We went into the room, taking the flowers with us.  The Professor’s actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopeia that I ever heard of.  First he fastened up the windows and latched them securely.  Next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get in would be laden with the garlic smell.  Then with the wisp he rubbed all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round the fireplace in the same way.  It all seemed grotesque to me, and presently I said, “Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but this certainly puzzles me.  It is well we have no sceptic here, or he would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil spirit.”

“Perhaps I am!” he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath which Lucy was to wear round her neck.

We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her neck.  The last words he said to her were,

“Take care you do not disturb it, and even if the room feel close, do not tonight open the window or the door.”

“I promise,” said Lucy.  “And thank you both a thousand times for all your kindness to me!  Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such friends?”

As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing said, “Tonight I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want, two nights of travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink.  Tomorrow in the morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss, so much more strong for my ‘spell’ which I have work.  Ho, ho!”

He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror.  It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.

CHAPTER 11

LUCY WESTENRA’S DIARY

12 September.—­How good they all are to me.  I quite love that dear Dr. Van Helsing.  I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers.  He positively frightened me, he was so fierce.  And yet he must have been right, for I feel comfort from them already.  Somehow, I do not dread being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep without fear.  I shall not mind any flapping outside the window.  Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late, the pain of sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horrors as it has for me!  How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.  Well, here I am tonight, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with ‘virgin crants and maiden strewments.’  I never liked garlic before, but tonight it is delightful!  There is peace in its smell.  I feel sleep coming already.  Goodnight, everybody.