DRACULA

Bram Stoker/Arlin Wordsmith

WARNING! This is a re-wright of Bram Stoker's classic tale. I
have changed it. This story contains sex with children and the
death and torture of children, women and men. If such things
offends you do not read this work. Pedo, M g, gg, F g, vampires ,
 werewolves. come see what befalls the Count when he meets a
pedophile Englishman. Arlin Wordsmith

CHAPTER 1

Jonathan Harker's Journal

3 May.  Bistritz.  Left Munich at 8:35 P.M, on 1st May, arriving
at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but
train was an hour late.  Budapest seems a wonderful place, from
the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I
could walk through the streets.  I feared to go very far from the
station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the
correct time as possible.

The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and
entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the
Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the
traditions of Turkish rule.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to
Klausenburgh.  Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale.
I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way
with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty.  (Mem.  get
recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called
"paprika hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be
able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. There was there a
sweet bit of a child who I thought was the daughter of my chamber
maid. She was a saucy little tart coming only to my belt.

She sat upon my lap and gave me kisses all round my neck and
ears. The child wore only a thin nightshirt with no
undergarments. During our play her nightshirt did rise up and her
bare bottom sat against my cock. Taking a daring chance I let my
fingers dally between her milky white tiny legs.  It was to my
amazement that she spread her legs and invited me to dally deeper
in that golden honey pot.  Upon my finger entering her yoni I
found it wet and slippery as if it were inviting me deeper into
it's folds.

The dear child's eyes fixed upon mine and the deep blue pools
looked as if I could immerse my soul there in. Her ruby red lips
parted and she lay her head back against mine in an  invitation
to mix our tongues of fiery passion. Our lips touched and in that
instant her body arched and clamped down on my invading fingers.
Her pussy pulled my fingers deeper into her willing body. There
was an animal cry that escaped her lips as her need was given
voice.

We were away to my bedchamber in an instant and I soon found
myself upon the writhing child. I knew not the words that came
from her mouth but the meaning of them were clear as the actions
of her body spoke an universal language. She had my trousers off
of me and my short clothing in a pile on the floor in a wink of
the eye.

She lay nude under me and her small hand guided my stiff member
into her soft tight folds as I mounted the young imp.  The heat
of our coupling raced through my body as I stretched the passage
to her womb. My need was upon me and I spilt my seed in her
wondrous  vessel.  I opened my eyes to see the child transformed
by our sexual congress. The sweet imp was gone and in its place
was a violently hostile beast. Her jaw was open and that sweet
hot tunnel that I had but a moment before so lovingly kissed now
sported large canine fangs that sought to rip into my flesh. My
member shrank in a instant and all thought of fucking were driven
from my soul.

Her bite was like fire pumped into my body. I know not how long
she suckled on my flesh for all light went from me.  I awoke
alone cold and nude in my bed. I first thought that I had
imagined it all in some nightmare brought on by strong drink or a
bit of undigested paprika hendl but upon my neck were two small
round puncture wounds at the spot I remember the child bitting
me.

I staggard out of my bed and dressed myself as best I could and
went looking for the child. I found my smattering of German very
useful here,indeed, I don't know how I should be able to get on
without it. I was told that there was no child as I had described
and that my chamber maid was just that a maid who had no husband
or child.  I overheard  the groundsman mutter the word Vampire. 
When I pressed him for a further explanation he claimed that I
had misunderstood his words and had been talking of a campfire to
ward off the chill of the night. I treated my small wound with a
bandage and a bit of sulfur powder.  I could get no further
information from the staff and my coach was arriving early in
that morning.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited
the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in
the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some
foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some
importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. It was
there that I had learned the legends of the undead,  the Vampires
that stocked the wildes of Transylvania.  They all went back to
Vlad the Impaler.

Vlad III was a fifteenth century ruler of Wallachia, an east
European principality within modern Romania. Vlad became infamous
for his brutal punishments, such as impalement, but also renowned
by some for his attempt to fight the Muslim Ottomans, even though
Vlad was only largely successful against Christian forces. I
wondered if I could have been the victim of one.

The sun rose the next morning I and I felt no ill effects from my
night terrors and in the light of day put them off as an
overworked mind and the strangeness of the countryside and its'
inhabitants. The small wounds upon my neck had faded as had my
memory of the night. I boarded the coach and resumed my journey.


I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the
country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania,
Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains;
one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.

I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact
locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this
country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I
found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a
fairly well-known place.  I shall enter here some of my notes, as
they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct
nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the
Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the
West, and Szekelys in the East and North.  I am going among the
latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns.  This
may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the
eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.

I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered
into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre
of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very
interesting.  (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)

The coach made very slow going as the roads were in a poor state
of repair and we often had to stop for fallen branches or herds
of milling sheep that blocked the road. We came upon and Inn and
with the sun setting behind the mountains the driver refused to
travel a league further.  I took my supper in my room and locked
the door against any who may trespass the night.

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I
had all sorts of queer dreams.  There was a dog howling all night
under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or
it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water
in my carafe, and was still thirsty.  Towards morning I slept and
was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I
must have been sleeping soundly then.

I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize
flour which they said was "mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed with
forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata".

I had to hurry breakfast, we had to make it to the station in the
next town for the train started a little before eight, or rather
it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at
7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we
began to move.

It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual
are the trains.  What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full
of beauty of every kind.  Sometimes we saw little towns or
castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals;
sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide
stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods.
It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside
edge of a river clear.

At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds,
and in all sorts of attire.  Some of them were just like the
peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and
Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made
trousers; but others were very picturesque.

The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they
were very clumsy about the waist.  They had all full white
sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts
with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the
dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under
them.

The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more
barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy
dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy
leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass
nails.  They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into
them, and had long black hair and heavy black mustaches.  They
are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing.  On the
stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of
brigands.  They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather
wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz,
which is a very interesting old place.  Being practically on the
frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has
had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it.
Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made
terrible havoc on five separate occasions.  At the very beginning
of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks
and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being
assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel,
which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly
old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the
ways of the country.

I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a
cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white
undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of
colored stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty.  When I came
close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"

"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."

She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white
shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.  She led me to a
table by the hearth and set before me a stout Ale and some rough
rye bread with some soft cheese. A serving winch came to the
table with a plate of lamb and some garlic garnishments.  Now I
used to love the smell of garlic and its pungent taste but the
oder of the offending bulbs killed any apatite I had for the
roast lamb. I told the winch to take it straight away.

The elderly man  returned with a letter:

"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians.  I am anxiously
expecting you.  Sleep well tonight.  At three tomorrow the
diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you.
 At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you
to me.  I trust that your journey from London has been a happy
one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful
land.--Your friend, Dracula."

4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count,
directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but
on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent,
and pretended that he could not understand my German.

This could not be true,because up to then he had understood it
perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he
did.

He and his wife, the old lady who had received me,looked at each
other in a frightened sort of way.  He mumbled out that the money
had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew.  When I
asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of
his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying
that they knew nothing at all,simply refused to speak further. 
It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask
anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means
comforting.

Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and
said in a hysterical way: "Must you go?  Oh!  Young Herr, must
you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have
lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with
some other language which I did not know at all.  I was just able
to follow her by asking many questions.  When I told her that I
must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business,
she asked again:

"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth
of May.  She shook her head as she said again:

"Oh, yes!  I know that!  I know that, but do you know what day it
is?"

On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

"It is the eve of St.  George's Day.  Do you not know that
to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in
the world will have full sway?  Do you know where you are going,
and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that
I tried to comfort her, but without effect.  Finally, she went
down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a
day or two before starting.

It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. 
However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing
to interfere with it.

I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I
thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.

She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her
neck offered it to me.

I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have
been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous,
and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so
well and in such a state of mind.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary
round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of
the room.

I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for
the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still
round my neck.

Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions
of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am
not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my
good-bye.  Here comes the coach!

5 May.  The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the
sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether
with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big
things and little are mixed.

I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake,
naturally I write till sleep comes.

There are many odd things to put down, my triste with the child
would top the list,  and, lest who reads them may fancy that I
dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner
exactly.

I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion,
and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and
roasted over the fire, in simple style of the London cat's meat!

The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the
tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.

I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.

When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I
saw him talking to the landlady.

They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they
looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the
bench outside the door--came and listened, and then looked at me,
most of them pityingly.  I could hear a lot of words often
repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the
crowd,so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and
looked them out.

I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were
"Ordog"--Satan, "Pokol"--hell, "stregoica"--witch, "vrolok" and
"vlkoslak"--both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the
other Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. 
(Mem.,I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this
time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the
cross and pointed two fingers towards me.

With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what
they meant.  She would not answer at first, but on learning that
I was English, she explained that it was a charm or guard against
the evil eye. I shared the coach with three women, rather two
grown women and a young lass of tender years. The older women's
costumes took up a lot of room on the narrow seats in the coach
so it was given over that the young lass should sit next to me.
The narrowness of the seat complied our touching though out the
ride.

This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown
place to meet an unknown man.  But everyone seemed so
kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could
not but be touched.

I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn yard
and its crowd of picturesque figures,all crossing themselves, as
they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich
foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in
the center of the yard.

Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front
of the box seat,--"gotza" they call them--cracked his big whip
over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on
our journey.

I soon lost sight and recollection of the child vampire and other
ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along,
although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my
fellow passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to
throw them off so easily.  Before us lay a green sloping land
full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills,
crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable
end to the road.  There was everywhere a bewildering mass of
fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry.  And as we drove by I
could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the
fallen petals.  In and out amongst these green hills of what they
call here the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it
swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling
ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillside
like tongues of flame.  The road was rugged, but still we seemed
to fly over it with a feverish haste.  I could not understand
then what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on
losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund.  I was told that this
road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put
in order after the winter snows.  In this respect it is different
from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an
old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order.  Of
old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should
think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so
hasten the war which was always really at loading point.

The rapid pace the driver set and the lack of good springs upon
the coach caused us to come together often. The rough ride
loosened the young lass' top and soon I was given over to the
pleasant view of her swelling young breast. I got a peek at the
twin pink tops of her nipples. The lass must have been very
sleepy for she lay her head on my shoulder and drifted off to
slumber mostly in my arms.  Our other two companions were in the
arms of Morpheus as they were sound asleep.

I found my hand around the young lass' shoulder. She must have
been having a present sexual dream for she move her hips and made
soft guttural noises through her open lips. The coach hit a deep
rut and we were thrown together. My hand slid under her blouse
and I found it clutching her budding breast. The nipple was now
erect as was my cock. I went to remove my hand when she grasp my
hand and clutched it tight to her breast. Her brown eyes flew
open and she gave me a wicked wink and rubbed her lithe body
against mine.

Fearful of being caught by the older women I removed my hand and
pinched her cheek. I pointed towards the other passengers and
told her that they would not approve of my mensurations. She made
it quite clear that her services were available for a slight fee
and that her "aunts" would share in the profits of our union. The
people of the area had the mistaken idea that all English
Gentlemen were men of wealth.  I suppose that the income of a
traveling Gentleman set against that of the peasants  would be
much larger.

The lass held out her hand and demanded payment up front as most
of her trade do. For once the deed is done and the man has cum
there is little recourse the whore can use to get paid.  Funds
exchanged hands and she quickly and quite skillfully freed my
cock and mounted it. The bucking coach gave us an enjoyable ride
as she rode my  manhood. She pulled back the bandage on my neck
and screamed in horror as she pulled off me and made the sign of
the cross.

I shoved my cock back in my pants as the two women sat up and
asked the still shaken lass what the problem was. She pointed to
my neck and would say no more.

The older of the two women sat next to me and pulled down the
bandage. She was taken back by what she saw. "You have been
bitten! God have mercy on your soul! When were you bitten?" she
demanded as she pulled a vile of clear water from her handbag.

"I was bitten last night by a young child." I blurted out not
knowing why I was so honest with my answer for further
investigation as to our union would not turn out well for me.

"Good there still may be time. Here let me put this Holy Water on
your wound. If it does not bubble or give off the stench of
brimstone then it was just a human bite, but if it reacts you
very soul is in dire straights." she said as she  opened the vile
and poured the cool water on my wound.

I yelled out as it felt as if she had poured hot acid upon my
flesh.  Smoke arose from the wound and there was the stench of
brimstone in the cramped cab of the coach.  My female companions
started to pray for my soul. I wondered now just how much of this
folklore was real and how much simple superstition.  The women
pleaded with me to reconsider  my employment with the Count.

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty
slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians
themselves.  Right and left of us they towered, with the
afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the
glorious colors of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in
the shadows of the peaks,green and brown where grass and rock
mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed
crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the
snowy peaks rose grandly.  Here and there seemed mighty rifts in
the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw
now and again the white gleam of falling water.  One of my
companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill
and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain,which
seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us.

"Look!  Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and she crossed herself
reverently.

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower
behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. 
This was emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still
held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool
pink.  Here and there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in
picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully
prevalent.  By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept
by, my companions all crossed themselves.  Here and there was a
peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even
turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of
devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. 
There were many things new to me.  For instance, hay-ricks in the
trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch,
their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green
of the leaves.

Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasant's
cart--with its long, snakelike vertebra, calculated to suit the
inequalities of the road.  On this were sure to be seated quite a
group of homecoming peasant, the Cszeks with their white, and the
Slovaks with their colored sheep skins, the latter carrying
lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end.  As the evening
fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed
to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak,
beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the
spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark
firs stood out here and there against the background of latelying
snow.  Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that
seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses
of greyness which here and there beset the trees, produced a
peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts
and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the
falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds
which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through
the valleys.  Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our
driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly.  I wished to get
down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not
hear of it.  "No, no," he said.  "You must not walk here.  The
dogs are too fierce."  And then he added, with what he evidently
meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the
approving smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such
matters before you go to sleep."  The only stop he would make was
a moment's pause to light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the
women, and they kept speaking to him, as though urging him to
further speed.  He lashed the horses unmercifully with his long
whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to
further exertions.  Then through the darkness I could see a sort
of patch of grey light ahead of us,as though there were a cleft
in the hills.  The excitement of the women grew greater.  The
crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like
a boat tossed on a stormy sea.  I had to hold on.  The road grew
more level, and we appeared to fly along.  Then the mountains
seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon
us.  We were entering on the Borgo Pass.  The women offered me
gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would
take no denial.  These were certainly of an odd and varied kind,
but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and
a blessing, and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning
movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz-the sign
of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.  Then, as we
flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the
women, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into
the darkness.  It was evident that something very exciting was
either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger,
no one would give me the slightest explanation.  This state of
excitement kept on for some little time.  And at last we saw
before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side.  There were
dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy,
oppressive sense of thunder.  It seemed as though the mountain
range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into
the thunderous one.  I was now myself looking out for the
conveyance which was to take me to the Count.  Each moment I
expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness,but all
was dark.  The only light was the flickering rays of our own
lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a
white cloud.  We could see now the sandy road lying white before
us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle.  The women drew
back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own
disappointment.  I was already thinking what I had best do, when
the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something
which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low
a tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the time."  Then
turning to me, he spoke in German worse than my own.

"There is no carriage here.  The Herr is not expected after all.
He will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next
day, better the next day."  Whilst he was speaking the horses
began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver
had to hold them up.Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the
women and a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with
four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside
the coach.  I could see from the flash of our lamps as the rays
fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid
animals.  They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard
and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.  I
could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes,which
seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.

He said to the driver,  "You are early tonight, my friend."

The man stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry."

To which the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you
wished him to go on to Bukovina.  You cannot deceive me, my
friend.  I know too much, and my horses are swift."

As he spoke he smiled,and the lamplight fell on a hard looking
mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as
ivory.  One of the women whispered  another the line from
Burger's "Lenore".  "Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the
dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up
with a gleaming smile.  The passenger turned her face away, at
the same time putting out her two fingers and crossing herself. 
"Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver, and with exceeding
alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche.  Then I
descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was close
alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm
in a grip of steel.  His strength must have been prodigious.

Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we
swept into the darkness of the pass.  As I looked back I saw the
steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps,and
projected against it the figures of my late companions crossing
themselves.  Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his
horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina.  As they
sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely
feeling come over me.  But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders,
and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent
German--

"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me
take all care of you.  There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum
brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require
it."

I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all
the same.  I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened
with all that had happened to me so far in this strange land.  I
think had there been any alternative I should have taken it,
instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey.  The carriage
went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn
and went along another straight road.  It seemed to me that we
were simply going over and over the same ground again, and so I
took note of some salient point, and found that this was so.  I
would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant,
but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I
was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had been
an intention to delay.

By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was
passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch. 
It was within a few minutes of midnight.  This gave me a sort of
shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was
increased by my recent experiences.  I waited with a sick feeling
of suspense.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the
road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear.  The sound was
taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till,
borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a
wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the
country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the
gloom of the night.

At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the
driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but
shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden
fright.  Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on
each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling, that of
wolves, which affected both the horses and myself in the same
way.  For I was minded to jump from the caleche and run, whilst
they reared again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to
use all his great strength to keep them from bolting.  In a few
minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and
the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to
descend and to stand before them.

He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their
ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with
extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite
manageable again, though they still trembled.  The driver again
took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great
pace.  This time, after going to the far side or the Pass, he
suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the
right.

Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right
over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel.  And again
great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side.  Though we
were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and
whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed
together as we swept along.  It grew colder and colder still, and
fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around
us were covered with a white blanket.  The keen wind still
carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we
went on our way.  The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and
nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side.
I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear.  The
driver, however, was not in the least disturbed.He kept turning
his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through
the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue flame. 
The driver saw it at the same moment.  He at once checked the
horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the
darkness.  I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of
the wolves grew closer.  But while I wondered, the driver
suddenly appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we
resumed our journey.  I think I must have fallen asleep and kept
dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly,
and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare.  Once
the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness
around us I could watch the driver's motions.  He went rapidly to
where the blue flame arose, it must have been very faint, for it
did not seem to illumine the place around it at all, and
gathering a few stones, formed them into some device.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect.  When he stood
between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see
its ghostly flicker all the same.This startled me, but as the
effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me
straining through the darkness.  Then for a time there were no
blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the
howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following in
a moving circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further afield
than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to
tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I
could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had
ceased altogether.  But just then the moon, sailing through the
black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling,
pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of
wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long,
sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.  They were a hundred times more
terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they
howled.  For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear.It is
only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that
he can understand their true import.

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had
had some peculiar effect on them.The horses jumped about and
reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a
way painful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed
them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it.  I
called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only
chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his
approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by
the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a
chance of reaching the trap.  How he came there, I know not, but
I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and
looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway.  As he
swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable
obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still.  Just then
a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were
again in darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche,
and the wolves disappeared.  This was all so strange and uncanny
that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or
move.  The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now
in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the
moon.

We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent,
but in the main always ascending.Suddenly, I became conscious of
the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses
in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black
windows came no ray of light,and whose broken battlements showed
a jagged line against the sky.

CHAPTER 2

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

5 May.--I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been
fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable
place.  In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size,
and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it
perhaps seemed bigger than it really is.  I have not yet been
able to see it by daylight.

When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his
hand to assist me to alight.  Again I could not but notice his
prodigious strength.  His hand actually seemed like a steel vice
that could have crushed mine if he had chosen.  Then he took my
traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close
to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set
in a projecting doorway of massive stone.  I could see even in th
e dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the
carving had been much worn by time and weather.  As I stood, the
driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins.The horses
started forward,and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark
openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. 
Of bell or knocker there was no sign.  Through these frowning
walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice
could penetrate.  The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt
doubts and fears crowding upon me.  What sort of place had I come
to, and among what kind of people?  What sort of grim adventure
was it on which I had embarked?  Was this a customary incident in
the life of a  clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London
estate to a foreigner?  Solicitor's clerk!  Mina would not like
that.  Solicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that
my examination was successful, and I am now a full-blown
solicitor!  I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I
were awake.  It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I
expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home,
with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and
again felt in the morning after a day of overwork.  But my flesh
answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived.
I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians.  All I could do now
was to be patient, and to wait the coming of morning.

Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step
approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the
gleam of a coming light.  Then there was the sound of rattling
chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back.  A key was
turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great
door swung back.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white
mustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single
speck of color about him anywhere.  He held in his hand an
antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney
or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it
flickered in the draft of the open door.  The old man motioned me
in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in
excellent English, but with a strange intonation.

"Welcome to my house!  Enter freely and of your own free will!" 
He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a
statue,as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into
stone.The instant, however, that I had stepped over the
threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand
grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which
was not lessened by the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more
like the hand of a dead than a living man.  Again he said.

"Welcome to my house!  Enter freely.Go safely, and leave
something of the happiness you bring!"  The strength of the
handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the
driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if
it were not the same person to whom I was speaking.  So to make
sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Dracula?"

He bowed in a courtly was as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I bid
you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house.  Come in, the night air is
chill, and you must need to eat and rest."As he was speaking, he
put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my
luggage.  He had carried it in before I could forestall him.  I
protested, but he insisted.

"Nay, sir, you are my guest.  It is late, and my people are not
available.  Let me see to your comfort myself."He insisted on
carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding
stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our
steps rang heavily.  At the end of this he threw open a heavy
door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a
table was spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great
fire of logs,freshly replenished, flamed and flared.

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and
crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small
octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a
window of any sort.  Passing through this, he opened another
door, and motioned me to enter.  It was a welcome sight.  For
here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log
fire, also added to but lately, for the top logs were fresh,
which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney.  The Count himself
left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the
door.

"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making
your toilet.  I trust you will find all you wish.  When you are
ready, come into the other room, where you will find your supper
prepared."

The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to
have dissipated all my doubts and fears.  Having then reached my
normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger.
So making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.

I found supper already laid out.  My host, who stood on one side
of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a
graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said,

"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please.  You will I trust,
excuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I
do not sup."

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr.  Hawkins had
entrusted to me.  He opened it and read it gravely.  Then, with a
charming smile, he handed it to me to read.  One passage of it,
at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a
constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any traveling on my part
for some time to come.  But I am happy to say I can send a
sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible
confidence.  He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his
own way, and of a very faithful disposition.  He is discreet and
silent, and has grown into manhood in my service.  He shall be
ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall
take your instructions in all matters."

The count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish,
and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken.  This, with
some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had
two glasses, was my supper.During the time I was eating it the
Count asked me many question as to my journey, and I told him by
degrees all I had experienced  save for the child and her bit on
my neck.

By this time I had finished my supper,and by my host's desire had
drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he
offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not
smoke.  I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him
of a very marked physiognomy.

His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge
of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed
forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but
profusely elsewhere.  His eyebrows were very massive, almost
meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in
its own profusion.  The mouth, so far as I could see it under the
heavy mustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with
peculiarly sharp white teeth.  These protruded over the lips,
whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man
of his years.  For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops
extremely pointed.  The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks
firm though thin.  The general effect was one of extraordinary
pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his
knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and
fine.  But seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice
that they were rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers.  Strange
to say, there were hairs in the center of the palm.  The nails
were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point.  As the Count
leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a
shudder.  It may have been that his breath was rank, but a
horrible feeling of nausea came over me.

The wounds on my neck suddenly gave me a great pain which, do
what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing
it, drew back the bandage.  And with a grim sort of smile, which
showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth, he said.
"I see that you have been bitten. Do tell me of the event and
leave no detail out!" with that he sat himself down again on his
own side of the fireplace.  We were both silent for a while, and
as I looked back in my mind to find the words to tell of the
strange event with the child.

I recanted the event leaving out the part where I had sex with
the underage child and told him only that we were playing and I
stoled a kiss and then she bit me on the neck.
The Count only said to me, "You should be more careful with whom
you play.  There seemed a strange stillness over everything
towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn.
But as I listened, I heard as if from down below in the valley
the howling of many wolves.  The Count's eyes gleamed, and he
said.

"Listen to them, the children of the night.  What music they
make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to
him, he added,"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter
into the feelings of the hunter." Then he rose and said.

"But you must be tired.  Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow
you shall sleep as late as you will.  I have to be away till the
afternoon, so sleep well and dream well!" With a courteous bow,
he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I
entered my bedroom.

I am all in a sea of wonders.  I doubt.  I fear.  I think strange
things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. I have committed
adultery on my wife and bedded to strange females in under a
week.  God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

7 May.--It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed
the last twenty-four hours.  I slept till late in the day, and
awoke of my own accord.  When I had dressed myself I went into
the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid
out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth.
There was a card on the table, on which was written--

"I have to be absent for a while.  Do not wait for me.  D." I set
to and enjoyed a hearty meal.  When I had done, I looked for a
bell, so that I might let the servants know I had finished, but I
could not find one.  There are certainly odd deficiencies in the
house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which
are round me.  The table service is of gold, and so beautifully
wrought that it must be of immense value.  The curtains and
upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are
of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been
of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries
old, though in excellent order.  I saw something like them in
Hampton Court, but they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten.  But
still in none of the rooms is there a mirror.  There is not even
a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the little shaving
glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. 
I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the
castle except the howling of wolves.  Some time after I had
finished my meal, I do not know whether to call it breakfast or
dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it, I
looked about for something to read,  for I did not like to go
about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission.  There
was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even
writing materials, so I opened another door in the room and found
a sort of library.  The door opposite mine I tried, but found
locked.

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of
English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of
magazines and newspapers.  A table in the center was littered
with English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were
of very recent date.  The books were of the most varied kind,
history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology,
law, all relating to England and English life and customs and
manners.  There were even such books of reference as the London
Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the
Army and Navy Lists, and it somehow gladdened my heart to see it,
the Law List.

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count
entered.  He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had
a good night's rest.  Then he went on.

"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is
much that will interest you.  These companions," and he laid his
hand on some of the books, "have been good friends to me, and for
some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London,
have given me many, many hours of pleasure.  Through them I have
come to know your great England, and to know her is to love her.
I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London,
to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share
its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it
is.  But alas!  As yet I only know your tongue through books.  To
you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak."

"But, Count," I said, "You know and speak English thoroughly!" He
bowed gravely.

"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate,
but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would
travel.  True,I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know
not how to speak them.

"Indeed," I said, "You speak excellently."

"Not so," he answered.  "Well, I know that, did I move and speak
in your London, none there are who would not know me for a
stranger.  That is not enough for me.  Here I am noble.I am a
Boyar.  The common people know me, and I am master.  But a
stranger in a strange land, he is no one.  Men know him not, and
to know not is to care not for.  I am content if I am like the
rest, so that no man stops if he sees me, or pauses in his
speaking if he hears my words, `Ha, ha!  A stranger!' I have been
so long master that I would be master still, or at least that
none other should be master of me.  You come to me not alone as
agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about
my new estate in London.  You shall, I trust, rest here with me a
while, so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation.
 And I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the
smallest, in my speaking.  I am sorry that I had to be away so
long today, but you will, I know forgive one who has so many
important affairs in hand."   Of course I said all I could about
being willing, and asked if I might come into that room when I
chose.  He answered, "Yes, certainly," and added.

"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the
doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go.  There
is reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with
my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better
understand."  I said I was sure of this, and then he went on.

"We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England.  Our
ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange
things.  Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences
already, you  know something of what strange things there may
be."

This led to much conversation, and as it was evident that he
wanted to talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many
questions regarding things that had already happened to me or
come within my notice.  Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or
turned the conversation by pretending not to understand, but
generally he answered all I asked most frankly.  Then as time
went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of
the strange things of the preceding night, as for instance, why
the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue
flames.  He then explained to me that it was commonly believed
that on a certain night of the year, last night, in fact, when
all evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway, a blue
flame is seen over any place where treasure has been concealed.

"That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region
through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt.
 For it was the ground fought over for centuries by the
Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk.  Why, there is hardly a foot
of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the
blood of men, patriots or invaders.  In the old days there were
stirring times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in
hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them, men and women,
the aged and the children too, and waited their coming on the
rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on them
with their artificial avalanches.  When the invader was
triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been
sheltered in the friendly soil."

"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered,
when there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble
to look?  "The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his
gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely.  He
answered.

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool!  Those
flames only appear on one night, and on that night no man of this
land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors.  And,dear
sir, even if he did he would not know what to do.  Why, even the
peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame
would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. 
Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places
again?"

"There you are right," I said.  "I know no more than the dead
where even to look for them."  Then we drifted into other
matters.

"Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the house
which you have procured for me."  With an apology for my
remissness, I went into my own room to get the papers from my
bag.  Whilst I was placing them in order I heard a rattling of
china and silver in the next room, and as I passed through,
noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp lit, for it
was by this time deep into the dark.  The lamps were also lit in
the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa,
reading, of all things in the world, and English Bradshaw's
Guide.  When I came in he cleared the books and papers from the
table, and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures of
all sorts.  He was interested in everything, and asked me a
myriad questions about the place and its surroundings.  He
clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of
the neighborhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much more
than I did.  When I remarked this, he answered.

"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should?  When I
go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan,
nay, pardon me.  I fall into my country's habit of putting your
patronymic first, my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my
side to correct and aid me.  He will be in Exeter, miles away,
probably working at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter
Hawkins.  So!"

We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the
estate at Purfleet.  When I had told him the facts and got his
signature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter with
them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had
come across so suitable a place.  I read to him the notes which I
had made at the time, and which I inscribe here.

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as
seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated
notice that the place was for sale.  It was surrounded by a high
wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not
been repaired for a large number of years.  The closed gates are
of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.

"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old
Quatre Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing with the
cardinal points of the compass.  It contains in all some twenty
acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned.
There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and
there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed
by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a
fair-sized stream.  The house is very large and of all periods
back, I should say, to medieval times, for one part is of stone
immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily
barred with iron.  It looks like part of a keep, and is close to
an old chapel or church.  I could not enter it, as I had not the
key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken
with my Kodak views of it from various points.  The house had
been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess
at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. 
There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large
house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic
asylum called Queen's Grace.  It is not, however, visible from
the grounds."

When I had finished, he said, "I am glad that it is old and big.
I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would
kill me.  A house cannot be made habitable in a day, and after
all, how few days go to make up a century.  I rejoice also that
there is a chapel of old times.  We Transylvanian nobles love not
to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead.  I seek
not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much
sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay.  I
am no longer young, and my heart, through weary years of mourning
over the dead, is attuned to mirth.  Moreover, the walls of my
castle are broken.  The shadows are many, and the wind breathes
cold through the broken battlements and casements.  I love the
shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I
may." Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or
else it was that his cast of face made his smile look malignant
and saturnine.

Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to pull my
papers together.  He was some little time away, and I began to
look at some of the books around me.  One was an atlas, which I
found opened naturally to England, as if that map had been much
used.  On looking at it I found in certain places little rings
marked, and on examining these I noticed that one was near London
on the east side, manifestly where his new estate was situated. 
The other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.

It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. 
"Aha!" he said.  "Still at your books?  Good!  But you must not
work always.  Come!  I am informed that your supper is ready." He
took my arm, and we went into the next room, where I found an
excellent supper ready on the table.  The Count again excused
himself, as he had dined out on his being away from home.  But he
sat as on the previous night, and chatted whilst I ate.  After
supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed
with me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable
subject, hour after hour.  I felt that it was getting very late
indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation
to meet my host's wishes in every way.  I was not sleepy, as the
long sleep yesterday had fortified me, but I could not help
experiencing that chill which comes over one at the coming of the
dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide.  They say
that people who are near death die generally at the change to
dawn or at the turn of the tide.  Anyone who has when tired, and
tied as it were to his post,  experienced this change in the
atmosphere can well believe it.  All at once we heard the crow of
the cock coming up with preternatural shrillness through the
clear morning air.

Count Dracula, jumping to his feet, said, "Why there is the
morning again!  How remiss I am to let you stay up so long.  You
must make your conversation regarding my dear new country of
England less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies
by us, I have taken the liberty to aquire something warm and soft
with which you may pass some few hours of pleasure."  and with a
courtly bow, he drew back a curtain and there standing as if
carved from ivory was an exquisite young child of no more than
seven or eight.  Her features were  very beautiful and delicate.
Her eyes were pale blue and her flaxen hair hung loose down to
her bare shoulders. She was covered only by a thin nightgown. 
She stared straight ahead looking nether to the left or right.

"Her name is Abigail Adams. She is a ward of mine. Do with her as
you will her only thoughts are to please you my new friend.  Our
ways here are not those of your England, her willing body is open
to you. I can read in you the desire to consume her flesh. I
assure you that her only thoughts are to couple with you in any
manner you chose. I will not think less of you my English friend.
Take her as a gift from me to you for all the wonderful work you
have done for me." with that he quickly left me.

I went into my room with my new charge and drew the curtains, but
there was little to notice.  My window opened into the courtyard,
all I could see was the warm grey of quickening sky.The sun's
light once so welcomed unto me now seemed an ill thing something
to be avoided. I noticed that my skin now had a paleness to it
not unlike the Counts.  So I pulled the curtains again, and
looked at the fair child standing as I had left her. It was as if
she were in some kind of trance.  I lifted her arm and she kept
it raised. I touched her face and her skin felt chilled to the
bone. She had the look of a living porcelain doll.

I spoke to her saying, "do you understand English?"

She in reply only nodded and turned only her head to follow my
movement in the chamber.

I thought to test her knowledge and the Count's assertion that
she would be a willing sex partner for my every desire and
perversion as the dark castle seemed to draw from me a dark side
that longed to do horrid things to her body. "Then take off your
gown and lay on the bed." I ordered and watched as she moved
slowly to pull the thin cotton garment over her head and climb
into the bed and lay on her back with her arms down by her side.

Lust rose in my loins as I examined the young child's body. I saw
that her vulva were not distended yet which gave her yoni the
look of a babies. I saw two small holes just above her mound that
matched the wound on my neck. The child's skin was a China white
allover. There was little color in her lips or on her tiny twin
nipples that set like bee stings upon her chest.  Her cleft was a
pail pink when I pulled back the lips of her pussy. She struck me
to look more like a corps than a living child yet she drew breath
as her flat chest rose and fell with each shallow breath she
took. Her gaze upon me unnerved me some what as she seemed to
look through me rather then at me.

I bent to the bed to closer examine this imp when the crucifix
fell out from my under shirt. The child reacted as if the cross
was a living snake as he hissed and recoiled away from the
religious icon. She covered her eyes and would not stand my
touch. I made to put the crucifix back inside my shirt as I
touched it the thing did feel alive and unpleasant to the touch.
I flipped the cross back under my shirt and the child calmed
down. Abigail lay back down on the bed and spread her legs
inviting me to draw near and sample her willing flesh.

I was drawn to her crotch and I bent to the bed and put my mouth
over her sex.  The child flinched at my touch but opened wider
her legs for me and rolled her hips up to meet my probing tongue.
I felt her cold hands caresses my cheeks as I worked her vagina.
I had taped some hidden spring within the child's vagina for as I
sucked on the pale pink slit a thick clear ambrosia flowed out of
her body. I as a drunken man sucked down each precious drop. I
thirsted for more as I pushed deeper into her willing wet body.
She moved her hips in rhythm with my invading tongue. With each
thrust she pumped out more of her addictive juice.

She moaned and lifted her slim legs and put them over my
shoulders and fucked my face with her crotch. The child pulled me
off her pussy and reached down grabbing my stiff member. She
guided it into her tight opening. Her wet hole swallowed my cock
sucking it in with an unnatural force. I quickly ejaculated into
her body my seed.  Her cunt sucked the cum from my body and I
kept on pumping my life's fluid into the willing child's body. 
Her body drank from my well and did so until I lay spent and
wasted.

The child pushed me back down on her crotch and held my head to
her loins as she pumped out more of her ambrosia. I drank the
wondrous fluid down just like any Chinese Coolly strung out on
narcotic analgesic  opiate drugs. Thus have I sunken so low that
now my only sexual thoughts of pleasure  come from a preteen
forme.  I intend to put into words my actions as my mind seems
unclear. So my dear wife this is what has transpired  and I have
written of this day.

8 May.--I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was
getting too diffuse.  But now I am glad that I went into detail
from the first, for there is something so strange about this
place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy.  I wish I were
safe out of it, or that I had never come.  It may be that this
strange night existence is telling on me, but would that that
were all!  If there were any one to talk to I could bear it, but
there is no one.I have only the Count to speak with, and the
child to use in the darkness yet she speaks not a word to me, The
Count I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. 
Let me be prosaiac so far as facts can be.  It will help me to
bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me.  If it does I
am lost.  Let me say at once how I stand, or seem to.

I only slept a few hours when I went to bed,and feeling that I
could not sleep any more, got up. I found Abigail the child in my
arms. I had no knowledge of how she came to be in my bed. I had
hung my shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to
shave.  Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the
Count's voice saying to me, "Good morning." I started, for it
amazed me that I had not seen him,since the reflection of the
glass covered the whole room behind me.  In starting I had cut
myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment.  Having
answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to
see how I had been mistaken.  This time there could be no error,
for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my
shoulder.  But there was no reflection of him in the mirror!  The
whole room behind me was displayed, but there was no sign of a
man in it, except myself. I turned the shaving glass to cover the
bed and the child was not in its' reflection.

This was startling, and coming on the top of so many strange
things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of
uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near.  But at
the instant I saw the the cut had bled a little, and the blood
was trickling over my chin.  I laid down the razor, turning as I
did so half round to look for some sticking plaster.  When the
Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury,
and he suddenly made a grab at my throat.  I drew away and his
hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix.  It
made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly
that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.

"Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself.  It is
more dangerous that you think in this country." Then seizing the
shaving glass, he went on, "And this is the wretched thing that
has done the mischief.  It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. 
Away with it!" And opening the window with one wrench of his
terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a
thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below.  Then
he withdrew without a word.  It is very annoying, for I do not
see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of
the shaving pot, which is fortunately of metal.

When I turned back to the bed the child was gone as swiftly and
as silently as the Count's passing. I added this strangeness to
an ever growing list. I cleaned my cut and feeling hunger went to
break my fast.

When I went into the dining room, breakfast was prepared, but I
could not find the Count anywhere.  So I breakfasted alone. It
was all that I could do to eat the food laid out for me. There
was a cut of beef thick and barely touched by the cooking flames.
Red dark blood seeped from the chunk of flesh. I was drawn to the
juice and forgoing the other fair sucked on the cool meat taking
from it until it was dry. I licked the plate of all its red juice
and felt satiated.   It is strange that as yet I have not seen
the Count eat or drink.  He must be a very peculiar man!  After
breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle.  I went out on
the stairs, and found a room looking towards the South.

The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every
opportunity of seeing it.  The castle is on the very edge of a
terrific precipice.  A stone falling from the window would fall a
thousand feet without touching anything!  As far as the eye can
reach is a sea of green tree tops,with occasionally a deep rift
where there is a chasm.  Here and there are silver threads where
the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.

But I am not in heart to describe beauty,for when I had seen the
view I explored further.  Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all
locked and bolted.  In no place save from the windows in the
castle walls is there an available exit.  The castle is a
veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!

CHAPTER 3

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came
over me.  I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and
peering out of every window I could find, but after a little the
conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. I
did not fined the child in any of the unlocked rooms.  When I
look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the
time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap.  When, however,
the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down
quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and
began to think over what was best to be done.  I am thinking
still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion.  Of one
thing only am I certain.  That it is no use making my ideas known
to the Count.  He knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has
done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he
would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts.  So
far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and
my fears to myself, and my eyes open.  I am, I know, either being
deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate
straits, and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my
brains to get through.

I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door
below shut, and knew that the Count had returned.  He did not
come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own
room and found him making the bed.  This was odd, but only
confirmed what I had all along thought, that there are no
servants in the house.  When later I saw him through the chink of
the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining room, I was
assured of it.  For if he does himself all these menial offices,
surely it is proof that there is no one else in the castle save
the child, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver
of the coach that brought me here.  This is a terrible thought,
for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as
he did, by only holding up his hand for silence?  How was it that
all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible
fear for me?  What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the
garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash?

Curse that simple minded woman who hung the crucifix round my
neck!  For it is a discomfort and a pain to me whenever I touch
it.  It is not  odd that a thing which I have been taught to
regard with disfavor and as idolatrous should in a time of
loneliness and trouble be of  no help.  Is it that there is
something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a
medium, a tangible power, in conveying memories of pain and
discomfort?  Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter
and try to make up my mind about it.  In the meantime I must find
out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to
understand.  Tonight he may talk of himself, if I turn the
conversation that way.  I must be very careful, however, not to
awake his suspicion.

Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. He asked me how
I was getting along with his ward. I told him that she was very
willing to cater to my needs. It was then that I was struck by
the level of depravity I had sunk since coming to this thrice
cursed land.

"Count how did Abigail Adams come to be your ward?" I asked as my
cock grew just thinking of the pale tart who came so willing to
my bed.

"Aha, that my friend is a long tale.  Her parents were in my
employment as so had there family for generations served the
house Dracula. I have told you of the stupid peasants  and their
foolish superstitions. Well some years ago a mad man rose up in
the village below. He became a prophet and led the villagers to
attack the castle. Sadly Abigail's parents were killed defending
my home. It was then that much of the damage was done to the
castle. Since the attack I have had to maintain the holdings by
my hand alone as I will not have any of those fools in my 
ancestral home." he said anger rising in his voice and his 
countenance.

"That is a sad tale. Is that why the child does not speak? She
seems to understand me but other than a few moans and grunts she
has not uttered a word to me." I said as I had such a thrust for
the golden fluid that sept from her loins that I licked my lips.

"Yes that is so. The villagers did horrid things to her mother in
front of the child's eyes. It was that which as left her such a
state.  She seems to enjoy what you do with her. I am glad that
she brings you pleasure and you to her." the Count said taking my
hand as would a dear friend.

  I asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he
warmed up to the subject wonderfully.  In his speaking of things
and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been
present at them all. This he afterwards explained by saying that
to a Boyar the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that
their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate.  Whenever
he spoke of his house he always said "we", and spoke almost in
the plural, like a king speaking.  I wish I could put down all he
said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most fascinating. 
It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country.  He grew
excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great
white mustache  and grasping anything on which he laid his hands
as though he would crush it by main strength.  One thing he said
which I shall put down as nearly as I can, for it tells in its
way the story of his race.

"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the
blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for
lordship.  Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric
tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and
Wodin game them,which their Berserkers displayed to such fell
intent on the sea boards of Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa
too, till the peoples thought that the werewolves themselves had
come.  Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose
warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the
dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old
witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in
the desert.  Fools, fools!  What devil or what witch was ever so
great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up his
arms.  "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race, that we
were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the
Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we
drove them back?  Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions
swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he
reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalas was completed
there?And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward,the Szekelys
were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for
centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkey
land.  Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier
guard, for as the Turks say, `water sleeps, and the enemy is
sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations
received the `bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked
quicker to the standard of the King?  When was redeemed that
great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of
the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?Who was
it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and
beat the Turk on his own ground?  This was a Dracula indeed!  Woe
was it that his own unworthy brother,when he had fallen, sold his
people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them!  Was
it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race
who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the
great river into Turkey land,who, when he was beaten back, came
again, and again,though he had to come alone from the bloody
field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that
he alone could ultimately triumph!  They said that he thought
only of himself.Bah!  What good are peasants without a leader? 
Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it? 
Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we threw off the
Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their
leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free. 
Ah, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as their heart's
blood, their brains, and their swords, can boast a record that
mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never
reach.  The warlike days are over.  Blood is too precious a thing
in these days of dishonorable peace, and the glories of the great
races are as a tale that is told."

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. I found
dear Abigail waiting for me in bed she was nude. I found myself
between her legs dining on that sweet meat and drinking my fill
from her well. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the
beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break
off at cockcrow, At the first light coming through a crack in the
heavy drapery the child moved from under my and picking up her
nightgown fled my chamber. I fell into my covers and slept like
the dead.

12 May.--Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts, verified by
books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt.  I must
not confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my
own observation, or my memory of them.  Last evening when the
Count came from his room he began by asking me questions on legal
matters and on the doing of certain kinds of business.  I had
spent the day wearily over books, and, simply to keep my mind
occupied, went over some of the matters I had been examined in at
Lincoln's Inn.There was a certain method in the Count's
inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in sequence.  The
knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to me.

First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or
more.  I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it
would not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one
transaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change
would be certain to militate against his interest.  He seemed
thoroughly to understand, and went on to ask if there would be
any practical difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to
banking, and another to look after shipping, in case local help
were needed in a place far from the home of the banking
solicitor.  I asked to explain more fully, so that I might not by
any chance mislead him, so he said,

"I shall illustrate.  Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins,
from under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter,
which is far from London, buys for me through your good self my
place at London.  Good!  Now here let me say frankly, lest you
should think it strange that I have sought the services of one so
far off from London instead of some one resident there, that my
motive was that no local interest might be served save my wish
only, and as one of London residence might, perhaps,have some
purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus afield to seek
my agent, whose labors should be only to my interest.  Now,
suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to
Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover,might it not be that
it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in these
ports?"

I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that we
solicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that
local work could be done locally on instruction from any
solicitor, so that the client, simply placing himself in the
hands of one man, could have his wishes carried out by him
without further trouble.

"But," said he,"I could be at liberty to direct myself.  Is it
not so?"

"Of course, " I replied, and "Such is often done by men of
business,who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known
by any one person."

"Good!" he said,and then went on to ask about the means of making
consignment and the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of
difficulties which might arise, but by forethought could be
guarded against.  I explained all these things to him to the best
of my ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that
he would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing
that he did not think of or foresee.  For a man who was never in
the country, and who did not evidently do much in the way of
business,his knowledge and acumen were wonderful.  When he had
satisfied himself on these points of which he had spoken, and I
had verified all as well as I could by the books available, he
suddenly stood up and said, "Have you written since your first
letter to our friend Mr.  Peter Hawkins, or to any other?"

It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I
had not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending
letters to anybody.

"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand
on my shoulder, "write to our friend and to any other, and say,
if it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month
from now."

"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew warm
at the thought.

"I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal.When your master,
employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his
behalf,it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted.
 I have not stinted.  Is it not so?"

What could I do but bow acceptance with my secret addiction  to
the child's body?  It was Mr.Hawkins' interest, and mine, and I
had to think of him, and myself, and besides, while Count Dracula
was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing which
made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I
could have no choice.  The Count saw his victory in my bow, and
his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to
use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way.

"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of
things other than business in your letters. Say nothing of dear
Abigail as I am sure they would not understand such a
relationship.  It will doubtless please your friends to know that
you are well, and that you look forward to getting home to them.
Is it not so?" As he spoke he handed me three sheets of note
paper and three envelopes.  They were all of the thinnest foreign
post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his quiet
smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red underlip,
I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be more
careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it.  So I
determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to
Mr.  Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could
write shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it.
When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a book
whilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote them
to some books on his table.  Then he took up my two and placed
them with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which,
the instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned over and
looked at the letters, which were face down on the table.I felt
no compunction in doing so for under the circumstances I felt
that I should protect myself in every way I could.

One of the letters was directed to Samuel F.Billington, No.  7,
The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna.  The third
was to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock &
Billreuth, bankers, Budapest .  The second and fourth were
unsealed.  I was just about to look at them when I saw the door
handle move.I sank back in my seat, having just had time to
resume my book before the Count, holding still another letter in
his hand, entered the room.  He took up the letters on the table
and stamped them carefully, and then turning to me, said,

"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in
private this evening.  You will,I hope, find all things as you
wish and do take up the child she needs your special attention."
At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said, "Let me
advise you, my dear young friend.  Nay, let me warn you with all
seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by
any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle.  It is
old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those
who sleep unwisely.  Be warned!  Should sleep now or ever
overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your own chamber or
to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe.  But if you be
not careful in this respect, then," He finished his speech in a
gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were
washing them.  I quite understood.  My only doubt was as to
whether any dream could be more terrible than the
unnatural,horrible net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing
around me.

Later.--I endorse the last words written, but this time there is
no doubt in question.  I shall not fear to sleep in any place
where he is not.  I have removed the crucifix tossing it out the
window and letting if fall to the depths far below, I imagine
that my rest is thus freer from dreams, and there it shall
remain.

When he left me I went to my room. She was there waiting for me.
After a little while, not hearing any sound, I came out with the
child and went up the stone stair to where we could look out
towards the South.  There was some sense of freedom in the vast
expanse, inaccessible though it was to me,as compared with the
narrow darkness of the courtyard.  Looking out on this, I felt
that I was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of
fresh air, though it were of the night.  I am beginning to feel
this nocturnal existence tell on me.  It is destroying my nerve.
I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible
imaginings and ungodly lust. .  God knows that there is ground
for my terrible fear in this accursed place! I looked out over
the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it
was almost as light as day.  In the soft light the distant hills
became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of
velvety blackness just like the folds of dear Abigail's cunt. 
Her mere beauty seemed to cheer me.  There was peace and comfort
in every breath I drew.As I leaned from the window my eye was
caught by something moving a story below me, and somewhat to my
left, where I imagined, from the order of the rooms, that the
windows of the Count's own room would look out.  The window at
which I stood was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though
weatherworn, was still complete.  But it was evidently many a day
since the case had been there.I drew back behind the stonework,
and looked carefully out.

What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window.  I
did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the
movement of his back and arms.  In any case I could not mistake
the hands which I had had some many opportunities of studying.  I
was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful
how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a
prisoner.  But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror
when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin
to crawl down the castle wall over the dreadful abyss,face down
with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings.  At
first I could not believe my eyes.I thought it was some trick of
the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow, but I kept looking,
and it could be no delusion.I saw the fingers and toes grasp the
corners of the stones,worn clear of the mortar by the stress of
years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move
downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a
wall.

What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in
the semblance of man?  I feel the dread of this horrible place
overpowering me.I am in fear, in awful fear, and there is no
escape for me save I become as he a creature of the night.  I am
encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of what I
have or yet may become.. Lord forgive me but I sought and was
granted solace in the arms of the sweet child. I used her hard
and she me. I felt the sting of her teeth but was now beyond
caring.

15 May.-- I am beset with sorrow, my sweet child has been taken
from me. The damned Count came into my chamber and took her away
saying that she had  disobeyed his orders. He said that he was
sending her away. My heart sank as I am now truly alone in this
mad house. Later this night once more I have seen the count go
out in his lizard fashion.  He moved downwards in a sidelong way,
some hundred feet down, and a good deal to the left.  He vanished
into some hole or window.  When his head had disappeared, I
leaned out to try and see more, but without avail.  The distance
was too great to allow a proper angle of sight.  I knew he had
left the castle now, and thought to use the opportunity to
explore more than I had dared to do as yet.  I went back to the
room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors.  They were all
locked, as I had expected, and the locks were comparatively new.
But I went down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered
originally.  I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough
and unhook the great chains.  But the door was locked, and the
key was gone!  That key must be in the Count's room.  I must
watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and
escape.  I went on to make a thorough examination of the various
stairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them.
One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was
nothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and
moth-eaten.  At last, however, I found one door at the top of the
stairway which, though it seemed locked, gave a little under
pressure.  I tried it harder, and found that it was not really
locked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the
hinges had fallen somewhat,and the heavy door rested on the
floor.  Here was an opportunity which I might not have again, so
I exerted myself,and with many efforts forced it back so that I
could enter.  I was now in a wing of the castle further to the
right than the rooms I knew and a story lower down.  From the
windows I could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the
south of the castle,the windows of the end room looking out both
west and south.  On the latter side, as well as to the former,
there was a great precipice.  The castle was built on the corner
of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite impregnable,
and great windows were placed here where sling, or bow, or
culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort,
impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. 
To the west was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great
jagged mountain vastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock
studded with mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks
and crevices and crannies of the stone.  This was evidently the
portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for
the furniture had more an air of comfort than any I had seen.

The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding
in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even
colours,whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all
and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and moth. My
lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight,
but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread
loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves
tremble.  Still, it was better than living alone in the rooms
which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and
after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft
quietude come over me.  Here I am, sitting at a little oak table
where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen,with much
thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love letter, and writing
in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it
last.  It is the nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance.
And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and
have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.

Later: The morning of 16 May.--God preserve my sanity, for to
this I am reduced.  Safety and the assurance of safety are things
of the past.  Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to
hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad
already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that
of all the foul things that I have done and the evil that lurks
in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me, that
to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only
whilst I can serve his purpose.  Great God!  Merciful God, let me
be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed.  I am beginning
to be changed by the bite of that other child and by time spent
here with the Count and dear Abigail. I must study my mind to get
new insights on certain things which have puzzled me.  Up to now
I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet
say, "My tablets!  Quick, my tablets!  `tis meet that I put it
down," etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain were
unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its
undoing, I turn to my diary for repose.  The habit of entering
accurately must help to soothe me.

The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time.  It
frightens me more not when I think of it, for in the future he
has a fearful hold upon me.  I shall fear to doubt what he may
say!

When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the
book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy.  The Count's warning
came into my mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it.  The
sense of sleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep
brings as outrider.  The soft moonlight soothed, and the wide
expanse without gave a sense of freedom which refreshed me.  I
determined not to return tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but
to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived
sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for their
menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars.  I drew a great
couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I lay, I could
look at the lovely view to east and south,and unthinking of and
uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep.  I suppose I
must have fallen asleep.  I hope so, but I fear, for all that
followed was startlingly real, so real that now sitting here in
the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the least
believe that it was all sleep.

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 footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long
accumulation of dust.  In the moonlight opposite me were three
young women, ladies by their dress and manner.  I thought at the
time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no
shadow on the floor.  They came close to me, and looked at me for
some time, and then whispered together.  Two were dark, and had
high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing
eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale
yellow moon.  The other was fair,as fair as can be, with great
masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires.  I seemed
somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some
dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or
where.  All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like
pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips.  There was
something about them that made me uneasy,some longing and at the
same time some deadly fear.I felt in my heart a wicked,burning
desire that they would kiss me with those red lips.It is not good
to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and
cause her pain, but it is the truth.  They whispered together,
and then they all three laughed, such a silvery,musical laugh,
but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the
softness of human lips.  It was like the intolerable,tingling
sweetness of water glasses when played on by a cunning hand.  The
fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged
her on.

One said, "Go on!  You are first, and we shall follow.  Yours' is
the right to begin."

The other added, "He is young and strong.  There are kisses for
us all."

I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of
delightful anticipation.  The fair girl advanced and bent over me
till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me.  Sweet it
was in one sense,honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through
the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet,
a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.

I was afraid to raise my eyelids,but looked out and saw perfectly
under the lashes.  The girl went on her knees, and bent over me,
simply gloating.There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was
both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she
actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the
moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red
tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth.  Lower and lower went
her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin
and seemed to fasten on my throat.  Then she paused, and I could
hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and
lips, and I could feel the hot breath on my neck.  Then the skin
of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand
that is to tickle it approaches nearer, nearer.  I could feel the
soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of
my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching
and pausing there.  I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and
waited, waited with beating heart.

But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick
as lightning.I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of
his being as if lapped in a storm of fury.  As my eyes opened
involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the
fair woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes
transformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and
the fair cheeks blazing red with passion.  But the Count!  Never
did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit.
 His eyes were positively blazing.  The red light in them was
lurid, as if the flames of hell fire blazed behind them.  His
face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn
wires.  The thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like
a heaving bar of white-hot metal.  With a fierce sweep of his
arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then motioned to the
others, as though he were beating them back.  It was the same
imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves.  In a voice
which,though low and almost in a whisper seemed to cut through
the air and then ring in the room he said,

"How dare you touch him, any of you?  How dare you cast eyes on
him when I had forbidden it?  Back, I tell you all!  This man
belongs to me!  Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to
deal with me."

The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer
him.  "You yourself never loved.You never love!" On this the
other women joined,and such a mirthless,hard, soulless laughter
rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear.  It
seemed like the pleasure of fiends.

Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and
said in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love.You yourselves can
tell it from the past.  Is it not so?  Well,now I promise you
that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will.Now
go!  Go!  I must awaken him, for there is work to be done."

"Are we to have nothing tonight?"said one of them, with a low
laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the
floor, and which moved as though there were some living thing
within it.  For answer he nodded his head.  One of the women
jumped forward and opened it.If my ears did not deceive me there
was a gasp and a low wail,  of a half smothered child.  The women
closed round, whilst I was aghast with horror.I saw a young boy
no more than 5 nude and bound in that horrid bag, But as I
looked,they disappeared with a peasant child, and with them the
dreadful bag.There was no door near them, and they could not have
passed me without my noticing.They simply seemed to fade into the
rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I
could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they
entirely faded away. I heard the wail of the child as they had
their meal of his blood.

Then the horror overcame me,and I sank down unconscious.

CHAPTER 4

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

I awoke in my own bed.  If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count
must have carried me here.  I tried to satisfy myself on the
subject, but could not arrive at any unquestionable result.  To
be sure, there were certain small evidences, such as that my
clothes were folded and laid by in a manner which was not my
habit.  My watch was still unwound, and I am rigorously
accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and
many such details.  But these things are no proof, for they may
have been evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, for some
cause or another, I had certainly been much upset.I must watch
for proof.  Of one thing I am glad.If it was that the Count
carried me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in
his task, for my pockets are intact.  I am sure this diary would
have been a mystery to him which he would not have brooked.He
would have taken or destroyed it.  As I look round this room,
although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of
sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful
women, who were, who are, waiting to suck my blood.  I so miss
the tender touch of the child.

18 May.--I have been down to look at that room again in daylight,
for I must know the truth.  When I got to the doorway at the top
of the stairs I found it closed.  It had been so forcibly driven
against the jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered.  I
could see that the bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the
door is fastened from the inside.  I fear it was no dream, and
must act on this surmise.

19 May.--I am surely in the toils.  Last night the Count asked me
in the sauvest tones to write three letters, one saying that my
work here was nearly done, and that I should start for home
within a few days,another that I was starting on the next morning
from the time of the letter, and the third that I had left the
castle and arrived at Bistritz.  I would fain have rebelled, but
felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to
quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his
power.  And to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to
arouse his anger.  He knows that I know too much, and that I must
not live, lest I be dangerous to him.  My only chance is to
prolong my opportunities.  Something may occur which will give ma
a chance to escape.  I saw in his eyes something of that
gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman
from him.  He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain,
and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends.
And he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would
countermand the later letters, which would be held over at
Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my
prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create
new suspicion.  I therefore pretended to fall in with his views,
and asked him what dates I should put on the letters.

He calculated a minute, and then said, "The first should be June
12,the second June 19,and the third June 29."

I know now the span of my life.  God help me!

28 May.--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being
able to send word home.  A band of Szgany have come to the
castle, and are encamped in the courtyard.  These are gipsies.  I
have notes of them in my book.  They are peculiar to this part of
the world, though allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world
over.  There are thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania,
who are almost outside all law.  They attach themselves as a rule
to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves by his name. 
They are fearless and without religion, save superstition, and
they talk only their own varieties of the Romany tongue.

I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to
have them posted.  I have already spoken to them through my
window to begin acquaintanceship.  They took their hats off and
made obeisance and many signs, which however, I could not
understand any more than I could their spoken language .  .  .

I have written the letters.  Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply
ask Mr.  Hawkins to communicate with her.  To her I have
explained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only
surmise.  It would shock and frighten her to death were I to
expose my heart to her or my addiction to the child.  Should the
letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or
the extent of my knowledge .  .  .

I have given the letters.  I threw them through the bars of my
window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have
them posted.  The man who took them pressed them to his heart and
bowed, and then put them in his cap.  I could do no more.  I
stole back to the study, and began to read.  As the Count did not
come in, I have written here .  .  .

The Count has come.  He sat down beside me, and said in his
smoothest voice as he opened two letters, "The Szgany has given
me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall,
of course, take care.  See!"--He must have looked at it.--"One is
from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins.  The other,"--here he
caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope,
and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed
wickedly,--"The other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship
and hospitality!  It is not signed.  Well!  So it cannot matter
to us."And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the
lamp till they were consumed.

Then he went on, "The letter to Hawkins, that I shall, of course
send on, since it is yours.Your letters are sacred to me.  Your
pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal.Will you
not cover it again?"He held out the letter to me, and with a
courteous bow handed me a clean envelope.

I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence.  When he
went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly.  A minute
later I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.

When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room,
his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa.He
was very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that
I had been sleeping, he said, "So, my friend,I know that you are
missing sweet Abigail so I have relented and brought her back to
my house. Yes it is true yet are  you are tired?  Get to bed and
take what pleasure you may with sweet Abigail .  There is the
surest rest.  I may not have the pleasure of talk tonight, since
there are many labors to me, but you will sleep after you have
drank you fill from the child, I pray."

I passed to my room and took the child to bed, and,she fed me it
seemed an unusually large amount of her golden mung. After I
drank from her I mounted her an by force entered her body. She
lay there letting me enter her forbidden passage. I spent my seed
in her womb and then  strange to say, slept without dreaming. 
Desire has its own calms.

31 May.--This morning when I woke I found the child gone again. I
found a note in the Count's hand, Dear friend I did not wish to
wake you. I have need of the child once again sadly you shall see
her no more. However soon you shall be on the road to Jolly Old
England. Take heart from that knowledge. The note was signed
simply D. He gives and takes as it suits his needs. I am but a
puppet for him to pull the strings.
 I thought I would provide myself with some papers and envelopes
from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in
case I should get an opportunity, but again a surprise, again a
shock!

Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my
memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit,
in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the
castle.  I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought
occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the
wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.

The suit in which I had traveled was gone, and also my overcoat
and rug.  I could find no trace of them anywhere.  This looked
like some new scheme of villainy .  .  .

17 June.--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed
cudgeling my brains, I heard without a crackling of whips and
pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond
the courtyard.  With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive
into the yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy
horses, and at the head of each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat,
great nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots.  They
had also their long staves in hand.  I ran to the door, intending
to descend and try and join them through the main hall, as I
thought that way might be opened for them.  Again a shock, my
door was fastened on the outside.

Then I ran to the window and cried to them.  They looked up at me
stupidly and pointed, but just then the "headman" of the Szgany
came out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something,
at which they laughed.

Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonized
entreaty, would make them even look at me.  They resolutely
turned away.  The leiter-wagons contained great,square boxes,
with handles of thick rope.  These were evidently empty by the
ease with which the Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance
as they were roughly moved.

When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one
corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the
Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his
horse's head.  Shortly afterwards, I heard the crackling of their
whips die away in the distance.

Later at night  Abigail came to me again but this time she pushed
me down on the bed and fell upon my neck. I felt the twin stabs
of her long teeth enter my throat and peirce my vanes in my neck.
 She drank her fill and then laughing left my chamber. I fell
back spent and weakened

24 June.--Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself
into his own room.As soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair,
and looked out of the window, which opened South.  I thought I
would watch for the Count, for there is something going on.The
Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work
of some kind.  I know it, for now and then, I hear a far-away
muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it
must be the end of some ruthless villainy.

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I
saw something coming out of the Count's window.  I drew back and
watched carefully, and saw the whole man emerge.  It was a new
shock to me to find that he had on the suit of clothes which I
had worn whilst traveling here, and slung over his shoulder the
terrible bag which I had seen the women take away. The horrid bag
came open and I stifled a cry for there surly dead was the child
Abigale Adams her throat torn wide open yet no blood was on the
wound. There could be no doubt as to his quest, and in my garb,
too!  This, then, is his new scheme of evil, that he will allow
others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave
evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting
my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by
the local people be attributed to me.

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am
shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection
of the law which is even a criminals right and consolation.

I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long
time sat doggedly at the window.  Then I began to notice that
there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the
moonlight.  They were like the tiniest grains of dust,and they
whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of
way.I watched them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm
stole over me.I leaned back in the embrasure in a more
comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more fully the aerial
gamboling.

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs
somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my
sight.  Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating
moats of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in
the moonlight.  I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of
my instincts.  Nay, my very soul was struggling, and my
half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. 
I was becoming hypnotized!

Quicker and quicker danced the dust.The moonbeams seemed to
quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond.  More
and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom
shapes.  And then I started, broad awake and in full possession
of my senses, and ran screaming from the place.

The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialized
from the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was
doomed.

I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was
no moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly.

When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in
the Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed.
 And then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled
me.  With a beating heart, I tried the door, but I was locked in
my prison, and could do nothing.  I sat down and simply cried.

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the agonized
cry of a woman.  I rushed to the window, and throwing it up,
peered between the bars.

There, indeed, was a woman with disheveled hair, holding her
hands over her heart as one distressed with running.  She was
leaning against the corner of the gateway.  When she saw my face
at the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice
laden with menace, "Monster, give me my child!"

She threw herself on her knees,and raising up her hands, cried
the same words in tones which wrung my heart.  Then she tore her
hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the
violence of extravagant emotion.  Finally, she threw herself
forward, and though I could not see her,I could hear the beating
of her naked hands against the door.

Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice
of the Count calling in his harsh,metallic whisper.  His call
seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves.
 Before many minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a
pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide entrance into the
courtyard.

There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves
was but short.  Before long they streamed away singly, licking
their lips.

I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her
child, and she was better dead.

What shall I do?  What can I do?  How can I escape from this
dreadful thing of night, gloom, and fear?

25 June.--No man knows till he has suffered from the night how
sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.  When the
sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great
gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed
to me as if the dove from the ark had lighted there.  My fear
fell from me as if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved
in the warmth.

I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is
upon me.  Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post,
the first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very
traces of my existence from the earth.

Let me not think of it.  Action!

It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear.  I have not yet
seen the Count in the daylight.  Can it be that he sleeps when
others wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep?  If I could
only get into his room!  But there is no possible way.  The door
is always locked, no way for me.

Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it.  Where his body has
gone why may not another body go?  I have seen him myself crawl
from his window.  Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his
window?  The chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate
still.  I shall risk it.  At the worst it can only be death, and
a man's death is not a calfs, and the dreaded Hereafter may still
be open to me.  God help me in my task!  Goodbye, Mina, if I
fail.  Goodbye, my faithful friend and second father.Goodbye,
all, and last of all Mina!

Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God helping me,
have come safely back to this room.  I must put down every detail
in order.  I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the
window on the south side, and at once got outside on this
side.The stones are big and roughly cut, and the mortar has by
process of time been washed away between them.  I took off my
boots, and ventured out on the desperate way.  I looked down
once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth
would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it.I
know pretty well the direction and distance of the Count's
window, and made for it as well as I could,having regard to the
opportunities available.  I did not feel dizzy, I suppose I was
too excited, and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found
myself standing on the window sill and trying to raise up the
sash.  I was filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and
slid feet foremost in through the window.Then I looked around for
the Count, but with surprise and gladness, made a discovery.  The
room was empty!  It was barely furnished with odd things, which
seemed to have never been used.

The furniture was something the same style as that in the south
rooms, and was covered with dust.  I looked for the key, but it
was not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere.  The only
thing I found was a great heap of gold in one corner, gold of all
kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian,and Hungarian,and Greek
and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had
lain long in the ground.  None of it that I noticed was less than
three hundred years old.There were also chains and ornaments,
some jeweled, but all of them old and stained.

At one corner of the room was a heavy door.  I tried it, for,
since I could not find the key of the room or the key of the
outer door, which was the main object of my search, I must make
further examination, or all my efforts would be in vain.  It was
open, and led through a stone passage to a circular stairway,
which went steeply down.

I descended, minding carefully where I went for the stairs were
dark, being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry.  At the
bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came
a deathly, sickly odor, the odor of old earth newly turned.  As I
went through the passage the smell grew closer and heavier.  At
last I pulled open a heavy door which stood ajar, and found
myself in an old ruined chapel, which had evidently been used as
a graveyard.  The roof was broken, and in two places were steps
leading to vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, and
the earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which
had been brought by the Slovaks.

There was nobody about, and I made a search over every inch of
the ground, so as not to lose a chance.  I went down even into
the vaults, where the dim light struggled,although to do so was a
dread to my very soul.  Into two of these I went, but saw nothing
except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust.  In the third,
however, I made a discovery.

There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in
all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count!  He was either
dead or asleep.I could not say which, for eyes were open and
stony, but without the glassiness of death,and the cheeks had the
warmth of life through all their pallor.  The lips were as red as
ever.  But there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no
beating of the heart.

I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain.
 He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would
have passed away in a few hours.  By the side of the box was its
cover, pierced with holes here and there.  I thought he might
have the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw the dead
eyes, and in them dead though they were, such a look of hate,
though unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the
place, and leaving the Count's room by the window, crawled again
up the castle wall.  Regaining my room, I threw myself panting
upon the bed and tried to think. .

29 June.--Today is the date of my last letter, and the Count has
taken steps to prove that it was genuine,for again I saw him
leave the castle by the same window, and in my clothes.  As he
went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some
lethal weapon, that I might destroy him.  But I fear that no
weapon wrought along by man's hand would have any effect on him.
I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared to see those
weird sisters.  I came back to the library, and read there till I
fell asleep.

I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man
could look as he said,"Tomorrow, my friend, we must part.  You
return to your beautiful England, I to some work which may have
such an end that we may never meet.Your letter home has been
despatched.  Tomorrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready
for your journey.  In the morning come the Szgany, who have some
labors of their own here, and also come some Slovaks.  When they
have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you to
the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. 
But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle
Dracula."

I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity. 
Sincerity!  It seems like a profanation of the word to write it
in connection with such a monster, so I asked him point blank,
"Why may I not go tonight?"

"Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a
mission."

"But I would walk with pleasure.  I want to get away at once."

He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew
there was some trick behind his smoothness.  He said, "And your
baggage?"

"I do not care about it.  I can send for it some other time."

The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me
rub my eyes, it seemed so real, "You English have a saying which
is close to my heart, for its spirit is that which rules our
boyars, `Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.' Come with
me, my dear young friend.  Not an hour shall you wait in my house
against your will,though sad am I at your going,and that you so
suddenly desire it.  Come!" With a stately gravity, he, with the
lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall.  Suddenly
he stopped.  "Hark!"

Close at hand came the howling of many wolves.  It was almost as
if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the
music of a great orchestra seems to leap under the baton of the
conductor.  After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his
stately way, to the door, drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked
the heavy chains, and began to draw it open.

To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. 
Suspiciously, I looked all round, but could see no key of any
kind.

As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew
louder and angrier.  Their red jaws, with clamping teeth, and
their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the
opening door.  I knew than that to struggle at the moment against
the Count was useless.With such allies as these at his command, I
could do nothing.

But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's
body stood in the gap.  Suddenly it struck me that this might be
the moment and means of my doom.  I was to be given to the
wolves, and at my own instigation.  There was a diabolical
wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as the
last chance I cried out, "Shut the door!  I shall wait till
morning." And I covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of
bitter disappointment.

With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door
shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as
they shot back into their places.

In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two
I went to my own room.  The last I saw of Count Dracula was his
kissing his hand to me, with a red light of triumph in his eyes,
and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.

When I was in my room and about to lie down,I thought I heard a
whispering at my door.  I went to it softly and listened.  Unless
my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count.

"Back!  Back to your own place!  Your time is not yet come. 
Wait!  Have patience!  Tonight is mine.  Tomorrow night is
yours!"

There was a low,sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw
open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking
their lips.  As I appeared, they all joined in a horrible laugh,
and ran away.

I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees.  It is then
so near the end?  Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!  Lord, help me, and those
to whom I am dear! Then she was there in the moonlight the ghost
of my sweet Abigail. Her spectral form commanded me to kneel and
present my neck to her. She spoke to me for the first and last
time. Thrice bitten and forever more shall you walk in darkness.
Come willing to me and I shall make you as I and he are creatures
of the night. Your power will not match his yet but you can
forestall his plans for your death. The first bite was not from
his blood so he will have no power over you. He is strong and has
hundreds of years of fighting to draw on. Know this your soul is
lost and you are bound by the laws of the undead.  Things of God
are harmful to you. Sunlight will burn you to death. A wooden
stake driven thorough your heart will kill you. You can be
drowned in running water. Garlic and holy water are poison to
you. Use the power of your mind for it can control lesser beast
and meir humans. Knowing this will you take my blood and join
with me for eternity?"Abigail's ghost asked as she drew near me
again.

"Yes I have no other course but the one you offer. Take me my
dear Abigail." I said as I felt her fangs bite deep in my flesh.
She pumped in my vanes her vampire blood the mingled with mine. I
fell to the floor and a great fire came over my mind. I shook and
then all was darkness. When I awoke I found myself hanging from
the ceiling of my bed chamber like some giant bat. The shock of
the transformation cause me to lose my hold on the timbers of the
vaulted ceiling.  I fell but before I hit the floor I snapped my
legs out and landed lightly on my feet. I moved into a beam of
sunlight that came from a crack in the shuttered window.  I put
out my hand and pulled it back as swiftly as I could as it burned
me as if it were a pillar of fire. Then  Abigail's words came
back to me. I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that
the morning had come.  Then came the unwelcome cock-crow, and I
felt that I was not safe.  With a glad heart, I opened the door
and ran down the hall.  I had seen that the door was unlocked,
and now escape was before me.  With hands that trembled with
eagerness, I unhooked the chains and threw back the massive
bolts.

But the door would not move.  Despair seized me.  I pulled and
pulled at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it
rattled in its casement.I could see the bolt shot.  It had been
locked after I left the Count. A rage came over me and I ripped
the door off its hinges sending it crashing to the floor. The
noise rebounded down the long empty hall.

Then a wild desire took me to obtain the key at any risk,and I
determined then and there to gain the Count's room.  He might
kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evils. 
Without a pause I rushed down the east hall into the Count's
room.  It was empty, but that was as I expected.  I could not see
a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remained.  I went through
the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the
dark passage to the old chapel.I knew now well enough where to
find the monster I sought.

The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but
the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails
ready in their places to be hammered home.

I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid,
and laid it back against the wall.  And then I saw something
which filled my very soul with horror.  There lay the Count,but
looking as if his youth had been half restored.  For the white
hair and mustache were changed to dark iron grey.  The cheeks
were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath.  The
mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh
blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran down
over the chin and neck.  Even the deep,burning eyes seemed set
amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were
bloated.  It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply
gored with blood.  He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his
repletion.

I shuddered as I bent over to touch him,and every sense in me
revolted at the contact, but I had to search, or I was lost.  The
coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar war to
those horrid three.  I felt all over the body, but no sign could
I find of the key.Then I stopped and looked at the Count.  There
was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me
mad.  This was the being I was helping to transfer to London,
where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its
teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new
and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to fatten on the
helpless.

The very thought drove me mad.  A terrible desire came upon me to
rid the world of such a monster.  There was no lethal weapon at
hand, but I saw the broken wooden handle of a workers hammer. I
seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the
cases, and lifting it high, drove the wooden stake  with the edge
downward, at his heart  But as I did so the head turned, and the
eyes fell upon me,with all their blaze of basilisk horror.  The
sight seemed to paralyze me, and the shovel turned in my hand and
glanced from his chest merely making a deep gash in his chest.
with the hammer handle sticking in the shallow gash. The shovel
fell from my hand across the box,and as I pulled it away the
flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid which fell over
again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight.  The last glimpse
I had was of the bloated face,blood-stained and fixed with a grin
of malice which would have held its own in the nethermost hell. 
I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain
seemed on fire,and I waited with a despairing feeling growing
over me.  As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung
by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the rolling
of heavy wheels and the cracking of whips.  The Szgany and the
Slovaks of whom the Count had spoken were coming.  With a last
look around and at the box which contained the vile body. I saw
that the Count had fallen on the stake. His body was now just a
pile of black dust. The  dust disappeared as I watched. I ran
from the place and gained the Count's room,determined to take the
pile of gold and place it in one of the coffins as I \realized
what his plan was. He was going to have his body sent back to
England in the coffin. He must return to the soil of his birth to
rest during the day. Since I was bitten here in  Transylvania  I
hoped that it would work for me. I found that I could easily cary
the heavy gold. I pulled off a heavy blanket and dumped a in gold
and   gems  into the blanket and carried it over my shoulder as I
 rushed back down the stairs. I opened the next crate in line and
found one of the sleeping women that wanted my blood. I took the
stake and drove it through her heart and she turned to dust. I
went down the line and killed all of the beast laying dormant in
their coffins. I hammered their lids back on and then righted the
heavy crate that had held the Count and waited for the a worker
to come in the chamber.

I hid behind the darkend doorway and waited for the man to come
in. It was the boss that had laughed at me from below my window.
I waited until he had come into the room. I shut the door and
fell upon him. He was holding a lantern up to give light to the
darkened chamber.  He turned as the door shut and let out a cry
as I grabbed the man and sunk my fangs into his throat. The blood
lust came over me and I drained his body of blood. I took his
body and dumped into one of the holes dug in the floor of the
chamber. I covered him with dirt and then got into the Count's
crate.
I lay on the moist earth and as I calmed myself I fell into a
deep  sleep. I was awakened sound of many tramping feet and the
crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes,
with their freight of earth.  There was a sound of hammering.  It
is the box being nailed down.  Now I can hear the heavy feet
tramping again along the hall, with with many other idle feet
coming behind them.by the sound of nails being driven into the
lid of the crate. I hear muffled voices in Slovak. The crate was
lifted off the stand and carried out of the castle.  I felt it
being loaded on a wagon and after the other crates were loaded
the teamsters cracked their whips and headed towards the village
bellow and the railroad that would carry my crate to the Black
Sea and then into the Mediterranean.

The door is shut, the chains rattle.  There is a grinding of the
key in the lock.  I can hear the key withdrawn, then another door
opens and shuts.  I hear the creaking of lock and bolt. Hark!  In
the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy wheels,
the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany  as we pass into
the distance.

I fell again into the sleep of the dead. If I dreamed I had no
recall of the dream.  I woke by some new internal clock that told
my new body that it was time to feed and that the sun was set. I
felt the crate rock with the motion that could only be a vessel
upon a body of water. I smelled salt air and assumed that we were
at sea. I listened and heard only the sounds that a sailing ship
makes as it plows the waves. I pressed against the lid and it
creaked as the nails were pulled free.

The hold was dark lit only by dim red lights few and far between
but I found with my new sight that is was bright enough for me to
read a newspaper should  I choose to do so.  I got out of my
coffin and explored the ship. I heard the bleating of goats
through the bulkhead in the next hold.  I found a steel door
leading to the hold and entered.

The goats set up such a racket as they tried to get away from me.
They acted as if a wolf were at them. Worse than a wolf was upon
them. I could smell their blood pumping through their veins and
my lust rose. I pulled a small young goat from the pen and
drained the life out of the beast.  The blood did not taste that
good to me for I knew that human blood was what my body craved.
However I did not want to take another life here at sea where it
would be missed.  I lifted the top of one of the empty crates and
buried the carcass of the dead goat and got back into my coffin.

I pondered how I would seal myself back in from the inside. I
though hard about the nails and willed them back into the wood.
To my amazement I heard them being pulled back into the wood. I
wondered what limits there were to my new found powers.  I
recalled the Count's former plans and knew that the crates would
be delivered to the house I had acquired for him in London. The
place would suit my needs as well as they would have the Count. I
then remembered that he had vast sums of cash transfered to the
Bank of England and that I knew the solicitor  he had chosen to
deal with. I was sure that some  arrangements could be reached
between he and I. If not a dark night and I would come calling
and drain his body of its blood. One way or the other I would
have the Count's funds.

I am ill the goat's blood did not slake my thirst. I have given
my soul over the Satin as there is blood on my hands and between
my loins as I hunger for my sweet little Abigail or sadly some
other young child to use and drink from. I walk the Russian ship
now to feed.  I took a deckhand as he stood the night watch. He
died quite and quick. I slipped his body into the arms of the
sea.



FROM THE JOURNAL OF MISS MINA MURRAY'S

 10 June

  I came up here alone, for I am very sad.  There was no letter
for me.  I hope there cannot be anything the matter with
Jonathan.  The clock has just struck nine.  I see the lights
scattered all over the town,sometimes in rows where the streets
are, and sometimes singly.  They run right up the Esk and die
away in the curve of the valley.  To my left the view is cut off
by a black line of roof of the old house next to the abbey.  The
sheep and lambs are bleating in the fields away behind me, and
there is a clatter of donkeys' hoofs up the paved road below. 
The band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and
further along the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a
back street.  Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I
hear and see them both.  I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is
thinking of me!  I wish he were here.

.

27 July.--No news from Jonathan.  I am getting quite uneasy about
him, though why I should I do not know, but I do wish that he
would write, if it were only a single line.


3 August.--Another week gone by, and no news from Jonathan, not
even to Mr Hawkins, from whom I have heard.  Oh, I do hope he is
not ill.  He surely would have written.  I look at that last
letter of his, but somehow it does not satisfy me.  It does not
read like him, and yet it is his writing.  There is no mistake of
that.


6 August.--Another three days, and no news.  This suspense is
getting dreadful.  If I only knew where to write to or where to
go to, I should feel easier.  But no one has heard a word of
Jonathan since that last letter.  I must only pray to God for
patience.

Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well.  Last
night was very threatening, and the fishermen say that we are in
for a storm.  I must try to watch it and learn the weather signs.

I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass
under his arm.  He stopped to talk with me, as he always does,
but all the time kept looking at a strange ship.

"I can't make her out," he said.  "She's a Russian, by the look
of her.  But she's knocking about in the queerest way.  She
doesn't know her mind a bit.  She seems to see the storm
coming,but can't decide whether to run up north in the open, or
to put in here.  Look there again!  She is steered mighty
strangely, for she doesn't mind the hand on the wheel, changes
about with every puff of wind.  We'll hear more of her before
this time tomorrow."

CHAPTER 7

CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH," 8 AUGUST

(PASTED IN MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL)

From a correspondent.

Whitby.

One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been
experienced here, with results both strange and unique.  The
weather had been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree uncommon
in the month of August.  Saturday evening was as fine as was ever
known, and the great body of holiday-makers laid out yesterday
for visits to Mulgrave Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill,
Runswick, Staithes, and the various trips in the neighborhood of
Whitby.  The steamers Emma and Scarborough made trips up and down
the coast, and there was an unusual amount of `tripping' both to
and from Whitby.  The day was unusually fine till the afternoon,
when some of the gossips who frequent the East Cliff churchyard,
and from the commanding eminence watch the wide sweep of sea
visible to the north and east, called attention to a sudden show
of `mares tails' high in the sky to the northwest.  The wind was
then blowing from the southwest in the mild degree which in
barometrical language is ranked `No.  2, light breeze.'

The coastguard on duty at once made report, and one old
fisherman,who for more than half a century has kept watch on
weather signs from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner
the coming of a sudden storm.  The approach of sunset was so very
beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly colored clouds,
that there was quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in
the old churchyard to enjoy the beauty.Before the sun dipped
below the black mass of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the
western sky, its downward was was marked by myriad clouds of
every sunset color, flame, purple, pink, green, violet, and all
the tints of gold, with here and there masses not large, but of
seemingly absolute blackness, in all sorts of shapes, as well
outlined as colossal silhouettes.  The experience was not lost on
the painters, and doubtless some of the sketches of the `Prelude
to the Great Storm' will grace the R.  A and R.  I.  walls in May
next.

More than one captain made up his mind then and there that his
`cobble' or his `mule', as they term the different classes of
boats, would remain in the harbor till the storm had passed.  The
wind fell away entirely during the evening, and at midnight there
was a dead calm, a sultry heat, and that prevailing intensity
which, on the approach of thunder, affects persons of a sensitive
nature.

There were but few lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting
steamers,which usually hug the shore so closely, kept well to
seaward,and but few fishing boats were in sight.  The only sail
noticeable was a foreign schooner with all sails set, which was
seemingly going westwards.The foolhardiness or ignorance of her
officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remained in
sight, and efforts were made to signal her to reduce sail in the
face of her danger.  Before the night shut down she was seen with
sails idly flapping as she gently rolled on the undulating swell
of the sea.

"As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."

Shortly before ten o'clock the stillness of the air grew quite
oppressive,and the silence was so marked that the bleating of a
sheep inland or the barking of a dog in the town was distinctly
heard, and the band on the pier, with its lively French air, was
like a discord in the great harmony of nature's silence.  A
little after midnight came a strange sound from over the sea, and
high overhead the air began to carry a strange, faint, hollow
booming.

Then without warning the tempest broke.  With a rapidity which,
at the time, seemed incredible,and even afterwards is impossible
to realize, the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed.
The waves rose in growing fury, each over topping its fellow,
till in a very few minutes the lately glassy sea was like a
roaring and devouring monster.  White crested waves beat madly on
the level sands and rushed up the shelving cliffs.  Others broke
over the piers, and with their spume swept the lanthorns of the
lighthouses which rise from the end of either pier of Whitby
Harbor.

The wind roared like thunder, and blew with such force that it
was with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet, or
clung with grim clasp to the iron stanchions.  It was found
necessary to clear the entire pier from the mass of onlookers, or
else the fatalities of the night would have increased manifold. 
To add to the difficulties and dangers of the time, masses of
sea-fog came drifting inland.  White, wet clouds, which swept by
in ghostly fashion, so dank and damp and cold that it needed but
little effort of imagination to think that the spirits of those
lost at sea were touching their living brethren with the clammy
hands of death, and many a one shuddered at the wreaths of
sea-mist swept by.

At times the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could be
seen in the glare of the lightning, which came thick and fast,
followed by such peals of thunder that the whole sky overhead
seemed trembling under the shock of the footsteps of the storm.

Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur
and of absorbing interest.  The sea, running mountains high,
threw skyward with each wave mighty masses of white foam, which
the tempest seemed to snatch at and whirl away into space.  Here
and there a fishing boat, with a rag of sail, running madly for
shelter before the blast, now and again the white wings of a
storm-tossed seabird.  On the summit of the East Cliff the new
searchlight was ready for experiment, but had not yet been tried.
 The officers in charge of it got it into working order, and in
the pauses of onrushing mist swept with it the surface of the
sea.  Once or twice its service was most effective, as when a
fishing boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbor,
able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the
danger of dashing against the piers.  As each boat achieved the
safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of
people on the shore,a shout which for a moment seemed to cleave
the gale and was then swept away in its rush.

Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a
schooner with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had
been noticed earlier in the evening.  The wind had by this time
backed to the east, and there was a shudder amongst the watchers
on the cliff as they realized the terrible danger in which she
now was.

Between her and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many
good ships have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind
blowing from its present quarter,it would be quite impossible
that she should fetch the entrance of the harbor.

It was now nearly the hour of high tide, but the waves were so
great that in their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost
visible, and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with
such speed that, in the words of one old salt, "she must fetch up
somewhere, if it was only in hell".  Then came another rush of
sea-fog, greater than any hitherto, a mass of dank mist, which
seemed to close on all things like a gray pall, and left
available to men only the organ of hearing, for the roar of the
tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the
mighty billows came through the damp oblivion even louder than
before.  The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the
harbor mouth across the East Pier, where the shock was expected,
and men waited breathless.

The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the remnant of
the sea fog melted in the blast.  And then, mirabile dictu,
between the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at
headlong speed, swept the strange schooner before the blast, with
all sail set, and gained the safety of the harbor.  The
searchlight followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw
her, for lashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head,
which swung horribly to and fro at each motion of the ship.  No
other form could be seen on the deck at all.

A great awe came on all as they realized that the ship, as if by
a miracle, had found the harbor, unsteered save by the hand of a
dead man!  However, all took place more quickly than it takes to
write these words.  The schooner paused not, but rushing across
the harbor, pitched herself on that accumulation of sand and
gravel washed by many tides and many storms into the southeast
corner of the pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally as
Tate Hill Pier.

There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove
up on the sand heap.  Every spar, rope, and stay was strained,and
some of the `top-hammer' came crashing down.  But, strangest of
all,the very instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang
up on deck from below,as if shot up by the concussion, and
running forward, jumped from the bow on the sand.

Making straight for the steep cliff, where the churchyard hangs
over the lane way to the East Pier so steeply that some of the
flat tombstones, turff steans or through-stones, as they call
them in Whitby vernacular, actually project over where the
sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the darkness,
which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the
searchlight.

It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill
Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were
either in bed or were out on the heights above.  Thus the
coastguard on duty on the eastern side of the harbor, who at once
ran down to the little pier, was the first to climb aboard.  The
men working the searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the
harbor without seeing anything, then turned the light on the
derelict and kept it there.  The coastguard ran aft, and when he
came beside the wheel, bent over to examine it,and recoiled at
once as though under some sudden emotion.  This seemed to pique
general curiosity, and quite a number of people began to run.

It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to
Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good runner,
and came well ahead of the crowd.  When I arrived, however, I
found already assembled on the pier a crowd, whom the coastguard
and police refused to allow to come on board.  By the courtesy of
the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted to
climb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead
seaman whilst actually lashed to the wheel.

It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed,
for not often can such a sight have been seen.  The man was
simply fastened by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke
of the wheel.  Between the inner hand and the wood was a
crucifix, the set of beads on which it was fastened being around
both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. 
The poor fellow may have been seated at one time, but the
flapping and buffeting of the sails had worked through the rudder
of the wheel and had dragged him to and fro, so that the cords
with which he was tied had cut the flesh to the bone.

Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor,
Surgeon J.  M.  Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place, who came
immediately after me, declared, after making examination, that
the man must have been dead for quite two days.

In his pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for a
little roll of paper, which proved to be the addendum to the log.

The coastguard said the man must have tied up his own hands,
fastening the knots with his teeth.  The fact that a coastguard
was the first on board may save some complications later on, in
the Admiralty Court, for coast guards cannot claim the salvage
which is the right of the first civilian entering on a derelict.
Already, however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young
law student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are
already completely sacrificed, his property being held in
contravention of the statues of mortmain, since the tiller, as
emblemship, if not proof, of delegated possession, is held in a
dead hand.

It is needless to say that the dead steersman has been reverently
removed from the place where he held his honorable watch and ward
till death, a steadfastness as noble as that of the young
Casablanca, and placed in the mortuary to await inquest.

Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is
abating.  Crowds are scattering backward, and the sky is
beginning to redden over the Yorkshire hills.

I shall send, in time for your next issue, further details of the
derelict ship which found her way so miraculously into harbor in
the storm.

9 August.--The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in
the storm last night is almost more startling than the thing
itself.  It turns out that the schooner is Russian from Varna,
and is called the Demeter.  She is almost entirely in ballast of
silver sand, with only a small amount of cargo, a number of great
wooden boxes filled with mould.

This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor,Mr.  S.F. 
Billington, of 7, The Crescent, who this morning went aboard and
took formal possession of the goods consigned to him.

The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter-party, took
formal possession of the ship, and paid all harbor dues, etc.

Nothing is talked about here today except the strange
coincidence.  The officials of the Board of Trade have been most
exacting in seeing that every compliance has been made with
existing regulations.  As the matter is to be a `nine days
wonder', they are evidently determined that there shall be no
cause of other complaint.

A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which
landed when the ship struck, and more than a few of the members
of the S.P.C.A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to
befriend the animal.  To the general disappointment, however, it
was not to be found.  It seems to have disappeared entirely from
the town.  It may be that it was frightened and made its way on
to the moors, where it is still hiding in terror.

There are some who look with dread on such a possibility, lest
later on it should in itself become a danger, for it is evidently
a fierce brute.  Early this morning a large dog, a half-bred
mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill Pier, was
found dead in the roadway opposite its master's yard.  It had
been fighting, and manifestly had had a savage opponent,for its
throat was torn away, and its belly was slit open as if with a
savage claw.

Later.--By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have
been permitted to look over the log book of the Demeter, which
was in order up to within three days, but contained nothing of
special interest except as to facts of missing men.  The greatest
interest, however, is with regard to the paper found in the
bottle,which was today produced at the inquest.  And a more
strange narrative than the two between them unfold it has not
been my lot to come across.

As there is no motive for concealment,I am permitted to use them,
and accordingly send you a transcript, simply omitting technical
details of seamanship and supercargo.  It almost seems as though
the captain had been seized with some kind of mania before he had
got well into blue water, and that this had developed
persistently throughout the voyage.  Of course my statement must
be taken cum grano, since I am writing from the dictation of a
clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for me, time
being short.

 LOG OF THE "DEMETER"  Varna to Whitby

Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep
accurate note henceforth till we land.

On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of
earth.  At noon set sail.  East wind, fresh.  Crew, five hands .
.  .  two mates, cook, and myself, (captain).

On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus.  Boarded by Turkish Customs
officers.  Backsheesh.  All correct.  Under way at 4 p.  m.

On 12 July through Dardanelles.  More Customs officers and flag
boat of guarding squadron.  Backsheesh again.  Work of officers
thorough, but quick.  Want us off soon.  At dark passed into
Archipelago.

On 13 July passed Cape Matapan.  Crew dissatisfied about
something.  Seemed scared, but would not speak out.

On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew.  Men all steady
fellows, who sailed with me before.  Mate could not make out what
was wrong.  They only told him there was SOMETHING, and crossed
themselves.  Mate lost temper with one of them that day and
struck him.  Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.

On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of the crew,
Petrofsky, was missing.  Could not account for it.Took larboard
watch eight bells last night, was relieved by Amramoff, but did
not go to bunk.  Men more downcast than ever.  All said they
expected something of the kind, but would not say more than there
was SOMETHING aboard.  Mate getting very impatient with them. 
Feared some trouble ahead.

On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin,
and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was
a strange man aboard the ship.He said that in his watch he had
been sheltering behind the deckhouse, as there was a rain storm,
when he saw a tall,thin man, who was not like any of the crew,
come up the companionway, and go along the deck forward and
disappear.He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found
no one, and the hatchway were all closed.  He was in a panic of
superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread.  To
allay it, I shall today search the entire ship carefully from
stem to stern.

Later in the day I got together the whole crew,and told them, as
they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would
search from stem to stern.  First mate angry, said it was folly,
and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralize the men, said
he would engage to keep them out of trouble with the handspike. 
I let him take the helm, while the rest began a thorough search,
all keeping abreast, with lanterns.  We left no corner
un-searched.  As there were only the big wooden boxes, there were
no odd corners where a man could hide.  Men much relieved when
search over, and went back to work cheerfully.First mate
scowled,but said nothing.

22 July.--Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with
sails, no time to be frightened.  Men seem to have forgotten
their dread.  Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. 
Praised men for work in bad weather.  Passed Gibraltar and out
through Straits.  All well.

24 July.--There seems some doom over this ship.  Already a hand
short, and entering the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead,
and yet last night another man lost, disappeared.  Like the
first, he came off his watch and was not seen again.  Men all in
a panic of fear, sent a round robin, asking to have double watch,
as they fear to be alone.  Mate angry.  Fear there will be some
trouble,as either he or the men will do some violence.

28 July.--Four days in hell,knocking about in a sort of
maelstrom, and the wind a tempest.  No sleep for any one.  Men
all worn out.  Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit
to go on.  Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let
men snatch a few hours sleep.  Wind abating, seas still terrific,
but feel them less, as ship is steadier.

29 July.--Another tragedy.  Had single watch tonight, as crew too
tired to double.  When morning watch came on deck could find no
one except steersman.  Raised outcry, and all came on deck. 
Thorough search, but no one found.  Are now without second mate,
and crew in a panic.  Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth
and wait for any sign of cause.

30 July.--Last night.  Rejoiced we are nearing England.  Weather
fine, all sails set.  Retired worn out, slept soundly, awakened
by mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing.
Only self and mate and two hands left to work ship.

1 August.--Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted.  Had hoped
when in the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get
in somewhere.  Not having power to work sails, have to run before
wind.  Dare not lower, as could not raise them again.  We seem to
be drifting to some terrible doom.  Mate now more demoralized
than either of men.  His stronger nature seems to have worked
inwardly against himself.  Men are beyond fear, working stolidly
and patiently, with minds made up to worst.  They are Russian, he
Rumanian.

2 August, midnight.--Woke up from few minutes sleep by hearing a
cry, seemingly outside my port.  Could see nothing in fog. 
Rushed on deck, and ran against mate.  Tells me he heard cry and
ran, but no sign of man on watch.  One more gone.  Lord, help us!
 Mate says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of
fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as he heard the man cry
out.  If so we are now off in the North Sea, and only God can
guide us in the fog, which seems to move with us, and God seems
to have deserted us.

3 August.--At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel and
when I got to it found no one there.  The wind was steady, and as
we ran before it there was no yawing.  I dared not leave it, so
shouted for the mate.  After a few seconds, he rushed up on deck
in his flannels.  He looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly
fear his reason has given way.  He came close to me and whispered
hoarsely, with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very
air might hear.  "It is here.  I know it now.  On the watch last
night I saw It, like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly pale.  It
was in the bows, and looking out.  I crept behind It, and gave it
my knife, but the knife went through It, empty as the air." And
as he spoke he took the knife and drove it savagely into space. 
Then he went on, "But It is here, and I'll find It.  It is in the
hold, perhaps in one of those boxes.  I'll unscrew them one by
one and see.  You work the helm." And with a warning look and his
finger on his lip, he went below.  There was springing up a
choppy wind, and I could not leave the helm.  I saw him come out
on deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down the
forward hatchway.  He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it's no use
my trying to stop him.  He can't hurt those big boxes, they are
invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is as harmless a thing
as he can do.  So here I stay and mind the helm, and write these
notes.  I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. 
Then, if I can't steer to any harbor with the wind that is, I
shall cut down sails, and lie by, and signal for help .  .  .

It is nearly all over now.  Just as I was beginning to hope that
the mate would come out calmer, for I heard him knocking away at
something in the hold, and work is good for him, there came up
the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my blood run
cold, and up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun, a raging
madman, with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. 
"Save me!  Save me!"  he cried, and then looked round on the
blanket of fog.  His horror turned to despair, and in a steady
voice he said,"You had better come too, captain, before it is too
late.  He is there!  I know the secret now.  The sea will save me
from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I could say a word,
or move forward to seize him, he sprang on the bulwark and
deliberately threw himself into the sea.  I suppose I know the
secret too, now.  It was this madman who had got rid of the men
one by one, and now he has followed them himself.  God help me! 
How am I to account for all these horrors when I get to port? 
When I get to port!  Will that ever be?

4 August.--Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce,I know
there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not.  I
dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm, so here all night
I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw it, Him!  God,
forgive me, but the mate was right to jump overboard.  It was
better to die like a man.  To die like a sailor in blue water, no
man can object.  But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship.
But I shall baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my
hands to the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along
with them I shall tie that which He, It, dare not touch.  And
then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honor
as a captain.  I am growing weaker, and the night is coming on. 
If He can look me in the face again, I may not have time to act .
 .  .If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and
those who find it may understand.  If not .  .  .  well, then all
men shall know that I have been true to my trust.  God and the
Blessed Virgin and the Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to
do his duty .  .  .

Of course the verdict was an open one.  There is no evidence to
adduce, and whether or not the man himself committed the murders
there is now none to say.  The folk here hold almost universally
that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given a public
funeral.  Already it is arranged that his body is to be taken
with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought
back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps, for he is to be
buried in the churchyard on the cliff.  The owners of more than a
hundred boats have already given in their names as wishing to
follow him to the grave and so will end this one more `mystery of
the sea'
No trace has ever been found of the great dog, at which there is
much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he
would, I believe, be adopted by the town.
Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

I found the sailor alone at his watch after the horrid storm the
small ship had survived. Before I was bitten I was a seasoned
traveler and not prone to sea sickness.  I had slept through the
worst of the tempest. The decks were wet from the sea spray and
the ship groaned in the following wind. I saw the mate working on
some broken rigging. He was bent to his task and did not hear my
approach. He was bent on one knee working a thick rope with a
marlin spike. I grasped him by his slicker and sank my fangs into
he jugular vein and drank my fill. I tossed his dead body over
the side into the churning sea. I went back down below to my
earth and slept until hunger woke me.

The sea is rough and a storm is coming. I moved aft and found the
cook killing one of the goats for its' meat. The cook's blood
spilled on the deck to mingle with the dead goat's. I threw his
body overboard once I had finished feeding. It was a close thing
for he had the stink of garlic on his clothing. The blood of the
goat had covered enough that I might take the cook, but I did not
enjoy his blood.

Another night and I took a deckhand as he came to get some fresh
water from the kegs below. The fools searched the ship but missed
me as I took the form of a bat and hid in the timbers of the
ship.

I fed again they are trapped like rats on this ship of the damned
and I chief among them. I went into the captains' cabin and read
his log we are nearing England. The ship should reach port in
three days.

I went into the crew's quarters and took a sailor in his bunk. I
fed and then carried him to the port side of the ship and
committed his corps to the sea.

I awoke and found the ship sailing in a thick fog all the better
for me to move quite and find another sailor to dine on. This one
cried out as I pulled him down the hatchway. I had to hurry my
meal as the alarm had be called and I heard the sound of rushing
feet upon the deck. I slid his body into the sea and hurried down
into the hold.

I was awoke by the lid of my coffin being torn open. I saw a
maddened sailor with a mallet in his hands. He swung it down at
me and I cough it as if it were a wand directing a band. I drew
up to my full hight and showed him my fangs. He let lose the
mallet and fled as if the hounds of hell were set upon him. I
heard his cry as he dove over the side of the ship leaving only
me and the captain of the ship.

The fool has put the cross up to stave off my attack. I can not
go near him but he has died tied to the wheel. I have gone below
and moved the rudder by the ropes and steer the ship into the
harbor. It is night and I take the form of the wolf. For I am
hidden from the eyes of man in this form.  I shall trust to the
Counts orders being carried out as I run on the soil of England.

.

LETTER, SAMUEL F.  BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS   WHITBY,TO
MESSRS.  CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON.  17 August "Dear Sirs,
--

"Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern
Railway.  Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet,
immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross.  The house
is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of which
are labeled.

"You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form
the consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of
the house and marked `A' on rough diagrams enclosed.  Your agent
will easily recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel
of the mansion.  The goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight,
and will be due at King's Cross at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon.  As
our client wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall
be obliged by your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time
named and forthwith conveying the goods to destination.  In order
to obviate any delays possible through any routine requirements
as to payment in your departments,we enclose cheque herewith for
ten pounds, receipt of which please acknowledge.  Should the
charge be less than this amount, you can return balance, if
greater, we shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing
from you.  You are to leave the keys on coming away in the main
hall of the house, where the proprietor may get them on his
entering the house by means of his duplicate key.

"Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy
in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.  "We
are, dear Sirs,  "Faithfully yours,  "SAMUEL F.  BILLINGTON &
SON"

LETTER, MESSRS.  CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, TO MESSRS. 
BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY.

21 August.

"Dear Sirs,--

"We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return cheque of
1 pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in receipted
account herewith.  Goods are delivered in exact accordance with
instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
"We are, dear Sirs,  "Yours respectfully,  "Pro CARTER, PATERSON
& CO."


  THE PALL MALL GAZETTE May 23rd  1890

 THE ESCAPED WOLF PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER

INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS

After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually
using the words `PALL MALL GAZETTE ' as a sort of talisman, I
managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoological
Gardens in which the wold department is included.  Thomas Bilder
lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant
house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found him. 
Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without
children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be
of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable.  The
keeper would not enter on what he called business until the
supper was over, and we were all satisfied.  Then when the table
was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said,

"Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want.  You'll
excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts afore meals.
 I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyaenas in all our
section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions."

"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get
him into a talkative humor.

" `Ittin' of them over the `ead with a pole is one way. 
Scratchin' of their ears in another, when gents as is flush wants
a bit of a show-orf to their gals.  I don't so much mind the
fust, the `ittin of the pole part afore I chucks in their dinner,
but I waits till they've `ad their sherry and kawffee,so to
speak,afore I tries on with the ear scratchin'.  Mind you," he
added philosophically, "there's a deal of the same nature in us
as in them theer animiles.  Here's you a-comin' and arskin' of me
questions about my business, and I that grump-like that only for
your bloomin' `arf-quid I'd `a' seen you blowed fust `fore I'd
answer.  Not even when you arsked me sarcastic like if I'd like
you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. 
Without offence did I tell yer to go to `ell?"

"You did."

"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene language
that was `ittin' me over the `ead.  But the `arfquid made that
all right.  I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food,
and did with my `owl as the wolves and lions and tigers does. 
But, lor' love yer `art, now that the old `ooman has stuck a
chunk of her tea-cake in me, an' rinsed me out with her bloomin'
old teapot,and I've lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all
you're worth, and won't even get a growl out of me.  Drive along
with your questions.  I know what yer a-comin' at, that `ere
escaped wolf."

"Exactly.  I want you to give me your view of it.  Just tell me
how it happened, and when I know the facts I'll get you to say
what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the
whole affair will end."

"All right, guv'nor.  This `ere is about the `ole story. 
That`ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three gray ones
that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four
years ago.  He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no
trouble to talk of.  I'm more surprised at `im for wantin' to get
out nor any other animile in the place.  But, there, you can't
trust wolves no more nor women."

"Don't you mind him, Sir!" broke in Mrs.  Tom, with a cheery
laugh.  " `E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he
ain't like a old wolf `isself!  But there ain't no `arm in `im."

"Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I
first hear my disturbance.  I was makin' up a litter in the
monkey house for a young puma which is ill.  But when I heard the
yelpin' and `owlin' I kem away straight.  There was Bersicker
a-tearin' like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get
out.  There wasn't much people about that day, and close at hand
was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a `ook nose and a
pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin' through it.  He had
a `ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to
him, for it seemed as if it was `im as they was hirritated at. 
He `ad white kid gloves on `is `ands, and he pointed out the
animiles to me and says, `Keeper, these wolves seem upset at
something.'

"`Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he give
`isself.  He didn't get angry, as I `oped he would, but he smiled
a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp
teeth.  `Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' `e says.

" `Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin'of him.`They always
like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea time, which
you `as a bagful.'

"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin'
they lay down,and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke
his ears same as ever.That there man kem over, and blessed but if
he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

" `Tyke care,' says I.  `Bersicker is quick.'

" `Never mind,' he says.  I'm used to `em!'

" `Are you in the business yourself?"I says, tyking off my `at,
for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer,is a good friend to
keepers.

" `Nom' says he, `not exactly in the business, but I `ave made
pets of several.' and with that he lifts his `at as perlite as a
lord, and walks away.  Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter `im
till `e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner
and wouldn't come hout the `ole hevening.  Well, larst night, so
soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-`owling. 
There warn't nothing for them to `owl at.  There warn't no one
near, except some one that was evidently a-callin' a dog
somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road.  Once or
twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then
the `owling stopped.  Just before twelve o'clock I just took a
look round afore turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem
opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken and
twisted about and the cage empty.  And that's all I know for
certing."

"Did any one else see anything?"

"One of our gard`ners was a-comin' `ome about that time from a
`armony, when he sees a big gray dog comin' out through the
garding `edges.At least, so he says, but I don't give much for it
myself, for if he did `e never said a word about it to his missis
when `e got `ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf
was made known,and we had been up all night a-huntin' of the Park
for Bersicker,that he remembered seein' anything.  My own belief
was that the `armony `ad got into his `ead."

"Now, Mr.  Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of
the wolf?"

"Well, Sir,"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think
I can, but I don't know as `ow you'd be satisfied with the
theory."

"Certainly I shall.  If a man like you, who knows the animals
from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is
even to try?"

"well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way.  It seems to me that
`ere wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out."

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the
joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the
whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell.  I couldn't cope
in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer
way to his heart, so I said,"Now, Mr.  Bilder, we'll consider
that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is
waiting to be claimed when you've told me what you think will
happen."

"Right y`are, Sir," he said briskly.  "Ye`ll excoose me, I know,
for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman her winked at me, which
was as much as telling me to go on."

"Well, I never!" said the old lady.

"My opinion is this.  That `ere wolf is a`idin' of, somewheres. 
The gard`ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin'
northward faster than a horse could go, but I don't believe him,
for, yer see, Sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does,
they not bein' built that way.  Wolves is fine things in a
storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be
chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared than they is they can make
a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is.  But, Lor'
bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half
so clever or bold as a good dog, and not half a quarter so much
fight in `im.  This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to
providin' for hisself, and more like he's somewhere round the
Park a'hidin' an' a'shiverin' of, and if he thinks at all,
wonderin' where he is to get his breakfast from.  Or maybe he's
got down some area and is in a coal cellar.  My eye, won't some
cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shinin' at
her out of the dark!  If he can't get food he's bound to look for
it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's shop in
time.  If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out walkin' or orf
with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator--well,
then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the
less.  That's all."

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing
up against the window, and Mr.  Bilder's face doubled its natural
length with surprise.

"God bless me!" he said.  "If there ain't old Bersicker come back
by `isself!"

He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding
it seemed to me.  I have always thought that a wild animal never
looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is
between us.  A personal experience has intensified rather than
diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither
Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of
a dog.  The animal itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that
father of all picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend,
whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. 
The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and
set all the children in town shivering in their shoes, was there
in a sort of penitent mood,and was received and petted like a
sort of vulpine prodigal son.  Old Bilder examined him all over
with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his
penitent said,

"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of
trouble.  Didn't I say it all along?  Here's his head all cut and
full of broken glass.  `E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin'
wall or other.  It's a shyme that people are allowed to top their
walls with broken bottles.  This `ere's what comes of it.  Come
along, Bersicker."

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of
meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary
conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.
I came off too,to report the only exclusive information that is
given today regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

I kept the form of the wolf as I made my way to the new holdings
at Carfax. I made my way in the night via back roads and winding
lanes. I came upon a small cottage with its upper windows open to
take the night air. I climbed the wall and stole into a small
bedchamber. There sleeping was a sweet little girl. I took her
from her bed and out into the night where I could use her as I
chose. The little child awoke and made to cry out but I put her
under my spell and she became dossal and allowed me to use her
body in the most vile ways.

I took her to a mound of straw laid up for the local teamsters
mules. There I pulled off her night clothes and bit her yoni
putting in my blood not taking hers making her one of my minions.
 I turned her with another bite sending her soul to hell as she
became as I an undead. We fucked and I schooled her on the ways
to pleasure me. Her tight cunt sucked my cock as I fed it in
between her thighs.  I sent my Satan's seed deep into her
undeveloped cunt and rode her hard and long.  I found out that
her name is  Leonora, she is seven years old and will not age a
day until she is destroyed by my hand or some human vampire
hunter or some unlucky accident.

We run nude through the moonlight and climb the stone wall
surrounding my new estate. The child and I climb the south wall
of the house and enter through an open window. We explore the
house together. I lead her down to the cellar door where the 50
crates of soil are kept. I lay the nude child on the earth and
plow her field. She is a hellcat and takes all of my cock deep in
her willing body. My member stretches her flesh and our union is
one of mutual joy. There is enough time for us to feed so we are
off into the night looking for some isolated fool to feed upon.

Leonora finds a drunken man stumbling home after a round of heavy
drink at his pub. I let her entice the fool into a darkend ally
way where she rips his throat out and drinks her fill. She rubs
her cunt on his torn throat and coats her pussy with his hot
blood. The imp then offers up her bloody cunt for my tender mouth
to use and enjoy. We leave the dead man in the darkness and flee
the coming sunrise.  Back in the house we share a coffin and fall
into sleep joined cock to cunt.

.THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER 1890

A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY

The neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with a
series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of
what was known to the writers of headlines and "The Kensington
Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The Woman in Black." During
the past two or three days several cases have occurred of young
children straying from home or neglecting to return from their
playing on the Heath.  In all these cases the children were too
young to give any properly intelligible account of themselves,
but the consensus of their excuses is that they had been with a
"bloofer lady." It has always been late in the evening when they
have been missed, and on two occasions the children have not been
found until early in the following morning.  It is generally
supposed in the neighborhood that, as the first child missed gave
as his reason for being away that a "bloofer lady" had asked him
to come for a walk,the others had picked up the phrase and used
it as occasion served.  This is the more natural as the favorite
game of the little ones at present is luring each other away by
wiles.  A correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny
tots pretending to be the "bloofer lady" is supremely funny.Some
of our caricaturist might, he says,take a lesson in the irony of
grotesque by comparing the reality and the picture.  It is only
in accordance with general principles of human nature that the
"bloofer lady" should be the popular role at these al fresco
performances.  Our correspondent naively says that even Ellen
Terry could not be so winningly attractive as some of these
grubby-faced little children pretend, and even imagine
themselves, to be.

There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, for
some of the children, indeed all who have been missed at night,
have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat.  The wounds
seem such as might be made by a rat or a small dog, and although
of not much importance individually, would tend to show that
whatever animal inflicts them has a system or method of its own.
The police of the division have been instructed to keep a sharp
lookout for straying children, especially when very young, in and
around Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dog which may be about.


Sweet Leonora has taken to dressing all in black and has taken on
the form of an old witch whom the children call the bloofer lady.
She lures the imps into the Heath where we use them and leave
them wounded and weak.  I take from them their innocence and
virginity, while she takes their souls. Their cries as I enter
their little bodies is music to our ears.

24 SEPTEMBER The Heath North of the Manor

Dear Leonora and I were hunting in the night. She had found a
pale ill child left in her rowhouse all alone as her older
sisters, father, and mother worked the second sift at the mill
spinning cotton into cloth. The tike was thin weighing no more
than a two stones. Leonora quickly put a charm upon the waif and
we used her in her own room.

I removed her soiled undergarments and fell at once upon her
crotch. I thrust my long tongue deep into the folds of her yoni.
The toddler moaned as I abused her underdeveloped body. Leonora
mounted her face and made the lass clean her neater parts. It was
no long before my demon lover was pumping her tainted mung into
the small child's body. We turned her that night and added her to
our house hold. Not knowing her name we simply called her slut.
I mounted her and filled her small womb with my hot Satin's seed.
Once I had finished I let Leonora feed on her yoni as she sucked
my fluid and the child's from her body.

We were away in the darkness when we happen upon a fellow from my
past. I knew his rotund frame in an instant. It was Peter Hawkins
doddering along. His Gout must have been acting up as he had an
unsteady gate. His face was illuminated by a gaslight and his
eyes opened wide in surprise as he recognized me .

"By the Gods! Is that you Jonathan Harker? We all thought you
dead! Where on God's Green Earth have you been? Dear God you look
as pale as a corps! Darling Mina is sick with worry and grief. We
must go to her strait away I have a Hanson Cab just down the
block!" my old friend exclaimed as he rushed to take my hand.

" Peter, it is a shock to see you here in this dissolute
district. As you can see I am not dead. I had some problems with
the Count and have now taken to managing his affairs here in
England. It it is a heavy burden that I have taken on, one that
leaves me little time for old friends and lovers." I said as I
put my arm around his shoulder.  He recoiled at my touch and
tried to pull away from me.

"Good Lord man how can you say such a thing? It is ill of you to
cast away dear friends and loved ones for some bit of business."
he chastised me as he recoiled from my new countenance

I fell upon him and ripped out his throat and left him in the
dust to die alone. We went straight away to our manor and used
Slut until the cock did crow and the hated sun did rise defeating
the night. Spent form our sexual congress I lay Slut in one of
the 50 vessels of earth and then took sweet  Leonora to rest upon
the soil.

THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER  1890
EXTRA SPECIAL
THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR

ANOTHER CHILD INJURED
THE "BLOOFER LADY"

We have just received intelligence that another child, missed
last night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze
bush at the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is
perhaps,less frequented than the other parts.  It has the same
tiny wound in the throat as has been noticed in other cases.  It
was terribly weak, and looked quite emaciated.It too, when
partially restored, had the common story to tell of being lured
away by the "bloofer lady".
transference.  No?  Nor in materialization.  No?  Nor in astral
bodies.  No?  Nor in the reading of thought.  No?  Nor in
hypnotism .  .  ."

THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER  1890
EXTRA SPECIAL
THE HAMPSTEAD SLAUGHTER

WELL KNOWN SILICITOR HORRIDLY KILLED

A source in the Yard has disclosed to us that Mister Peter
Hawkins, age 53, a well known Solicitor of London, was found on
Brayer Lane with his throat slashed as if by some horrid beast.
Residents of the district have reported to the authorities a
strange pale man all dressed in black haunting the nights there
accompanied by one or two pale women or young girls . Our source
did not give much credence to the tales and said that rather he
thought it to be some wild beast come down from the Heath or some
large hunting dog gone ferial. We are sending out our Ace
reporter to  investigate these strange goings on. More in the
next issue...

Lord Godalming's Journal October 1890

"I tell you Raymond the devil is afoot! I have seen the wounds on
these children and the injuries to their sex organs. There is
some fiend using them most foul. The old estate at 347 Piccadilly
Lane has been sold and there are lights showing in the windows at
night. Yet when I went to pay a welcoming visit to the hall I
could rase no one. The house was locked up tight. I peered
through heavy drapery and saw some few sticks of furniture, but
all and all the hall was not furnished as if someone were living
in it.
I have made inquires to the local butcher shop and to the grocery
store and they have not sold an item to anyone claiming the hall
as their home.  The garden is all taken over by weeds and the
lawn is in need of cutting. I tell you something is not right!"
Lord Godalming stated as he strode back and forth over the carpet
holding a brandy in his right hand.

"Look here Godalming, if someone has gotten the old hall and
wishes to be left alone and cares not for the garden or lawn what
truck is it of us? They might be some eccentric foreign Count
who's ways are not of jolly old England. So far all you have is a
tempest in a pot of tea." Duke William said as he took a corner
shot off the rail on the green felt of the billiard table..

"But what of the missing children and the wounded ones and this
damned bloofer lady. At least have the Yard take a look at the
case! I am going to make inquires as to just whom has bought the
place. I intend on getting to the bottom of this soon.  I shall
call upon the house when the lights are in the widows and find
out what I may.

"Mind the laws of trespass! I do not want a lad come calling at
my club saying that you are locked up in the Yard for mucking
about in someone else's business." the Duke warned his friend as
the man left the club.


LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY TO LORD GODALMING.

"1 October. 1890
"My Lord,

"We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes.  We beg,
with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by Mr.
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 Mr. Archibald
Winter-Suffield.  The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de
Ville, who effected the purchase himself paying the purchase
money in notes `over the counter,' if your Lordship will pardon
us using so vulgar an expression.  Beyond this we know nothing
whatever of him.

"We are, my Lord,
"Your Lordship's humble servants,
"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY."

"Some good my letter to Candy did . All that I know now is that
some foreign Count de Ville purchased the holdings. Manford get
the  Greenfield Double-Barreled shotguns and a game-bag. We shall
invite this Count de Ville for a bit of sport if he is Kosher or
be armed should he be queer." Lord  Godalming ordered as he he
drew on his hunting garb compleat with rubber calf high boots.

"Yes sir your Lordship. Should we take one of the Springer
Spaniels with us?" his gamekeeper asked as he got the Damascus
barreled guns down from their rack and loaded the twin 12 gauge
weapons with number 2 field shot which was not a load for killing
birds unless you wanted just a pile of scattered feathers left.

"Yes that is a capital idea, bring old Bell she his good to the
gun and quick to act." Godalming said as they took a hurricane
lantern to light the way.

They took the Gig cart pulled by a gray pony and set out for the
Count's holdings. They came to the old rusted iron gate and found
it fastened with a new chain and padlock. A fresh tin sign read 
Posted No Trespassing.

"Bollocks! Let us see if there is a side gate down the east side
of the manor." Godalming said as they tied the pony to the gate
and took the dog and their guns with them. They did not find an
unlocked gate but they did find a portion of the wall that had
fallen down in the storm last month and no one had made repairs
to the breach in the old black stone wall.

They looked through the breach and saw lights burning in the
hall. They climbed over the fallen stones and made their way to
the Manor House. Bell rose her hackles and set out a deep low
growl and strained at her lead. The two men took up the dog's
unease and readied their weapons. They dew up to the large leaded
glass window and saw through a part in the drapes a man sitting
with a wee child on his lap.

The men jumped back when another child pale of skin appeared at
the window.  Bell went off and snarled and savaged the glass
between her and the odd child. Godalming was afraid that the dog
would break the glass so fervent was her attack. He pulled back
on her lead to control the enraged animal.

He looked up from the dog and saw the man standing next to him
outside. He was amazed at the speed the man had appeared.  The
tall pale man spoke a foreign word and Bell stopped her snarling
and lay her head down and whined in submission to this odd
fellow.

"What sir is the meaning of this trespass? Why do you come
uninvited to my hall?" the man asked as he starred at them with
eyes rimmed in red.  It looked as if the fire's of hell burned
within his skull.

"I... Well... We... I mean that my man Manford  and I were going
hunting in the Moors and thought to invite you to join us as we
are neighbors. My Estate is just down the lane to yours. Do I
have the pleasure of addressing Count de Ville?"  Godalming asked
as he lowered his gun and went into his pocket to get a calling
card.

"Lord Godalming, I know of you from the house of Lords. I have
had on rare occasions been before that august body as a solicitor
general for my firm. It is for that reason that I do not call out
the Yard and press charges of trespass. You come armed to the
teeth in the night unbidden and expect me to welcome you with
open arms? It would be best if you withdrew and came no more to
this abode." Harker said as he pocketed the calling card.

"Be that as it may, I would like to speak to Count de Ville if he
is avaliable." Lord Godalming said as he steeled himself to this
odd man.

"You may not speak to him. The Count does not take unannounced
callers,  especially at this hour. I bid you goodnight and do not
press upon my goodwill again for things may not have the same
ending." Harker ordered as he pointed away from the Manor House.

"I shall have a word with this Count one way or the other. Even
if I must call out the constabulary. I bid you a goodnight sir."
he said as he pulled at Bell and turned to leave the grounds. He
heard the call of wild wolves drawing near. Bell set off a long
mournful howl in reply.

"I hear the call of the wild coming near. You had best, my Lord,
retire to your abode forthwith." Harker said as he turned and
went back towards the main entrance of the Hall.

"Let us be away, My Lord. I mislike this place and that man.  If
Bell does not truck to him nether do I." the shaken gamekeeper
said as he crossed himself.

"Very well then, I shall call on the courts and have a magistrate
issue a search warrant." Lord Godalming muttered as the two men
left the Manor House with more questions that answers.



THE STAR INQUIRER 3 OCTOBER 1890

EXTRA EDTION THE HAMPTIONS

THE STRANGE CASE OF MRS. ANNE O'GRADY AND HER MISSING CHILD.

Mrs. Anne O'Grady has gone missing from her home on  Piccadilly
Pike along with her young  daughter, Kelly age 7. Mr. Shan
O'Grady filed a missing persons report with the local
constabulary after he came home from his second shift at the
mill.  He returned around 11:00 P.M. to find his hut empty save
for his infant daughter. His supper was on the stove and burnt.
He searched the village for his wife and daughter but could find
no trace of them. He raised an alarm and the townsfolk mounted a
vigorous search. The river was even dragged but to no avail. The
local ASPCA turned out their hounds and the moors north of the
village were searched.

A missing persons report was filed at the local precinct and
Officer Tommy O'Shayne was sent to investigate  the case.  A
search of the home was made and nothing was out of place save the
missing mother and her child. Her wooden crucifix was found
broken on the floor.

Mr. O'Grady stated that his wife would have never left their
infant daughter alone. He suspects that foul play was the cause
of his wife's disappearance. His infant daughter was found to
have two small puncture wounds upon her neck. The child was pale
and cold. She was sent by ambulance to King's Cross Holly
Hospital where she is under the care of  Dr. Carl West. Who
states that the child's condition is guarded but that she is
expected to make a full recovery.
The local townsfolk say that it is the work of the  ' bloofer
lady' but the officers mark such talk as simple superstition on
the part of the villagers. A larger search is planed for
tomorrow...


Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued October 1890

I have decided to create more undead to serve me.  The run in
with Lord Godalming  has pointed out my lack of support in
keeping the household safe from outside meddling. I found on the
upper floors of the house several strong boxes that had been
shipped by the Count from his castle in Europe. They held a great
quantity of gold, silver, and jewels. There also were letters of
credit on three mainland banks. One in Switzerland, one in
France, and the other in Austria. It seems that his holdings were
much vaster than he had led me to belive. However if you are over
400 years old you tend to collect wealth over the centuries.

I have sufficient wealth to last a few hundred years and I have
already created several sweet little sex toys that will not
suffer the ravages of time. They are locked in at their present
ages and will be until they are destroyed by my hand, or some
vampire hunter or some unlucky accident.  I am in need of a
housekeeper. I can not hire one that would keep her mouth shut
and have the nerve to live among the un-dead so I shall create
one. We hunt tonight.

  Leonora and I took on the form of wolves and ran through the
twisting lanes and allies of the village. We soon came upon a hut
set away from other dwellings. There inside was a stout plain
woman of some 27 years. She was cooking supper for her husband
who was not at home. A slim young child sat at a table knitting
wool into socks.
I stood outside the threshold and willed the child to come unto
me. Her mind was easy to sway. I placed a trance on her and had
her remove the hated cross from her mother's neck. Once the
protection of God was removed Leonora and I changed into human
form and fell on the two. I turned the mother and child. I
allowed sweet Leonora to feed on the infant. I held the squirming
child up to her mother and saw her sink her new fangs into her
child's flesh. I pulled off her short clothes and spread her tiny
legs as let her sister feed upon her tiny yoni.

We were away from the hut in the matter of just a few minutes.
Leonora and I enjoyed the new child Kelly as she was given the
honor of dining on Leonora's pussy while I filled her undeveloped
cunt with my cock.
I took on the form of the wolf and mounted the child over and
over through the night. The crowing of the cock sent us to our
coffins. I felt unprotected now that Lord God-dammit had stuck
his fucking nose in my business. I would have to make a few
day-walkers to watch over us as we slumber the day away and to
act as my agents when the sun does rule the sky.

I have all of the Count's privet library here and have found his
most secret papers. In order to create a day-walker I must find a
pack of lycanthropes among the Romani people. There is a large
community of them living in the North York Moors. I shall set out
as soon as I am able to make arrangements to find suitable men
and women to serve me. Many men's hearts are won over by the
sight of gold. Such is the folly of mankind.

5 October 1890

I sent out letters via the post to the Law Offices of Hart,
Marks, and Shatter esq.

LETTER To  HEART,SHATTER, and  MARKS  esq

7 MOCKINGBIRD LANE, SUSSIX

5 OCTOBER 1890

Dear Sirs:

You will find inclosed a check for the sum of  £ 500 . With these
funds you are to acquire a small farmhouse in the village of
Kellgorn in northern York. I need no more that an acre or two.
The farmhouse should be within a mile  of the main road, King's
Highway,  it should be of good repair, sound in all ways but
special care should be taken that the windows can all be shut
tight against the light. Sadly I have an elderly brother that has
a fobia against the light of the sun. Send word by return post
when you have found such a property as I will not be at home to
receive callers.
You may keep and excess funds as a reward for swift service in
this matter as pressing needs drive me compleat this transaction.

I remain your most trusted client, Count Laud de V'ill

LETTER FROM HEART,  SHATTER,  and MARKS esq.

10  OCTOBER 1890
Dearest Count:

It gives me great pleasure to send to you via this post the deed
to a charming small farm house in the village of  Kellgorn. I
have ridden to York and seen the property myself and it suits
your needs most admirable.  Enclosed are the keys to the home. It
sets well back from the main road on three wooded acres.
I hope that if you have need of our services again you shall not
hesitate to contact us directly.

I remain your devoted servant,  Thomas H Heart esq.


Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued October 1890

October 10 I have turned  half a dozen stout fellows who were
knock-a-bouts down on the wharfs. They are low class longshoremen
who spent most of their pay and all of their free time in a pub.
Leonora turned the first one as she lured him from the crowed
smoky dive where he was in his cups. His name is Drago Wallaski.
He is large and well muscled and hung like a horse. Leonora likes
that part of him.
Once he had sobered up and adjusted to being un-dead he gave us
the names of other stout lads that had no family or anyone that
would miss them off the waterfront. It was from this pool of
goons that I got the rest of the men.  Feeding my hord of un-dead
requires us to hunt further afield. I have two teams that go out
each night with gig carts we converted to hold our feeding stock.
We have built black enclosed cabs for the two-wheeled carts.
There are two crates into which the victims can be deposited out
of sight and brought back to  the Manor for us to use at our
pleasure.
Drago came up with the idea of using pigs to do away with the
bodies once we have fed on them and abused them. I have bought a
pig farm on the outskirts of the city. The new lads take a cargo
of pig food to the farm nightly. My pigs are well fed. Drago
turns out to be a clever fellow. It was his idea to get a large
meat grinder from a slaughter house and process the dead food
into a mass of unrecognizable red meat. The "pig feed" is put
into wooden casks and transported to the farm. We use quick-lime
to keep down the stench.

 The new men are violent and hell bent on torturing their food.
The  cellar of the old chapel has been turned into a torture
chamber. The children love to torment the living and taunt them
with their nude sexy bodies. The girls can get their hands far
inside a woman's ass or cunt. The living men's anus are usually
ruined and a bloody mess from the little tykes thrusting their
fist up them.
Two of the new fellows are not fully turned and can tolerate the
light of day.  They will be our teamsters for the trip up to
York. We have constructed to heavy wagons that are proof against
sun light in which we may travel during the day. I and my minions
are safe in our coffins and earth as they are installed in  false
bottoms in the wagons.  Six draft horses pull the heavy timbered
wagons at a good clip. I estimate it will take three days to get
to the werewolves' camp.

STAR  INQUIRER 11 OCTOBER 1890

STRANGE DISAPPERANCES ON THE WATERFRONT

CITIZENS GONE MISSING, NUMBERS RISE!

Authorities at Scotland Yard fear that press gangs are working
English docks again. Able bodied sailors, longshoremen, and
teamsters are being spirited away. Detective Holmes has put forth
the idea that  certain Asian shipping lines are responsible for
the disappearances. The schooner Star of China was stopped at the
mouth of the Thames River. Three sorry Welsh lads were found tide
up in a hold. They said that they were taken from a pub on the
lower east side of the city. The captain and first mate are being
held at the Yard on charges of impressment and unlawful
imprisonment.
No commit was made by the shipping company's London
representative when questioned. Letters to the parent company are
as of this date unanswered. The Yard has put more men on the
streets of the lower east end and they warn young men not to
travel alone at night.
Strange women seen stalking the night.
Reports are flooding our office of several pale young women
plying the streets in the wee hours of the night. They have been
seen pulling men and women into the dark corners of the city.
Many are found ill and weak all color drained from their faces.
They all have small wounds upon their bodies most on the neck.
Doctor West of Mercy Hospital told us that someone has drained
blood from the victims. Some of them respond well to the new
transfusion treatments he has devised using human blood rather
than cows milk..
The Star Inquirer is putting a team of reporters on the streets
to get to the bottom of these happenings. Look for more on this
stroy in tomorrow's  Star Inquirer...


 Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued October 1890

October 12, We set out for York this evening. I have left several
of my household behind to tend to the manor. We set upon a family
farm on the Old York Road. Their isolated farm house gave us the
chance to feed. All five of them were taken. Only the two
youngest girls were turned. There mother and father and older
brother were slain and their bodies tossed in to their pigs.
I have the new little girl nude and  sucking my cock as I write.
Jennie is a sweet little girl of around five years. Her pink
pussy is tight on my cock. Sweet Leonora sits upon her face as
she screams out in agony as I rape the small child. The cussed
Sun is rising and I must be away to my crypt. I am taking Jennie
and Leonora with me to our rest.

October 13 We have made good time. Sampson one of my teamsters
traded out draft horses for a good stout set of  Clydesdales for
both wagons. The crack of his whip sends the brutes racing on
through the dark night. I run with wild wolves in the darkness. I
happened upon a small holding in the moor off the road. There I
found an old man bedding his granddaughter. He cries drew me in.
I killed the old man and raped the young child. She was dirty and
ill so I did not turn her but consumed her blood and then left
her to rot with her dead grandfather.

October 14 We have arrived at the Moors and have made contact
with the pack of lycanthropes among the Romani. Wolfen  Dergo is
their leader. We have entered into negations for the cost of the
lycanthropes I turn into day-walkers. Wolfen has pressed me to
take his entire tribe back to London and settle around the Manor
house. They are hunted here by a human that I have knowledge of,
Van Helsing! He had made a name for himself as a slayer of
werewolves and vampires alike.
He has a small band of followers that hunt the Romani down. They
are well schooled in combat with our kind. I have turned six
lycanthropes this night. They now have the powers of both our
kind. I doubt that Van Helsing has ever dealt with such powerful
adversaries.

More to come. This is a work of fiction. Feedback can be sent to wordweaver69@gamil.com