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"Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit him
this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it may
be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk philosophy,
and reason so sound." I had some work to do which pressed, so I told him
that if he would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to
keep him waiting; so I called an attendant and gave him the necessary
instructions. Before the Professor left the room I cautioned him against
getting any false impression from my patient. "But," he answered, "I
want him to talk of himself and of his delusion as to consuming live
things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yesterday, that
he had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend John?"
"Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand on the
type-written matter. "When our sane and learned lunatic made that very
statement of how he _used_ to consume life, his mouth was actually
nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs.
Harker entered the room." Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said.
"Your memory is true, friend John. I should have remembered. And yet it
is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease
such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the
folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise.
Who knows?" I went on with my work, and before long was through that in
hand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there was
Van Helsing back in the study. "Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as he
stood at the door.
"Not at all," I answered. "Come in. My work is finished, and I am free.
I can go with you now, if you like.
"It is needless; I have seen him!"
"Well?"
"I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was short.
When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in the centre, with
his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture of sullen
discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and with such a
measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply whatever. "Don't
you know me?" I asked. His answer was not reassuring: "I know you well
enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself
and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed
Dutchmen!" Not a word more would he say, but sat in his implacable
sullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in the room at
all. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learning from this so
clever lunatic; so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few
happy words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does
rejoice me unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to be
worried with our terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it
is better so."
"I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I did
not want him to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker is better out of it.
Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who have
been in many tight places in our time; but it is no place for a woman,
and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in time
infallibly have wrecked her."
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker; Quincey
and Art are all out following up the clues as to the earth-boxes. I
shall finish my round of work and we shall meet to-night.
_Mina Harker's Journal._
_1 October._--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day;
after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him
manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This
morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though
Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went
out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of
what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must
have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it
must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that
it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and
I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am
crying like a silly fool, when I _know_ it comes from my husband's great
love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.
That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and
lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept
anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has
feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my
heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and
low-spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible
excitement.
Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because they told
me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring anxiety. I
kept thinking over everything that has been ever since Jonathan came to
see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate
pressing on relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does
seems, no matter how right it may be, to bring on the very thing which
is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear
Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken to visiting the churchyard
till I came, and if she hadn't come there in the day-time with me she
wouldn't have walked there in her sleep; and if she hadn't gone there at
night and asleep, that monster couldn't have destroyed her as he did.
Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what
has come over me to-day. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew
that I had been crying twice in one morning--I, who never cried on my