/Mina Harker's Journal./
_29 September._--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study. Hebrought back the phonograph from my room, and I took my typewriter. Heplaced me in a comfortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so that Icould touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it in caseI should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with hisback to me, so that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. Iput the forked metal to my ears and listened.
When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and--and all that followed,was done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not ofa fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with ahorrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case-bottle from acupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat restoredme. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came through allthe multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my dear, dear Lucywas at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne it withoutmaking a scene. It is all so wild, and mysterious, and strange that ifI had not known Jonathan's experience in Transylvania I could not havebelieved. As it was, I didn't know what to believe, and so got out ofmy difficulty by attending to something else. I took the cover off mytypewriter, and said to Dr. Seward:--
"Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van Helsingwhen he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come on here whenhe arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates are everything,and I think that if we get all our material ready, and have every itemput in chronological order, we shall have done much. You tell me thatLord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let us be able to tellthem when they come." He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace,and I began to typewrite from the beginning of the seventh cylinder.I used manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I haddone with all the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Sewardwent about his work of going his round of the patients; when he hadfinished he came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not feeltoo lonely whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is; the worldseems full of good men--even if there _are_ monsters in it. Before Ileft him I remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of the Professor'sperturbation at reading something in an evening paper at the stationat Exeter; so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowedthe files of "The Westminster Gazette" and "The Pall Mall Gazette," andtook them to my room. I remember how much "The Dailygraph" and "TheWhitby Gazette," of which I had made cuttings, helped us to understandthe terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall lookthrough the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some newlight. I am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet.
_Dr. Seward's Diary._
_30 September._--Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He had got hiswife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one canjudge from his face, and full of energy. If his journal be true--andjudging by one's own wonderful experiences it must be--he is also aman of great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time wasa remarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it I wasprepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but hardly the quiet,business-like gentleman who came here to-day.
_Later._--After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own room,and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the typewriter. Theyare hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that they are knitting together inchronological order every scrap of evidence they have. Harker hasgot the letters between the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and thecarriers in London who took charge of them. He is now reading hiswife's typescript of my diary. I wonder what they make out of it. Herehe is....
Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be theCount's hiding-place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues from theconduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters relating to thepurchase of the house were with the typescript. Oh, if we had only hadthem earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! Stop; that way madness lies!Harker has gone back, and is again collating his material. He says thatby dinner-time they will be able to show a whole connected narrative. Hethinks that in the meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he hasbeen a sort of index to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly seethis yet, but when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a goodthing that Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could havefound the dates otherwise....
I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands folded,smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any one I ever saw.I sat down and talked with him on a lot of subjects, all of which hetreated naturally. He then, of his own accord, spoke of going home, asubject he has never mentioned to my knowledge during his sojourn here.In fact, he spoke quite confidently of getting his discharge at once. Ibelieve that, had I not had the chat with Harker and read the lettersand the dates of his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign forhim after a brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious.All those outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of theCount. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that hisinstinct is satisfied as to the vampire's ultimate triumph? Stay; heis himself zoophagous, and in his wild ravings outside the chapel doorof the deserted house he always spoke of "master." This all seemsconfirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came away; my friendis just a little too sane at present to make it safe to probe him toodeep with questions. He might begin to think, and then--! So I cameaway. I mistrust these quiet moods of his; so I have given the attendanta hint to look closely after him, and to have a strait-waistcoat readyin case of need.
_Jonathan Harker's Journal._
_29 September, in train to London._--When I received Mr. Billington'scourteous 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, suchinquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargoof the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be able to dealwith it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, andbrought me to his father's house, where they had decided that I muststay the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality:give a g
uest everything, and leave him free to do as he likes. They allknew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billingtonhad ready in his office all the papers concerning the consignment ofboxes. It gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters whichI had seen on the Count's table before I knew of his diabolical plans.Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically andwith precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstaclewhich might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions beingcarried out. To use an Americanism, he had "taken no chances," and theabsolute accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled was simplythe 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 bothof these I got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billingtoncould give me, so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, theCustoms officers, and the harbour-master. They had all something to sayof the strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place inlocal tradition; but no one could add to the simple description: "Fiftycases of common earth." I then saw the station-master, who kindly putme in communication with the men who had actually received the boxes.Their tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to add exceptthat the boxes were "main and mortal heavy," and that shifting themwas dry work. One of them added that it was hard lines that therewasn't any gentleman "such-like as yourself, squire," to show some sortof appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form; another put in arider that the thirst then generated was such that even the time whichhad elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I tookcare before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source ofreproach.
_30 September._--The station-master was good enough to give me a lineto his old companion the station-master at King's Cross, so that whenI arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrivalof the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication with the properofficials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the originalinvoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been herelimited; a noble use of them had, however, been made, and again I wascompelled to deal with the result in an _ex post facto_ manner.
From thence I went on to Carter Paterson's central office, where Imet with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in theirday-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King's Crossoffice for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teamingwere waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, sendingalso by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected with thedelivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeingexactly; the carriers' men were able to supplement the paucity of thewritten words with a few details. These were, I shortly found, connectedalmost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequentthirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an opportunity,through the medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying at alater period this beneficent evil, one of the men remarked:--
"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! butit ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thickin the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of yerbones; an' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave smelled oleJerusalem in it. But the ole chapel--that took the cike, that did! Meand my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick enough. Lor', Iwouldn'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 whatI know, he would, I think, have raised his terms.
Of one thing I am now satisfied: that _all_ the boxes which arrivedat Whitby from Varna in the _Demeter_ were safely deposited in the oldchapel of Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any havesince been removed--as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.
I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax whenRenfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn a gooddeal.
_Later._--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papersinto 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 actdetrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as bravea 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, neverso 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 understrain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life andhope and determination; we have got everything in order for to-night.I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pityany thing so hunted as is the Count. That is just it: this Thing isnot human--not even beast. To read Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy'sdeath, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity inone's heart.
_Later._--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than weexpected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathanwith him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, forit 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. Morrisexpressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know allabout the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what tosay or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so theyhad 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 topost them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's diarythat they had been at Lucy's death--her real death--and that I need notfear to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, as well as Icould, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my husbandand 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 gothis 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 andkind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, thatall I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. Ihave had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a manhumble to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poorLucy----" Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands.I could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctivedelicacy, just laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walkedquietly out of the room. I suppose there is something in woman's naturethat makes a man free to break down before her and express his feelingson the tender or emotional side without feeling it derogatory to hismanhood; for when Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat downon the sofa and gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him andtook his hand. I hope he didn't think it forward of me, and that if heever thinks of it afterwards he never will have such a thought. There Iwrong him; I _know_ he never will--he is too true a gentleman. I said tohim, 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 toher. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not letme be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you havehad, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity canhelp in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service--forLucy's sake?"
In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It seemedto me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found avent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beathis palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then satdown again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinitepity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With
a sob he laid hishead on my shoulder, and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shookwith emotion.
We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise abovesmaller 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 babythat some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though hewere 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 anapology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me thatfor days and nights past--weary days and sleepless nights--he hadbeen unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time ofsorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or withwhom, owing to the terrible circumstances with which his sorrow wassurrounded, 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 canever know--how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shallknow better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungratefulnow, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me belike a brother, will you not, for all our lives--for dear Lucy's sake?"