Van Helsing, turning to me, said, “He is so young and strong, and of blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it.”

Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed the operation.  As the transfusion went on, something like life seemed to come back to poor Lucy’s cheeks, and through Arthur’s growing pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine.  After a bit I began to grow anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he was.  It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy’s system must have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her.

But the Professor’s face was set, and he stood watch in hand, and with his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur.  I could hear my own heart beat.  Presently, he said in a soft voice, “Do not stir an instant.  It is enough.  You attend him.  I will look to her.”

When all was over, I could see how much Arthur was weakened.  I dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning round, the man seems to have eyes in the back of his head, “The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he shall have presently.”  And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted the pillow to the patient’s head.  As he did so the narrow black velvet band which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little up, and showed a red mark on her throat.

Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing’s ways of betraying emotion.  He said nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying, “Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down a while.  He must then go home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given to his love.  He must not stay here.  Hold a moment!  I may take it, sir, that you are anxious of result.  Then bring it with you, that in all ways the operation is successful.  You have saved her life this time, and you can go home and rest easy in mind that all that can be is.  I shall tell her all when she is well.  She shall love you none the less for what you have done.  Goodbye.”

When Arthur had gone I went back to the room.  Lucy was sleeping gently, but her breathing was stronger.  I could see the counterpane move as her breast heaved.  By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently.  The velvet band again covered the red mark.  I asked the Professor in a whisper, “What do you make of that mark on her throat?”

“What do you make of it?”

“I have not examined it yet,” I answered, and then and there proceeded to loose the band.  Just over the external jugular vein there were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome looking.  There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn looking, as if by some trituration.  It at once occurred to me that that this wound, or whatever it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood.  But I abandoned the idea as soon as it formed, for such a thing could not be.  The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion.