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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 to-night'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; perhaps we shall know when you get his letter in the

morning." 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. To-morrow 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; its 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 zooephagy!"

 

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 to 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 upon 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 out 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 round

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 there, with

the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing

and twittering and miauing all round 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 round 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 chop-sticks, as to try to

interest me about the lesser 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 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, and 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 note-book. We had to come

away as ignorant as we went in.

 

His is a curious case indeed; we must watch him to-night.

 

 

_Letter, Mitchell, Sons and 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, and 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.

 

To-day 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 sterilise 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 to-morrow 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 in 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 to-day 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 XXI

 

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

 

 

_3 October._--Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well

as I can remember it, 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 that 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 broke 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 recognised 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." So 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 was 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 to-morrow 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.

 

"We shall wait," said Van Helsing, "just long enough to fix the best

spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and perfectly remove

the blood clot; for it is evident that the haemorrhage is increasing."

 

The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful slowness. I had a

horrible sinking in my heart, and from Van Helsing's face I gathered

that he felt some fear or apprehension as to what was to come. I dreaded

the words that Renfield might speak. I was positively afraid to think;

but the conviction of what was coming was on me, as I have read of men

who have heard the death-watch. The poor man's breathing came in

uncertain gasps. Each instant he seemed as though he would open his eyes

and speak; but then would follow a prolonged stertorous breath, and he

would relapse into a more fixed insensibility. Inured as I was to sick

beds and death, this suspense grew, and grew upon me. I could almost

hear the beating of my own heart; and the blood surging through my

temples sounded like blows from a hammer. The silence finally became

agonising. I looked at my companions, one after another, and saw from

their flushed faces and damp brows that they were enduring equal

torture. There was a nervous suspense over us all, as though overhead

some dread bell would peal out powerfully when we should least expect

it.

 

At last there came a time when it was evident that the patient was

sinking fast; he might die at any moment. I looked up at the Professor

and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His face was sternly set as he

spoke:--

 

"There is no time to lose. His words may be worth many lives; I have