Dracula Refanged

CHAPTER 11

  LUCAS WESTENRA'S DIARY

  12 September.--How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why she was so anxious about these flowers. She positively frightened me, she was so fierce. And yet she must have been right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late, the pain of sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horrors as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am tonight, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with 'virgin crants and maiden strewments.' I never liked garlic before, but tonight it is delightful! There is peace in its smell. I feel sleep coming already. Goodnight, everybody.

  DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

  13 September.--Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The Professor took her bag, which she always brings with her now.

  Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning. The bright sunshine and all the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the completion of nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours, but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we met Westenra coming out of the morning room. He is always an early riser. He greeted us warmly and said,

  'You will be glad to know that Lucas is better. The dear child is still asleep. I looked into his room and saw him, but did not go in, lest I should disturb him.’ The Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. She rubbed her hands together, and said, 'Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working.'

  To which he replied, 'You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor. Lucas's state this morning is due in part to me.'

  'How do you mean, ma'am?'asked the Professor.

  'Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into his room. He was sleeping soundly, so soundly that even my coming did not wake him. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and he had actually a bunch of them round his neck. I feared that the heavy odour would be too much for the dear child in his weak state, so I took them all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with him, I am sure.'

  He moved off into his boudoir, where he usually breakfasted early. As he had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn ashen gray. She had been able to retain her self-command whilst the poor sir was present, for she knew his state and how mischievous a shock would be. She actually smiled on his as she held open the door for his to pass into his room. But the instant he had disappeared she pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining room and closed the door.

  Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. She raised her hands over her head in a sort of mute despair, and then beat her palms together in a helpless way. Finally she sat down on a chair, and putting her hands before her face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking of her heart.

  Then she raised her arms again, as though appealing to the whole universe. 'God! God! God!’ she said. 'What have we done, what has this poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? Is there fate amongst us still, send down from the pagan world of old, that such things must be, and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and all for the best as he think, does such thing as lose his son body and soul, and we must not tell him, we must not even warn him, or he die, then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are all the powers of the devils against us!'

  Suddenly she jumped to her feet. 'Come,’ she said, 'come, we must see and act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not. We must fight her all the same.'She went to the hall door for her bag, and together we went up to Lucas's room.

  Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the bed. This time she did not start as she looked on the poor face with the same awful, waxen pallor as before. She wore a look of stern sadness and infinite pity.

  'As I expected,’ she murmured, with that hissing inspiration of her which meant so much. Without a word she went and locked the door, and then began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognized the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but she stopped me with a warning hand. 'No!’ she said. 'Today you must operate. I shall provide. You are weakened already.'As she spoke she took off her coat and rolled up her shirtsleeve.

  Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some return of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited herself and rested.

  Presently she took an opportunity of telling Westenra that he must not remove anything from Lucas's room without consulting her. That the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their odour was a part of the system of cure. Then she took over the care of the case herself, saying that she would watch this night and the next, and would send me word when to come.

  After another hour Lucas waked from his sleep, fresh and bright and seemingly not much the worse for his terrible ordeal.

  What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain.

  LUCAS WESTENRA'S DIARY

  17 September.--Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some long nightstallion, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim half remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing, darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant. And then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to have passed away. The noises that used to frighten me out of my wits, the flapping against the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and commanded me to do I know not what, have all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from Haarlem. Tonight Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as she has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched. I am well enough to be left alone.

  Thank God for Father's sake, and dear Artemis's, and for all our friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in her chair a lot of the time. I found her asleep twice when I awoke. But I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the window panes.

  THE PALL MALL GAZETTE 18 September.

  THE ESCAPED WOLF PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER

  INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS

  After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using the words 'PALL MALL GAZETTE' as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoological Gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomasina Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant house, and was just sitting down to her tea when I found her. Thomasina and her husband are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what she called business until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and she had lit her pipe, she said,

  'Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll exco
ose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions.'

  'How do you mean, ask them questions?’ I queried, wishful to get her into a talkative humor.

  ''Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way. Scratchin' of their ears in another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust, the 'ittin of the pole part afore I chucks in their dinner, but I waits till they've 'ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear scratchin'. Mind you,’ she added philosophically, 'there's a deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you a-comin' and arskin' of me questions about my business, and I that grump-like that only for your bloomin' 'arf-quid I'd 'a' seen you blowed fust 'fore I'd answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic like if I'd like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence did I tell yer to go to 'ell?'

  'You did.'

  'An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene language that was 'ittin' me over the 'ead. But the 'arf-quid made that all right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my 'owl as the wolves and lions and tigers does. But, lor' love yer 'art, now that the old 'ooman has stuck a chunk of his tea-cake in me, an' rinsed me out with his bloomin' old teapot, and I've lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and won't even get a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin' at, that 'ere escaped wolf.'

  'Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened, and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end.'

  'All right, guv'nor. This 'ere is about the 'ole story. That 'ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three gray ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off her four years ago. She was a nephew well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more surprised at 'im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor men.'

  'Don't you mind her, Sir!'broke in Tom, with a cheery laugh. ''E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if she ain't like a old wolf 'isself! But there ain't no 'arm in 'im.'

  'Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the monkey house for a young puma which is ill. But when I heard the yelpin' and 'owlin' I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like a mad thing at the bars as if she wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about that day, and close at hand was only one woman, a tall, thin chap, with a 'ook nose and a pointed locks, with a few white hairs runnin' through it. She had a 'ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to her, for it seemed as if it was 'im as they was hirritated at. She 'ad white kid gloves on 'is ‘ands, and she pointed out the animiles to me and says, 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

  ''Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as she give 'isself. She didn't get angry, as I 'oped she would, but she smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' 'e says.

  ''Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of her. 'They always like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea time, which you 'as a bagful.'

  'Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin' they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker she let me stroke her ears same as ever. That there woman kem over, and blessed but if she didn't put in her hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

  ''Tyke care,' says I. 'Bersicker is quick.'

  ''Never mind,' she says. I'm used to 'em!'

  ''Are you in the business yourself?' I says, tyking off my 'at, for a woman what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers.

  ''Nom,' says she, 'not exactly in the business, but I 'ave made pets of several.' And with that she lifts her 'at as perlite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter 'im till 'e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn't come hout the 'ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-'owling. There warn't nothing for them to 'owl at. There warn't no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the 'owling stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look round afore turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that's all I know for certing.'

  'Did any one else see anything?'

  'One of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from a 'armony, when she sees a big gray dog comin' out through the garding 'edges. At least, so she says, but I don't give much for it myself, for if she did 'e never said a word about it to her missis when 'e got 'ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker, that she remembered seein' anything. My own belief was that the 'armony 'ad got into her 'ead.'

  'Now, Ms. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?'

  'Well, Sir,’ she said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, 'I think I can, but I don't know as 'ow you'd be satisfied with the theory.'

  'Certainly I shall. If a woman like you, who knows the animals from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?'

  'Well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems to me that 'ere wolf escaped--simply because she wanted to get out.'

  From the hearty way that both Thomasina and her husband laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in badinage with the worthy Thomasina, but I thought I knew a surer way to her heart, so I said, 'Now, Ms. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this sister of her is waiting to be claimed when you've told me what you think will happen.'

  'Right y'are, Sir,’ she said briskly. 'Ye'll excoose me, I know, for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old man here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on.'

  'Well, I never!’ said the old lady.

  'My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a'idin' of, somewheres. The gard'ner wot didn't remember said she was a-gallopin' northward faster than a horse could go, but I don't believe her, for, yer see, Sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog, and not half a quarter so much fight in 'im. This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself, and more like she's somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an' a'shiverin' of, and if she thinks at all, wonderin' where she is to get her breakfast from. Or maybe she's got down some area and is in a coal cellar. My eye, won't some cook get a rum start when he sees her green eyes a-shinin' at him out of the dark! If she can't get food she's bound to look for it, and mayhap she may chance to light on a butcher's shop in time. If she doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out walkin' or orf with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator--well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That's all.'

  I was handing her the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Ms. Bilder's face doubled its natural length with surprise.

  'God bless me!’ she said. 'If there ain't old Bersicker come back by 'isself!'

  She 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 her husband thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that mother of all picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving his confidence in masquerade.

  The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and set all the children in town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal daughter. Old Bilder examined her all over with most tender solicitude, and when she had finished with her 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 her 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.'

  She took the wolf and locked her up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.

  I came off too, to report the only exclusive information that is given today regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

  DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

  17 September.--I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucas, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my patient, with her face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of her own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown.

  Without an instant's notice she made straight at me. She had a dinner knife in her hand, and as I saw she was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. She was too quick and too strong for me, however, for before I could get my balance she had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely.

  Before she could strike again, however, I got in my right hand and she was sprawling on her 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 her, her employment positively sickened me. She was lying on her belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. She 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 Lucas's illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over excited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep. Tonight I could not well do without it.

  TELEGRAM, VAN HELSING, ANTWERP, TO SEWARD, CARFAX

  (Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given, delivered late by twenty-two hours.)

  17 September.--Do not fail to be at Hilllingham tonight. If not watching all the time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as placed, very important, do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as possible after arrival.

  DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

  18 September.--Just off train to London. The arrival of Van Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I know by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it is possible that all may be well, but what may have happened? Surely there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every possible accident should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucas's phonograph.

  MEMORANDUM LEFT BY LUCAS WESTENRA

  17 September, Night.--I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place tonight. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.

  I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.

  I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Minas 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 she would be, so that I might have called her. I tried to sleep, but I could not. Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not want it. So, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out, 'Is there anybody there?'There was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in. Seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, he came in and sat by me. He said to me even more sweetly and softly than his wont,

  'I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all right.'

  I feared he might catch cold sitting there, and asked his to come in and sleep with me, so he came into bed, and lay down beside me. He did not take off his dressing gown, for he said he would only stay a while and then go back to his own bed. As he lay there in my arms, and I in his the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. He was startled and a little frightened, and cried out, 'What is that?'

  I tried to pacify him, and at last succeeded, and he lay quiet. But I could hear his poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was the howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt gray wolf.

  Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help him. Amongst other things, he 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 he sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible gurgling in his throat. Then he fell over, as if struck with lightning, and his 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 her head back, and a whole myriad of little specks seems to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear Father's poor body, which seemed to grow cold already, for his 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 pages, 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 him, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to the dining room and each have a glass of wine. The door flew open f
or an instant and closed again. The pages shrieked, and then went in a body to the dining room, and I laid what flowers I had on my dear father'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 pages 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 Father'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 him, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.

  The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Goodbye, dear Artemis, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!