Dracula

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"'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 '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 here 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, 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,

"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, 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. 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. 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 neighbourhood 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
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!

CHAPTER 12

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

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 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, 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 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 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 here?" 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, 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."

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