LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY
12 September.--How good they all are to me. I quite
love that dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so
anxious about these flowers. He positively frightened me,
he was so fierce. And yet he must have been right, for I
feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread
being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep without fear. I
shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the
terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of
late, the pain of sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of
sleep, and with such unknown horrors as it has for me! How
blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads,
to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings
nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am tonight, hoping for
sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with`virgin crants
and maiden strewments.' I never liked garlic before, but tonight it is delightful! There is peace in its smell. I feel
sleep coming already. Goodnight, everybody.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
13 September.--Called at the Berkeley and found Van
Helsing, as usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from
the hotel was waiting. The Professor took his bag, which he
always brings with him now.
Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived
at Hillingham at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning. The
bright sunshine and all the fresh feeling of early autumn
seemed like the completion of nature's annual work. The
leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colors, but had
not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we met
Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She is always
an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said,
"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The
dear child is still asleep. I looked into her room and saw
her, but did not go in, lest I should disturb her." The
Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He rubbed his
hands together, and said, "Aha! I thought I had diagnosed
the case. My treatment is working."
To which she replied, "You must not take all the credit
to yourself, doctor. Lucy's state this morning is due in
part to me."
"How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.
"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night,
and went into her room. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly
that even my coming did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible, strongsmelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually a
bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odor
would be too much for the dear child in her weak state, so
I took them all away and opened a bit of the window to let
in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with her, I am
sure."
She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. As she had spoken, I watched the Professor's
face, and saw it turn ashen gray. He had been able to retain
his self-command whilst the poor lady was present, for he
knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be. He
actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to
pass into her room. But the instant she had disappeared he
pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining room and
closed the door.
Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing
break down. He raised his hands over his head in a sort of
mute despair, and then beat his palms together in a helpless
way. Finally he sat down on a chair, and putting his hands
before his face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart.
Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to
the whole universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have
we done, what has this poor thing done, that we are so sore
beset? Is there fate amongst us still, send down from the
pagan world of old, that such things must be, and in such
way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and all for the best
as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter body and
soul, and we must not tell her, we must not even warn her,
or she die, then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are
all the powers of the devils against us!"
Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said."come,
we must see and act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils
at once, it matters not. We must fight him all the same." He
went to the hall door for his bag, and together we went up to
Lucy's room.
Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went
towards the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on
the poor face with the same awful, waxen pallor as before. He
wore a look of stern sadness and infinite pity.
"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his which meant so much. Without a word he went and
locked the door, and then began to set out on the little
table the instruments for yet another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognized the necessity, and
begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a warning
hand. "No!" he said. "Today you must operate. I shall provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off
his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve.
Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some
return of color to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing
recruited himself and rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she must not remove anything from Lucy's room
without consulting him. That the flowers were of medicinal
value, and that the breathing of their odor was a part of
the system of cure. Then he took over the care of the case
himself, saying that he would watch this night and the next,
and would send me word when to come.
After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh
and bright and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal.
What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my
long habit of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell
upon my own brain.
LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY
17 September.--Four days and nights of peace. I am
getting so strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as
if I had passed through some long nightmare, and had just
awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh
air of the morning around me. I have a dim half remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing, darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make
present distress more poignant. And then long spells of
oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up
through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van
Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to
have passed away. The noises that used to frighten me out
of my wits, the flapping against the windows, the distant
voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that
came from I know not where and commanded me to do I know
not what, have all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear
of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown
quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every
day from Haarlem. Tonight Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as
he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be
watched. I am well enough to be left alone.
Thank God for Mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for
all our friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel
the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair
a lot of the time. I found him asleep twice when I awoke.
But I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs
or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the
window panes.
THE PALL MALL GAZETTE 18 September.
THE ESCAPED WOLF
PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER
INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS
After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and
perpetually using the words `PALL MALL GAZETTE ' as a sort
of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of
the Zoological Gardens in which the wold department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the
enclosure behind the elephant house, and was just sitting
down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are
hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the
specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average
kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper
would not enter on what he called business until the supper
was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was
cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said,
"Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want.
You'll excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts
afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the
hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk
them questions."
"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humor.
" `Ittin' of them over the `ead with a pole is one way.
Scratchin' of their ears in another, when gents as is flush
wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don't so much
mind the fust, the `ittin of the pole part afore I chucks in
their dinner, but I waits till they've `ad their sherry and
kawffee, so to speak,afore I tries on with the ear scratchin'.
Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a deal of the
same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you
a-comin' and arskin' of me questions about my business, and
I that grump-like that only for your bloomin' `arf-quid I'd
`a' seen you blowed fust `fore I'd answer. Not even when
you arsked me sarcastic like if I'd like you to arsk the
Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without
offence did I tell yer to go to `ell?"
"You did."
"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene
language that was `ittin' me over the `ead. But the `arfquid made that all right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I
waited for the food, and did with my `owl as the wolves and
lions and tigers does. But, lor' love yer `art, now that the
old `ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an'
rinsed me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and I've lit hup,
you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and won't even
get a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I
know what yer a-comin' at, that `ere escaped wolf."
"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just
tell me how it happened, and when I know the facts I'll get
you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how
you think the whole affair will end."
"All right, guv'nor. This `ere is about the `ole story.
That`ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three gray
ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off
him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that
never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more surprised at `im
for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the place.
But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women."
"Don't you mind him, Sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a
cheery laugh. " `E's got mindin' the animiles so long that
blest if he ain't like a old wolf `isself! But there ain't
no `arm in `im."
"Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a
litter in the monkey house for a young puma which is ill.
But when I heard the yelpin' and `owlin' I kem away straight.
There was Bersicker a-tearin' like a mad thing at the bars
as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about
that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin
chap, with a `ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few
white hairs runnin' through it. He had a `ard, cold look
and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it
seemed as if it was `im as they was hirritated at. He `ad
white kid gloves on `is `ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says, `Keeper, these wolves seem upset at
something.'
"`Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs
as he give `isself. He didn't get angry, as I `oped he
would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth
full of white, sharp teeth. `Oh no, they wouldn't like me,'
`e says.
" `Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin'of him.`They
always like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea
time, which you `as a bagful.'
"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us
a-talkin' they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he
let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over,
and blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke the
old wolf's ears too!
" `Tyke care,' says I. `Bersicker is quick.'
" `Never mind,' he says. I'm used to `em!'
" `Are you in the business yourself?"I says, tyking off
my `at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good
friend to keepers.
" `Nom' says he, `not exactly in the business, but I
`ave made pets of several.' and with that he lifts his `at
as perlite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep'
a-lookin' arter `im till `e was out of sight, and then went
and lay down in a corner and wouldn't come hout the `ole
hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup,
the wolves here all began a-`owling. There warn't nothing
for them to `owl at. There warn't no one near, except some
one that was evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back
of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out
to see that all was right, and it was, and then the `owling
stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look
round afore turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken and
twisted about and the cage empty. And that's all I know
for certing."
"Did any one else see anything?"
"One of our gard`ners was a-comin' `ome about that time
from a `armony, when he sees a big gray dog comin' out
through the garding `edges. At least, so he says, but I don't
give much for it myself, for if he did `e never said a word
about it to his missis when `e got `ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up
all night a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein' anything. My own belief was that the `armony
`ad got into his `ead."
"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the
escape of the wolf?"
"Well, Sir,"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty,
"I think I can, but I don't know as `ow you'd be satisfied
with the theory."
"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the
animals from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any
rate, who is even to try?"
"well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems
to me that `ere wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to
get out."
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before,
and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell.
I couldn't cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I
thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said,"Now, Mr.
Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off,
and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've
told me what you think will happen."
"Right y`are, Sir," he said briskly. "Ye`ll excoose me,
I know, for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman her winked
at me, which was as much as telling me to go on."
"Well, I never!" said the old lady.
"My opinion is this. That `ere wolf is a`idin' of,
somewheres. The gard`ner wot didn't remember said he was
a-gallopin' northward faster than a horse could go, but I
don't believe him, for, yer see, Sir, wolves don't gallop
no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that way. Wolves
is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets
in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared
than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it
up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf
is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good
dog, and not half a quarter so much fight in `im. This one
ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself,
and more like he's somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an'
a'shiverin' of, and if he thinks at all, wonderin' where he
is to get his breakfast from. Or maybe he's got down some
area and is in a coal cellar. My eye, won't some cook get
a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shinin' at her
out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound to look
for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's
shop in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out
walkin' or orf with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the
perambulator--well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the
census is one babby the less. That's all."
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something
came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face
doubled its natural length with surprise.
"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker
come back by `isself!"
He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary
proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a
wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of
pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience
has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for
neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf
than I should of a dog. The animal itself was a peaceful
and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves, Red
Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence
in masquerade.
The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and
pathos. The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed
London and set all the children in town shivering in their
shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received
and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder
examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when
he had finished with his penitent said,
"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some
kind of trouble. Didn't I say it all along? Here's his
head all cut and full of broken glass. `E's been a-gettin'
over some bloomin' wall or other. It's a shyme that people
are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This
`ere's what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker."
He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a
piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the
elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to
report.
I came off too, to report the only exclusive information
that is given today regarding the strange escapade at the
Zoo.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
17 September.--I was engaged after dinner in my study
posting up my books, which, through press of other work and
the many visits to Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my patient, with
his face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for
such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the
Superintendent's study is almost unknown.
Without an instant's notice he made straight at me. He
had a dinner knife in his hand, and as I saw he was dangerous,
I tried to keep the table between us. He was too quick and
too strong for me, however, for before I could get my balance
he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely.
Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right
hand and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist
bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further effort,
and occupied myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye
on the prostrate figure all the time. When the attendants
rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on
the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen
from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and to my
surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply
repeating over and over again, "The blood is the life! The
blood is the life!"
I cannot afford to lose blood just at present. I have
lost too much of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is
telling on me. I am over excited and weary, and I need rest,
rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I
need not forego my sleep. Tonight I could not well do without it.
TELEGRAM, VAN HELSING, ANTWERP, TO SEWARD, CARFAX
(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given, delivered late
by twenty-two hours.)
17 September.--Do not fail to be at Hilllingham tonight.
If not watching all the time, frequently visit and see that
flowers are as placed, very important, do not fail. Shall be
with you as soon as possible after arrival.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
18 September.--Just off train to London. The arrival of
Van Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night
lost, and I know by bitter experience what may happen in a
night. Of course it is possible that all may be well, but
what may have happened? Surely there is some horrible doom
hanging over us that every possible accident should thwart
us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with me,
and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.
MEMORANDUM LEFT BY LUCY WESTENRA
17 September, Night.--I write this and leave it to be
seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble
through me. This is an exact record of what took place tonight. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely
strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.
I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers
were placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell
asleep.
I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had
begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when
Mina saved me, and which now I know so well. I was not
afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in the next room,
as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be, so that I might have
called him. I tried to sleep, but I could not. Then there
came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep
awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did
not want it. So, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door
and called out. "Is there anybody there?" There was no
answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door
again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl
like a dog's, but more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat,
which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the
window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not to
go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in.
Seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, she came in and
sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than
her wont,
"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see
that you were all right."
I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked
her to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and
lay down beside me. She did not take off her dressing gown,
for she said she would only stay a while and then go back
to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers
the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She
was startled and a little frightened, and cried out, "What
is that?"
I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she
lay quiet. But I could hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was the howl again out in
the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the
window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor.
The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and
in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a
great, gaunt gray wolf.
Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a
sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would
help her. Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of
flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round
my neck, and tore it away from me. For a second or two she
sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and
horrible gurgling in her throat. Then she fell over, as if
struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made
me dizzy for a moment or two.
The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my
eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back,
and a whole myriad of little specks seems to come blowing
in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling
round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when
there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to stir, but there
was some spell upon me, and dear Mother's poor body, which
seemed to grow cold already, for her dear heart had ceased
to beat, weighed me down, and I remembered no more for a
while.
The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till
I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing
bell was tolling. The dogs all round the neighborhood were
howling, and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a
nightingale was singing. I was dazed and stupid with pain
and terror and weakness, but the sound of the nightingale
seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort
me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for
I could hear their bare feet pattering outside my door. I
called to them, and they came in, and when they saw what had
happened, and what it was that lay over me on the bed, they
screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken window,
and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my
dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the
bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened and
nervous that I directed them to go to the dining room and
each have a glass of wine. The door flew open for an instant
and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went in a
body to the dining room, and I laid what flowers I had on
my dear mother's breast. When they were there I remembered
what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, and besides, I would have some of the servants
to sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids did
not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went
to the dining room to look for them.
My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all
four lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table half full, but there was
a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined
the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the
sideboard, I found that the bottle which Mother's doctor uses
for her--oh! did use--was empty. What am I to do? What am I
to do? I am back in the room with Mother. I cannot leave her,
and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some
one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for
I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken
window.
The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in
the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and
dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night!
I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find
it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It
is time that I go too. Goodbye, dear Arthur, if I should
not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!