Dracula
with a message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he
must wait, for we could see no one now. She went away with the message,
and, engrossed with our work, I clean forgot all about him.
I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly
earnest. I knew--as he knew--that it was a stand-up fight with death,
and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I did not
understand, but with the sternest look that his face could wear:--
“If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade
away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon.” He went
on with his work with, if possible, renewed and more frenzied vigour.
Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to
be of some effect. Lucy’s heart beat a trifle more audibly to the
stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing’s
face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her in
a hot sheet to dry her he said to me:--
“The first gain is ours! Check to the King!”
We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared, and laid
her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her throat. I noticed
that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat. She was
still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had
ever seen her.
Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with her
and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and then beckoned me
out of the room.
“We must consult as to what is to be done,” he said as we descended the
stairs. In the hall he opened the dining-room door, and we passed in, he
closing the door carefully behind him. The shutters had been opened, but
the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of
death which the British woman of the lower classes always rigidly
observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It was, however, light
enough for our purposes. Van Helsing’s sternness was somewhat relieved
by a look of perplexity. He was evidently torturing his mind about
something, so I waited for an instant, and he spoke:--
“What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have
another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl’s life
won’t be worth an hour’s purchase. You are exhausted already; I am
exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have
courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his
veins for her?”
“What’s the matter with me, anyhow?”
The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought
relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey Morris. Van
Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face softened and a
glad look came into his eyes as I cried out: “Quincey Morris!” and
rushed towards him with outstretched hands.
“What brought you here?” I cried as our hands met.
“I guess Art is the cause.”
He handed me a telegram:--
“Have not heard from Seward for three days, and am terribly anxious.
Cannot leave. Father still in same condition. Send me word how Lucy is.
Do not delay.--HOLMWOOD.”
“I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only to tell
me what to do.”
Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him straight in
the eyes as he said:--
“A brave man’s blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in
trouble. You’re a man and no mistake. Well, the devil may work against
us for all he’s worth, but God sends us men when we want them.”
Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the heart
to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock and it
told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went into her
veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other
occasions. Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see
and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van
Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with
good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor watched
whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the maids
to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting. I left Quincey lying down
after having a glass of wine, and told the cook to get ready a good
breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I went back to the room where
Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or
two of note-paper in his hand. He had evidently read it, and was
thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow. There was a look
of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one who has had a doubt solved.
He handed me the paper saying only: “It dropped from Lucy’s breast when
we carried her to the bath.”
When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a pause
asked him: “In God’s name, what does it all mean? Was she, or is she,
mad; or what sort of horrible danger is it?” I was so bewildered that I
did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took the
paper, saying:--
“Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know
and understand it all in good time; but it will be later. And now what
is it that you came to me to say?” This brought me back to fact, and I
was all myself again.
“I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not act
properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would have
to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for if we
had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I know, and you
know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra
had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of it. Let us
fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself to the
registrar and go on to the undertaker.”
“Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she be
sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends that
love her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides one old
man. Ah yes, I know, friend John; I am not blind! I love you all the
more for it! Now go.”
In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling him
that Mrs. Westenra was dead; that Lucy also had been ill, but was now
going on better; and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I told him
where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said:--
“When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to
ourselves?” I nodded in reply and went out. I found no difficulty about
the registration, and arranged with the local undertaker to come up in
the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements.
When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see him
as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was still
sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his seat at her
side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I gathered that he
expected her to wake before long and was afraid of forestalling nature.
So I went down to Quincey and took him into the breakfast-room, where
the blinds were not drawn down, and which was a little more cheerful, or
rather less cheerless, than the other rooms. When we were alone, he said
to me:--
“Jack Seward, I don’t want to shove myself in anywhere where I’ve no
right to be; but this is no ordinary case. You know I loved that girl
and wanted to marry her; but, although that’s all past and gone, I can’t
help feeling anxious about her all the same. What is it that’s wrong
with her? The Dutchman--and a fine old fellow he is; I can see
that--said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have
_another_ transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted.
Now I know well that you medical men speak _in camera_, and that a man
must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is
no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not that
so?”
“That’s so,” I said, and he went on:--
“I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did
to-day. Is not that so?”
“That’s so.”
“And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at his
own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down so quick
since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass
all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at
her in the night, and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there
wasn’t enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a
bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may tell me without
betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?” As he spoke
the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a torture of suspense
regarding the woman he loved, and his utter ignorance of the terrible
mystery which seemed to surround her intensified his pain. His very
heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him--and there was a
royal lot of it, too--to keep him from breaking down. I paused before
answering, for I felt that I must not betray anything which the
Professor wished kept secret; but already he knew so much, and guessed
so much, that there could be no reason for not answering, so I answered
in the same phrase: “That’s so.”
“And how long has this been going on?”
“About ten days.”
“Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature
that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood
of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn’t hold it.” Then,
coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper: “What took it
out?”
I shook my head. “That,” I said, “is the crux. Van Helsing is simply
frantic about it, and I am at my wits’ end. I can’t even hazard a guess.
There has been a series of little circumstances which have thrown out
all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. But these shall
not occur again. Here we stay until all be well--or ill.” Quincey held
out his hand. “Count me in,” he said. “You and the Dutchman will tell me
what to do, and I’ll do it.”
When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy’s first movement was to feel
in her breast, and, to my surprise, produced the paper which Van Helsing
had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced it where it had
come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her eye then lit on Van
Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she looked around the room,
and seeing where she was, shuddered; she gave a loud cry, and put her
poor thin hands before her pale face. We both understood what that
meant--that she had realised to the full her mother’s death; so we tried
what we could to comfort her. Doubtless sympathy eased her somewhat, but
she was very low in thought and spirit, and wept silently and weakly for
a long time. We told her that either or both of us would now remain with
her all the time, and that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell
into a doze. Here a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she
took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped
over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on
with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her
hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering
the fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as
if in thought, but he said nothing.
* * * * *
_19 September._--All last night she slept fitfully, being always afraid
to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The Professor and
I took it in turns to watch, and we never left her for a moment
unattended. Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I knew