There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another.

As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms.  She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden crucifix.  She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force.  Then she turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Helsing’s nerves.  Never did I see such baffled malice on a face, and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by mortal eyes.  The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of flesh were the coils of Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese.  If ever a face meant death, if looks could kill, we saw it at that moment.

And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of entry.

Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur, “Answer me, oh my friend!  Am I to proceed in my work?”

“Do as you will, friend.  Do as you will.  There can be no horror like this ever any more.”  And he groaned in spirit.

Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms.  We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down.  Coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there.  We all looked on with horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass through the interstice where scarce a knife blade could have gone.  We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty to the edges of the door.

When this was done, he lifted the child and said, “Come now, my friends.  We can do no more till tomorrow.  There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that.  The friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton locks the gate we shall remain.  Then there is more to do, but not like this of tonight.  As for this little one, he is not much harmed, and by tomorrow night he shall be well.  We shall leave him where the police will find him, as on the other night, and then to home.”

Coming close to Arthur, he said, “My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial, but after, when you look back, you will see how it was necessary.  You are now in the bitter waters, my child.  By this time tomorrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters.  So do not mourn over-much.  Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me.”