JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, evening.--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anything. The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected debauch.
I learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that he was only the assistant of Smollet, who of the two mates was the responsible person.
So off I drove to Walworth, and found Mr. Joseph Smollet at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a saucer.
He is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own.
He remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about the seat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxes.
There were, he said, six in the cartload which he took from Carfax and left at 197 Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey.
If then the Count meant to scatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, these places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully.
The systematic manner in which this was done made me think that he could not mean to confine himself to two sides of London.
He was now fixed on the far east on the northern shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the south.
The north and west were surely never meant to be left out of his diabolical scheme, let alone the City itself and the very heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west.
I went back to Smollet, and asked him if he could tell us if any other boxes had been taken from Carfax.
He replied, "Well guv'nor, you've treated me very 'an'some", I had given him half a sovereign, "an I'll tell yer all I know.
I heard a man by the name of Bloxam say four nights ago in the 'Are an' 'Ounds, in Pincher's Alley, as 'ow he an' his mate 'ad 'ad a rare dusty job in a old 'ouse at Purfleet.
There ain't a many such jobs as this 'ere, an' I'm thinkin' that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut."
I asked if he could tell me where to find him. I told him that if he could get me the address it would be worth another half sovereign to him.
So he gulped down the rest of his tea and stood up, saying that he was going to begin the search then and there.
At the door he stopped, and said, "Look 'ere, guv'nor, there ain't no sense in me a keepin' you 'ere. I may find Sam soon, or I mayn't, but anyhow he ain't like to be in a way to tell ye much tonight.
Sam is a rare one when he starts on the booze. If you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address on it, I'll find out where Sam is to be found and post it ye tonight.
But ye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the mornin', never mind the booze the night afore."
This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change.
When she came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when Smollet had again faithfully promised to post the address when found, I took my way to home. We're on the track anyhow.
I am tired tonight, and I want to sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale. Her eyes look as though she had been crying.
Poor dear, I've no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly anxious about me and the others.
But it is best as it is. It is better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful business.
I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence must rest.
I shall not ever enter on the subject with her under any circumstances.
Indeed, It may not be a hard task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the Count or his doings ever since we told her of our decision.
2 October, evening--A long and trying and exciting day.
By the first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter's pencil in a sprawling hand, "Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4 Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for the depite."
I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina.
She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well.
I determined not to wake her, but that when I should return from this new search, I would arrange for her going back to Exeter.
I think she would be happier in our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told him where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest so soon as I should have found out anything.
I drove to Walworth and found, with some difficulty, Potter's Court.
Mr. Smollet's spelling misled me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead of Potter's Court. However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in discovering Corcoran's lodging house.
When I asked the man who came to the door for the "depite," he shook his head, and said, "I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a person 'ere.
I never 'eard of 'im in all my bloomin' days. Don't believe there ain't nobody of that kind livin' 'ere or anywheres."
I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me.
"What are you?" I asked.
"I'm the depity," he answered.
