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 to-night, 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
the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, 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
to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with
"virgin crants and maiden strewments." I never liked garlic before,
but to-night it is delightful! There is peace in its smell; I feel
sleep coming already. Good-night, 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 liked the completion of
nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of
beautiful colours, 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 answered:-
  "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, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and
she had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the
heavy odour 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 grey. 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, sent down form 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,
and 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 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 recognised
the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a
warning hand. "No!" he said. "To-day you must operate. I shall
provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat
and rolled up his shirt-sleeve.
  Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour
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
odour 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 spell 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
form 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. To-night 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 wolf 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 subjects 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 humour.
  "'Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way; scratchin' of
their hears is 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'
with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they've
'ad their sherry and kawfee, 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 arksin' of me questions about my business, and I that
grumpy-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 offense, did I tell yer to go to 'ell?"
  "You did."
  "An' when you said you'd report me for usin' of obscene language
that was 'ittin' me over the ead; but the 'arf-quid 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 if 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 git
even 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 grey ones that come
from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four year 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 cherry 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 git 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
likes 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 wolfs 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
keeper.
  "'No.' 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 grey 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 here 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 story-book, 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-'idin' 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 an a coal-celler. My eye, won't some cook get
a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining 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 a-walkin' 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 as 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 an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The
wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the
children in the 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 to-day 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 thunder-struck, for such a thing as a patient getting
of his own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown.
Without an instant's pause 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, 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
overexcited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van
Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night 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 Hillingham to-night. 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 for 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 go to sleep, but 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, 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 low 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 grey 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 form 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 seemed 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 simoom 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 have
each 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. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I
should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!
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