by Bram Stoker
Clipping From the “Zaman” Newspaper Published in Istanbul, 25 September.
A VERY MYSTERIOUS EVENT
During the past three or four days, mysterious events near Eyüp have drawn the attention of the public. In this neighborhood, incidents have occurred of children straying from home or neglecting to return from playing. These lost children are all too young to give an intelligible account of themselves to their parents. However, when asked where they went, they say merely that they “played with the beautiful lady.” The children always seem to disappear in the evening; two have been found by their parents the following morning. Police had to become involved. It is strange that they speak of a “beautiful lady.” However, police suppose that the children picked up the phrase from the first child and used it as occasion served. There is, additionally, a more serious and important aspect to the story. According to our correspondent and the police report, all of the missing children have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat. These wounds resemble the bite of a small animal like a rat or small dog. The children also showed visible signs of exhaustion. The municipality is conducting a rigorous search around Eyüp for stray dogs.
One last piece of information has reached our newspaper while awaiting publication: A child, lost yesterday evening, was found under a cypress tree in Eyüp cemetery. This child also had the same tiny wounds as has been noticed in the other cases. The poor child appeared to be so exhausted that he was unable to move. He appeared weak and emaciated, as though he had been through an illness in one night. This boy also said that he had been lured to the cemetery by “a beautiful lady.”
CHAPTER IX
FROM GÜZİN HANIM’S DIARY
24 September.—I finally read Azmi’s notebook from start to finish. My God… How horrible, how horrible! Whether it be true or only imagination, my poor Azmi must have suffered a period of hellish torture. Can such things ever be real? Did he write these long pages during a period of brain fever? It is impossible to discover; for his own mind and health I dare not broach the subject with him. But what of the man we saw in Sarayburnu Park yesterday? Did he not appear to be one hundred percent certain that the man was the Count? Does he believe what he saw and wrote? No doubt; is it not in his notebook that this Count would come to Istanbul? My God, will we face some inconceivable incident, some real and unprecedented catastrophe? Could it be that those awful, frightening stories that we heard as children from Rumelians and our nannies are true? Can this monster be in Istanbul? Ah, Azmi, so many things I would ask him if he were recovered from this mental illness!
Letter from Doctor Resuhî Bey to Güzin Hanım.
“24 September.
(Confidence)
“Dear Madame;
“I beg your forgiveness for bothering you like this. Because I have been responsible for the treatment of Şadan Hanım and have been empowered by both her fiancé and her poor mother, I have read Şadan Hanım’s letters and diaries. In them I have encountered stories of how close a friend you were to the deceased. I ask for your information to prevent great, inconceivably large catastrophes and to save some of your loved ones from pain. You may believe and trust me, for I am a close friend of Afif Bey and Turan Bey, fiancé of the deceased Şadan Hanım whom you loved very much. When and where may I see you? I beg your forgiveness again. I understand very well from the letters you wrote to Şadan Hanım that you have a golden heart and character. I am also aware of your husband’s illness; perhaps it would be better to keep our meeting private to avoid upsetting him. With all my respect.”
Telegram from Güzin Hanım to Resuhî Bey.
“25 September.
“Please come today, we can meet any time.
“Güzin”
From Güzin Hanım’s Diary.
25 September.—I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws near for the visit of Doctor Resuhî Bey. I expect that it will throw some light upon Azmi’s horrible adventure. I will also learn more about my poor friend from this man, whose name I have read in the newspapers, whose work I have heard of, and who treated Şadan. Of course the doctor is coming to ask me about Şadan’s sleepwalking; however, Azmi’s diary, which was full of such horrible things, gets hold of my imagination and makes me feel as though everything is connected with it.
Luckily Azmi will be away from home today to take care of some important business. The doctor and I may speak as we wish.
The night of that day.—Resuhî Bey has come and gone; oh God, what a strange meeting! My head is spinning. I feel like I have lost my mind. It is as though I am in a nightmare. My God; can these things, even a small part of them, be true? If I had not read Azmi’s diary first, I should never have accepted even the possibility of what Doctor Resuhî Bey has told me. My poor, dear Azmi! I understand very well now what horrible suffering you have endured. My greatest wish is for all of this not to upset him again. But even if it does, it may be a consolation to know for certain that his eyes and brain did not deceive him. Who knows? Perhaps his current misery is caused by self-doubt. This Doctor Resuhî Bey is a strange person—not strange, but eccentric. I can now better understand the rumors about him in the press. However, I find it very odd that his generosity and great compassion for all mankind are not understood by everyone. When he abandons that rigid, dry, scientific exterior, he gives the impression of a compassionate father. When he sat in front of me today, without waiting for an offer or asking, he at once began:
“Güzin Hanım, I ask you again to forgive me and will come straight to the point: I have read all of the letters you wrote to poor Şadan, with permission and the curiosity given by my profession. Apart from these, Şadan also occasionally kept a diary after you left; I have read and examined this as well. It mentioned her sleepwalking and that you once rescued her. Now I ask you to tell me all you can remember about that.”
“Doctor, there is no need to remember. I have written it all in my diary as it happened; allow me to show you.”
I spoke these words and gave him the section of my diary which I had written out on the typewriter in the office. Since I had guessed that the doctor would ask about it, I had typed out the sections pertaining to Şadan in advance. When I explained this to Resuhî Bey, his eyes sparkled.
“Congratulations, Güzin Hanım; you have a rare business mentality that is unfortunately absent in many young women. Your husband Azmi Bey must consider himself lucky to have you.”
Then he sat down on the sofa near the window and began to read the papers as though he had forgotten the rest of the world existed. When he had finished, he said:
“Güzin Hanım, there is great darkness in this world, but also light. You are one of the lights. Reading the letters you wrote to Şadan and the passages from the diary you have been kind enough to give to me is enough to understand you. You are one of the lights and angels of this world. I congratulate Azmi Bey again. Forgive me, the importance of the job on my hands is making me forgetful. How is the health of your husband for whom, even though I do not know him personally, I have come to feel a deep and pleasant affection? There is a good chance that he may also have important and helpful thoughts on this matter.”
It was now the time to confess the deep, inconsolable pain in my heart: my concerns about Azmi’s health and spirit. To this great expert on mental and psychological health, I said:
“He was very well recently, but I think Rıfat Bey’s death has affected him, for he became worse the other day in the park.”
The doctor interrupted:
“Yes, I know that Rıfat Bey is dead; I have also read the last letters you wrote to Şadan on this subject. But what is the new incident? In what ways has he become worse? I may be able to offer an opinion if I knew these things.”
“In the park, Azmi thought he saw a man connected with an incident that caused his mental breakdown and left him with horrible memories.”
At that moment I stopped. I did not want to talk anymore; however, the whole thing overwhelmed me in a ru
sh. The worry and the concern I had for Azmi, the crushing uncertainty torturing my poor husband, the mystery surrounding his diary, the maddening fear that has been brooding over me ever since, and a hellish doubt of “what if” all came in a tumult. I do not know how or why, but I found myself kneeling before Doctor Resuhî Bey, reaching for the hands of this white-haired, strong man who inspired feelings of respect, courage, strength, and trust. I was imploring to him to save Azmi. The doctor took my hands, raised me up, sat me down on a chair next to him, and said in a deep and soothing voice:
“My life has been barren and lonely. I have been so busy with other things that I have not had time for friendship. However, since I have been summoned to Istanbul by my student Afif, I have known so many good, honorable, and dear people. You are one of those people, my daughter. Rest easy; I will help you and your husband with all of my power and ability. Now, tell me about your husband!”
I had made my final decision; I would tell this old man everything. But I was afraid he would think that I was on the verge of insanity and assume my husband had gone completely mad. When I spoke of my concern, he said in an odd tone:
“Ah, my girl, do not let that worry you. If you only knew how strange is the matter that brought me here, you would laugh at me and call me crazy. But I know this world better than you, and I have learned not to laugh at anyone’s private lives or beliefs.”
I rose and handed him Azmi’s diary.
“Well then,” I said, “take this notebook; read it carefully from start to finish, even though it is a bit long, and tell me what you think!”
Resuhî Bey took the notebook, shook my hand with compassion, said simply, “I shall come tomorrow,” and went away.
Letter from Doctor Resuhî Bey to Güzin Hanım.
“25 September, evening.
“My dear daughter,
“I have read the diary. Strange and and terrible as it is, it is entirely true. Have no doubt. I will pledge my life on it. This situation may be horrible for others, but there is no danger for you. Your husband is a brave, tough, and daring Turkish man. I can tell you from experience that not even one person out of a hundred thousand would have been brave enough to climb down that cliff wall and enter the Count’s room. In particular, the fact that he had the nerve to go to the crypt for a second time is a testament to his courage and might. Do not worry, your husband’s mental health is sound. I can promise you this before I have even seen him. Knowing and meeting with you can only be the great God’s blessing to me. I have learned so much from you at once that I am dazzled and confused—more so than ever. I must think, I must think!
“Your eternal and always faithful friend,
“Doctor Resuhî”
Letter from Güzin Hanım to Doctor Resuhî Bey.
“25 September.
“Dear Doctor Bey;
“A thousand thanks for your letter.
“However, if all of it is true, please think, Doctor Bey; that horrible man is in our beautiful Istanbul at this moment! That accursed descendant of the Impaler Voivode of history… I do not know, but it may even be the man himself! The very same man! That bloody and horrible monster. Oh God. Great God! The bloodiest, most terrible and shudder-inspiring march across centuries in history! If you can come tomorrow morning, we can meet when Azmi is not at home.”
From Attorney Azmi Bey’s Diary.
26 September.—I thought never to write in this diary again. However, events compel me. Last night after supper, Güzin told me that Doctor Resuhî Bey had visited, and that he had read and confirmed everything in my journal. I saw his letter as well. Now I feel quite strong and recovered, and I realize that it was my self-doubt that was killing me. Yes, I have regained my courage and strength; I do not even fear the malevolent Count. So this sinister man is the doppelgänger descendant of that bloody Impaler Voivode. Oh… Perhaps he was finally able to come to Istanbul. So the man I saw was the Count himself! But I wonder how he has become younger. If what Güzin said is true, Doctor Resuhî Bey must be the man to hunt down and destroy this monster.
Evening.—Today I visited Doctor Resuhî Bey. Güzin is quite right, he really is an exceptional character. Pure, strong, kind, wise, and tolerant. He was very happy to see me well. “Güzin Hanım told me that you were very sick,” he said. I told him that his letter had cured me completely. We parted ways after setting a date to meet again.
From Doctor Afif’s Diary.
26 September.—Alas, everything has been thrown into chaos again. For the last two days I have worked in peace; Turan and Özdemir have been in Erenköy. But as I was sitting in my room, Resuhî Bey bounded through the door and thrust a Zaman newspaper in front of my face.
“Tell me, what do you make of this?” He crossed his arms and stood in front of me. A part of the newspaper had been marked with a red pen.
I read the article entitled “Mysterious Event.” At first I really did not know what he meant; but after reading the passage about the small wounds on children’s throats, I stopped and looked at the doctor. He said merely:
“Well?”
“Just like poor Şadan!”
“Yes, what do you make of that?”
“Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever injured these children also injured Şadan!”
“That is true indirectly, but not directly.”
“Doctor, what are you trying to say?”
I tried to make light of it, but the professor’s attitude sobered me. I had not seen the professor so stern and melancholy even during the worst of Şadan’s illness.
“Afif, tell me truthfully. Have you never had suspicions about the cause of Şadan’s death? Even after all that has happened, and after observing my behavior?”
“Şadan died from massive blood loss!”
“Very well, then how was the blood lost? Where did it go?” Seeing my difficulty in answering, he continued: “Afif, my boy, you are a clever child. You are equipped with all of the weapons of science, but you are narrow-minded! Like many people, you do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear. It is not you alone; most people, even many scientists, would not be able to comprehend what you cannot. However, can you not confirm the existence of physical, material things? Even though I have many different opinions and ideas due to my personal beliefs, I still say that the biggest fault of today’s physics and sciences is that they try to explain everything, and quickly reject what they cannot immediately explain. For example, do you believe in souls entering other bodies, the ability to read thoughts, and such things? No? Nor in hypnotism, spiritualism…”
“I believe in hypnotism; Doctor Charcot has explained that pretty well.”
Doctor Resuhî laughed at my reply:
“And that is sufficient, yes? The explanation, the explanation; you poor people! You accept hypnotism, but reject thought reading; we see such great achievements today that if people were to have accomplished them a couple of hundred years ago, the Christians would have burned them at the stake and called them sorcerers, while we Muslims would have crowned them and called them prophets or saints. There have always been undiscovered secrets in life and there always will be. Can you claim to know all the secrets of life and death?”
“My dear tutor, tell me more clearly; do you believe that the little wounds on Şadan’s throat were made by the same hand or tool or some such thing that punctured the throats of these children? I am of the same opinion.”
The Professor raised his head. “No, you are wrong! If only that were so. Unfortunately, no! It is worse, much worse than that.”
I stood and cried out:
“In God’s name, sir, what do you mean?”
The doctor collapsed, exhausted, into a chair, crossed his hands, and answered:
“The wounds on the children’s throats were made by Şadan herself!”
CHAPTER X
FROM DOCTOR AFİF BEY’S DIARY—continued.
For a moment a deep wave of anger shook my body. Forgetting all of my respect
and trust in the old professor, I smote the table and said:
“Resuhî Bey, are you mad?”
The professor raised his head and looked at me. The softness and sadness in his voice brought me back to my senses. He said, hoarsely:
“I wish that I was. Compared to the horrible and painful truth, madness would be the lesser of two evils. Ah, my friend; have I not tried up till now to prepare your mind for the truth? You saved my life; why would I trouble you with baseless conjecture of which I was not certain?”
I was embarrassed by my behavior. I took his hands and said:
“Forgive me, master!” He continued:
“You loved poor Şadan; that is why you are prepared to make every sacrifice for her. However, I knew that this concrete truth would be very hard for you to accept. So tonight I will prove it; do you have the courage to come with me?”
The fact that things were taking such a real and frightening shape had frozen me in place. I could not think. My God, what was going on; what was happening?
The doctor continued:
“Now, I will tell you what we are going to do: the two children that were recently found unconscious in Eyüp cemetery are at Etfal Hospital. The head doctor is my friend Hasan Kami Bey, whom you also know. We will visit the hospital and see the children’s wounds. Do you know what we shall do if we turn out to be correct? We shall spend the night in Eyüp Sultan, near the family cemetery where Şadan and her mother are buried; I have already acquired the keys to this spacious and protected area.”