No More Learning

So I came
away. I mistrust these quiet moods of his; so I have given the attendant
a hint to look closely after him, and to have a strait-waistcoat ready
in case of need.


_Jonathan Harker's Journal. _

_29 September, in train to London. _--When I received Mr. Billington's
courteous message that he would give me any information in his power,
I thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the spot, such
inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo
of the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be able to deal
with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, and
brought me to his father's house, where they had decided that I must
stay the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality:
give a guest everything, and leave him free to do as he likes. They all
knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington
had ready in his office all the papers concerning the consignment of
boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which
I had seen on the Count's table before I knew of his diabolical plans.
Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically and
with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle
which might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions being
carried out. To use an Americanism, he had "taken no chances," and the
absolute accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled was simply
the logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it:
"Fifty cases of common earth, to be used for experimental purposes. "
Also the copy of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply; of both
of these I got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington
could give me, so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the
Customs officers, and the harbour-master. They had all something to say
of the strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in
local tradition; but no one could add to the simple description: "Fifty
cases of common earth. " I then saw the station-master, who kindly put
me in communication with the men who had actually received the boxes.
Their tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to add except
that the boxes were "main and mortal heavy," and that shifting them
was dry work. One of them added that it was hard lines that there
wasn't any gentleman "such-like as yourself, squire," to show some sort
of appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form; another put in a
rider that the thirst then generated was such that even the time which
had elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I took
care before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source of
reproach.

_30 September. _--The station-master was good enough to give me a line
to his old companion the station-master at King's Cross, so that when
I arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrival
of the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication with the proper
officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the original
invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been here
limited; a noble use of them had, however, been made, and again I was
compelled to deal with the result in an _ex post facto_ manner.

From thence I went on to Carter Paterson's central office, where I
met with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in their
day-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King's Cross
office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming
were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, sending
also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected with the
delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeing
exactly; the carriers' men were able to supplement the paucity of the
written words with a few details. These were, I shortly found, connected
almost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequent
thirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an opportunity,
through the medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying at a
later period this beneficent evil, one of the men remarked:--

"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! but
it ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thick
in the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of yer
bones; an' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave smelled ole
Jerusalem in it. But the ole chapel--that took the cike, that did! Me
and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick enough. Lor', I
wouldn't take less nor a quid a moment to stay there arter dark. "

Having been in the house, I could well believe him; but if he knew what
I know, he would, I think, have raised his terms.

Of one thing I am now satisfied: that _all_ the boxes which arrived
at Whitby from Varna in the _Demeter_ were safely deposited in the old
chapel of Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any have
since been removed--as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.

I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax when
Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn a good
deal.

_Later. _--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papers
into order.


_Mina Harker's Journal. _

_30 September. _--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain myself.
It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which I have had:
that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old wound might act
detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave
a face as I could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort has,
however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never so strong, never
so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It is just as that dear,
good Professor Van Helsing said: he is true grit, and he improves under
strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and
hope and determination; we have got everything in order for to-night.
I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity
any thing so hunted as is the Count. That is just it: this Thing is
not human--not even beast. To read Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy's
death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in
one's heart.

_Later. _--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we
expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan
with him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for
it brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months ago.
Of course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr.
Van Helsing, too, had been quite "blowing my trumpet," as Mr. Morris
expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all
about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to
say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so they
had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter over,
and came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to
post them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's diary
that they had been at Lucy's death--her real death--and that I need not
fear to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, as well as I
could, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my husband
and I, having typewritten them, had just finished putting them in order.
I gave them each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got
his and turned it over--it does make a pretty good pile--he said:--

"Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker? "

I nodded, and he went on:--

"I don't quite see the drift of it; but you people are all so good and
kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, that
all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. I
have had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a man
humble to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poor
Lucy----" Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands.
I could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive
delicacy, just laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked
quietly out of the room. I suppose there is something in woman's nature
that makes a man free to break down before her and express his feelings
on the tender or emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his
manhood; for when Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down
on the sofa and gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him and
took his hand. I hope he didn't think it forward of me, and that if he
ever thinks of it afterwards he never will have such a thought. There I
wrong him; I _know_ he never will--he is too true a gentleman. I said to
him, for I could see that his heart was breaking:--

"I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to
her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let
me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have
had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can
help in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service--for
Lucy's sake? "

In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It seemed
to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found a
vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat
his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat
down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinite
pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his
head on my shoulder, and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook
with emotion.

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above
smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big,
sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby
that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he
were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all was.

After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an
apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that
for days and nights past--weary days and sleepless nights--he had
been unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of
sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or with
whom, owing to the terrible circumstances with which his sorrow was
surrounded, he could speak freely. "I know now how I suffered," he said,
as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet--and none other can
ever know--how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall
know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful
now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be
like a brother, will you not, for all our lives--for dear Lucy's sake? "

"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for your
own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are ever worth
the winning, you have won mine to-day. If ever the future should bring
to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you will not call
in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to break the
sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come, promise me that you
will let me know. " He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that
I felt it would comfort him, so I said:--

"I promise. "

As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window.
He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art? " he said. Then noticing
my red eyes, he went on: "Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor
old fellow! he needs it. No one but a woman can help a man when he is in
trouble of the heart; and he had no one to comfort him. "

He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw the
manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would realise
how much I knew; so I said to him:--

"I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me
be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You
will know, later on, why I speak. " He saw that I was in earnest, and
stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed
but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I
bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a
momentary choking in his throat; he said quite calmly:--

"Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so long
as ever you live! " Then he went into the study to his friend.

"Little girl! "--the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he
proved himself a friend!




CHAPTER XVIII.

/Dr. Seward's Diary. /


_30 September. _--I got home at five o'clock, and found that Godalming
and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript
of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife
had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to
the carriers' men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker
gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time
since I have lived in it, this old house seemed like _home_. When we had
finished, Mrs. Harker said:--

"Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr.
Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary
interests me so much! " She looked so appealing and so pretty that I
could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should; so
I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a
lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered: "Why? "

"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it," I
answered. "Oh, very well," he said: "let her come in, by all means; but
just wait a minute till I tidy up the place. " His method of tidying was
peculiar: he simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes
before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was
jealous of, some interference. When he had got through his disgusting
task, he said cheerfully: "Let the lady come in," and sat down on the
edge of his bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised so that
he could see her as she entered. For a moment I thought that he might
have some homicidal intent; I remembered how quiet he had been just
before he attacked me in my own study, and I took care to stand where
I could seize him at once if he attempted to make a spring at her. She
came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would at once command
the respect of any lunatic--for easiness is one of the qualities mad
people most respect. She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and
held out her hand.

"Good evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you, for Dr.
Seward has told me of you. " He made no immediate reply, but eyed her all
over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way to one
of wonder, which merged in doubt; then, to my intense astonishment, he
said:--

"You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be,
you know, for she's dead. " Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied:--

"Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before I ever
saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker. "

"Then what are you doing here? "

"My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward. "

"Then don't stay. "

"But why not? " I thought that this style of conversation might not be
pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined in:--

"How did you know I wanted to marry any one? " His reply was simply
contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned his eyes from Mrs.
Harker to me, instantly turning them back again:--

"What an asinine question! "

"I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield," said Mrs. Harker, at once
championing me. He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as
he had shown contempt to me:--

"You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is loved
and honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of interest in
our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not only by his household and
his friends, but even by his patients, who, being some of them hardly
in mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and effects. Since I
myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I cannot but notice
that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates lean towards the
errors of _non causa_ and _ignoratio elenchi_. " I positively opened my
eyes at this new development. Here was my own pet lunatic--the most
pronounced of his type that I had ever met with--talking elemental
philosophy, and with the manner of a polished gentleman. I wonder if it
was Mrs. Harker's presence which had touched some chord in his memory.
If this new phase was spontaneous, or in any way due to her unconscious
influence, she must have some rare gift or power.

We continued to talk for some time; and, seeing that he was seemingly
quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me questioningly as she
began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I was again astonished,
for he addressed himself to the question with the impartiality of the
completest sanity; he even took himself as an example when he mentioned
certain things.

"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. Indeed,
it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on my
being put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive and
perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no
matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely prolong
life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually tried to
take human life.
The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion
I tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers
by the assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of
his blood--relying, of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, 'For the
blood is the life. ' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has
vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn't that true,
doctor? " I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what I
ought to think or say; it was hard to imagine that I had seen him eat
up his spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch,
I saw that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I told
Mrs. Harker that it was time to leave. She came at once, after saying
pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: "Good-bye, and I hope I may see you often,
under auspices pleasanter to yourself," to which, to my astonishment, he
replied:--

"Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face again.
May He bless and keep you! "

When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys behind
me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy first took
ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he has been for
many a long day.

Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager nimbleness of a
boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying:--

"Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been busy, for I come
here to stay if need be. All affairs are settled with me, and I have
much to tell. Madam Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And
Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too? Good! "

As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of how my own
diary had come to be of some use through Mrs. Harker's suggestion; at
which the Professor interrupted me:--

"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain--a brain that a
man should have were he much gifted--and woman's heart. The good God
fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good
combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman of help
to us; after to-night she must not have to do with this so terrible
affair. It is not good that she run a risk so great. We men are
determined--nay, are we not pledged? --to destroy this monster; but it is
no part for a woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her
in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in
waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. And, besides,
she is young woman and not so long married; there may be other things
to think of some time, if not now. You tell me she has wrote all, then
she must consult with us; but to-morrow she say good-bye to this work,
and we go alone. " I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what
we had found in his absence: that the house which Dracula had bought was
the very next one to my own. He was amazed, and a great concern seemed
to come on him. "Oh that we had known it before! " he said, "for then we
might have reached him in time to save poor Lucy. However, 'the milk
that is spilt cries not out afterwards,' as you say. We shall not think
of that, but go on our way to the end. " Then he fell into a silence that
lasted till we entered my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for
dinner he said to Mrs. Harker:--

"I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend John that you and your husband have
put up in exact order all things that have been, up to this moment. "

"Not up to this moment, Professor," she said impulsively, "but up to
this morning. "

"But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light all the
little things have made. We have told our secrets, and yet no one who
has told is the worse for it. "

Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her pocket, she
said:--

"Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must go in? It
is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need of putting down at
present everything, however trivial; but there is little in this except
what is personal. Must it go in? " The Professor read it over gravely,
and handed it back, saying:--

"It need not go in if you do not wish it; but pray that it may. It can
but make your husband love you the more, and all us, your friends, more
honour you--as well as more esteem and love. " She took it back with
another blush and a bright smile.

And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are complete
and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study after dinner,
and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine o'clock. The rest of us
have already read everything; so when we meet in the study we shall all
be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle with this
terrible and mysterious enemy.


_Mina Harker's Journal. _

_30 September. _--When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours after
dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously formed a sort
of board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took the head of the
table, to which Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He
made me sit next to him on his right, and asked me to act as secretary;
Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward,
and Mr. Morris--Lord Godalming being next to the Professor, and Dr.
Seward in the centre. The Professor said:--

"I may, I suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with the facts
that are in these papers. " We all expressed assent, and he went on:--

"Then it were, I think good that I tell you something of the kind
of enemy with which we have to deal. I shall then make known to you
something of the history of this man, which has been ascertained for
me. So we then can discuss how we shall act, and can take our measure
according.

"There are such beings as vampires; some of us have evidence that
they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience,
the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane
peoples. I admit that at the first I was sceptic. Were it not that
through long years I have trained myself to keep an open mind, I could
not have believe until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. 'See!
see! I prove; I prove. ' Alas! Had I known at the first what now I
know--nay, had I even guess at him--one so precious life had been spared
to many of us who did love her. But that is gone; and we must so work,
that other poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The _nosferatu_
do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger; and
being stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This vampire which
is amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men; he is
of cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages; he
have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply,
the divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to
are for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil
in callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within limitations,
appear at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to
him; he can, within his range, direct the elements: the storm, the fog,
the thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the
owl, and the bat--the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and
become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are
we to begin our strife to destroy him? How shall we find his where; and
having found it, how can we destroy? My friends, this is much; it is a
terrible task that we undertake, and there may be consequence to make
the brave shudder. For if we fail in this our fight he must surely win;
and then where end we? Life is nothings; I heed him not. But to fail
here, is not mere life or death. It is that we become as him; that we
henceforward become foul things of the night like him--without heart or
conscience, preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best.
To us for ever are the gates of heaven shut; for who shall open them to
us again? We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of
God's sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are
face to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink? For me, I say,
no; but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his
song of birds, his music, and his love, lie far behind. You others are
young. Some have seen sorrow; but there are fair days yet in store. What
say you? "

Whilst he was speaking Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared, oh so
much, that the appalling nature of our danger was overcoming him when I
saw his hand stretch out; but it was life to me to feel its touch--so
strong, so self-reliant, so resolute. A brave man's hand can speak for
itself; it does not even need a woman's love to hear its music.

When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my eyes, and I
in his; there was no need for speaking between us.

"I answer for Mina and myself," he said.

"Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconically as usual.

"I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if for no other
reason. "

Dr. Seward simply nodded. The Professor stood up, and, after laying his
golden crucifix on the table, held out his hand on either side. I took
his right hand, and Lord Godalming his left; Jonathan held my right with
his left and stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took hands our
solemn compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it did not even
occur to me to draw back. We resumed our places, and Dr. Van Helsing
went on with a sort of cheerfulness which showed that the serious work
had begun. It was to be taken as gravely, and in as businesslike a way,
as any other transaction of life:--

"Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are not
without strength. We have on our side power of combination--a power
denied to the vampire kind; we have resources of science; we are free
to act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours
equally. In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, and
we are free to use them. We have self-devotion in a cause, and an end to
achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much.

"Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us are
restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us consider the
limitations of the vampire in general, and of this one in particular.

"All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions. These do
not at the first appear much, when the matter is one of life and
death--nay of more than either life or death. Yet must we be satisfied;
in the first place because we have to be--no other means is at our
control--and secondly, because, after all, these things--tradition and
superstition--are everything. Does not the belief in vampires rest
for others--though not, alas! for us--on them? A year ago which of us
would have received such a possibility, in the midst of our scientific,
sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We even scouted a belief
that we saw justified under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the
vampire, and the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest for the
moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is known everywhere
that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome; he flourish in Germany
all over, in France, in India, even in the Chersonese; and in China,
so far from us in all ways, there even is he, and the peoples fear him
at this day. He have follow the wake of the berserker Icelander, the
devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon, the Magyar. So far, then,
we have all we may act upon; and let me tell you that very much of
the beliefs are justified by what we have seen in our own so unhappy
experience. The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of
the time; he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood of
the living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he can even grow
younger; that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem as though
they refresh themselves when his special pabulum is plenty. But he
cannot flourish without this diet; he eat not as others. Even friend
Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him to eat, never!
He throws no shadow; he make in the mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan
observe. He has the strength of many in his hand--witness again
Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him
from the diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather
from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as
bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John
saw him fly from this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at
the window of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create--that noble
ship's captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance
he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He
come on moonlight rays as elemental dust--as again Jonathan saw those
sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small--we ourselves saw
Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a hair-breadth space at
the tomb door. He can, when once he find his way, come out from anything
or into anything, no matter how close it be bound or even fused up
with fire--solder you call it. He can see in the dark--no small power
this, in a world which is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear
me through. He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay; he is
even more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in his
cell. He cannot go where he lists; he who is not of nature has yet to
obey some of nature's laws--why we know not. He may not enter anywhere
at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to
come; though afterwards he can come as he please. His power ceases, as
does that of all evil things, at the coming of the day. Only at certain
times can he have limited freedom. If he be not at the place whither
he is bound, he can only change himself at noon or at exact sunrise
or sunset. These things are we told, and in this record of ours we
have proof by inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will within his
limit, when he have his earth-home, his coffin-home, his hell-home, the
place unhallowed, as we saw when he went to the grave of the suicide at
Whitby; still at other time he can only change when the time come. It is
said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or the flood
of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict him that he has no
power, as the garlic that we know of; and as for things sacred, as this
symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst us even now when we resolve, to
them he is nothing, but in their presence he take his place far off and
silent with respect. There are others, too, which I shall tell you of,
lest in our seeking we may need them. The branch of wild rose on his
coffin keep him that he move not from it; a sacred bullet fired into the
coffin kill him so that he be true dead; and as for the stake through
him, we know already of its peace; or the cut-off head that giveth rest.
We have seen it with our eyes.

"Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we can confine
him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we know. But he is
clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to
make his record; and, from all the means that are, he tell me of what
he has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won
his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of
Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common man; for in that time,
and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the
most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond
the forest. ' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him
to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were,
says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions
who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One.
They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains
over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his
due. In the records are such words as 'stregoica'--witch, 'ordog,' and
'pokol'--Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is
spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well. There have been
from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their
graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it
is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in
all good; in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest. "

Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at the window,
and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room. There was a little
pause, and then the Professor went on:--

"And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data, and we must
proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the inquiry of Jonathan
that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which
were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some of these
boxes have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step should be
to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall
where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the
latter, we must trace----"

Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the house came
the sound of a pistol-shot; the glass of the window was shattered with
a bullet, which, ricocheting from the top of the embrasure, struck the
far wall of the room. I am afraid I am at heart a coward, for I shrieked
out. The men all jumped to their feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the
window and threw up the sash. As he did so we heard Mr. Morris's voice
without:--

"Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you about
it. " A minute later he came in and said:--

"It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs.
Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened you terribly.
But the fact is that while the Professor was talking there came a big
bat and sat on the window-sill. I have got such a horror of the damned
brutes from recent events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to
have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings whenever I have
seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art. "

"Did you hit it? " asked Dr. Van Helsing.

"I don't know; I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood. " Without
saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume his
statement:--

"We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are ready, we must
either capture or kill this monster in his lair; or we must, so to
speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in it.
Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the hours of
noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his most weak.

"And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be well.