September 12
How wonderful everyone has been to me!
I have grown very fond of dear Professor Van Helsing. I still wonder why he was so worried about those flowers. He frightened me when he became so serious and fierce.
But he must have known what he was doing, because I already feel safer because of them.
For the first time in a long while, I am not afraid of being alone tonight. I think I can finally sleep without fear.
I will not even be frightened by the sounds outside my window.
Oh, how terribly I have struggled against sleep these past few weeks! Sometimes I was afraid of being unable to sleep, and at other times I was terrified of falling asleep because of the unknown horrors waiting for me there.
How lucky are those people who have nothing to fear.
For them, sleep is a blessing that comes every night and brings only peaceful dreams.
Tonight I am lying here, hoping to fall asleep. I almost feel like Ophelia from the play, surrounded by flowers.
I never liked garlic before, but tonight its smell seems wonderful.
There is something peaceful about it.
I can already feel sleep coming.
Good night, everyone.
September 13
I met Van Helsing at the Berkeley this morning. He was ready to leave, and the carriage he had ordered was already waiting.
As always, he had his medical bag with him.
We arrived at Hillingham at eight o’clock.
It was a beautiful autumn morning. The sun was bright, the air was fresh, and the leaves were beginning to turn beautiful shades of red and gold.
But they had not yet begun to fall.
When we entered the house, we met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room.
She was always an early riser.
She greeted us warmly.
“You’ll be pleased to hear that Lucy is much better,” she said. “The poor girl is still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her sleeping peacefully, but I didn’t go in because I didn’t want to disturb her.”
Van Helsing smiled proudly.
“Ah! I knew it. My diagnosis was correct. My treatment is working.”
Mrs. Westenra smiled.
“You mustn’t take all the credit, Doctor. Lucy is better this morning partly because of something I did.”
“What do you mean?” Van Helsing asked.
“I was worried about her during the night, so I went into her room. She was sleeping very deeply. She didn’t even wake when I came in.
“But the room was terribly stuffy. There were those strong-smelling flowers everywhere, and Lucy even had a bunch of them around her neck.
“I thought the smell might be too much for her in her weak condition, so I removed them all and opened the window a little to let in some fresh air.
“I’m sure you’ll be very pleased when you see her.”
She walked into her sitting room, completely unaware of what she had done.
I watched Van Helsing’s face.
The color drained from it.
He had kept his composure while Mrs. Westenra was there because he knew that frightening her could be fatal.
He even smiled politely and held the door open for her.
But the moment she disappeared, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the dining room.
He shut the door.
For the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing completely lose control.
He raised both hands over his head in despair.
Then he brought them together helplessly and dropped into a chair.
He covered his face with his hands.
Suddenly, he began to sob.
The sound was terrible. It was as if the grief was tearing his heart apart.
He lifted his arms again.
“God! God! God!” he cried.
“What have we done? What has this poor girl done to deserve all this?”
He shook his head.
“Is some ancient curse still hanging over us? How can such terrible things happen?”
He looked toward the door through which Mrs. Westenra had disappeared.
“That poor mother does not know what she is doing. She thinks she is helping her daughter, but she has taken away the very protection that was keeping Lucy alive.
“And we cannot tell her.
“We cannot even warn her.
“If she learns the truth, the shock could kill her—and then we would lose both mother and daughter.”
He covered his face again.
“Oh, how everything seems to be against us! It is as if every evil force in the world is fighting us.”
Suddenly, he stood up.
“Come!” he said firmly. “We must see Lucy and do something.”
He grabbed his medical bag.
“Devils or no devils, it makes no difference. We will fight them all the same.”
We hurried upstairs.
Once again, I raised the blind while Van Helsing went to the bed.
This time he did not react with surprise.
Lucy was just as horribly pale and weak as before.
Van Helsing looked at her with deep sadness and pity.
“As I expected,” he whispered.
He locked the door.
Then he began preparing the equipment for another blood transfusion.
I had already realized that it was necessary and started removing my coat.
But Van Helsing stopped me.
“No.”
He took off his own coat and rolled up his sleeve.
“You are already weakened. This time, I will give the blood.”
Another transfusion began.
Another dose of medicine was given to Lucy.
Slowly, some color returned to her lifeless-looking face.
Her breathing became steady, and she fell into a deep, healthy sleep.
This time I stayed nearby while Van Helsing recovered from the strain.
Later, he spoke to Mrs. Westenra.
“You must never remove anything from Lucy’s room without asking me first,” he told her.
“The flowers are part of her treatment. She needs to breathe their scent.”
Mrs. Westenra agreed.
From that point on, Van Helsing took complete responsibility for Lucy.
He told me he would stay with her that night and the following night, and that he would send for me when he needed me.
About an hour later, Lucy woke.
She looked fresh and cheerful, as though the terrible ordeal had never happened.
I could hardly understand what I was seeing.
What did all of this mean?
I began to wonder whether my years of working with the mentally ill were finally affecting my own mind.
September 17
Four days and four nights have passed peacefully.
I am becoming so strong again that I hardly recognize myself.
It feels as if I have just awakened from a long nightmare.
Now I can see the sunlight, breathe the fresh morning air, and feel alive again.
I only have vague memories of those terrible nights.
I remember waiting and fearing in complete darkness, without even enough hope to make the suffering bearable.
Then came long periods when I seemed to lose consciousness completely.
When I finally returned to myself, it felt like a diver rising slowly from deep underwater.
But ever since Professor Van Helsing came to stay with me, those terrible dreams have disappeared.
The sounds that once terrified me are gone.
The flapping at the windows has stopped.
The strange voices that once seemed to whisper close beside me have disappeared.
The horrible noises that seemed to command me to do things I could not understand are gone too.
Now I can go to bed without being afraid of sleep.
I don’t even try to stay awake anymore.
I have actually become rather fond of garlic.
Every day, another box of it arrives from Haarlem.
Tonight Professor Van Helsing is leaving for Amsterdam for one day.
But I am well enough now that I do not need someone watching me.
Thank God.
I am grateful for Mother, for dear Arthur, and for all the wonderful friends who have cared for me.
I will hardly notice the Professor’s absence.
Last night he fell asleep in his chair several times.
I woke twice and found him sleeping.
Yet I was not afraid to go back to sleep.
Even when branches—or perhaps bats, or something else—struck angrily against the window.
I was no longer afraid.
The Escaped Wolf
September 18
After making many inquiries and being refused almost as many times, I finally managed to find Thomas Bilder, the keeper responsible for the wolf section of the Zoological Gardens.
I had repeatedly mentioned the name of the Pall Mall Gazette, which seemed to work like a magic password.
Bilder lived with his wife in one of the cottages behind the elephant house.
When I arrived, he was sitting down to tea.
He and his wife were elderly, friendly people with no children.
The keeper refused to discuss the escaped wolf until he had finished his meal.
I had no choice but to wait.
After the table was cleared and he had lit his pipe, he leaned back and said:
“Right, sir. Now you can ask whatever you like.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking about your work.”
“Not at all. But I never discuss business before food. I feed the wolves, jackals, and hyenas before I start asking them questions.”
“What do you mean by asking them questions?”
He laughed.
“Well, one way is to hit ’em over the head with a pole. Another is scratching their ears when rich gentlemen want to show off in front of their ladies.”
His wife laughed.
Thomas continued:
“I don’t mind the first one much. But when it comes to scratching their ears, I wait until they’ve had their food and drink first.”
He took a puff of his pipe.
“Truth is, humans and animals aren’t so different. Look at you. You’ve been asking me questions about my work, and I was so annoyed that I nearly told you to go to hell.”
“You did tell me that.”
“And when you threatened to report me for swearing, that was like hitting me over the head with a pole.”
He grinned.
“But your half-sovereign made everything better. Food does the same thing for animals. Once the old woman here gave me some tea cake and a cup of tea, I became as friendly as you please.”
His wife shook her head.
“I suppose you can finally ask him about the wolf now.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I want to know what happened to the escaped wolf.”
Thomas nodded.
“That wolf was called Bersicker. He was one of three grey wolves brought over from Norway and sold to us four years ago.”
“He was normally a quiet animal. Never caused much trouble.”
“So I was surprised when he suddenly wanted to escape.”
“What happened?”
“It was about two hours after feeding yesterday. I was preparing bedding for a sick young puma when I heard a terrible howling.”
“I went straight over.”
“Bersicker was throwing himself against the bars like a mad animal.”
“There weren’t many visitors around. Only one man was nearby.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall and thin. Hooked nose. Pointed beard with a few white hairs. Hard, cold eyes and red eyes.”
Thomas frowned.
“I didn’t like him. It seemed to me the wolves were upset because of him.”
“He was wearing white gloves.”
“He pointed toward the wolves and said, ‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset about something.’”
“I told him, ‘Maybe it’s you.’”
“He didn’t get angry. Instead, he smiled.”
“A strange smile. And when he did, I noticed he had a mouth full of sharp white teeth.”
“He said, ‘Oh no. They wouldn’t like me.’”
“I answered, ‘Oh yes, they would. They always like a bone or two to clean their teeth on, and you look like you’ve brought a whole bagful.’”
His wife laughed.
Thomas continued.
“Oddly enough, the moment the animals saw us talking together, they settled down.”
“I walked over to Bersicker and stroked his ears, just like I always did.”
“Then that stranger came over and stroked the wolf’s ears too.”
“I warned him, ‘Careful. Bersicker can be quick.’”
“He just smiled.”
“‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m used to animals like these.’”
“I asked if he was in the business of keeping wolves.”
“He said, ‘Not exactly. But I’ve kept several as pets.’”
“Then he tipped his hat politely and walked away.”
“Bersicker watched him until he disappeared.”
“After that, the wolf went into a corner and refused to come out for the rest of the evening.”
“What happened later?”
“After moonrise, all the wolves began howling.”
“There was no reason for it. No one was near them.”
“There was only someone somewhere outside calling a dog.”
“I went out twice to make sure everything was secure.”
“Everything seemed fine.”
“Then, just before midnight, I made one last inspection.”
“And that was when I found Bersicker’s cage.”
“The bars were bent and broken.”
“The cage was empty.”
“That’s all I know for certain.”
“Did anyone else see anything?”
“One of our gardeners was coming home around that time. He said he saw a large grey dog running out through the hedges.”
“But I don’t trust that story much.”
“If he really saw it, why didn’t he tell his wife when he got home?”
“He only remembered it after we discovered the wolf was missing and everyone had been searching the park all night.”
“I think the excitement probably confused his memory.”
“Can you explain how the wolf escaped?” I asked.
Thomas looked pleased with himself.
“I think I can.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“If someone who knows animals as well as you do can’t make a reasonable guess, who can?”
“Well, then, sir,” he said, trying not to laugh, “I reckon the wolf escaped because he wanted to get out.”
Both Thomas and his wife burst into laughter.
Clearly, this was an old joke.
I decided to take another approach.
“Let’s consider the first half-sovereign earned. There’s another one waiting if you tell me what you think will happen to the wolf.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“My wife here gave me the signal to keep teasing you.”
“I never!” his wife protested.
Thomas ignored her.
“My guess is that Bersicker is hiding somewhere.”
“The gardener claims the wolf was running north as fast as a horse.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Wolves don’t run like horses. They aren’t built that way.”
“In stories, wolves are terrifying creatures. Put them in a pack and they can make an awful noise and tear something apart.”
“But real wolves are different.”
“A real wolf isn’t half as clever as a good dog.”
“And this one has never had to hunt or fight for itself.”
“It was raised here and fed every day.”
“So I think it is probably hiding somewhere in the park, frightened and confused.”
“If it can think at all, it is probably wondering where its next meal is coming from.”
“Maybe it has crawled into a basement or a coal cellar.”
“Imagine some poor cook opening the door and suddenly seeing two green eyes glowing in the darkness!”
“If it gets hungry enough, it will eventually search for food.”
“It might even find a butcher’s shop.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Thomas grinned.
“Well, if some nursemaid runs off with a soldier and leaves a baby alone in a pram, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were one fewer baby in the next census.”
“That’s all I can say.”
I handed him the half-sovereign.
At that exact moment, something bumped against the window.
Thomas stared.
His face seemed to stretch with astonishment.
“Good Lord!”
He jumped up.
“That’s old Bersicker!”
“The old fellow’s come back by himself!”
He hurried to the door and opened it.
I thought this was extremely unwise.
I have always believed that wild animals are safest when there is a strong barrier between them and me.
My experience that day only strengthened that belief.
But Thomas and his wife were completely unafraid.
To them, the wolf was no more frightening than an ordinary dog.
And Bersicker himself was perfectly calm.
He looked almost like a guilty pet that had finally returned home.
The whole scene was both ridiculous and strangely touching.
This was the same wolf whose escape had frightened half of London and terrified countless children.
Yet here he was, standing quietly like a naughty dog returning after running away.
Thomas examined him with great concern.
“There you are, you poor old fellow.”
“I knew you’d get yourself into trouble. Didn’t I say so?”
He ran his hands carefully over the wolf.
“Look at your head!”
“It’s covered in cuts and bits of broken glass.”
“You must have climbed over some wall.”
“It’s a disgrace that people put broken glass on top of their walls.”
“This is what happens.”
“Come on, Bersicker.”
He led the wolf back to its cage.
Then he gave it a large piece of meat, enough to make the animal feel completely at home.
After that, he went off to report the wolf’s return.
I left as well.
I had the only exclusive information available that day about the strange adventure at the Zoo.
September 17
After dinner, I was in my study trying to catch up on my medical records.
My books and notes had fallen badly behind because of all my other work and my frequent visits to Lucy.
Suddenly, the door burst open.
Renfield rushed inside.
His face was twisted with rage.
I was stunned.
A patient entering the Superintendent’s private study without permission was almost unheard of.
He came straight at me.
He was holding a dinner knife.
I realized immediately that he was dangerous, so I tried to keep the desk between us.
But he was too fast.
Before I could move properly, he struck me and cut my left wrist badly.
He raised the knife again.
I managed to hit him with my right hand.
He fell heavily onto the floor.
Blood was running freely from my wrist and collecting on the carpet.
Renfield did not try to attack me again.
I began wrapping my wound while watching him carefully.
Then the attendants rushed in.
And what happened next made me feel sick.
Renfield was lying on his stomach.
He was licking my blood from the carpet like an animal.
The attendants quickly restrained him.
To my surprise, he went with them peacefully.
As they led him away, he kept repeating:
“The blood is the life!”
“The blood is the life!”
I cannot afford to lose blood right now.
I have already lost too much because of Lucy’s illness and everything surrounding it.
The strain is beginning to wear me down.
I am exhausted and overstimulated.
What I need now is sleep.
Fortunately, Van Helsing has not summoned me tonight.
I desperately need the rest.
September 17
A telegram from Van Helsing arrived late.
“Do not fail to be at Hillingham tonight.
“Even if you cannot stay constantly, visit frequently and make sure the flowers remain exactly as arranged.
“It is extremely important.
“Do not fail.
“I will join you as soon as I can.”
September 18
I was just leaving for the train to London when I received Van Helsing’s message.
The news filled me with dread.
I had already lost an entire night.
I know from bitter experience what can happen to Lucy in a single night.
Perhaps everything will be fine.
But what if it is not?
It feels as though some terrible force is constantly working against us.
Every time we try to protect Lucy, something happens to prevent us.
I am taking this recording cylinder with me so I can finish my account of Lucy on the phonograph later.
September 17, Night
I am writing this account and leaving it where someone can find it.
I do not want anyone to suffer because of what happens to me.
Everything I write here is exactly what happened tonight.
I feel as though I am dying from weakness.
I barely have enough strength to write.
But I must finish this.
I went to bed as usual.
Before sleeping, I made sure the flowers were arranged exactly as Professor Van Helsing had instructed.
Soon I fell asleep.
Then I was awakened by the sound at the window.
The flapping had returned.
It had first begun after my terrible sleepwalking episode on the cliffs at Whitby, when Mina saved me.
By now, I know the sound very well.
I was not frightened at first.
Still, I wished Dr. Seward were in the next room, as Professor Van Helsing had promised, so I could call him if I needed help.
I tried to sleep again.
But I could not.
Then the old fear returned.
I was afraid of falling asleep.
So I decided to stay awake.
But the more I tried to resist sleep, the stronger it became.
Because I was frightened of being alone, I opened my bedroom door.
“Is anyone there?”
No one answered.
I was afraid of waking Mother, so I closed the door again.
Then I heard something outside in the bushes.
It sounded like a dog howling.
But it was deeper and much more frightening.
I went to the window and looked outside.
I could see nothing clearly.
Only a large bat was there, beating its wings against the glass.
I returned to bed.
I decided I would not sleep.
A little later, the door opened.
Mother appeared.
When she saw that I was awake, she came inside.
“I was worried about you, darling,” she said softly. “I came to make sure you were all right.”
I was afraid she might catch cold sitting in my room.
“Mother, come and sleep here with me.”
She agreed.
She climbed into bed beside me, still wearing her dressing gown.
“I’ll stay for a little while,” she said. “Then I’ll go back to my own room.”
We held each other.
For a short time, everything seemed peaceful.
Then the flapping started again.
The wings struck against the window.
Mother jumped.
“What was that?”
“It’s all right,” I told her. “Don’t be frightened.”
I tried to calm her.
Eventually she became quiet again.
But I could feel her heart pounding violently.
Then came another low howl from the bushes.
A moment later—
CRASH!
The window shattered.
Broken glass flew across the floor.
The blind was thrown backward as cold air rushed into the room.
And there, in the broken window, was the head of a huge grey wolf.
Mother screamed.
She struggled upright and desperately grabbed at anything she could reach.
Her hand caught the wreath of flowers that Van Helsing had insisted I wear around my neck.
She tore it away.
For a few seconds she sat there, staring at the wolf.
Then a terrible choking sound came from her throat.
She suddenly collapsed.
Her head struck my forehead.
For a moment, everything spun around me.
I forced myself to keep looking toward the window.
The wolf slowly pulled its head back.
Then something strange happened.
Thousands of tiny particles seemed to blow into the room through the broken window.
They swirled and circled in the air like a column of dust rising in a desert storm.
I tried to move.
I could not.
It felt as though some invisible force was holding me down.
Mother’s body lay heavily against me.
She was already growing cold.
Her heart had stopped beating.
For some time, I remembered nothing.
When I finally regained consciousness, the night seemed strangely quiet and terrible.
Somewhere nearby, a church bell was ringing.
Dogs were howling throughout the neighborhood.
And from the garden outside came the beautiful song of a nightingale.
I was confused, weak, terrified, and in terrible pain.
But the nightingale’s song sounded almost like my dead mother’s voice coming back to comfort me.
The sound seemed to wake the maids.
I heard their bare feet running along the hallway.
I called out to them.
They rushed into the room.
When they saw what had happened, they screamed.
The wind was still pouring through the broken window.
The bedroom door slammed shut.
The maids lifted Mother’s body from me and placed her on the bed, covering her with a sheet.
They were shaking with fear.
I told them to go to the dining room and have some wine.
They needed to calm themselves.
The door suddenly flew open for a moment and then slammed shut again.
The maids screamed and hurried together toward the dining room.
I placed the flowers I still had on Mother’s chest.
Then I remembered Van Helsing’s warning.
But I could not bring myself to remove the flowers.
Besides, I thought the servants would stay with me for the rest of the night.
I was surprised when they did not return.
I called for them.
No one answered.
So I went downstairs to find them.
My heart sank when I entered the dining room.
All four maids were lying unconscious on the floor.
They were breathing heavily.
A decanter of sherry stood on the table, still half full.
But there was a strange, bitter smell in the room.
I became suspicious.
I picked up the decanter and smelled it.
Laudanum.
The bottle containing the medicine Mother’s doctor had prescribed was empty.
Someone had drugged the servants.
What am I supposed to do?
What can I possibly do?
I am back in my bedroom with Mother.
I cannot leave her.
I am completely alone except for the sleeping servants.
Someone has drugged them.
I am alone with my dead mother.
I dare not leave the house.
The wolf is still howling outside the broken window.
The air is filled with those tiny floating specks.
They twist and circle in the cold air coming through the window.
Even the lamps seem strange.
Their flames look blue and weak.
What am I going to do?
God, please protect me tonight.
I am hiding this paper inside my clothes.
If I die, someone will find it when they prepare my body.
My dear mother is gone.
Perhaps it is time for me to go too.
Goodbye, my dear Arthur.
If I do not survive this night, remember that I loved you.
May God protect you.
And may God help me.