CHAPTER 20
JOANNA HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, evening.--I found Thomasina Snelling in her house at Bethnal Green, but unhappily she was not in a condition to remember anything. The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to her had proved too much, and she had begun too early on her expected debauch. I learned, however, from her husband, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that she was only the assistant of Smollet, who of the two mates was the responsible person. So off I drove to Walworth, and found Ms. Joseph Smollet at home and in her shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a saucer. She is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable type of workwoman, and with a headpiece of her own. She remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog-eared notebook, which she produced from some mysterious receptacle about the seat of her trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, she gave me the destinations of the boxes. There were, she said, six in the cartload which she took from Carfax and left at 197 Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which she deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then the Count meant to scatter these ghastly refuges of her over London, these places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later she might distribute more fully. The systematic manner in which this was done made me think that she could not mean to confine herself to two sides of London. She was now fixed on the far east on the northern shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant to be left out of her diabolical scheme, let alone the City itself and the very heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west. I went back to Smollet, and asked her if she could tell us if any other boxes had been taken from Carfax.
She replied, 'Well guv'nor, you've treated me very 'an'some', I had given her half a sovereign, 'an I'll tell yer all I know. I heard a woman by the name of Bloxam say four nights ago in the 'Are an' 'Ounds, in Pincher's Alley, as 'ow she an' her mate 'ad 'ad a rare dusty job in a old 'ouse at Purfleet. There ain't a many such jobs as this 'ere, an' I'm thinkin' that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut.'
I asked if she could tell me where to find her. I told her that if she could get me the address it would be worth another half sovereign to her. So she gulped down the rest of her tea and stood up, saying that she was going to begin the search then and there.
At the door she stopped, and said, 'Look 'ere, guv'nor, there ain't no sense in me a keepin' you 'ere. I may find Sam soon, or I mayn't, but anyhow she ain't like to be in a way to tell ye much tonight. Sam is a rare one when she starts on the booze. If you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address on it, I'll find out where Sam is to be found and post it ye tonight. But ye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the mornin', never mind the booze the night afore.'
This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change. When he came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when Smollet had again faithfully promised to post the address when found, I took my way to home. We're on the track anyhow. I am tired tonight, and I want to sleep. Minas is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale. His eyes look as though he had been crying. Poor dear, I've no doubt it frets his to be kept in the dark, and it may make his doubly anxious about me and the others. But it is best as it is. It is better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have his nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on his being kept out of this dreadful business. I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever enter on the subject with his under any circumstances. Indeed, It may not be a hard task, after all, for he himself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the Countess or her doings ever since we told him of our decision.
2 October, evening--A long and trying and exciting day. By the first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter's pencil in a sprawling hand, 'Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4 Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for the depite.'
I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Minas. He looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to wake him, but that when I should return from this new search, I would arrange for his going back to Exeter. I think he would be happier in our own home, with his daily tasks to interest him, than in being here amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told her where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest so soon as I should have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and found, with some difficulty, Potter's Court. Ms. Smollet's spelling misled me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead of Potter's Court. However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in discovering Corcoran's lodging house.
When I asked the woman who came to the door for the 'depite,’ she shook her head, and said, 'I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a person 'ere. I never 'eard of 'im in all my bloomin' days. Don't believe there ain't nobody of that kind livin' 'ere or anywheres.'
I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me. 'What are you?’ I asked.
'I'm the depity,’ she answered.
I saw at once that I was on the right track. Phonetic spelling had again misled me. A half crown tip put the deputy's knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Ms. Bloxam, who had slept off the remains of her beer on the previous night at Corcoran's, had left for her work at Poplar at five o'clock that morning. She could not tell me where the place of work was situated, but she had a vague idea that it was some kind of a 'new-fangled ware'us,’ and with this slender clue I had to start for Poplar. It was twelve o'clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such a building, and this I got at a coffee shop, where some workwomen were having their dinner. One of them suggested that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street a new 'cold storage'building, and as this suited the condition of a 'new-fangled ware'us,’ I at once drove to it. An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm, put me on the track of Bloxam. She was sent for on my suggestion that I was willing to pay her days wages to her foreman for the privilege of asking her a few questions on a private matter. She was a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I had promised to pay for her information and given her an earnest, she told me that she had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in Piccadilly, and had taken from this house to the latter nine great boxes, 'main heavy ones,'with a horse and cart hired by her for this purpose.
I asked her if she could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly, to which she replied, 'Well, guv'nor, I forgits the number, but it was only a few door from a big white church, or somethink of the kind, not long built. It was a dusty old 'ouse, too, though nothin' to the dustiness of the 'ouse we tooked the bloomin' boxes from.'
'How did you get in if both houses were empty?'
'There was the old party what engaged me a waitin' in the 'ouse at Purfleet. She 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me, but she was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' her a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think she couldn't throw a shadder.'
How this phrase thrilled through me!
'Why, 'e took up 'is end o' the boxes like they was pounds of tea, and me a puffin' an' a blowin' afore I could upend mine anyhow, an' I'm no chicken, neither.'
'How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?’ I asked.
'She was there too. She must 'a started off and got there afore me, for when I rung of the bell she kem an' opened the door 'isself an' 'elped me carry the boxes into the 'all.'
'The whole nine?’ I asked.
'Yus, there was five in the first load an' four in the second. It was main dry work, an' I don't so well remember 'ow I got 'ome.'
I interrupted her, 'Were the boxes left in the hall?'
'Yus, it was
a big 'all, an' there was nothin' else in it.'
I made one more attempt to further matters. 'You didn't have any key?'
'Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, she opened the door 'isself an' shut it again when I druv off. I don't remember the last time, but that was the beer.'
‘and you can't remember the number of the house?'
'No, sir. But ye needn't have no difficulty about that. It's a 'igh 'un with a stone front with a bow on it, an' 'igh steps up to the door. I know them steps, 'avin' 'ad to carry the boxes up with three loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin's, an' they seein' they got so much, they wanted more. But 'e took one of them by the shoulder and was like to throw 'im down the steps, till the lot of them went away cussin'.'
I thought that with this description I could find the house, so having paid my friend for her information, I started off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience. The Countess could, it was evident, handle the earth boxes herself. If so, time was precious, for now that she had achieved a certain amount of distribution, she could, by choosing her own time, complete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I discharged my cab, and walked westward. Beyond the Junior Constitutional I came across the house described and was satisfied that this was the next of the lairs arranged by Dracula. The house looked as though it had been long untenanted. The windows were encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up. All the framework was black with time, and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away. It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice board in front of the balcony. It had, however, been roughly torn away, the uprights which had supported it still remaining. Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose boards, whose raw edges looked white. I would have given a good deal to have been able to see the notice board intact, as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownership of the house. I remembered my experience of the investigation and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that if I could find the former owner there might be some means discovered of gaining access to the house.
There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side, and nothing could be done, so I went around to the back to see if anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active, the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me anything about the empty house. One of them said that she heard it had lately been taken, but she couldn't say from whom. She told me, however, that up to very lately there had been a notice board of 'For Sale'up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Daughters, & Candy the house agents could tell me something, as she thought she remembered seeing the name of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to let my informant know or guess too much, so thanking her in the usual manner, I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having learned the address of Mitchell, Daughters, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I was soon at their office in Sackville Street.
The gentlewoman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the Piccadilly house, which throughout our interview she called a 'mansion,'was sold, she considered my business as concluded. When I asked who had purchased it, she opened her eyes a thought wider, and paused a few seconds before replying, 'It is sold, sir.'
'Pardon me,’ I said, with equal politeness, 'but I have a special reason for wishing to know who purchased it.'
Again she paused longer, and raised her eyebrows still more. 'It is sold, sir,'was again her laconic reply.
'Surely,’ I said, 'you do not mind letting me know so much.'
'But I do mind,’ she answered. 'The affairs of their clients are absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Daughters, & Candy.'
This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing with her. I thought I had best meet her on her own ground, so I said, 'Your clients, lady, are happy in having so resolute a guardian of their confidence. I am myself a professional woman.'
Here I handed her my card. 'In this instance I am not prompted by curiosity, I act on the part of Lady Godalming, who wishes to know something of the property which was, she understood, lately for sale.'
These words put a different complexion on affairs. She said, 'I would like to oblige you if I could, Ms. Harker, and especially would I like to oblige her lordship. We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambers for her when she was the honourable Artemis Holmwood. If you will let me have her lordship's address I will consult the House on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with her lordship by tonight's post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate from our rules as to give the required information to her lordship.'
I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I thanked her, gave the address at Dr. Seward's and came away. It was now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aerated Bread Company and came down to Purfleet by the next train.
I found all the others at home. Minas was looking tired and pale, but he made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful. It wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep anything from his and so caused his inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of his looking on at our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of keeping him out of our grim task. He seems somehow more reconciled, or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to him, for when any accidental allusion is made he actually shudders. I am glad we made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this, our growing knowledge would be torture to him.
I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we were alone, so after dinner, followed by a little music to save appearances even amongst ourselves, I took Minas to his room and left his to go to bed. The dear boy was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me as though he would detain me, but there was much to be talked of and I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.
When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and simply read it off to them as the best means of letting them get abreast of my own information.
When I had finished Van Helsing said, 'This has been a great day's work, friend Joanna. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing boxes. If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the end. But if there be some missing, we must search until we find them. Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to her real death.'
We all sat silent awhile and all at once Ms. Morris spoke, 'Say! How are we going to get into that house?'
'We got into the other,'answered Lady Godalming quickly.
'But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck can find us a key of some sort.'
Lady Godalming's brows contracted, and she stood up and walked about the room. By-and-by she stopped and said, turning from one to another of us, 'Quincy's head is level. This burglary business is getting serious. We got off once all right, but we have now a rare job on hand. Unless we can find the Countess' key basket.'
As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at least advisable to wait till Lady Godalming should hear from Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and bearings. I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to bed . . .
Just a line. Minas sleeps soundly and his breathing is regular. His forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though he thinks even in his sleep. He is still t
oo pale, but does not look so haggard as he did this morning. Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all this. He will be himself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy!
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. Her moods change so rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they always mean something more than her own well-being, they form a more than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see her after her repulse of Van Helsing, her manner was that of a woman commanding destiny. She was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively. She did not really care for any of the things of mere earth, she was in the clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor mortals.
I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked her, 'What about the flies these times?'
She smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smile as would have become the face of Malvolio, as she answered me, 'The fly, my dear lady, has one striking feature. It's wings are typical of the aerial powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly!'
I thought I would push her analogy to its utmost logically, so I said quickly, 'Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?'
Her madness foiled her reason, and a puzzled look spread over her face as, shaking her head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in her.
She said, 'Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want.'Here she brightened up. 'I am pretty indifferent about it at present. Life is all right. I have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor, if you wish to study zoophagy!'
This puzzled me a little, so I drew her on. 'Then you command life. You are a god, I suppose?'
She smiled with an ineffably benign superiority. 'Oh no! Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity. I am not even concerned in Her especially spiritual doings. If I may state my intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things purely terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch occupied spiritually!'
This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall Enoch's appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though I felt that by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic. ‘and why with Enoch?'
'Because she walked with God.'
I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it, so I harked back to what she had denied. 'So you don't care about life and you don't want souls. Why not?’ I put my question quickly and somewhat sternly, on purpose to disconcert her.
The effort succeeded, for an instant she unconsciously relapsed into her old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon me as she replied. 'I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don't. I couldn't use them if I had them. They would be no manner of use to me. I couldn't eat them or . . .'
She suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over her face, like a wind sweep on the surface of the water.
‘and doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've got all you require, and you know that you will never want, that is all. I have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward.’ This was said with a leer of inexpressible cunning. 'I know that I shall never lack the means of life!'
I think that through the cloudiness of her insanity she saw some antagonism in me, for she at once fell back on the last refuge of such as she, a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the present it was useless to speak to her. She was sulky, and so I came away.
Later in the day she sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come without special reason, but just at present I am so interested in her that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to have anything to help pass the time. Harker is out, following up clues, and so are Lady Godalming and Quincy. Van Helsing sits in my study poring over the record prepared by the Harkers. She seems to think that by accurate knowledge of all details she will light up on some clue. She does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without cause. I would have taken her with me to see the patient, only I thought that after her last repulse she might not care to go again. There was also another reason. Renfield might not speak so freely before a third person as when she and I were alone.
I found her sitting in the middle of the floor on her stool, a pose which is generally indicative of some mental energy on her part. When I came in, she said at once, as though the question had been waiting on her lips. 'What about souls?'
It was evident then that my surmise had been correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic. I determined to have the matter out.
'What about them yourself?’ I asked.
She did not reply for a moment but looked all around her, and up and down, as though she expected to find some inspiration for an answer.
'I don't want any souls!’ she said in a feeble, apologetic way. The matter seemed preying on her mind, and so I determined to use it, to 'be cruel only to be kind.'So I said, 'You like life, and you want life?'
'Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about that!'
'But,’ I asked, 'how are we to get the life without getting the soul also?'
This seemed to puzzle her, so I followed it up, 'A nephew time you'll have some time when you're flying out here, with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and twittering and moaning all around you. You've got their lives, you know, and you must put up with their souls!'
Something seemed to affect her imagination, for she put her fingers to her ears and shut her eyes, screwing them up tightly just as a small girl does when her face is being soaped. There was something pathetic in it that touched me. It also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that before me was a child, only a child, though the features were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was evident that she was undergoing some process of mental disturbance, and knowing how her past moods had interpreted things seemingly foreign to herself, I thought I would enter into her mind as well as I could and go with her.
The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked her, speaking pretty loud so that she would hear me through her closed ears, 'Would you like some sugar to get your flies around again?'
She seemed to wake up all at once, and shook her head. With a laugh she replied, 'Not much! Flies are poor things, after all!'After a pause she added, 'But I don't want their souls buzzing round me, all the same.'
'Or spiders?’ I went on.
'Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anything in them to eat or . . .'She stopped suddenly as though reminded of a forbidden topic.
'So, so!'I thought to myself, 'this is the second time she has suddenly stopped at the word 'drink'. What does it mean?'
Renfield seemed herself aware of having made a lapse, for she hurried on, as though to distract my attention from it, 'I don't take any stock at all in such matters. 'Rats and mice and such small deer,' as Shakespeare has it, 'chicken feed of the larder' they might be called. I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well ask a woman to eat molecules with a pair of chopsticks, as to try to interest me about the less carnivora, when I know of what is before me.'
'I see,’ I said. 'You want big things that you can make your teeth meet in? How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?'
'What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?'She was getting too wide awake, so I thought I would press her hard.
'I wonder,’ I said reflectively, 'what an elephant's soul is like!'
The effect I desired was obtained, for she at once fell from her high-horse and became a child again.
'I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!’ she said. For a few moments she sat despondently. Suddenly she jumped to her feet, with her eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement. 'To hell with you and your souls!’ she shouted. 'Why do you plague me about souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, to distract me already, without thinking of souls?'
She looked so hostile that I thought she was in for another homicidal fit, so I ble
w my whistle.
The instant, however, that I did so she became calm, and said apologetically, 'Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not need any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and that I am working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not put me in a strait waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot think freely when my body is confined. I am sure you will understand!'
She had evidently self-control, so when the attendants came I told them not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield watched them go. When the door was closed she said with considerable dignity and sweetness, 'Dr. Seward, you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me that I am very, very grateful to you!'
I thought it well to leave her in this mood, and so I came away. There is certainly something to ponder over in this woman's state. Several points seem to make what the American interviewer calls 'a story,’ If one could only get them in proper order. Here they are:
Will not mention 'drinking.'
Fears the thought of being burdened with the 'soul'of anything.
Has no dread of wanting 'life'in the future.
Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though she dreads being haunted by their souls.
Logically all these things point one way! She has assurance of some kind that she will acquire some higher life.
She dreads the consequence, the burden of a soul. Then it is a human life she looks to!
And the assurance . . .?
Merciful God! The Countess has been to her, and there is some new scheme of terror afoot!
Later.--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told her my suspicion. She grew very grave, and after thinking the matter over for a while asked me to take her to Renfield. I did so. As we came to the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as she used to do in the time which now seems so long ago.
When we entered we saw with amazement that she had spread out her sugar as of old. The flies, lethargic with the autumn, were beginning to buzz into the room. We tried to make her talk of the subject of our previous conversation, but she would not attend. She went on with her singing, just as though we had not been present. She had got a scrap of paper and was folding it into a notebook. We had to come away as ignorant as we went in.
Her is a curious case indeed. We must watch her tonight.
LETTER, MITCHELL, DAUGHTERS & CANDY TO LADY GODALMING.
'1 October.
'My Lady,
'We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg, with regard to the desire of your Ladyship, expressed by Ms. Harker on your behalf, to supply the following information concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The original vendors are the executors of the late Ms. Archibald Winter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Countess de Ville, who effected the purchase herself paying the purchase money in notes 'over the counter,' if your Ladyship will pardon us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this we know nothing whatever of her.
'We are, my Lady,
'Your Ladyship's humble servants,
'MITCHELL, DAUGHTERS & CANDY.'
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
2 October.--I placed a woman in the corridor last night, and told her to make an accurate note of any sound she might hear from Renfield's room, and gave her instructions that if there should be anything strange she was to call me. After dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire in the study, Harker having gone to bed, we discussed the attempts and discoveries of the day. Harker was the only one who had any result, and we are in great hopes that her clue may be an important one.
Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and looked in through the observation trap. She was sleeping soundly, her heart rose and fell with regular respiration.
This morning the woman on duty reported to me that a little after midnight she was restless and kept saying her prayers somewhat loudly. I asked her if that was all. She replied that it was all she heard. There was something about her manner, so suspicious that I asked her point blank if she had been asleep. She denied sleep, but admitted to having 'dozed'for a while. It is too bad that women cannot be trusted unless they are watched.
Today Harker is out following up her clue, and Art and Quincy are looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will be well to have horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which we seek there will be no time to lose. We must sterilize all the imported earth between sunrise and sunset. We shall thus catch the Countess at her weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient medicine. The old physicians took account of things which their followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for warlock and demon cures which may be useful to us later.
I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait waistcoats.
Later.--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and our work of tomorrow may be the beginning of the end. I wonder if Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this. Her moods have so followed the doings of the Countess, that the coming destruction of the monster may be carried to her some subtle way. If we could only get some hint as to what passed in her mind, between the time of my argument with her today and her resumption of fly-catching, it might afford us a valuable clue. She is now seemingly quiet for a spell . . . Is she? That wild yell seemed to come from her room . . .
The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had somehow met with some accident. She had heard her yell, and when she went to her found her lying on her face on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once . . .
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