus
flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like the waters of
Lethe, and of that fountain of youth that the Conquistadores sought
for in the Floridas, and find him all too late."for in the Floridas, and find him all too late."
Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and
smelling them. Now she threw them down saying, with half laughter,
and half disgust,
"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me.
Why, these flowers are only common garlic."
To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his
sternness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting,
"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in
what I do, and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for
the sake of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy
scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently, "Oh, little
miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good, but there
is much virtue to you in those so common flowers. See, I place them
myself in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear.
But hush! No telling to others that make so inquisitive questions.
We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience, and obedience is
to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you.
Now sit still a while. Come with me, friend John, and you shall
help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the war from
Haarlem, where my friend Vanderpool raise herb in his glass houses
all the year. I had to telegraph yesterday, or they would not have
been here."
We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The
Professor's actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any
pharmacopeia that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows
and latched them securely. Next, taking a handful of the flowers,
he rubbed them all over the sashes, as though to ensure that every
whiff of air that might get in would be laden with the garlic
smell. Then with the wisp he rubbed all over the jamb of the door,
above, below, and at each side, and round the fireplace in the same
way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and presently I said, "Well,
Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, butProfessor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but
this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no sceptic here, or
he would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil
spirit."
"Perhaps I am!" He answered quietly as he began to make the
wreath which Lucy was to wear round her neck.
We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and
when she was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic
round her neck. The last words he said to her were,
"Take care you do not disturb it, and even if the room feel
close, do not tonight open the window or the door."
"I promise," said Lucy. "And thank you both a thousand times for
all your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with
such friends?"
As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing
said,"Tonight I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want, two nights of
travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the
day to follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink. Tomorrow in
the morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our
pretty miss, so much more strong for my `spell' which I have work.
Ho, ho!"
He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two
nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague
terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell
it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.


12 September.—How good they all are to me. I quite love that
dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these
flowers. He positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he
must have been right, for I feel comfort from them already.
Somehow, I do not dread being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep
without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh,
the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of
late, the pain of sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep,
and with such unknown horrors as it has for me! How blessed are
some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is
a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.
Well, here I am tonight, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia
in the play, with`virgin crants and maiden strewments.' I never
liked garlic before, but tonight it is delightful! There is peace
in its smell. I feel sleep coming already. Goodnight,
everybody.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
13 September.—Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as
usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting.
The Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him
now.
Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at
Hillingham at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning. The bright
sunshine and all the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the
completion of nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all
kinds of beautiful colors, but had not yet begun to drop from the
trees. When we entered we met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the
morning room. She is always an early riser. She greeted us warmly
and said,
"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is
still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go
in, lest I should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked
quite jubilant. He rubbed his hands together, and said, "Aha! I
thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working."
To which she replied, "You must not take all the credit toTo which she replied, "You must not take all the credit to
yourself, doctor. Lucy's state this morning is due in part to
me."
"How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.
"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went
into her room. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly that even my
coming did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There
were a lot of those horrible, strongsmelling flowers about
everywhere, and she had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I
feared that the heavy odor would be too much for the dear child in
her weak state, so I took them all away and opened a bit of the
window to let in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with her,
I am sure."
She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted
early. As she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw
it turn ashen gray. He had been able to retain his self-command
whilst the poor lady was present, for he knew her state and how
mischievous a shock would be. He actually smiled on her as he held
open the door for her to pass into her room. But the instant she
had disappeared he pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the
dining room and closed the door.
Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break
down. He raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair,
and then beat his palms together in a helpless way. Finally he sat
down on a chair, and putting his hands before his face, began to
sob, with loud, dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking
of his heart.
Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to the whole
universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have we done, what has
this poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? Is there fate
amongst us still, send down from the pagan world of old, that such
things must be, and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing,
and all for the best as she think, does such thing as lose her
daughter body and soul, and we must not tell her, we must not evendaughter body and soul, and we must not tell her, we must not even
warn her, or she die, then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are
all the powers of the devils against us!"
Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said."come, we must
see and act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils at once, it
matters not. We must fight him all the same." He went to the hall
door for his bag, and together we went up to Lucy's room.
Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards
the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face
with the same awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of
stern sadness and infinite pity.
"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of
his which meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the
door, and then began to set out on the little table the instruments
for yet another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago
recognized the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he
stopped me with a warning hand. "No!" he said. "Today you must
operate. I shall provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he
took off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve.
Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some return of
color to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy
sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and
rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that
she must not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting
him. That the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the
breathing of their odor was a part of the system of cure. Then he
took over the care of the case himself, saying that he would watch
this night and the next, and would send me word when to come.
After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright
and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal.
What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit
of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own
brain.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own
brain.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY
17 September.—Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so
strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed
through some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the
beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me.
I have a dim half remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and
fearing, darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to
make present distress more poignant. And then long spells of
oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through
a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been
with me, all this bad dreaming seems to have passed away. The
noises that used to frighten me out of my wits, the flapping
against the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close to
me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and commanded
me to do I know not what, have all ceased. I go to bed now without
any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown
quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day
from Haarlem. Tonight Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to
be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched. I am well
enough to be left alone.
Thank God for Mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our
friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change,
for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the
time. I found him asleep twice when I awoke. But I did not fear to
go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something flapped
almost angrily against the window panes.
THE PALL MALL GAZETTE 18 September.
THE ESCAPED WOLF PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER
INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS
After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and
perpetually using the words `PALL MALL GAZETTE ' as a sort of
talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the
Zoological Gardens in which the wold department is included. ThomasZoological Gardens in which the wold department is included. Thomas
Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the
elephant house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found
him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without
children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of
the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The
keeper would not enter on what he called business until the supper
was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was
cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said,
"Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll
excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts afore meals. I
gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section
their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions."
"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get
him into a talkative humor.
" `Ittin' of them over the `ead with a pole is one way.
Scratchin' of their ears in another, when gents as is flush wants a
bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust, the
`ittin of the pole part afore I chucks in their dinner, but I waits
till they've `ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak,afore I
tries on with the ear scratchin'. Mind you," he added
philosophically, "there's a deal of the same nature in us as in
them theer animiles. Here's you a-comin' and arskin' of me
questions about my business, and I that grump-like that only for
your bloomin' `arf-quid I'd `a' seen you blowed fust `fore I'd
answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic like if I'd like you
to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without
offence did I tell yer to go to `ell?"
"You did."
"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene language
that was `ittin' me over the `ead. But the `arfquid made that all
right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and
did with my `owl as the wolves and lions and tigers does. But, lor'
love yer `art, now that the old `ooman has stuck a chunk of herlove yer `art, now that the old `ooman has stuck a chunk of her
tea-cake in me, an' rinsed me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and
I've lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and
won't even get a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions.
I know what yer a-comin' at, that `ere escaped wolf."
"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me
how it happened, and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what
you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole
affair will end."
"All right, guv'nor. This `ere is about the `ole story. That`ere
wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three gray ones that came
from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago.
He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk
of. I'm more surprised at `im for wantin' to get out nor any other
animile in the place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more
nor women."
"Don't you mind him, Sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery
laugh. " `E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he
ain't like a old wolf `isself! But there ain't no `arm in `im."
"Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when
I first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the monkey
house for a young puma which is ill. But when I heard the yelpin'
and `owlin' I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like
a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't
much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a
tall, thin chap, with a `ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few
white hairs runnin' through it. He had a `ard, cold look and red
eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it
was `im as they was hirritated at. He `ad white kid gloves on `is
`ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says, `Keeper,
these wolves seem upset at something.'
"`Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he
give `isself. He didn't get angry, as I `oped he would, but he


give `isself. He didn't get angry, as I `oped he would, but he
smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp
teeth. `Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' `e says.
" `Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin'of him.`They always
like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea time, which
you `as a bagful.'
"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us
a-talkin' they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let
me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and
blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolf's
ears too!
" `Tyke care,' says I. `Bersicker is quick.'
" `Never mind,' he says. I'm used to `em!'
" `Are you in the business yourself?"I says, tyking off my `at,
for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to
keepers.
" `Nom' says he, `not exactly in the business, but I `ave made
pets of several.' and with that he lifts his `at as perlite as a
lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter `im till
`e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and
wouldn't come hout the `ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as
the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-`owling. There warn't
nothing for them to `owl at. There warn't no one near, except some
one that was evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back of the
gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all
was right, and it was, and then the `owling stopped. Just before
twelve o'clock I just took a look round afore turnin' in, an', bust
me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails
broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that's all I know
for certing."
"Did any one else see anything?"
"One of our gard`ners was a-comin' `ome about that time from a
`armony, when he sees a big gray dog comin' out through the garding
`edges. At least, so he says, but I don't give much for it myself,
for if he did `e never said a word about it to his missis when `efor if he did `e never said a word about it to his missis when `e
got `ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made
known, and we had been up all night a-huntin' of the Park for
Bersicker, that he remembered seein' anything. My own belief was
that the `armony `ad got into his `ead."
"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of
the wolf?"
"Well, Sir,"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think
I can, but I don't know as `ow you'd be satisfied with the
theory."
"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals
from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even
to try?"
"well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems to me that
`ere wolf escaped—simply because he wanted to get out."
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the
joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the
whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in
badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way
to his heart, so I said,"Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first
half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be
claimed when you've told me what you think will happen."
"Right y`are, Sir," he said briskly. "Ye`ll excoose me, I know,
for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman her winked at me, which was
as much as telling me to go on."
"Well, I never!" said the old lady.
"My opinion is this. That `ere wolf is a`idin' of, somewheres.
The gard`ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward
faster than a horse could go, but I don't believe him, for, yer
see, Sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein'
built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay
when they gets in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more
afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it
up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is
only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog, andonly a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog, and
not half a quarter so much fight in `im. This one ain't been used
to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself, and more like he's
somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an' a'shiverin' of, and if he
thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get his breakfast from. Or
maybe he's got down some area and is in a coal cellar. My eye,
won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes
a-shinin' at her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound
to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's
shop in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out walkin' or
orf with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the
perambulator—well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is
one babby the less. That's all."
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came
bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its
natural length with surprise.
"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back
by `isself!"
He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding
it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never
looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is
between us. A personal experience has intensified rather than
diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither
Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a
dog. The animal itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that
father of all picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend,
whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.
The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos.
The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and set
all the children in town shivering in their shoes, was there in a
sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of
vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most
tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent
said,


tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent
said,
"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of
trouble. Didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and
full of broken glass. `E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall
or other. It's a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls
with broken bottles. This `ere's what comes of it. Come along,
Bersicker."
He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of
meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary
conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.
I came off too, to report the only exclusive information that is
given today regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
17 September.—I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up
my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to
Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst
open, and in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with
passion. I was thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting
of his own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost
unknown.
Without an instant's notice he made straight at me. He had a
dinner knife in his hand, and as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to
keep the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me,
however, for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and
cut my left wrist rather severely.
Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right hand
and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled
freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw
that my friend was not intent on further effort, and occupied
myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate
figure all the time. When the attendants rushed in, and we turned
our attention to him, his employment positively sickened me. He was
lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood
which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, andwhich had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and
to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply
repeating over and over again, "The blood is the life! The blood is
the life!"
I cannot afford to lose blood just at present. I have lost too
much of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of
Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over
excited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing
has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep. Tonight I could
not well do without it.
TELEGRAM, VAN HELSING, ANTWERP, TO SEWARD, CARFAX
(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given, delivered late by
twenty-two hours.)
17 September.—Do not fail to be at Hilllingham tonight. If not
watching all the time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as
placed, very important, do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as
possible after arrival.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
18 September.—Just off train to London. The arrival of Van
Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I
know by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it
is possible that all may be well, but what may have happened?
Surely there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every
possible accident should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall
take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on
Lucy's phonograph. MEMORANDUM LEFT BY LUCY WESTENRA
17 September, Night.—I write this and leave it to be seen, so
that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is
an exact record of what took place tonight. I feel I am dying of
weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if
I die in the doing.
I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed
as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.
I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after
that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and
which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr.which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr.
Seward was in the next room, as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be,
so that I might have called him. I tried to sleep, but I could not.
Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to
keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not
want it. So, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called
out. "Is there anybody there?" There was no answer. I was afraid to
wake mother, and so closed my door again. Then outside in the
shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but more fierce and
deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing,
except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings
against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not
to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in.
Seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, she came in and sat by
me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont,
"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you
were all right."
I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to
come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down
beside me. She did not take off her dressing gown, for she said she
would only stay a while and then go back to her own bed. As she lay
there in my arms, and I in hers the flapping and buffeting came to
the window again. She was startled and a little frightened, and
cried out, "What is that?"
I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet.
But I could hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After
a while there was the howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly
after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass
was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew back with the wind
that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was
the head of a great, gaunt gray wolf.
Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting
posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her.


posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her.
Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr.
Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away
from me. For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and
there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat. Then she
fell over, as if struck with lightning, and her head hit my
forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two.
The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes
fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole
myriad of little specks seems to come blowing in through the broken
window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust
that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert. I
tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear Mother's
poor body, which seemed to grow cold already, for her dear heart
had ceased to beat, weighed me down, and I remembered no more for a
while.
The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I
recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was
tolling. The dogs all round the neighborhood were howling, and in
our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I
was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the
sound of the nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother
come back to comfort me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the
maids, too, for I could hear their bare feet pattering outside my
door. I called to them, and they came in, and when they saw what
had happened, and what it was that lay over me on the bed, they
screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken window, and the
door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my dear mother, and
laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I had got up.
They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them to go
to the dining room and each have a glass of wine. The door flew
open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and thenopen for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then
went in a body to the dining room, and I laid what flowers I had on
my dear mother's breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr.
Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, and
besides, I would have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I
was surprised that the maids did not come back. I called them, but
got no answer, so I went to the dining room to look for them.
My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay
helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry
was on the table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell
about. I was suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of
laudanum, and looking on the sideboard, I found that the bottle
which Mother's doctor uses for her—oh! did use—was empty. What am I
to do? What am I to do? I am back in the room with Mother. I cannot
leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom
some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I
can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.
The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the
draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am
I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this
paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay
me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Goodbye,
dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you,
dear, and God help me!18 September.—I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived early.
Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked
gently and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb
Lucy or her mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door.
After a while, finding no response, I knocked and rang again, still
no answer. I cursed the laziness of the servants that they should
lie abed at such an hour, for it was now ten o'clock, and so rang
and knocked again, but more impatiently, but still without
response. Hitherto I had blamed only the servants, but now a
terrible fear began to assail me. Was this desolation but another
link in the chain of doom which seemed drawing tight round us? Was
it indeed a house of death to which I had come, too late? I know
that minutes, even seconds of delay, might mean hours of danger to
Lucy, if she had had again one of those frightful relapses, and I
went round the house to try if I could find by chance an entry
anywhere. I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door
was fastened and locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I
did so, I heard the rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse's feet.
They stopped at the gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing
running up the avenue. When he saw me, he gasped out, "Then it was
you, and just arrived. How is she? Are we too late? Did you not get
my telegram?"
I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only
got his telegram early in the morning, and had not a minute in
coming here, and that I could not make any one in the house hear
me. He paused and raised his hat as he said solemnly, "Then I fear
we are too late. God's will be done!"
With his usual recuperative energy, he went on, "Come. If there
be no way open to get in, we must make one. Time is all in all to
us now."
We went round to the back of the house, where there was a
kitchen window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his
case, and handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded


case, and handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded
the window. I attacked them at once and had very soon cut through
three of them. Then with a long, thin knife we pushed back the
fastening of the sashes and opened the window. I helped the
Professor in, and followed him. There was no one in the kitchen or
in the servants' rooms, which were close at hand. We tried all the
rooms as we went along, and in the dining room, dimly lit by rays
of light through the shutters, found four servant women lying on
the floor. There was no need to think them dead, for their
stertorous breathing and the acrid smell of laudanum in the room
left no doubt as to their condition.
Van Helsing and I looked at each other, and as we moved away he
said, "We can attend to them later."Then we ascended to Lucy's
room. For an instant or two we paused at the door to listen, but
there was no sound that we could hear. With white faces and
trembling hands, we opened the door gently, and entered the
room.
How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy
and her mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered
with a white sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the
drought through the broken window, showing the drawn, white, face,
with a look of terror fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with
face white and still more drawn. The flowers which had been round
her neck we found upon her mother's bosom, and her throat was bare,
showing the two little wounds which we had noticed before, but
looking horribly white and mangled. Without a word the Professor
bent over the bed, his head almost touching poor Lucy's breast.
Then he gave a quick turn of his head, as of one who listens, and
leaping to his feet, he cried out to me, "It is not yet too late!
Quick! Quick! Bring the brandy!"
I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and
taste it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry
which I found on the table. The maids were still breathing, butwhich I found on the table. The maids were still breathing, but
more restlessly, and I fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I
did not stay to make sure, but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed
the brandy, as on another occasion, on her lips and gums and on her
wrists and the palms of her hands. He said to me, "I can do this,
all that can be at the present. You go wake those maids. Flick them
in the face with a wet towel, and flick them hard. Make them get
heat and fire and a warm bath. This poor soul is nearly as cold as
that beside her. She will need be heated before we can do anything
more."
I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of
the women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had
evidently affected her more strongly so I lifted her on the sofa
and let her sleep.
The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to
them they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with
them, however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one
life was bad enough to lose, and if they delayed they would
sacrifice Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and crying they went about their
way, half clad as they were, and prepared fire and water.
Fortunately, the kitchen and boiler fires were still alive, and
there was no lack of hot water. We got a bath and carried Lucy out
as she was and placed her in it. Whilst we were busy chafing her
limbs there was a knock at the hall door. One of the maids ran off,
hurried on some more clothes, and opened it. Then she returned and
whispered to us that there was a gentleman who had come with a
message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he must
wait, for we could see no one now. She went away with the message,
and, engrossed with our work, I clean forgot all about him.
I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such
deadly earnest. I knew, as he knew, that it was a stand-up fight
with death, and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way
that I did not understand, but with the sternest look that his facethat I did not understand, but with the sternest look that his face
could wear.
"If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let
her fade away into peace, for I see no light in life over her
horizon." He went on with his work with, if possible, renewed and
more frenzied vigour.
Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was
beginning to be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trifle more
audibly to the stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible
movement. Van Helsing's face almost beamed, and as we lifted her
from the bath and rolled her in a hot sheet to dry her he said to
me, "The first gain is ours! Check to the King!"
We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared,
and laid her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her
throat. I noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief
round her throat. She was still unconscious, and was quite as bad
as, if not worse than, we had ever seen her.
Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay
with her and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and
then beckoned me out of the room.
"We must consult as to what is to be done," he said as we
descended the stairs. In the hall he opened the dining room door,
and we passed in, he closing the door carefully behind him. The
shutters had been opened, but the blinds were already down, with
that obedience to the etiquette of death which the British woman of
the lower classes always rigidly observes. The room was, therefore,
dimly dark. It was, however, light enough for our purposes. Van
Helsing's sternness was somewhat relieved by a look of perplexity.
He was evidently torturing his mind about something, so I waited
for an instant, and he spoke.
"What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must
have another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor
girl's life won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted
already. I am exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if


already. I am exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if
they would have courage to submit. What are we to do for some one
who will open his veins for her?"
"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"
The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones
brought relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey
Morris.
Van Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face
softened and a glad look came into his eyes as I cried out,
"Quincey Morris!" and rushed towards him with outstretched
hands.
"What brought you her?" I cried as our hands met.
"I guess Art is the cause."
He handed me a telegram.— `Have not heard from Seward for three
days, and am terribly anxious. Cannot leave. Father still in same
condition. Send me word how Lucy is. Do not delay.—Holmwood.'
"I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only
to tell me what to do."
Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him
straight in the eyes as he said, "A brave man's blood is the best
thing on this earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no
mistake. Well, the devil may work against us for all he's worth,
but God sends us men when we want them."
Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not
the heart to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible
shock and it told on her more than before, for though plenty of
blood went into her veins, her body did not respond to the
treatment as well as on the other occasions. Her struggle back into
life was something frightful to see and hear. However, the action
of both heart and lungs improved, and Van Helsing made a
sub-cutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with good
effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor watched
whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the
maids to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting.
I left Quincey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told
the cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck me,the cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck me,
and I went back to the room where Lucy now was. When I came softly
in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note paper in his
hand. He had evidently read it, and was thinking it over as he sat
with his hand to his brow. There was a look of grim satisfaction in
his face, as of one who has had a doubt solved. He handed me the
paper saying only, "It dropped from Lucy's breast when we carried
her to the bath."
When I had read it, I stook looking at the Professor, and after
a pause asked him, "In God's name, what does it all mean? Was she,
or is she, mad, or what sort of horrible danger is it?" I was so
bewildered that I did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put
out his hand and took the paper, saying,
"Do not trouble about it now. Forget if for the present. You
shall know and understand it all in good time, but it will be
later. And now what is it that you came to me to say?" This brought
me back to fact, and I was all myself again.
"I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not
act properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper
would have to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no
inquest, for if we had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing
else did. I know, and you know, and the other doctor who attended
her knows, that Mrs. Westenra had disease of the heart, and we can
certify that she died of it. Let us fill up the certificate at
once, and I shall take it myself to the registrar and go on to the
undertaker."
"Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if
she be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the
friends thatlove her. One, two, three, all open their veins for
her, besides one old man. Ah, yes, I know, friend John. I am not
blind! I love you all the more for it! Now go."
In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur
telling him that Mrs. Westenra was dead, that Lucy also had been
ill, but was now going on better, and that Van Helsing and I wereill, but was now going on better, and that Van Helsing and I were
with her. I told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, but
as I was going said, "When you come back, Jack, may I have two
words with you all to ourselves?" I nodded in reply and went out. I
found no difficulty about the registration, and arranged with the
local undertaker to come up in the evening to measure for the
coffin and to make arrangements.
When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would
see him as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She
was still sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from
his seat at her side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I
gathered that he expected her to wake before long and was afraid of
fore-stalling nature. So I went down to Quincey and took him into
the breakfast room, where the blinds were not drawn down, and which
was a little more cheerful, or rather less cheerless, than the
other rooms.
When we were alone, he said to me, "Jack Seward, I don't want to
shove myself in anywhere where I've no right to be, but this is no
ordinary case. You know I loved that girl and wanted to marry her,
but although that's all past and gone, I can't help feeling anxious
about her all the same. What is it that's wrong with her? The
Dutchman, and a fine old fellow is is, I can see that, said that
time you two came into the room, that you must have another
transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted. Now
I know well that you medical men speak in camera, and that a man
must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But
this is no common matter, and whatever it is, I have done my part.
Is not that so?"
"That's so," I said, and he went on.
"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I
did today. Is not that so?"
"That's so."
"And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago
down at his own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything
pulled down so quick since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that