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.
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 splin-
tered. 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.
ip May. I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count
asked me in the suavest 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
38
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 39
absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his sus-
picion 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 me 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 impressive-
ness 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 Szgany 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 them-
selves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves
by his name. They are fearless and without religion, save super-
stition, 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 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 ex-
plained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only
surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to ex-
pose my heart to her. Should the letters not carry, then the
Count shall not yet know my secret or the extent of my knowl-
edge….
40 Dracula
I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars o!
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 sym-
bols 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,