St. Marylebone FEMALE PROTECTION SOCIETY, 157-9, Marylebone-road, NW. This Society seeks to rescue young women who up to the time of their fall have borne a good character. Those with infants are assisted from a special fund. CONTRIBUTIONS are earnestly solicited.
(I could envision a dedicated corps, perhaps neatly uniformed, standing guard with boats and ropes and life-preservers, below all the bridges of the Thames. But neither I nor Baby Hagar had seen them there, and I understood that my vision must fall short of the truth somehow.)
ELLDVIAN’S UNIVERSAL EMBROCATION “THE ONLY GENUINE RUB ON THE MARKET”
National Society for Checking the Abuses of Public Advertising ...
DU BARRY’S REVALENTA ARABICA FOOD
“It has cured me of 9 years’ constipation, declared beyond cure by the best physicians, and given me new life, health, and happiness. —A. Spadaro, Merchant, Alexandria, Egypt.”
THE SEXAGENARY OF PHONOGRAPHY ...
(This proved to be not as interesting an article as my first glance at the headline led me to hope.)
THE COAL MINERS’ STRIKE IN AMERICA …
PEARS’ SOAP ...
WAGES IN THE COTTON INDUSTRY—The replies from cotton manufacturers in Blackburn, Burnley, and Preston as to a proposed reduction in weavers’ wages of 10 per cent., &c., were returnable yesterday, but the committee will not consider them finally or seriously until next Friday ...
HUNYADI JANOS the BEST and SAFEST NATURAL APERIENT ... free from defects incidental to many other Hungarian Bitter Waters ...
(That friend and ally of my breathing days, Janos Hunyadi, voivode of Transylvania and later ruler of all Hungary, would have found these waters bitter to his taste indeed.)
COMPETITION for WORD to ADVERTISE a GINGER ALE— “G.S.C.” begs to notify competitors that it has not been possible to settle this matter yet, and requests any who may have an opportunity of disposing of their word in another direction to do so. The result will be advertised as soon as a decision is come to.
CHESS
THE INTERNATIONAL CONGRESSS IN BERLIN
The 4th round in the chess tournament was begun this morning. M. Tschigorin played against Mr. Blackburne, but, losing his queen through oversight, gave up after 25 moves...
MERRY WEATHER’S latest Domestic Novelty is their PATENT PORTABLE ELECTRIC FIRE ENGINE for Corridors of Mansions and Institutions having Electric Light, by the utilization of the Electric Current to actuate the fire pump.
SALVATION ARMY... there are baths, hot and cold, at all our shelters, and they are largely used... all are not admitted who apply...W. BRAMWELL BOOTH
(I blessed my good fortune that I had somehow qualified in my hour of need, and reminded myself to send a large, anonymous donation when I again possessed the means.)
BICYCLE POLO at CRYSTAL PALACE
This new game is played without mallets...
Steamers from Panama are now given clean bills of health, and are no longer subject to quarantine in Equatorian and Peruvian ports...
NATIONAL TRUSS SOCIETY for the RELIEF of the RUPTURED POOR...
... at WORSHIP-STREET, a sturdy little boy, very ragged and barefooted, was charged by a school attendance officer with wandering and with not being under proper guardianship... there seems to be a large floating population increasing constantly...
... the Dreyfus affair is assuming larger proportions...
IT IS A FACT!
THAT MUCH MEAT EATING produces muscular rheumatism, gout, severe pains in the limbs and joints, cold extremities, clamminess, weak circulation, Migraine (headache) AND oftentimes corpulence. People say ‘the blood is the life’, but such a statement is nonsense...
(Indeed?)
THE PLAGUE IN INDIA—A minimum quarantine of six days is being enforced against all 2nd and 3rd class arrivals by rail at Bombay from plague—infected areas... four more Europeans attacked by plague were admitted to hospital at Poona yesterday...
THE GREAT HORSELESS CARRIAGE CO., LTD ...
(I had heard fragments of information concerning such machines, but had yet to see one.)
BARNUM & BAILEY—Greatest show on Earth—Opening in Great Olympia...
THE DIAMOND JUBILEE LACE SHIRT...
FOUND—A very large traveler’s trunk, locked, of fine heavy leather, and Continental manufacture. The owner may have same by identifying the name attached …
I read that last item through twice, then stood up, folding my paper. It seemed that perhaps the bitch-goddess was going to smile on me again; and high time, too, I thought.
That night as soon as dusk had fallen I was at the given address in Westminster, having meanwhile spent some of my last coins purchasing a better hat, one which even Monsieur Corday of Paris and Vienna need not feel ashamed of wearing.
The sturdy, middle-aged woman who answered the door was polite enough, but very firm in her refusal to let me enter. She remained unimpressed by what I considered my most ingratiating smile. I would have to return in the morning, she said, when the party who had found the trunk—no, she did not know where or how it had been found—would probably be in.
Two hours after a gloomy sunrise, I was back. The same stolid woman ushered me upstairs to a somewhat exotic sitting-room, in one corner of which sat a great trunk, unmistakably mine—it was fashioned of thick brown leather, and massive as a coffin, though not so distinctively shaped.
A glance told me that the name-tag had been removed, but the lid was still tightly closed, and the great box appeared to be undamaged. Scarcely had the landlady departed, leaving me in a chair to await my benefactor, when I was on my feet again and bending over my property. I had just ascertained that the trunk was still locked, when I heard soft stirrings of human life somewhere behind me, as of several people entering an adjacent room. These sounds I ignored, until a door at my back began to open quietly.
I turned, smiling to greet my benefactor, only to behold three men, two of them holding pistols aimed in my direction whilst the third gripped some kind of cudgel. In a moment, an exceptionally lovely young woman had come through the door behind them, and stood there gazing at me as at an enemy.
The thin, intense man who was poised a little in advance of all the others said: “These weapons, sir, are for our own protection only.”
“Indeed?” I responded. “Even with odds of three to one? What makes you think I mean you harm—and why are you all so timid on this fine June morning?” The clouds of dawn had blown away, and somewhere in a garden birds were twittering.
“We were more timid, still, in last night’s darkness,” he answered, and in his voice there was a meaning that I with great foolishness left unread With casual contempt I turned my back on them, and bent once more to the examination of my trunk
And I froze in that position, when he added in an incisive tone: “Let us play games no longer. I shall be greatly pleased to hear from your own lips, Count Dracula, the truth of how Frau Grafenstein came to her end.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We carried Sally Craddock straight to hospital from where she had been struck down. For several hours she lingered, Holmes and I both remaining at her bedside, and then she died without regaining consciousness. Meanwhile the driver of the dray-wagon was apprehended, but as he had been himself very severely injured in the capsizing of his vehicle, he was in no condition to be seriously questioned. Holmes recognized him at once as a minor criminal and bully.
“Of course they knew she was in the station, Watson—somehow they knew. This choice specimen was assigned to wait outside, and was quick enough to seize his chance when it came. I feel responsible for giving him that chance. I did not foresee that Sally Craddock would see the vampire’s face in mine, or would react as she did to the sight.”
“How could you have foreseen anything of the kind? In her brief statement to the police she described the—the killer—as being friendly and helpful to her. ‘Gentlemanly’ was another word she used, was it not?” Lestrade had brought a copy of her
first and only declaration to the hospital for us to see.
Holmes shook his head. “I should have suspected, though, that he might have inspired in her a fear and loathing that ran very deep.* It is the other side of the coin of the damnable attractiveness that these creatures possess for women. Those punctures on her throat were not made by horses’ hooves or a wagon’s wheels.”
* The whole question of Sally Craddock’s true motive in fleeing the police station, if it is to be raised at all, deserves more space than is here available. I will only remark that it is a large assumption to make, that Watson invariably records Holmes’ statements accurately. —D.
To this I suppose I must have stammered some reply. Shortly thereafter I returned to Baker Street, while Holmes hurled himself with feverish energy into activities of which I was able to observe only a small part. He was in and out of our lodgings repeatedly for the rest of the day. On each return he asked if there were any messages, and replied to my own questions brusquely if at all.
It was evening before he came in and stayed long enough to make it worthwhile taking off his hat. He threw himself into a chair, sought solace in strong tobacco, and altogether gave an impression of deep, struggling thought combined with near-exhaustion. I prevailed upon him to take a little food, and shortly thereafter, to my great relief, he retired, very early, for the night.
That night I found myself unable to sleep much. Up early the following morning, I peeped in cautiously on Holmes and saw with satisfaction that he still slumbered.
I had just finished my breakfast when two gentlemen were announced, and it was with some surprise that I greeted Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward. I had not seen them and had scarcely thought of them since the affair at Barley’s. Looking now at their faces, which were both somewhat grimly set, I asked: “May I take it, gentlemen, that this visit is not purely social?”
“It is not.” Jack Seward exchanged glances with his companion, then went on: “Our business concerns a matter of great delicacy, but I am sure you will understand that it is one which cannot be allowed to pass in silence.”
“Perhaps it is Sherlock Holmes whom you really wish to see. I am afraid he is not available for consultation at present.” When I ordered breakfast, I had taken it upon myself to instruct Mrs. Hudson to tell any unfamiliar callers that Holmes was out.
“No, it is you we wish to see, Dr. Watson,” Lord Godalming put in. “The fact is, we made sure that you were alone before we came up.”
With my nerves already under strain, I found their stiff, mysterious manner quite unpleasant. “Well, then?”
Again they looked at each other hesitantly. Then Seward bluntly came out with it. “We should like to know why you interfered, that night at Barley’s, with a policeman in the performance of his duty.”
For a moment, my irritation threatened to burst up into anger; but quickly I saw that such an attitude was scarcely fair. In Seward’s place I might well have chosen to take exactly the same course with an old acquaintance. I nodded silently.
Seward said unhappily: “It’s more, of course, than just a matter of the man escaping an arrest for gambling, or anything of that kind. I believe, Watson, that this fellow was actually the Thames-side murderer.”
“What has caused you to believe that?”
“Well, one has friends, you know. And some of mine have friends at Scotland Yard. Do you deny that you helped him to get out?”
“No, I do not. But I do offer you my solemn word, gentlemen, that my intentions were of the best. If you will not accept my unsupported word, I suggest that you ask Mr. Sherlock Holmes about the matter when he awakens.”
Seward blinked at me. “But the landlady said—”
“She had her orders from me. Last night I felt it my duty as Mr. Holmes’ physician to administer a sedative.”
My old acquaintance shook his head, expressing what was evidently a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and relief. He removed his eyeglasses and polished them and put them back. “Look here, Watson—if you say it’s all square, what you were doing there at Barley’s—what we thought we saw you doing, I mean—oh, dash it all, that’s good enough for me. I’ve no real head for these detective investigations and intrigues anyway. What do you say, Arthur?”
His Lordship, also looking relieved, muttered something in the way of an agreement. When my visitors had taken the chairs I now made haste to offer them, and had courteously declined my offers of refreshment, Seward went on to inquire: “Now—I trust you will not think it unethical of me to ask—but I hope there is nothing seriously wrong with Mr. Holmes? If there is, it will give cause for rejoicing to the criminal element in this country—in all of Europe—but it will be a sad day for the rest of us.”
“I...” I rubbed my forehead, not knowing what course I ought to take. “I have given some thought to consulting a specialist on his behalf.”
Lord Godalming stood up. “It was most pleasant to see you again, Dr. Watson. Jack, I think I shall just be on my way, and leave the matters medical, if there are to be any, to you two.”
I bade His Lordship good-bye. Then, as soon as we were alone, Seward said to me gravely: “I of course stand ready to listen at any time, on a professional and confidential basis, should you desire to consult with me.”
With some reluctance I began to set forth, in a stumbling fashion, my growing concern for my friend’s sanity. Besides my reluctance, there was the real difficulty of my not daring to reveal, even under the cloak of professional secrecy, the terrible threat of plague hanging over London.
I began: “There is a case Holmes has presently under investigation—I had better say several connected cases—of an importance transcending anything that has come before them in his career.”
“Ah.” Seward was naturally impressed. “And you feel the extraordinary strain is telling on him?”
“Yes.”
“How close to a solution would you say he is, in this intricate problem? Or is it more than one problem that affects him? I fear I did not take your meaning on that point very clearly.”
“And I am afraid that I cannot be plainer, even in a medical consultation.”
He gave me a sharp look, then shrugged. “Well, if you cannot. What symptoms precisely does he exhibit?”
Some time passed before I struggled out with it, or tried to. “There is one of the men involved... a fugitive... Holmes has become dreadfully obsessed with this individual’s identity.”
“Surely it is a detective’s business to ascertain that?”
“I see I am expressing myself badly. Holmes has solemnly assured me, more than once, that this man—it is the very one I unwittingly helped at Barley’s—is a—a type of supernatural being.”
“The man at Barley’s—I see.” Seward leaned back in his chair, looking grave. “By the way, I have heard that the girl arrested there has lately been severely injured. Do not think, Watson, that I am going too far afield in asking these questions. They have a bearing on the nature of Mr. Holmes’ difficulty.”
“No doubt they do.” Holmes had asked that Sally Craddock’s death be kept a secret, so far as possible. “But had I not better first describe the patient’s condition?”
“Of course, if you wish. Precisely what type of supernatural being does Mr. Holmes imagine this fugitive to be?”
I had to come out with it at last. “A vampire.”
Seward looked so grave* at this that my spirits, which had begun to rise at the prospect of acquiring an ally, were crushed again. He asked: “What turn have his investigations taken, to put such an idea into his head?”
* Those readers who have seen my own recent account of my London visit in 1891, or my enemies’ old distorted record of the same events, will have already recognized Dr. Seward and Lord Godalming, as two of my opponents on that occasion. The existence of vampires would therefore have been no news to either man in 1897—though, being jealous of their own reputations for sanity, they were not likely to discuss their knowledge with
outsiders. And whether Seward first conceived the possibility that I was still alive and back in London during this talk with Watson, or at some other moment, it must have struck him like a red-hot lash. —D.
“I repeat, I cannot discuss them—I could not, even to save his sanity. You consider, then, that delusions regarding vampires are particularly morbid?”
“I consider that it may be very difficult to save his sanity, unless I know what threatens it. At the same time I must of course respect your decision regarding the relative importance of matters of which I know nothing.”
“I wish I could tell you more, but I cannot. Holmes should awaken soon, if you would care to—”
“No, Watson, I think not. I should prefer that he not discover just yet that you have been holding medical consultation on his behalf without his knowledge. What sedative have you prescribed?” At my reply he nodded thoughtfully. “It seems to be strong enough to help him rest; and perhaps rest will suffice.”
The Holmes-Dracula File Page 16