Замок Дракулы в Румынии 13 страница

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-'idin' 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-shining 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 a-walkin' 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 as 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 an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The

wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the

children in the 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

to-day 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

pause 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 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; to-night 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 Hillingham to-night. 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 for 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 to-night. 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 go to sleep, but 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, 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 low 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 grey

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 seemed 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 have each 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. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not

survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

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 around us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I had come, too

late? I knew 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 lost 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 draught 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 that 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 subcutaneous 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."

 

When I had read it, I stood 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 it 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 that

love 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 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 forestalling 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 he 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

to-day. 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 I was fond of go to grass