“Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do.  You have for many years trust me.  You have believe me weeks past, when there be things so strange that you might have well doubt.  Believe me yet a little, friend John.  If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think, and that is not perhaps well.  And if I work, as work I shall, no matter trust or no trust, without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy heart and feel oh so lonely when I want all help and courage that may be!” He paused a moment and went on solemnly, “Friend John, there are strange and terrible days before us.  Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to a good end.  Will you not have faith in me?”

I took his hand, and promised him.  I held my door open as he went away, and watched him go to his room and close the door.  As I stood without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage, she had her back to me, so did not see me, and go into the room where Lucy lay.  The sight touched me.  Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love.  Here was a poor girl putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest.

I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when Van Helsing waked me by coming into my room.  He came over to my bedside and said, “You need not trouble about the knives.  We shall not do it.”

“Why not?” I asked.  For his solemnity of the night before had greatly impressed me.

“Because,” he said sternly, “it is too late, or too early.  See!” Here he held up the little golden crucifix.

“This was stolen in the night.”

“How stolen,” I asked in wonder, “since you have it now?”

“Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from the woman who robbed the dead and the living.  Her punishment will surely come, but not through me.  She knew not altogether what she did, and thus unknowing, she only stole.  Now we must wait.”  He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new puzzle to grapple with.

The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came, Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale.  He was very genial and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our hands all cares as to details.  During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had for some time expected sudden death from her heart, and had put her affairs in absolute order.  He informed us that, with the exception of a certain entailed property of Lucy’s father which now, in default of direct issue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood.  When he had told us so much he went on,