The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature whowas screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning soundfrom Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself,after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain.
I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathingso softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks palerthan usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her. I am trulythankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of ourdeliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did notthink so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that itis settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear; andyet to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once shesuspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to bea sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can tell her thatall 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 suchconfidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and tomorrow I shall keepdark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything thathas happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.
_1 October, later._--I suppose it was natural that we should have alloverslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had norest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I slepttill the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call two orthree times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that fora few seconds she did not recognise me, but looked at me with a sort ofblank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. Shecomplained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till later inthe day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been removed, and if itbe that several were taken in any of these removals we may be able totrace them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our labour, andthe sooner the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up ThomasSnelling today.
_Dr. Seward's Diary._
_1 October._--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professorwalking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, andit is quite evident that last night's work has helped to take some ofthe brooding weight off his mind. After going over the adventure of thenight he suddenly said:----
"Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit himthis morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it maybe. 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 himthat if he would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have tokeep him waiting; so I called an attendant and gave him the necessaryinstructions. Before the Professor left the room I cautioned him againstgetting any false impression from my patient. "But," he answered, "Iwant him to talk of himself and of his delusion as to consuming livethings. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yes
terday, thathe had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend John?"
"Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand on thetypewritten matter. "When our sane and learned lunatic made that verystatement of how he _used_ to consume life, his mouth was actuallynauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs.Harker entered the room." Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said."Your memory is true, friend John. I should have remembered. And yet itis this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental diseasesuch a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of thefolly 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 inhand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there wasVan Helsing back in the study. "Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as hestood 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 him!"
"Well?"
"I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was short.When I entered the room he was sitting on a stool in the centre,with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture of sullendiscontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and with such ameasure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply whatever. 'Don'tyou know me?' I asked. His answer was not reassuring: 'I know you wellenough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourselfand your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headedDutchmen!' Not a word more would he say, but sat in his implacablesullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in the room atall. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learning from thisso clever lunatic; so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with afew happy words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it doesrejoice me unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to beworried, with our terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help,it is better so."
"I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I didnot want him to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker is better out of it.Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who havebeen in many tight places in our time; but it is no place for a woman,and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in timeinfallibly have wrecked her."
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker; Quinceyand Art are both out following up the clues as to the earth-boxes. Ishall finish my round of work, and we shall meet to-night.
_Mina Harker's Journal._
_1 October._--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I amtoday; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see himmanifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all.This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and thoughJonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he wentout, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word ofwhat had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he musthave known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose itmust have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed thatit was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, andI acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I amcrying like a silly fool, when I _know_ it comes from my husband's greatlove and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men....
That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; andlest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I keptanything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he hasdoubted of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of myheart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad andlow-spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terribleexcitement.
Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because they toldme to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring anxiety.I kept thinking over everything that has been ever since Jonathan cameto see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fatepressing on relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one doesseems, no matter how right it may be, to bring on the very thing whichis most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dearLucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken to visiting the churchyardtill I came, and if she hadn't come there in the daytime with me shewouldn't have walked there in her sleep; and if she hadn't gone thereat night and asleep, that monster couldn't have destroyed her as hedid. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonderwhat has come over me to-day. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if heknew that I had been crying twice in one morning--I, who never cried onmy own account, and whom he has never caused to shed a tear--the dearfellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a bold face on, and if I dofeel weepy, he shall never see it. I suppose it is one of the lessonsthat we poor women have to learn....
I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I rememberhearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, likepraying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield's room, whichis somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything,silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out ofthe window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by themoonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thingseemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate; sothat a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptibleslowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentienceand a vitality of its own. I think that the digression of my thoughtsmust have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found a lethargycreeping over me. I lay awhile, but could not quite sleep, so I got outand looked out of the window again. The mist was spreading, and was nowclose up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick against thewall, as though it were stealing up to the windows. The poor man wasmore loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a word he said,I could in some way recognise in his tones some passionate entreaty onhis part. Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that theattendants were dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept intobed, 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 havefallen asleep, for, except dreams, I do not remember anything until themorning, when Jonathan woke me. I think that it took me an effort anda little time to realise where I was, and that it was Jonathan who wasbending over me. My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical ofthe way that waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams.
I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come back. Iwas very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act; my feet, andmy hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed atthe usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began todawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put back theclothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was dim aroundme. The gas-light which I had left lit for Jonathan, but turned down,came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidentlygrown thicker and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that Ihad shut the window before I had come to bed. I would have got out tomake certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain mylimbs and even my will. I lay still and endured; that was all. I closedmy eyes, but could still see through my eyelids. (It is wonderful whattricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) Themist grew thicker and thicker, and I could see now how it came in,for I could see it like smoke--or with the white energy of boilingwater--pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings ofthe door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it becameconcentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through thetop 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 nowwhirling in the room, and through it all came the scriptural words "apillar of cloud by day and of fire by night." Was it indeed some suchspiritual g
uidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar wascomposed of both the day and the night-guiding, for the fire was in thered eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for me; till, as Ilooked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog liketwo red eyes; such as Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wanderingwhen, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary'sChurch. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathanhad seen those awful women growing into reality through the whirlingmist in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for allbecame black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination madewas to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist. Imust be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason ifthere was too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward toprescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fearto alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would become woven intotheir fears for me. To-night I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. IfI do not, I shall to-morrow 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 musthave slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed; butthe sleep has not refreshed me, for to-day I feel terribly weak andspiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozing.In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, hewas very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade Godbless me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when I think of him.This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would bemiserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the others were out untildinner-time, and they all came in tired. I did what I could to brightenthem up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot howtired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed, and all went off to smoketogether, as they said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each otherof what had occurred to each during the day; I could see from Jonathan'smanner that he had something important to communicate. I was not sosleepy as I should have been; so before they went I asked Dr. Seward togive me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the nightbefore. He very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave tome, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild.... Ihave taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hopeI have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fearcomes: that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of thepower of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Good-night.
CHAPTER XX.
/Jonathan Harker's Journal./
_1 October, evening._--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at BethnalGreen, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anything.The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened tohim had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expecteddebauch. I learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poorsoul, that he was only the assistant to Smollet, who of the two mateswas the responsible person. So off I drove to Walworth, and found Mr.Joseph Smollet at home and in his shirt-sleeves, taking a late tea outof a saucer. He is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good,reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He rememberedall about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog's-earednotebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about theseat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick,half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxes.There were, he said, six in the cartload which he took from Carfax andleft at 197 Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six whichhe deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then the Count meant toscatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, these places werechosen at the first of delivery, so that later he might distribute morefully. The systematic manner in which this was done made me think thathe could not mean to confine himself to two sides of London. He was nowfixed on the far east of the northern shore, on the east of the southernshore, and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant tobe left out of his diabolical scheme--let alone the City itself and thevery heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west. I went backto Smollet and asked him if he could tell us if any other boxes had beentaken from Carfax.
He replied:--
"Well, guv'nor, you've treated me wery 'an'some"--I had given him halfa sovereign--"an' I'll tell yer all I know. I heeard a man by the nameof Bloxam say four nights ago in the 'Are an' 'Ounds, in Pincher'sAlley, as 'ow he an' his mate 'ad 'ad a rare dusty job in a old 'ouse atPurfleet. There ain't a-many such jobs as this 'ere, an' I'm thinkin'that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut." I asked if he could tellme where to find him. I told him that if he could get me the address itwould be worth another half-sovereign to him. So he gulped down the restof his tea and stood up, saying that he was going to begin the searchthen and there. At the door he stopped, and said:--
"Look, 'ere, guv'nor, there ain't no sense in me a-keepin' you 'ere. Imay find Sam soon, or I mayn't; but anyhow he ain't like to be in a wayto tell ye much to-night. Sam is a rare one when he starts on the booze.If you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address onit, I'll find out where Sam is to be found and post it ye to-night. Butye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the mornin', or maybe ye won't ketch'im; for Sam gets off main early, never mind the booze the night afore."
This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a pennyto buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change. Whenshe came back I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when Smollethad again faithfully promised to post the address when found, I took myway to home. We're on the track anyhow. I am tired to-night, and wantsleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale; her eyes lookas though she had been crying. Poor dear, I've no doubt it frets her tobe kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly anxious about me and theothers. But it is best as it is. It is better to be disappointed andworried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctorswere quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadfulbusiness. I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silencemust rest. I shall not ever enter on the subject with her under anycircumstances. Indeed, it may not be a hard task, after all, sheherself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of theCount or his doings ever since we told her of our decision.
_2 October, evening._--A long and trying and exciting day. By the firstpost I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, onwhich was written with a carpenter's pencil in a sprawling hand:--