Once again we went through that ghastly operation.  I have not the heart to go through with the details.  Lucy had got a terrible shock and it told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other occasions.  Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see and hear.  However, the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van Helsing made a sub-cutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with good effect.  Her faint became a profound slumber.  The Professor watched whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the maids to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting.

I left Quincey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told the cook to get ready a good breakfast.  Then a thought struck me, and I went back to the room where Lucy now was.  When I came softly in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note paper in his hand.  He had evidently read it, and was thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow.  There was a look of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one who has had a doubt solved.  He handed me the paper saying only, “It dropped from Lucy’s breast when we carried her to the bath.”

When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a pause asked him, “In God’s name, what does it all mean?  Was she, or is she, mad, or what sort of horrible danger is it?” I was so bewildered that I did not know what to say more.  Van Helsing put out his hand and took the paper, saying,

“Do not trouble about it now.  Forget it for the present.  You shall know and understand it all in good time, but it will be later.  And now what is it that you came to me to say?” This brought me back to fact, and I was all myself again.

“I came to speak about the certificate of death.  If we do not act properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would have to be produced.  I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for if we had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did.  I know, and you know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of it.  Let us fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself to the registrar and go on to the undertaker.”

“Good, oh my friend John!  Well thought of!  Truly Miss Lucy, if she be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends that love her.  One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides one old man.  Ah, yes, I know, friend John.  I am not blind!  I love you all the more for it!  Now go.”

In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling him that Mrs. Westenra was dead, that Lucy also had been ill, but was now going on better, and that Van Helsing and I were with her.  I told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said,