“Agreed!” said Arthur; “that is only fair.
And now that the pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?”
“I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at Kingstead.”
Arthur’s face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:— “Where poor Lucy is buried?”
The Professor bowed.
Arthur went on:
“And when there?”
“To enter the tomb!”
Arthur stood up.
“Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous joke?
Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest.”
He sat down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity.
There was silence until he asked again:—
“And when in the tomb?”
“To open the coffin.”
“This is too much!” he said, angrily rising again. “I am willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this—this desecration of the grave—of one who——” He fairly choked with indignation.
The Professor looked pityingly at him.
“If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend,” he said, “God knows I would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!”
Arthur looked up with set white face and said:—
“Take care, sir, take care!”
“Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?” said Van Helsing. “And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose.
Shall I go on?”
“That’s fair enough,” broke in Morris.
After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:—
“Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so?
Yes!
Then there can be no wrong to her.
But if she be not dead——”
Arthur jumped to his feet.
“Good God!” he cried. “What do you mean?
Has there been any mistake; has she been buried alive?” He groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften.
“I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it.
I go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead.”
“Un-Dead!
Not alive!
What do you mean?
Is this all a nightmare, or what is it?”
“There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.
Believe me, we are now on the verge of one.
But I have not done.
May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?”
“Heavens and earth, no!” cried Arthur in a storm of passion. “Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body.
Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far.
What have I done to you that you should torture me so?
What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to cast such dishonour on her grave?
Are you mad that speak such things, or am I mad to listen to them?
Don’t dare to think more of such a desecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do.
I have a duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do it!”
Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and said, gravely and sternly:—
“My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it!