“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 Aërated 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 aërial 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 zoöphagy!”
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 hæmorrhage 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 been thinking so,as I stood here. It may be there is a soul at stake!We shall operate just above the ear.”
Without another word he made the operation.For a few moments the breathing continued to be stertorous.Then there came a breath so prolonged that it seemed as though it would tear open his chest.Suddenly his eyes opened, and became fixed in a wild, helpless stare.This was continued for a few moments; then it softened into a glad surprise,and from the lips came a sigh of relief. He moved convulsively, and as he did so, said:--
“I’ll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait-waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream,and it has left me so weak that I cannot move. What’s wrong with my face?it feels all swollen, and it smarts dreadfully.” He tried to turn his head;but even with the effort his eyes seemed to grow glassy again so I gently put it back.Then Van Helsing said in a quiet grave tone:--
“Tell us your dream, Mr. Renfield.” As he heard the voice his face brightened, through its mutilation, and he said:--
“That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it is of you to be here. Give me some water, my lips are dry;and I shall try to tell you. I dreamed”--he stopped and seemed fainting,I called quietly to Quincey--“The brandy--it is in my study--quick!” He flew and returned with a glass, the decanter of brandy and a carafe of water.We moistened the parched lips, and the patient quickly revived. It seemed, however,that his poor injured brain had been working in the interval, for, when he was quite conscious,he looked at me piercingly with an agonised confusion which I shall never forget, and said:--
“I must not deceive myself; it was no dream, but all a grim reality.” Then his eyes roved round the room; as they caught sight of the two figures sitting patiently on the edge of the bed he went on: --
“If I were not sure already, I would know from them.” For an instant his eyes closed--not with pain or sleep but voluntarily,as though he were bringing all his faculties to bear; when he opened them he said, hurriedly,and with more energy than he had yet displayed:--
“Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying!I feel that I have but a few minutes; and then I must go back to death--or worse!Wet my lips with brandy again. I have something that I must say before I die;or before my poor crushed brain dies anyhow. Thank you!It was that night after you left me, when I implored you to let me go away. I couldn’t speak then,for I felt my tongue was tied; but I was as sane then, except in that way, as I am now.I was in an agony of despair for a long time after you left me; it seemed hours.Then there came a sudden peace to me. My brain seemed to become cool again,and I realised where I was. I heard the dogs bark behind our house, but not where He was!” As he spoke, Van Helsing’s eyes never blinked,but his hand came out and met mine and gripped it hard. He did not, however, betray himself;he nodded slightly and said: “Go on,” in a low voice. Renfield proceeded:--
“He came up to the window in the mist, as I had seen him often before;but he was solid then--not a ghost, and his eyes were fierce like a man’s when angry.He was laughing with his red mouth; the sharp white teeth glinted in the moonlight when he turned to look back over the belt of trees,to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn’t ask him to come in at first,though I knew he wanted to--just as he had wanted all along.Then he began promising me things--not in words but by doing them.” He was interrupted by a word from the Professor:--
“How?”
“By making them happen; just as he used to send in the flies when the sun was shining.Great big fat ones with steel and sapphire on their wings; and big moths, in the night,with skull and cross-bones on their backs.” Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me unconsciously:--
“The _Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges_--what you call the ‘Death’s-head Moth’?” The patient went on without stopping.
“Then he began to whisper: ‘Rats, rats, rats!Hundreds, thousands, millions of them, and every one a life; and dogs to eat them, and cats too. All lives!all red blood, with years of life in it; and not merely buzzing flies!’ I laughed at him, for I wanted to see what he could do. Then the dogs howled,away beyond the dark trees in His house. He beckoned me to the window. I got up and looked out,and He raised his hands, and seemed to call out without using any words.A dark mass spread over the grass, coming on like the shape of a flame of fire;and then He moved the mist to the right and left,and I could see that there were thousands of rats with their eyes blazing red--like His,only smaller. He held up his hand, and they all stopped; and I thought he seemed to be saying:‘All these lives will I give you, ay, and many more and greater, through countless ages, if you will fall down and worship me!’ And then a red cloud, like the colour of blood, seemed to close over my eyes;and before I knew what I was doing, I found myself opening the sash and saying to Him: ‘Come in, Lord and Master!’ The rats were all gone, but He slid into the room through the sash,though it was only open an inch wide--just as the Moon herself has often come in through the tiniest crack and has stood before me in all her size and splendour.”