Bram Stoker

What I saw was the Count’s head com­ing out from the win­dow. I did not

I was not alone. The room was the same, un­changed in any way since I came into it; I could see along the floor, in the bril­liant moon­light, my own foot­step

Good night, every­body.

“When does the next train start for Gal­atz?” said Van Helsing to us gen­er­ally.

“At 6:30 to­mor­row morn­ing!” We all star­ted, for the an­swer came from Mrs. Harker.

“How on earth do you know?” said Art.

“You for­get—or per­haps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so does Dr. Van Helsing—that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I al­ways used to make up the timetables, so as to be help­ful to my hus­band. I found it so use­ful some­times, that I al­ways make a study of the timetables now. I knew that if any­thing were to take us to Castle Drac­ula we should go by Gal­atz, or at any rate through Bucharest, so I learned the times very care­fully. Un­hap­pily there are not many to learn, as the only train to­mor­row leaves as I say.”

“Won­der­ful wo­man!” mur­mured the Pro­fessor.

This crim­inal has not full man-brain. He is clever and cun­ning and re­source­ful; but he be not of man-stature as to brain. He be of child-brain in much. Now this crim­inal of ours is pre­des­tin­ate to crime also; he, too, have child-brain, and it is of the child to do what he have done. The little bird, the little fish, the little an­imal learn not by prin­ciple, but em­pir­ic­ally; and when he learn to do, then there is to him the ground to start from to do more. ‘Dos pou sto,’ said Archimedes. ‘Give me a ful­crum, and I shall move the world!’ To do once, is the ful­crum whereby child-brain be­come man-brain; and un­til he have the pur­pose to do more, he con­tinue to do the same again every time, just as he have done be­fore!

Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes are opened, and that to you the light­ning flash show all the leagues,” for Mrs. Harker began to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled. He went on:―

“Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of sci­ence what you see with those so bright eyes.” He took her hand and held it whilst she spoke. His fin­ger and thumb closed on her pulse, as I thought in­stinct­ively and un­con­sciously, as she spoke:―

“The Count is a crim­inal and of crim­inal type. Nordau and Lom­broso would so clas­sify him, and quâ crim­inal he is of im­per­fectly formed mind. Thus, in a dif­fi­culty he has to seek re­source in habit. His past is a clue, and the one page of it that we know—and that from his own lips—tells that once be­fore, when in what Mr. Mor­ris would call a ‘tight place,’ he went back to his own coun­try from the land he had tried to in­vade, and thence, without los­ing pur­pose, pre­pared him­self for a new ef­fort. He came again bet­ter equipped for his work; and won. So he came to Lon­don to in­vade a new land. He was beaten, and when all hope of suc­cess was lost, and his ex­ist­ence in danger, he fled back over the sea to his home; just as formerly he had fled back over the Danube from Tur­key Land.”

“Good, good! oh, you so clever lady!” said Van Helsing, en­thu­si­ast­ic­ally, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A mo­ment later he said to me, as calmly as though we had been hav­ing a sick­room con­sulta­tion:―

“Seventy-two only; and in all this ex­cite­ment. I have hope.” Turn­ing to her again, he said with keen ex­pect­a­tion:―

The Pro­fessor lost no time in his ques­tion­ing; her an­swer came with equal quick­ness:―

“All is dark. I hear wa­ter swirl­ing by, level with my ears, and the creak­ing of wood on wood. Cattle low far off. There is an­other sound, a queer one like—” She stopped and grew white, and whiter still.

“Go on; go on! Speak, I com­mand you!” said Van Helsing in an ag­on­ised voice. At the same time there was des­pair in his eyes, for the risen sun was red­den­ing even Mrs. Harker’s pale face. She opened her eyes, and we all star­ted as she said, sweetly and seem­ingly with the ut­most un­con­cern:―

“Oh, Pro­fessor, why ask me to do what you know I can’t? I don’t re­mem­ber any­thing.” Then, see­ing the look of amazement on our faces, she said, turn­ing from one to the other with a troubled look:―

“What have I said? What have I done? I know noth­ing, only that I was ly­ing here, half asleep, and heard you say go on! speak, I com­mand you!’ It seemed so funny to hear you or­der me about, as if I were a bad child!”

“Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, sadly, “it is proof, if proof be needed, of how I love and hon­our you, when a word for your good, spoken more earn­est than ever, can seem so strange be­cause it is to or­der her whom I am proud to obey!”

At first I in­clined to slack off sail and beat about till the fog was lif­ted; but whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would or no.

The Rou­mani­ans were wild, and wanted me right or wrong to take out the box and fling it in the river. I had to argy wi’ them aboot it wi’ a hand­spike; an’ when the last o’ them rose off the deck wi’ his head in his hand, I had con­vinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the prop­erty and the trust of my own­ers were bet­ter in my hands than in the river Danube.

They were so tired and worn out and dis­pir­ited that there was noth­ing to be done till they had some rest; so I asked them all to lie down for half an hour whilst I should enter everything up to the mo­ment. I feel so grate­ful to the man who in­ven­ted the “Trav­el­ler’ ” type­writer, and to Mr. Mor­ris for get­ting this one for me. I should have felt quite; astray do­ing the work if I had to write with a pen. …