Atlas Nightshade

Day 54

_5 June._--The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more I get to

understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely developed;

selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. I wish I could get at what is the

object of the latter. He seems to have some settled scheme of his own,

but what it is I do not yet know. His redeeming quality is a love of

animals, though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it that I

sometimes imagine he is only abnormally cruel. His pets are of odd

sorts. Just now his hobby is catching flies. He has at present such a

quantity that I have had myself to expostulate. To my astonishment, he

did not break out into a fury, as I expected, but took the

Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be

the Count's hiding-place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues

from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters

relating to the purchase of the house were with the typescript. Oh,

if we had only had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy!

Stop; that way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and is again

collating his material. He says that by dinner-time they will be

able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the

meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of

index to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly see this yet,

but when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing

that Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could have

found the dates otherwise....

I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands

folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any

one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of

subjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own

accord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my

knowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite

confidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I

not had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of

his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him after a

brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All

those outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the

Count. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that

his instinct is satisfied as to the vampire's ultimate triumph?

Stay; he is himself zoöphagous, and in his wild ravings outside the

chapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of "master." This

all seems confirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came

away; my friend is just a little too sane at present to make it

safe to probe him too deep with questions. He might begin to think,

and then--! So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of his; so

I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after him, and to

have a strait-waistcoat ready in case of need.

_Jonathan Harker's Journal._

_29 September, in train to London._--When I received Mr. Billington's

courteous message that he would give me any information in his power I

thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the spot, such

inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo

of the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be able to deal

with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, and

brought me to his father's house, where they had decided that I must

stay the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality:

give a guest everything, and leave him free to do as he likes. They all

knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington had

ready in his office all the papers concerning the consignment of boxes.

It gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which I had

seen on the Count's table before I knew of his diabolical plans.

Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically and

with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which

might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions being carried

out. To use an Americanism, he had "taken no chances," and the absolute

accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled, was simply the

logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it:

"Fifty cases of common earth, to be used for experimental purposes."

Also the copy of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply; of both of

these I got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could

give me, so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs

officers and the harbour-master. They had all something to say of the

strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in local

tradition; but no one could add to the simple description "Fifty cases

of common earth." I then saw the station-master, who kindly put me in

communication with the men who had actually received the boxes. Their

tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to add except that

the boxes were "main and mortal heavy," and that shifting them was dry

work. One of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn't any

gentleman "such-like as yourself, squire," to show some sort of

appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form; another put in a rider

that the thirst then generated was such that even the time which had

elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I took care

before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source of

reproach.

* * * * *

_30 September._--The station-master was good enough to give me a line to

his old companion the station-master at King's Cross, so that when I

arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrival of

the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication with the proper

officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the original

invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been here

limited; a noble use of them had, however, been made, and again I was

compelled to deal with the result in an _ex post facto_ manner.

From thence I went on to Carter Paterson's central office, where I met

with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in their

day-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King's Cross

office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming

were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, sending

also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected with the

delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeing

exactly; the carriers' men were able to supplement the paucity of the

written words with a few details. These were, I shortly found, connected

almost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequent

thirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an opportunity,

through the medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a

later period, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked:--

"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! but it

ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thick in

the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of yer bones;

an' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave smelled ole

Jerusalem in it. But the ole chapel--that took the cike, that did! Me

and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick enough. Lor', I

wouldn't take less nor a quid a moment to stay there arter dark."

Having been in the house, I could well believe him; but if he knew what

I know, he would, I think, have raised his terms.

Of one thing I am now satisfied: that _all_ the boxes which arrived at

Whitby from Varna in the _Demeter_ were safely deposited in the old

chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any have

since been removed--as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear.

I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax when

Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn a good

deal.

* * * * *

_Later._--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papers

into order.

_Mina Harker's Journal_

_30 September._--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain myself.

It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which I have had:

that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old wound might act

detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave a

face as I could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort has,

however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never so strong, never

so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It is just as that dear, good

Professor Van Helsing said: he is true grit, and he improves under

strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and

hope and determination; we have got everything in order for to-night. I

feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity any

thing so hunted as is the Count. That is just it: this Thing is not

human--not even beast. To read Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy's

death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in

one's heart.

* * * * *

_Later._--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we

expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan with

him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for it

brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months ago. Of

course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr. Van

Helsing, too, has been quite "blowing my trumpet," as Mr. Morris

expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all

about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to

say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so they

had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter over, and

came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to post

them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's diary that

they had been at Lucy's death--her real death--and that I need not fear

to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, as well as I

could, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my husband

and I, having typewritten them, had just finished putting them in order.

I gave them each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got

his and turned it over--it does make a pretty good pile--he said:--

"Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?"

I nodded, and he went on:--matter in

simple seriousness. He thought for a moment, and then said: "May I have

three days? I shall clear them away." Of course, I said that would do. I

must watch him.

* * * * *

_18 June._--He has turned his mind now to spiders and has got several

very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them with his flies, and

the number of the latter is becoming sensibly diminished, although he

has used half his food in attracting more flies from outside to his

room.

* * * * *

_1 July._--His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his

flies, and today I told him that he must get rid of them. He looked

very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of them, at all

events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the same time

as before for reduction. He disgusted me much while with him, for when a

horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room,

he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger

and thumb, and, before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his

mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it

was very good and very wholesome; that it was life, strong life, and

gave life to him. This gave me an idea or the rudiment of one. I must

watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has some deep problem

in his mind, for he keeps a little notebook in which he is always

jotting down something. Whole pages of it are filled with masses of

figures, generally, single numbers added up in batches, and then the

totals added in batches again, as though he were "focussing" some

account, as the auditors put it.

* * * * *

_8 July._--There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in

my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh,

unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the wall to your

conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for a few days so that I

might notice if there were any changes. Things remain as they were except

that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new one. He has

managed to get a sparrow and has already partially tamed it. His means

of taming is simple, for already the spiders have diminished. Those that

do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies by

tempting them with his food.

* * * * *

_19 July._--We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of

sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I came

in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour--a very,

very great favour; and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I asked

him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice and

bearing:--

"A kitten, a nice little, sleek playful kitten, that I can play with,

and teach, and feed--and feed--and feed!" I was not unprepared for this

request, for I had noticed how his pets went on increasing in size and

vivacity, but I did not care that his pretty family of tame sparrows

should be wiped out in the same manner as the flies and the spiders; so

I said I would see about it, and asked him if he would not rather have a

cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he answered:--

"Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you should

refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a kitten, would they?" I shook

my head and said that at present I feared it would not be possible, but

that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could see a warning of

danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong look which meant

killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal maniac. I shall test him

with his present craving and see how it will work out; then I shall know

more.

* * * * *

_10 p. m._--I have visited him again and found him sitting in a corner

brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before me and

implored me to let him have a cat; that his salvation depended upon it.

I was firm, however, and told him that he could not have it, whereupon

he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the corner

where I had found him. I shall see him in the morning early.

* * * * *

_20 July._--Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his

rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar,

which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his

fly catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with good grace. I

looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they

were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away.

There were a few feathers about the room and on his pillow a drop of

blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper to report to me if

there were anything odd about him during the day.

* * * * *

_11 a. m._--The attendant has just been to me to say that Renfield has

been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. "My belief is,

doctor," he said, "that he has eaten his birds, and that he just took

and ate them raw!"

* * * * *

_11 p. m._--I gave Renfield a strong opiate tonight, enough to make

even him sleep, and took away his pocketbook to look at it. The thought

that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and the theory

proved. My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to

invent a new classification for him, and call him a zoöphagous

(life-eating) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as many lives as he

can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it cumulatively. He

gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird and then

wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later

steps? It would almost be worthwhile to complete the experiment. It

might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at

vivisection, and yet look at its results today! Why not advance science

in its most difficult and vital aspect--the knowledge of the brain? Had

I even the secret of one such mind--did I hold the key to the fancy of

even one lunatic--I might advance my branch of science to a pitch

compared with which Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's

brain knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient

cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good

cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an

exceptional brain, congenitally?