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! |