Dracula

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There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side,
and nothing could be done, so I went around to the back to see if
anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active,
the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two
of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me
anything about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it had
lately been taken, but he couldn't say from whom. He told me,
however, that up to very lately there had been a notice board of "For
Sale" up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the house agents
could tell me something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name
of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to
let my informant know or guess too much, so thanking him in the usual
manner, I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the autumn
night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having learned the
address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I
was soon at their office in Sackville Street.

The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but
uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the
Piccadilly house, which throughout our interview he called a
"mansion," was sold, he considered my business as concluded. When I
asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and
paused a few seconds before replying, "It is sold, sir."

"Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a special
reason for wishing to know who purchased it."

Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. "It is
sold, sir," was again his laconic reply.

"Surely," I said, "you do not mind letting me know so much."

"But I do mind," he answered. "The affairs of their clients are
absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy."

This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use
arguing with him. I thought I had best meet him on his own ground, so
I said, "Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a guardian
of their confidence. I am myself a professional man."

Here I handed him my card. "In this instance I am not prompted by
curiosity, I act on the part of Lord Godalming, who wishes to know
something of the property which was, he understood, lately for sale."

These words put a different complexion on affairs. He said, "I would
like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and especially would I like
to oblige his lordship. We once carried out a small matter of renting
some chambers for him when he was the honourable Arthur Holmwood. If
you will let me have his lordship's address I will consult the House
on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with his lordship
by tonight's post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate
from our rules as to give the required information to his lordship."

I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I thanked
him, gave the address at Dr. Seward's and came away. It was now dark,
and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aerated Bread
Company and came down to Purfleet by the next train.

I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale, but
she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful. It wrung my
heart to think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused
her inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking
on at our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our
confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of
keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled,
or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for
when any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad
we made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this, our
growing knowledge would be torture to her.

I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we were alone,
so after dinner, followed by a little music to save appearances even
amongst ourselves, I took Mina to her room and left her to go to bed.
The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me
as though she would detain me, but there was much to be talked of and
I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no
difference between us.

When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire
in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and simply
read it off to them as the best means of letting them get abreast of
my own information.

When I had finished Van Helsing said, "This has been a great day's
work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing
boxes. If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the
end. But if there be some missing, we must search until we find them.
Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to his real
death."

We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. Morris spoke, "Say! How
are we going to get into that house?"

"We got into the other," answered Lord Godalming quickly.

"But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had
night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different
thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I
confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck
can find us a key of some sort."

Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he stood up and walked about the
room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of
us, "Quincey's head is level. This burglary business is getting
serious. We got off once all right, but we have now a rare job on
hand. Unless we can find the Count's key basket."

As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at
least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from
Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast
time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in
its various lights and bearings. I took the opportunity of bringing
this diary right up to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to
bed . . .

Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her
forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks
even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so
haggard as she did this morning. Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all
this. She will be herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy!

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His moods change so
rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they
always mean something more than his own well-being, they form a more
than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see him after
his repulse of Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding
destiny. He was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively. He did
not really care for any of the things of mere earth, he was in the
clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor
mortals.

I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked
him, "What about the flies these times?"

He smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smile as would
have become the face of Malvolio, as he answered me, "The fly, my dear
sir, has one striking feature. It's wings are typical of the aerial
powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients did well when they
typified the soul as a butterfly!"

I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said
quickly, "Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?"

His madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face
as, shaking his head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in
him.

He said, "Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want." Here
he brightened up. "I am pretty indifferent about it at present. Life
is all right. I have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor,
if you wish to study zoophagy!"

This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on. "Then you command life.
You are a god, I suppose?"

He smiled with an ineffably benign superiority. "Oh no! Far be it
from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity. I am not
even concerned in His especially spiritual doings. If I may state my
intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things purely
terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch occupied
spiritually!"

This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall Enoch's
appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though I felt that by
so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic. "And why
with Enoch?"

"Because he walked with God."

I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it, so I harked
back to what he had denied. "So you don't care about life and you
don't want souls. Why not?" I put my question quickly and somewhat
sternly, on purpose to disconcert him.

The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into
his old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon
me as he replied. "I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don't.
I couldn't use them if I had them. They would be no manner of use to
me. I couldn't eat them or . . ."

He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his face,
like a wind sweep on the surface of the water.

"And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've got all
you require, and you know that you will never want, that is all. I
have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward." This was said with
a leer of inexpressible cunning. "I know that I shall never lack the
means of life!"

I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some
antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of such
as he, a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the
present it was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came
away.

Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come
without special reason, but just at present I am so interested in him
that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to have
anything to help pass the time. Harker is out, following up clues,
and so are Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my study
poring over the record prepared by the Harkers. He seems to think
that by accurate knowledge of all details he will light up on some
clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without cause. I
would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I thought that
after his last repulse he might not care to go again. There was also
another reason. Renfield might not speak so freely before a third
person as when he and I were alone.

I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool, a pose
which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his part. When
I came in, he said at once, as though the question had been waiting on
his lips. "What about souls?"

It was evident then that my surmise had been correct. Unconscious
cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic. I determined
to have the matter out.

"What about them yourself?" I asked.

He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and up and
down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an answer.

"I don't want any souls!" he said in a feeble, apologetic way. The
matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it, to
"be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like life, and you want
life?"

"Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about that!"

"But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting the soul
also?"

This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nice time you'll
have some time when you're flying out here, with the souls of
thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and
twittering and moaning all around you. You've got their lives, you
know, and you must put up with their souls!"

Something seemed to affect his imagination, for he put his fingers to
his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly just as a small
boy does when his face is being soaped. There was something pathetic
in it that touched me. It also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that
before me was a child, only a child, though the features were worn,
and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was evident that he was
undergoing some process of mental disturbance, and knowing how his
past moods had interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself, I
thought I would enter into his mind as well as I could and go with him.

The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him, speaking
pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed ears, "Would
you like some sugar to get your flies around again?"

He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a laugh he
replied, "Not much! Flies are poor things, after all!" After a pause
he added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing round me, all the
same."

"Or spiders?" I went on.

"Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anything in
them to eat or . . ." He stopped suddenly as though reminded of a
forbidden topic.

"So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he has
suddenly stopped at the word 'drink'. What does it mean?"

Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a lapse, for he hurried
on, as though to distract my attention from it, "I don't take any
stock at all in such matters. 'Rats and mice and such small deer,' as
Shakespeare has it, 'chicken feed of the larder' they might be called.
I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well ask a man to
eat molecules with a pair of chopsticks, as to try to interest me
about the less carnivora, when I know of what is before me."

"I see," I said. "You want big things that you can make your teeth
meet in? How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?"

"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?" He was getting too wide
awake, so I thought I would press him hard.

"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is like!"

The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his
high-horse and became a child again.

"I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!" he said. For a
few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his feet, with
his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement.
"To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do you plague me
about souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, to distract me
already, without thinking of souls?"

He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for another homicidal
fit, so I blew my whistle.

The instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said
apologetically, "Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not
need any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be
irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and that I am
working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not
put me in a strait waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot think
freely when my body is confined. I am sure you will understand!"

He had evidently self-control, so when the attendants came I told them
not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield watched them go. When the
door was closed he said with considerable dignity and sweetness, "Dr.
Seward, you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me that I
am very, very grateful to you!"

I thought it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came away.
There is certainly something to ponder over in this man's state.
Several points seem to make what the American interviewer calls "a
story," if one could only get them in proper order. Here they are:

Will not mention "drinking."

Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of anything.

Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future.

Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads
being haunted by their souls.

Logically all these things point one way! He has assurance of
some kind that he will acquire some higher life.

He dreads the consequence, the burden of a soul. Then it is a
human life he looks to!

And the assurance . . .?

Merciful God! The Count has been to him, and there is some new scheme
of terror afoot!

Later.--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told him my
suspicion. He grew very grave, and after thinking the matter over for
a while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so. As we came to
the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as he used to do
in the time which now seems so long ago.

When we entered we saw with amazement that he had spread out his sugar
as of old. The flies, lethargic with the autumn, were beginning to
buzz into the room. We tried to make him talk of the subject of our
previous conversation, but he would not attend. He went on with his
singing, just as though we had not been present. He had got a scrap
of paper and was folding it into a notebook. We had to come away as
ignorant as we went in.

His is a curious case indeed. We must watch him tonight.

LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY TO LORD GODALMING.

"1 October.

"My Lord,

"We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg,
with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by Mr.
Harker on your behalf, to supply the following information
concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The
original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. Archibald
Winter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de
Ville, who effected the purchase himself paying the purchase
money in notes 'over the counter,' if your Lordship will pardon
us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this we know nothing
whatever of him.

"We are, my Lord,

"Your Lordship's humble servants,

"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY."

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

2 October.--I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told him to
make an accurate note of any sound he might hear from Renfield's room,
and gave him instructions that if there should be anything strange he
was to call me. After dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire
in the study, Mrs. Harker having gone to bed, we discussed the
attempts and discoveries of the day. Harker was the only one who had
any result, and we are in great hopes that his clue may be an
important one.

Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and looked in
through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, his heart rose
and fell with regular respiration.

This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little after
midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat loudly.
I asked him if that was all. He replied that it was all he heard.
There was something about his manner, so suspicious that I asked him
point blank if he had been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted to
having "dozed" for a while. It is too bad that men cannot be trusted
unless they are watched.

Today Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and Quincey are
looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will be well to have
horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which we
seek there will be no time to lose. We must sterilize all the
imported earth between sunrise and sunset. We shall thus catch the
Count at his weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is
off to the British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient
medicine. The old physicians took account of things which their
followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for witch and
demon cures which may be useful to us later.

I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity
in strait waistcoats.

Later.--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and
our work of tomorrow may be the beginning of the end. I wonder if
Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this. His moods have so
followed the doings of the Count, that the coming destruction of the
monster may be carried to him some subtle way. If we could only get
some hint as to what passed in his mind, between the time of my
argument with him today and his resumption of fly-catching, it might
afford us a valuable clue. He is now seemingly quiet for a spell . . .
Is he? That wild yell seemed to come from his room . . .

The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had
somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell, and when he
went to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with
blood. I must go at once . . .

CHAPTER 21

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

3 October.--Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well
as I can remember, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that I
can recall must be forgotten. In all calmness I must proceed.

When I came to Renfield's room I found him lying on the floor on his
left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I went to move him, it
became at once apparent that he had received some terrible injuries.
There seemed none of the unity of purpose between the parts of the
body which marks even lethargic sanity. As the face was exposed I
could see that it was horribly bruised, as though it had been beaten
against the floor. Indeed it was from the face wounds that the pool
of blood originated.

The attendant who was kneeling beside the body said to me as we turned
him over, "I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both his right arm
and leg and the whole side of his face are paralysed." How such a
thing could have happened puzzled the attendant beyond measure. He
seemed quite bewildered, and his brows were gathered in as he said, "I
can't understand the two things. He could mark his face like that by
beating his own head on the floor. I saw a young woman do it once at
the Eversfield Asylum before anyone could lay hands on her. And I
suppose he might have broken his neck by falling out of bed, if he got
in an awkward kink. But for the life of me I can't imagine how the
two things occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn't beat his
head, and if his face was like that before the fall out of bed, there
would be marks of it."

I said to him, "Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly come here
at once. I want him without an instant's delay."

The man ran off, and within a few minutes the Professor, in his
dressing gown and slippers, appeared. When he saw Renfield on the
ground, he looked keenly at him a moment, and then turned to me. I
think he recognized my thought in my eyes, for he said very quietly,
manifestly for the ears of the attendant, "Ah, a sad accident! He
will need very careful watching, and much attention. I shall stay
with you myself, but I shall first dress myself. If you will remain I
shall in a few minutes join you."

The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was easy to see that
he had suffered some terrible injury.

Van Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity, bearing with him a
surgical case. He had evidently been thinking and had his mind made
up, for almost before he looked at the patient, he whispered to me,
"Send the attendant away. We must be alone with him when he becomes
conscious, after the operation."

I said, "I think that will do now, Simmons. We have done all that we
can at present. You had better go your round, and Dr. Van Helsing
will operate. Let me know instantly if there be anything unusual
anywhere."

The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the
patient. The wounds of the face were superficial. The real injury
was a depressed fracture of the skull, extending right up through the
motor area.

The Professor thought a moment and said, "We must reduce the pressure
and get back to normal conditions, as far as can be. The rapidity of
the suffusion shows the terrible nature of his injury. The whole
motor area seems affected. The suffusion of the brain will increase
quickly, so we must trephine at once or it may be too late."

As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door. I went over
and opened it and found in the corridor without, Arthur and Quincey in
pajamas and slippers; the former spoke, "I heard your man call up Dr.
Van Helsing and tell him of an accident. So I woke Quincey or rather
called for him as he was not asleep. Things are moving too quickly
and too strangely for sound sleep for any of us these times. I've
been thinking that tomorrow night will not see things as they have
been. We'll have to look back, and forward a little more than we have
done. May we come in?"

I nodded, and held the door open till they had entered, then I closed
it again. When Quincey saw the attitude and state of the patient, and
noted the horrible pool on the floor, he said softly, "My God! What
has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!"

I told him briefly, and added that we expected he would recover
consciousness after the operation, for a short time, at all events.
He went at once and sat down on the edge of the bed, with Godalming
beside him. We all watched in patience.

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