CHAPTER IX
Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.
" Buda-Pesth, 24 August.
"My dearest Lucy,-
"I know you will be anxious to hear all that has hap-
pened since we parted at the railway station at Whitby.
Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat
to Hamburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can
hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I knew
I was coming to Jonathan, and, that as I should have to
do some nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could . . . .
I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-
looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes ,
and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face
has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself , and he does
not remember anything that has happened to him for a
long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I
shall never ask. He has had some terrible shock, and I
fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try to recall
it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born
nurse, tells me that he raved of dreadful things whilst he
was off his head . I wanted her to tell me what they were ;
but she would only cross herself, and say she would never
tell ; that the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God,
and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them,
she should respect her trust . She is a sweet, good soul, and
the next day, when she saw I was troubled , she opened up
the subject again, and after saying that she could never
mention what my poor dear raved about, added : ' I can tell
you this much, my dear : that it was not about anything
which he has done wrong himself ; and you , as his wife to
be, have no cause to be concerned . He has not forgotten
you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and
terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.' I do believe
114LETTERS , ETC. 115
the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor
dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The
idea of my being jealous about Jonathan ! And yet, my
dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when
1 knew that no other woman was a cause of trouble. I am
now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while
he sleeps. He is waking ! . . •
" When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted
to get something from the pocket ; I asked Sister Agatha,
and she brought all his things. I saw that amongst them
was his notebook, and was going to ask him to let me look
at it—for I knew then that I might find some clue to his
trouble-but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my
eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted
to be quite alone for a moment. Then he called me back,
and when I came he had his hand over the note- book, and
he said to me very solemnly : —
66 " Wilhelmina' -I knew then that he was in deadly
earnest, for he has never called me by that name since he
asked me to marry him-' you know, dear, my ideas of the
trust between husband and wife : there should be no secret,
no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try
to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do
not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman.
You know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad.
The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want
to take up my life here, with our marriage .' For, my dear,
we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities
are complete. ' Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my
ignorance ? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it
if you will, but never let me know ; unless, indeed, some
solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter
hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here .' He
fell back exhausted , and I put the book under his pillow,
and kissed him. I have asked Sister Agatha to beg the
Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am
waiting her reply. . . .
"She has come and told me that the chaplain of the
English mission church has been sent for. We are to be[16 DRACULA
married in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan
awakes. ...
"Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn,
but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the
hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up
with pillows. He answered his ' I will firmly and strongly.
I could hardly speak ; my heart was so full that even those
words seemed to choke me. The dear sisters were so kind.
Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave
and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must
tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the
sisters had left me alone with my husband-oh, Lucy, it
is the first time I have written the words ' my husband'-
left me alone with my husband, I took the book from
under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and
tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round
my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing- wax, and
for my seal I used my wedding ring . Then I kissed it and
showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep
it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for
us all our lives that we trusted each other ; that I would
never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for
the sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his,
and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wife's hand,
and said it was the dearest thing in all the wide world,
and that he would go through all the past again to win it,
if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the
past, but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not won-
der if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the
year.
" Well, my dear, what could I say ? I could only tell him
that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and
that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and
my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all
the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and
drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a
very solemn pledge between us .
"Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this ? It is
not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you
1LETTERS , ETC. 117
have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege
to be your friend and guide when you came from the
schoolroom to prepare for the world of life . I want you to
see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither
duty has led me ; so that in your own married life you too
may be all happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God,
your life may be all it promises : a long day of sunshine,
with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I
must not wish you no pain, for that can never be ; but I do
hope you will be always as happy as I am now. Good- bye,
my dear. I shall post this at once, and, perhaps, write you
very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking-I
must attend to my husband ! " Your ever-loving
" MINA HARKER. "
Letter , Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker.
" Whitby, 30 August.
"My dearest Mina,-
" Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you
soon be in your own home with your husband. I wish you
could be coming home soon enough to stay with us here.
The strong air would soon restore Jonathan ; it has quite
restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full
of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I
have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not
stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got
into it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I
forgot to tell you that Arthur is here. We have such walks
and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing
together ; and I love him more than ever. He tells me that
he loves me more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me
that he couldn't love me more than he did then. But this !
is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no more just
at present from your loving
"LUCY.
"P. S.- Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor
dear.
"P. P. S.-We are to be married on 28 September. "118 DRACULA
Dr. Seward's Diary.
20 August. The case of Renfield grows even more in-
teresting. He has now so far quieted that there are spelis
of cessation from his passion . For the first week after his
atttack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just
as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to
himself : "Now I can wait ; now I can wait." The atten-
dant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look
at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the
padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his
face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I
might almost say, "cringing"-softness. I was satisfied
with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved .
The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes
without protest. It was a strange thing that the patient had
humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to
me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at
them : - -
"They think I could hurt you ! Fancy me hurting you !
The fools !"
It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself
dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from
the others ; but all the same I do not follow his thought.
Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him,
so that we are, as it were, to stand together ; or has he to
gain from me some good so stupendous that my well- being
is needful to him ? I must find out later on. To-night he
will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-
grown cat will not tempt him. He will only say : "I don't
take any stock in cats . I have more to think of now, and
I can wait ; I can wait."
After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he
was quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began
to get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last he fell
into a paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned
into a sort of coma.
• Three nights has the same thing happened-violent
all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I couldLETTERS , ETC. 119
get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if
there was some influence which came and went. Happy
thought ! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad
ones. He escaped before without our help ; to-night he
shall escape with it . We shall give him a chance, and have
the men ready to follow in case they are required . . . .
23 August. "The unexpected always happens. " How
well Disraeli knew life . Our bird when he found the cage
open would not fly, so all our subtle arrangements were for
nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing ; that the
spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in fu-
ture be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I
have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut
him in the padded room, when once he is quiet, until an
hour before sunrise. The poor soul's body will enjoy the
relief even if his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark ! The un-
expected again ! I am called ; the patient has once more
escaped.
-
Later. Another night adventure. Renfield artfully
waited until the attendant was entering the room to in-
spect. Then he dashed out past him and flew down the pas-
sage. I sent word for the attendants to follow. Again he
went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we found
him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door.
When he saw me he became furious, and had not the
attendants seized him in time, he would have tried to kill
me. As we were holding him a strange thing happened.
He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as suddenly
grew calm . I looked round instinctively, but could see
nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it,
but could trace nothing as it looked into the moonlit sky
except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and ghostly
way to the west. Bats usually wheel and flit about, but this
one seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was
bound for or had some intention of its own. The patient
grew calmer every instant, and presently said : -
"You needn't tie me ; I shall go quietly !" Without trou-
ble we came back to the house. I feel there is something
ominous in his calm, and shall not forget this night. . . .•
[20 DRACULA
Lucy Westenra's Diary
Hillingham, 24 August.—I must imitate Mina, and keep
writing things down. Then we can have long talks when we
do meet. I wonder when it will be. I wish she were with
me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be
dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is
the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and
horrid to me, for I can remember nothing ; but I am full
of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When
Arthur came to lunch he looked quite grieved when he
saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to be cheerful. I
wonder if I could sleep in mother's room to-night. I shall
make an excuse and try.
25 August. - Another bad night. Mother did not seem to
take to my proposal. She seems not too well herself, and
doubtless she fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and
succeeded for a while ; but when the clock struck twelve it
waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling asleep.
There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window,
but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I sup-
pose I must then have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I
wish I could remember them. This morning I am horribly
weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me.
It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't
seem ever to get air enough. I shall try to cheer up when
Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see
me so.
Letter, Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward.
"Albemarle Hotel, 31 August.
" My dear Jack, -
" I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill ; that is , she
has no special disease, but she looks awful, and is get-
ting worse every day. I have asked her if there is any
cause ; I do not dare to ask her mother, for to disturb the
poor lady's mind about her daughter in her present state
of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided toLETTERS , ETC. 121
me that her doom is spoken-disease of the heart-though
poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is
something preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost
distracted when I think of her ; to look at her gives me a
pang. I told her I should ask you to see her, and though..
she demurred at first-I know why, old fellow-shè fi-
nally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I know,
old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to
ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham
to-morrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion
in Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an op-
portunity of being alone with you. I shall come in for
tea, and we can go away together ; I am filled with anxiety,
and want to consult with you alone as soon as I can after
you have seen her. Do not fail ! "ARTHUR. "
Telegram, Arthur Holmwood to Seward.
A " I September.
" Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am
writing. Write me fully by to- night's post to Ring. Wire
me if necessary. "
Letter from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood.
" 2 September.
"My dear old fellow, -
" With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let
you know at once that in my opinion there is not any func-
tional disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the
same time, I am not by any means satisfied with her ap-
pearance ; she is woefully different from what she was
when I saw her last . Of course you must bear in mind
that I did not have full opportunity of examination such as
I should wish ; our very friendship makes a little difficulty
which not even medical science or custom can bridge over.
I had better tell you exactly what happened , leaving you to
draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say
what I have done and propose doing.
"I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her122 DRACULA
mother was present, and in a few seconds I made up my
mind that she was trying all she knew to mislead her
mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no
doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of cau-
tion there is . We lunched alone, and as we all exerted our-
selves to be cheerful , we got, as some kind of reward for
our labours , some real cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs.
Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy was left with me.
We went into her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety
remained, for the servants were coming and going. As
soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from
her face, and she sank down into a chair with a great
sigh, and hid her eyes with her hand. When I saw that her
high spirits had failed, I at once took advantage of her
reaction to make a diagnosis. She said to me very
sweetly : -
" I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself. ' I
reminded her that a doctor's confidence was sacred, but
that you were grievously anxious about her. She caught
on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a
word. 'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care
for myself, but all for him! ' So I am quite free.
"I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless , but I
could not see the usual anæmic signs, and by a chance I
was actually able to test the quality of her blood, for in
opening a window which was stiff a cord gave way, and
she cut her hand slightly with broken glass. It was a slight
matter in itself , but it gave me an evident chance, and I
secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed them.
The qualitative analysis gives a quite normal condition ,
and shows, I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of
health. In other physical matters I was quite satisfied that
there is no need for anxiety ; but as there must be a cause
somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be
something mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing
satisfactorily at times, and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with
dreams that frighten her, but regarding which she can re-
member nothing. She says that as a child she used to walk
in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back,
and that once she walked out in the night and went to EastLETTERS , ETC. 123
Cliff, where Miss Murray found her ; but she assures me
that of late the habit has not returned . I am in doubt, and
so have done the best thing I know of ; I have written to
my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of
Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as
any one in the world. I have asked him to come over, and
as you told me that all things were to be at your charge, I
have mentioned to him who you are and your relations to
Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is in obedience to
your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do
anything I can for her. Van Helsing would, I know, do
anything for me for a personal reason , so, no matter on
what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a
seemingly arbitrary man, but this is because he knows
what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a
philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most ad-
vanced scientists of his day ; and he has, I believe, an abso-
lutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the
ice-brook, an indomitable resolution, self- command, and
toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindli-
est and truest heart that beats-these form his equipment
for the noble work that he is doing for mankind-work
both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as
his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you
may know why I have such confidence in him . I have asked
him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra to-mor-
row again. She is to meet me at the Stores, so that I
may not alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my
call. " Yours always,
" JOHN SEWARD. "
Letter, Abraham Van Helsing, M. D. , D. Ph . , D. Lit., etc.,
etc., to Dr. Seward.
" 2 September.
"My good Friend, —
" When I have received your letter I am already coming
to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without
wrong to any of those who have trusted me, Were for-
tune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted,
for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he124 DRACULA
holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck
from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene
from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let
slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you
call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is
pleasure added to do for him, your friend ; it is to you
that I come. Have then rooms for me at the Great Eastern
Hotel, so that I may be near to hand, and please it so
arrange that we may see the young lady not too late on to-
morrow, for it is likely that I may have to return here that
night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and
stay longer if it must. Till then good-bye, my friend John.
"VAN HELSING. "
Letter , Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
"My dear Art, - " 3 September .
"Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me
to Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her
mother was lunching out, so that we were alone with her.
Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the pa-
tient. He is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of
course I was not present all the time. He is, I fear, much
concerned, but says he must think. When I told him of our
friendship and how you trust to me in the matter, he said :
' You must tell him all you think. Tell him what I think,
if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This
is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I asked what
he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when
we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of
tea before starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would
not give me any further clue. You must not be angry with
me, Art, because his very reticence means that all his
brains are working for her good. He will speak plainly
enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told him I
would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I
were doing a descriptive special article for The Daily
Telegraph . He seemed not to notice, but remarked that the
smuts in London were not quite so bad as they used to beLETTERS , ETC. 125
when he was a student here. I am to get his report to-
morrow if he can possibly make it . In any case I am to
have a letter.
" Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than
on the day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She
had lost something of the ghastly look that so upset you,
and her breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the
professor ( as she always is ) , and tried to make him feel
at ease ; though I could see that the poor girl was making
a hard struggle for it . I believe Van Helsing saw it , too,
for I saw the quick look under his bushy brows that I
knew of old. Then he began to chat of all things except
ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality
that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation merge
into reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought
the conversation gently round to his visit, and suavely
said :
" My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure be-
cause you are so much beloved. That is much, my dear,
ever were there that which I do not see. They told me you
were down in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly
pale. To them I say : "Pouf !" And he snapped his fingers
at me and went on : ' But you and I shall show them how
wrong they are. How can he'—and he pointed at me with
the same look and gesture as that with which once he
pointed me out to his class , on, or rather after, a particular
occasion which he never fails to remind me of - know
anything of a young ladies ? He has his madams to play
with, and to bring them back to happiness, and to those
that love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there are
rewards, in that we can bestow such happiness. But the
young ladies ! He has no wife nor daughter, and the young
do not tell themselves to the young, but to the old, like me,
who have known so many sorrows and the causes of them.
So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette
in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to our-
selves. I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently
the professor came to the window and called me in. He
looked grave, but said : 'I have made careful examination,
but there is no functional cause. With you I agree that
••
126 DRACULA
there has been much blood lost ; it has been, but is not.
But the conditions of her are in no way anæmic. I have
asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or
two question, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I
know well what she will say. And yet there is cause ; there
is always cause for everything. I must go back home and
think. You must send to me the telegram every day ; and
if there be cause I shall come again. The disease—for not
to be all well is a disease-interest me, and the sweet
young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for
her, if not for you or disease, I come. '
"As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even
when we were alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know.
I shall keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is rally-
ing. It must be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow,
to be placed in such a position between two people who are
both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your
father, and you are right to stick to it ; but, if need be, I
shall send you word to come at once to Lucy ; so do not be
over-anxious unless you hear from me."
Dr. Seward's Diary.
4 September.-Zoophagous patient still keeps up our in-
terest in him. He had only one outburst and that was yes-
terday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon
he began to grow restless . The attendant knew the sym-
ptoms, and at once summoned aid . Fortunately the men
came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of
noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to
hold him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get
more and more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melan-
choly, in which state he has remained up to now. The at-
tendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm
were really appalling ; I found my hands full when I got
in, attending to some of the other patients who were
frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the
effect, for the sounds, disturbed even me, though I was
some distance away. It is now after the dinner-hour of the
asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding,LETTERS , ETC. 127
with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which
seems rather to indicate than to show something directly.
I cannot quite understand it .
Later. Another change in my patient. At five o'clock
I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy
and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and
eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by mak-
ing nail-marks on the edge of the door between the ridges
of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised
for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cring-
ing way to be led back to his own room and to have his
note-book again. I thought it well to humour him : so he
is back in his room with the window open. He has the
sugar of his tea spread out on the window- sill, and is reap-
ing quite a harvest of flies . He is not now eating them,
but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already ex-
amining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to
get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his
thoughts would be of immense help to me ; but he would
not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said
in a sort of far- away voice, as though saying it rather to
himself than to me : -
-
"All over ! all over ! He has deserted me. No hope for
me now unless I do it for myself !" Then suddenly turning
to me in a resolute way, he said : " Doctor , won't you be
very good to me and let me have a little more sugar ? I
think it would be good for me."
"And the flies ? " I said.
"Yes ! The flies like it, too , and I like the flies ; therefore
I like it . " And there are people who know so little as to
think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double
supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in
the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.
Midnight. Another change in him. I had been to see
Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just
returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the
sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room
is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in
the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the won-128 DRACULA
derful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its
lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints
that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to
realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone build-
ing, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own deso-
late heart to endure it all . I reached him just as the sun
was going down, and from his window saw the red disc
sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied ; and just
as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert
mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intel-
lectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few
minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him.
I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was
anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to
the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar ; then he
took his fly-box, and emptied it outside, and threw away
the box ; then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat
down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him :
"Are you not going to keep flies any more ? "
"No," said he ; "I am sick of all that rubbish !" He cer-
tainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get
some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden
passion. Stop ; there may be a clue after all, if we can find
why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at
sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the
sun at periods which affects certain natures—as at times
the moon does others ? We shall see.
Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
" 4 September. - Patient still better to-day."
Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
" 5 September. -Patient greatly improved. Good appe-
tite ; sleeps naturally ; good spirits ; colour coming back. "
Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
" 6 September. - Terrible change for the worse. Come at
once ; do not lose an hour I hold over telegram to Holm-
wood till have seen you."