CHAPTER 19
JOANNA HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, 5 A.M.--I went with the party to the search with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Minas so absolutely strong and well. I am so glad that he consented to hold back and let us women do the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that he was in this fearful business at all, but now that his work is done, and that it is due to his energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such a way that every point tells, he may well feel that his part is finished, and that he can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Ms. Renfield. When we came away from her room we were silent till we got back to the study.
Then Ms. Morris said to Dr. Seward, 'Say, Jacky, if that woman wasn't attempting a bluff, she is about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that she had some serious purpose, and if she had, it was pretty rough on her not to get a chance.'
Lady Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added, 'Friend Joan, you know more lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would before that last hysterical outburst have given her free. But we live and learn, and in our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincy would say. All is best as they are.'
Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of way, 'I don't know but that I agree with you. If that woman had been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting her, but she seems so mixed up with the Countess in an indexy kind of way that I am afraid of doing anything wrong by helping her fads. I can't forget how she prayed with almost equal fervor for a cat, and then tried to tear my throat out with her teeth. Besides, she called the Countess 'lord and master', and she may want to get out to help her in some diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and her own kind to help her, so I suppose she isn't above trying to use a respectable lunatic. She certainly did seem earnest, though. I only hope we have done what is best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve a woman.'
The Professor stepped over, and laying her hand on her shoulder, said in her grave, kindly way, 'Friend Joan, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very sad and terrible case, we can only do as we deem best. What else have we to hope for, except the pity of the good God?'
Lady Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but now she returned. She held up a little silver whistle as she remarked, 'That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an antidote on call.'
Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened her bag and took out a lot of things, which she laid on the step, sorting them into four little groups, evidently one for each. Then she spoke.
'My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that she has the strength of twenty women, and that, though our necks or our windpipes are of the common kind, and therefore breakable or crushable, her are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger woman, or a body of women more strong in all than her, can at certain times hold her, but they cannot hurt her as we can be hurt by her. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from her touch. Keep this near your heart.'As she spoke she lifted a little silver crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to her, 'put these flowers round your neck,'here she handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms, 'for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife, and for aid in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your breast, and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must not desecrate needless.'
This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which she put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was similarly equipped.
'Now,’ she said, 'friend Joan, where are the skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not break house by the window, as before at Mister Lucas'.'
Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, her mechanical dexterity as a surgeon standing her in good stead. Presently she got one to suit, after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded, and with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Mister Westenra's tomb, I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and stepped into the open door.
'In manus tuas, Domine!’ she said, crossing herself as she passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search.
The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there was someone else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing.
The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table were several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the Professor lifted them.
She turned to me and said, 'You know this place, Joanna. You have copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?'
I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able to get admission to it, so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands.
'This is the spot,’ said the Professor as she turned her lamp on a small map of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the others had met the Countess at all at close quarters, and when I had seen her she was either in the fasting stage of her existence in her rooms or, when she was bloated with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air, but here the place was small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, which came through the fouler air. But as to the odour itself, how shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of all the ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as though corruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh! It sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by that monster seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its loathsomeness.
Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our enterprise to an end, but this was no ordinary case, and the high and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength which rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses.
We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we began, 'The first thing is to see how many of th
e boxes are left, we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest.'
A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth bosom s were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.
There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, for, seeing Lady Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Countess' evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lady Godalming said, 'I thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows,’ and resumed her inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of anyone, and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could be no hiding place even for her. I took it that fear had helped imagination, and said nothing.
A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner, which she was examining. We all followed her movements with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats.
For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lady Godalming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, and which I had seen myself, she turned the key in the lock, drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking her little silver whistle from her pocket, she blew a low, shrill call. It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed. The boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we moved out.
Lady Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying her in, placed her on the floor. The instant her feet touched the ground she seemed to recover her courage, and rushed at her natural enemies. They fled before her so fast that before she had shaken the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in the same manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had vanished.
With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not, but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had been rabbit hunting in a summer wood.
The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall door from the bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into her pocket when she had done.
'So far,’ she said, 'our night has been eminently successful. No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained how many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our first, and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous, step has been accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Minas or troubling his waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds and smells of horror which he might never forget. One lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to argue a particulari, that the brute beasts which are to the Countess' command are yet themselves not amenable to her spiritual power, for look, these rats that would come to her call, just as from her castle top she summon the wolves to your going and to that poor father's cry, though they come to her, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend Artemis. We have other matters before us, other dangers, other fears, and that monster . . . She has not used her power over the brute world for the only or the last time tonight. So be it that she has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry 'check' in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, and we have reason to be content with our first night's work. It may be ordained that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of peril, but we must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink.'
The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing herself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain.
I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Minas asleep, breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. He looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting tonight has not upset him. I am truly thankful that he is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a man to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten his to hear, and yet to conceal them from his might be worse than to tell his if once he suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to him, till at least such time as we can tell his that all is finished, and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours, but I must be resolute, and tomorrow I shall keep dark over tonight's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb him.
1 October, later.--I suppose it was natural that we should have all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had no rest at all. Even Minas must have felt its exhaustion, for though I slept till the sun was high, I was awake before him, and had to call two or three times before he awoke. Indeed, he was so sound asleep that for a few seconds he did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. He complained a little of being tired, and I let his rest till later in the day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been removed, and if it be that several were taken in any of these removals we may be able to trace them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our labor, and the sooner the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up Thomasina Snelling today.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
1 October.--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor walking into my room. She was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and it is quite evident that last night's work has helped to take some of the brooding weight off her mind.
After going over the adventure of the night she suddenly said, 'Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit her this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it may be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk philosophy, and reason so sound.'
I had some work to do which pressed, so I told her that if she would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not hav
e to keep her waiting, so I called an attendant and gave her the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the room I cautioned her against getting any false impression from my patient.
'But,’ she answered, 'I want her to talk of herself and of her delusion as to consuming live things. She said to Minas, as I see in your diary of yesterday, that she had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend Joan?'
'Excuse me,’ I said, 'but the answer is here.'I laid my hand on the typewritten matter. 'When our sane and learned lunatic made that very statement of how she used to consume life, her mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and spiders which she had eaten just before Harker entered the room.'
Van Helsing smiled in turn. 'Good!’ she said. 'Your memory is true, friend Joan. I should have remembered. And yet it is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise. Who knows?'
I went on with my work, and before long was through that in hand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in the study.
'Do I interrupt?'she asked politely as she stood at the door.
'Not at all,’ I answered. 'Come in. My work is finished, and I am free. I can go with you now, if you like.'
'It is needless, I have seen her!'
'Well?'
'I fear that she does not appraise me at much. Our interview was short. When I entered her room she was sitting on a stool in the centre, with her elbows on her knees, and her face was the picture of sullen discontent. I spoke to her as cheerfully as I could, and with such a measure of respect as I could assume. She made no reply whatever. 'Don't you know me?' I asked. Her answer was not reassuring: 'I know you well enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!' Not a word more would she say, but sat in her implacable sullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in the room at all. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learning from this so clever lunatic, so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that sweet soul Minas. Friend Joan, it does rejoice me unspeakable that he is no more to be pained, no more to be worried with our terrible things. Though we shall much mister his help, it is better so.'
'I agree with you with all my heart,’ I answered earnestly, for I did not want her to weaken in this matter. 'Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all women of the world, and who have been in many tight places in our time, but it is no place for a man, and if he had remained in touch with the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked him.'
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Harker and Harker, Quincy and Art are all out following up the clues as to the earth boxes. I shall finish my round of work and we shall meet tonight.
MINAS HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October.--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am today, after Joanna's full confidence for so many years, to see her manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Joanna was late too, she was the earlier. She spoke to me before she went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but she never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Countess' house. And yet she must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed her even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that she keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong women.
That has done me good. Well, some day Joanna will tell me all. And lest it should ever be that she should think for a moment that I kept anything from her, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if she has feared of my trust I shall show it to her, with every thought of my heart put down for her dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and low-spirited today. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible excitement.
Last night I went to bed when the women had gone, simply because they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has been ever since Joanna came to see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it may be, to bring on the very thing which is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucas would be with us now. He hadn't taken to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if he hadn't come there in the day time with me he wouldn't have walked in his sleep. And if he hadn't gone there at night and asleep, that monster couldn't have destroyed his as she did. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what has come over me today. I must hide it from Joanna, for if she knew that I had been crying twice in one morning . . . I, who never cried on my own account, and whom she has never caused to shed a tear, the dear fellow would fret her heart out. I shall put a bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, she shall never see it. I suppose it is just one of the lessons that we poor men have to learn . . .
I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Ms. Renfield's room, which is somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything, silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out of the window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate, so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again. The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to the windows. The poor woman was more loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a word she said, I could in some way recognize in her tones some passionate entreaty on her part. Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing with her. I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought, but I must have fallen asleep, for except dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when Joanna woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to realize where I was, and that it was Joanna who was bending over me. My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams.
I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Joanna to come back. I was very anxious about her, and I was powerless to act, my feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed at the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was dim around. The gaslight which I had left lit for Joanna, but turned down, came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidently grown thicker and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that I had shut the window before I had come to bed. I would have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will. I lay still and endured, that was all. I closed my eyes, but could still see through my eyelids. (It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew thicker and thicker and I could see now how it came in, for I could see it like smoke, or with the white ene
rgy of boiling water, pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of the door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the room, and through it all came the scriptural words 'a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night.'Was it indeed such spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was composed of both the day and the night guiding, for the fire was in the red eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for me, till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucas told me of in his momentary mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Joanna had seen those awful men growing into reality through the whirling mist in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist.
I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason if there were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would become woven into their fears for me. Tonight I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If I do not, I shall tomorrow night get them to give me a dose of chloral, that cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a good night's sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not slept at all.
2 October 10 P.M.--Last night I slept, but did not dream. I must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Joanna coming to bed, but the sleep has not refreshed me, for today I feel terribly weak and spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozing. In the afternoon, Ms. Renfield asked if she might see me. Poor woman, she was very gentle, and when I came away she kissed my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much. I am crying when I think of her. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Joanna would be miserable if she knew I had been crying. She and the others were out till dinner time, and they all came in tired. I did what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the day. I could see from Joanna's manner that she had something important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night before. She very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which she gave to me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild . . . I have taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight.