The Cursed Castle

Chapter 15

so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that

our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him

when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his

great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for

him, your friend, it is to you that I come. Have near at hand,ap

special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He seemed

not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were

not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student

here. I am to get his report tomorrow if he can possibly

make it. In any case I am to have a letter.

‘Well, as to the visit, Skyler was more cheerful than on the

day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost

something of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her

breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the Professor

(as she always is), and tried to make him feel at ease, though

I could see the poor girl was making a hard struggle for it.

‘I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look

under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began

to chat of all things except ourselves and diseases and with

such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Skyler’s pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, without any

seeming change, he brought the conversation gently round

to his visit, and suavely said,

‘‘My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because

you are so much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were

there that which I do not see. They told me you were down

in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly pale. To them I

say ‘Pouf!‘‘ And he snapped his fingers at me and went on.

‘But you and I shall show them how wrong they are. How

can he’, and he pointed at me with the same look and gesture as that with which he pointed me out in his class, on,

or rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails

to remind me of, ‘know anything of a young ladies? He has

his madmen to play with, and to bring them back to happi-ness, and to those that love them. It is much to do, and, oh,

but there are rewards in that we can bestow such happiness.

But the young ladies! He has no wife nor daughter, and the

young do not tell themselves to the young, but to the old,

like me, who have known so many sorrows and the causes

of them. So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the

cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all

to ourselves.’ I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor came to the window and called me in.

He looked grave, but said, ‘I have made careful examination,

but there is no functional cause. With you I agree that there

has been much blood lost, it has been but is not. But the

conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have asked her to

send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two questions,

that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what

she will say. And yet there is cause. There is always cause

for everything. I must go back home and think. You must

send me the telegram every day, and if there be cause I shall

come again. The disease, for not to be well is a disease, interest me, and the sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She

charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.’

‘As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when

we were alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall

keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must

be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed

in such a position between two people who are both so dear

to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and you are

right to stick to it. But if need be, I shall send you word to

come at once to Skyler, so do not be over-anxious unless you hear from me.’

DR. SEWARD’S DIARY

4 September.—Zoophagous patient still keeps up our

interest in him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon he

began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symptoms,

and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a

run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him.

In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet,

and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state

he has remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his

screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appalling. I

found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of

the other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I

can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed

even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after

the dinner hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in

a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in

his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite understand it.

Later.—Another change in my patient. At five o’clock I

looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and

contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making

nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of

padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized for

his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing

way to be led back to his own room, and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to humour him, so he is back in

his room with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea

spread out on the window sill, and is reaping quite a harvest

of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a

box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his

room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the

past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me, but he would not rise. For a moment or

two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far away voice,

as though saying it rather to himself than to me.

‘All over! All over! He has deserted me. No hope for me

now unless I do it myself!’ Then suddenly turning to me in

a resolute way, he said, ‘Doctor, won’t you be very good to

me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be

very good for me.’

‘And the flies?’ I said.

‘Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I

like it.’ And there are people who know so little as to think

that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply,

and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world.

I wish I could fathom his mind.

Midnight.—Another change in him. I had been to see

Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just

returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the

sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is

on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the

morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful

smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights

and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realize all the grim

sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of

breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.

I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his

window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and

less frenzied, and just as it dipped he slid from the hands

that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics

have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and

looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold

him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went

straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of

sugar. Then he took his fly box, and emptied it outside, and

threw away the box. Then he shut the window, and crossing

over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked

him, ‘Are you going to keep flies any more?’

‘No,’ said he. ‘I am sick of all that rubbish!’ He certainly

is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some

glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion.

Stop. There may be a clue after all, if we can find why today

his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can

it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods

which affects certain natures, as at times the moon does

others? We shall see.

TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM

‘4 September.—Patient still better today.’

TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM

‘5 September.—Patient greatly improved. Good appetite,

sleeps naturally, good spirits, colour coming back.’

TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM

‘6 September.—Terrible change for the worse. Come at

once. Do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you.L

ETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD

6 September

‘My dear Art,

‘My news today is not so good. Skyler this morning had

gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has

arisen from it. Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Skyler, and has consulted me professionally about

her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that

my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge

conjointly with myself. So now we can come and go without

alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden

death, and this, in Skyler’s weak condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us, my

poor fellow, but, please God, we shall come through them

all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear

from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for

news, In haste,

‘Yours ever,’

John Seward

DR. SEWARD’S DIARY

7 September.—The first thing Van Helsing said to me

when we met at Liverpool Street was, ‘Have you said any-thing to our young friend, to lover of her?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my

telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you

were coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that I

should let him know if need be.’

‘Right, my friend,’ he said. ‘Quite right! Better he not

know as yet. Perhaps he will never know. I pray so, but if

it be needed, then he shall know all. And, my good friend

John, let me caution you. You deal with the madmen