It seems to me, that our first step should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the latter, we must trace——”
Here we were interrupted in a very startling way.
Outside the house came the sound of a pistol-shot; the glass of the window was shattered with a bullet, which, ricochetting from the top of the embrasure, struck the far wall of the room.
I am afraid I am at heart a coward, for I shrieked out.
The men all jumped to their feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the window and threw up the sash.
As he did so we heard Mr. Morris’s voice without:—
“Sorry!
I fear I have alarmed you.
I shall come in and tell you about it.”
A minute later he came in and said:—
“It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs. Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened you terribly.
But the fact is that whilst the Professor was talking there came a big bat and sat on the window-sill.
I have got such a horror of the damned brutes from recent events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings, whenever I have seen one.
You used to laugh at me for it then, Art.”
“Did you hit it?” asked Dr.
Van Helsing.
“I don’t know; I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood.”
Without saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume his statement:—
“We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are ready, we must either capture or kill this monster in his lair; or we must, so to speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in it.
Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the hours of noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his most weak.
“And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be well.
You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we part to-night, you no more must question.
We shall tell you all in good time.
We are men and are able to bear; but you must be our star and our hope, and we shall act all the more free that you are not in the danger, such as we are.”
All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved; but it did not seem to me good that they should brave danger and, perhaps, lessen their safety—strength being the best safety—through care of me; but their minds were made up, and, though it was a bitter pill for me to swallow, I could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me.
Mr. Morris resumed the discussion:—
“As there is no time to lose, I vote we have a look at his house right now.
Time is everything with him; and swift action on our part may save another victim.”
I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action came so close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater fear that if I appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work, they might even leave me out of their counsels altogether.
They have now gone off to Carfax, with means to get into the house.
Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep; as if a woman can sleep when those she loves are in danger!
I shall lie down and pretend to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety about me when he returns.
Dr. Seward’s Diary.
1 October, 4 a. m.—Just as we were about to leave the house, an urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me.
I told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the morning; I was busy just at the moment.
The attendant added:—
“He seems very importunate, sir.
I have never seen him so eager.
I don’t know but what, if you don’t see him soon, he will have one of his violent fits.”
I knew the man would not have said this without some cause, so I said:
“All right; I’ll go now”; and I asked the others to wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my “patient.”
“Take me with you, friend John,” said the Professor. “His case in your diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on our case.
I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is disturbed.”
“May I come also?” asked Lord Godalming. “Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said Harker.
I nodded, and we all went down the passage together.
We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There was an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I had ever met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his reasons would prevail with others entirely sane. We all four went into the room, but none of the others at first said anything.
His request was that I would at once release him from the asylum and send him home.
This he backed up with arguments regarding his complete recovery, and adduced his own existing sanity.
“I appeal to your friends,” he said, “they will, perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way, you have not introduced me.”
I was so much astonished, that the oddness of introducing a madman in an asylum did not strike me at the moment; and, besides, there was a certain dignity in the man’s manner, so much of the habit of equality, that I at once made the introduction: