by Simon Hawke
Stoker smiled. "Yes, that sounds like Arthur. There's a man with both feet planted firmly on the ground, just like his detective. Sherlock Holmes. He claims the character was based upon an old professor of his, but the truth is that there's a lot of Arthur in old Sherlock. No, I don't imagine he would sit still for a moment to listen to any farfetched notions about vampires. And yet there is the tragic, albeit fascinating case of Angeline Crewe. Did Arthur offer any
theories about that'?"
"As a matter of fact, he did," said Grayson. "And I am inclined to accept them. One of the things that he suggested was that . . . well, how can I put this delicately?"
"Please don't bother," Stoker said. "We have agreed to speak plainly, if you'll recall."
"Yes, well, meaning no offense," said Grayson, "but people associated with the theatre have a certain reputation for rather irregular behavior. And one of the things that Dr. Conan Doyle suggested is that we may be dealing with a case of sadistic perversion here. This theory seems to be supported by the fact that Miss Crewe apparently never made any mention of having been bitten in the throat and one would think that if she had been assaulted forcibly in such a manner, she would certainly have said something about it to someone. And it she had actually permitted such an act to be committed upon her person, and actually allowed the drinking of her blood, then what other conclusion could there be except that she was a willing participant in an act of such depravity?"
"I see," said Stoker. "It is an interesting speculation, to be sure. And, purely in terms of degree, certainly more rational than the vampire theory. However, has it occurred to you that the reason Angeline Crewe never said anything about having been so cruelly used might have been that she was frightened and humiliated?"
"I should think that if she had been frightened," Grayson said, "she would have been all the more anxious to speak out and have the blackguard who did it brought to justice, so that he would never be able to menace her or any other young woman again."
"One might well think so," Stoker said, "if one is a man. However, try to consider the situation from a woman's point of view, Inspector. A woman who is an actress and, unfortunately, as you have already pointed out, suffers from an entirely undeserved reputation for irregular behavior, as you put it. Just because a woman is an actress, Inspector, that doesn't mean she is immoral. And in this particular case, we have a young woman who comes from a good family, a family which has already suffered a certain amount of distress due to her chosen vocation. If the matter were to come to court, it would be purely her word against that of her assailant and you can be sure that the man's counsel
would do everything in his power to discredit her testimony by attacking her
reputation. I personally know of no woman who would not flinch from such an ordeal."
"Your point is well taken." Grayson said, nodding. "I had not thought of that. It is the sort of thing that might give some comfort to her family when all of this eventually conies to light—as it shall, rest assured on that account—but for the moment, let us leave the question of Miss Crewe's reputation aside and concentrate upon the fact of her demise. Whether she was a willing participant in depravity or whether she was forcibly imposed upon, it seems obvious that whoever was responsible cannot possibly be sane. Which brings us back to Dr. Doyle's observations upon this matter. And again. I remind you that we speak in confidence."
"Of course," said Stoker.
"I have been attempting to reconstruct something of Miss Crewe's recent past." said Grayson. "I know, for example, that she was seen frequently in the company of a young man named Tony Hesketh. You yourself confirmed this in our last discussion. Hesketh is missing, disappeared without a trace. I find this highly suspect. I have also managed to learn that Mr. Hesketh's character is not altogether what one might consider proper. I have established to my satisfaction that he was intimately associated with at least one young man of questionable moral character, if you get my meaning."
"You're saying that Tony Hesketh was a homosexual." said Stoker. He shrugged. "Frankly, that does not surprise me. I always thought that young Hesketh was a bit overly flamboyant and rather effeminate. I did try to dissuade Angeline from fraternizing with him. He seemed like a bad sort to me. You're suggesting that one mode of abnormality might breed another?"
"It is certainly possible." said Grayson. "I have the impression that young Hesketh straddled the fence, as it were. A jaded appetite that is already immoral and decadent to begin with could easily turn to more depraved pleasures. Hesketh may not be sane. Dr. Doyle cited a number of historical examples of so-called vampirism, but vampirism practiced by insane living persons rather than satanic dead ones. A form of perversion, if you will. And if this sounds farfetched, you should hear the details of some of these cases. Dr. Doyle mentioned one that comes vividly to mind, the case of a 15th century warlord named Dracula who murdered thousands of people in the most grisly manner—"
Stoker started. "What did you say that name was?" he said.
Grayson was surprised at the reaction. "Dracula," he said. "A prince of some sort. Vlad Dracula, known for his cruelties as the Impaler. Why do you ask?"
"Because I have met a man named Dracula," said Stoker. "And quite recently. too. A wealthy Balkan aristocrat. I remember the name because I liked the sound of it. It rolled rather ominously off the tongue. Count Dracula. He came to the theatre on a number of occasions. And he was a friend of Tony Hesketh's."
Wells stood at the hotel window, clutching Moreau's arm as if terrified of letting go. Below them, people surged past in a ceaseless wave of humanity, moving quickly and purposefully across pedestrian spanways high above the ground. The skyscrapers towered above them on all sides and far below, Wells could see other spanways, both vehicular and pedestrian. crisscrossing in a webwork of suspended roads and walkways. Just below them was a vehicular spanway that snaked among the buildings and tiny vehicles which were completely enclosed and shaped like sleek teardrops in a wide and dazzling array of colors traveled at amazing speeds just above the surface of the suspended roadway. Above them, machines flew through the air, small craft with stubby, swept back delta wings, occasionally diving down like kingfishers into the steel, glass and concrete jungle. often passing so close to one another that Wells could not see how it was possible for them to avoid collision.
"I cannot believe my eyes," he said. "Where are we?"
"London," said Moreau.
"London!"
"It would be safer to remain here," said Moreau.
"What is this place?" said Wells. "Is this your home?"
"Not exactly," said Moreau. "It is a hotel room. I pay for it by bringing certain coins and stamps from the 19th century and selling them privately to collectors in this time period. In this way, I have managed to establish accounts here, as well as a false identity. If my true identity were known, it is almost a certainty that I would be arrested. I am telling you this because I want you to understand that I am being completely honest with
"It is all so overwhelming; I do not know where to turn! Such astonishing growth! I would never have thought it possible that buildings of such amazing height could be constructed! And all those flying machines buzzing about like bees around a hive, how do they keep from colliding'?"
"They are equipped with guidance systems," said Moreau. "Far too complicated to explain, just think of them as devices which are capable of sensing everything around them and communicating with each other as they navigate."
"Amazing!" said Wells. “Moreau, can't we go outside for just a moment? Please'?"
"Well, all right," Moreau said, "but only for a moment or two. However, you had best change into some different clothing first."
Moreau went to a closet and opened it.
"What manner of clothing is this?" said Wells, touching the sleek, shiny material and feeling it stretch. "It is made from materials such as I have never seen!"
"Synthetics," said Moreau.
"Synthetic mater
ials'?" said Wells, touching the futuristic garments hanging in the closet.
"A blend of synthetics, created in a laboratory," said Moreau. "Form fitting, easily cared for. They will stretch to accommodate your size."
"But . . . it is all of one piece. Is this all there is to the costume?" Wells said.
"It will serve," Moreau said.
They changed and moments later, Wells stood before a mirror, examining himself in the black clingsuit. "I cannot say it flatters me.” he said. "It seems terribly revealing. And what makes it shine so? It looks as though it
is soaking wet."
"It is the nature of the material," Moreau said somewhat impatiently. "And rest assured, in this time period, it is considered a conservative fashion. I should warn you that we are liable to see people, women in particular• wearing costumes that are far more revealing. Customs are very different here. Try not to be shocked."
They went outside into the hallway and took a drop tube to the lobby. Wells could barely contain himself. He wanted to know how the lighting in the hallway operated, how the drop tube functioned, what made the indicator lights work and where the cool air was coming from. Moreau made no attempt to reply to his torrent of questions, saying merely that it was impossible to explain hundreds of years of scientific development to someone who could not even comprehend most of the terms and Wells had to satisfy himself with brief explanations of what the function of various things was, rather than how they functioned.
They came out into the lobby and Wells gasped at the immensity of it, at the height of the ceiling, which was several dozen stories over their heads• at the huge colored fountain playing in the lobby's atrium and the strange music, coming from nowhere and created by instruments he could not even identify. As they walked across it and approached the large ornate glass doors leading outside, Wells was stunned to see them open by themselves and Moreau was unable to restrain him from repeatedly stepping on and off the sensor panels, making the doors open and close repeatedly, as a small child might do.
"Please. Herbert," Moreau said, finally dragging him away. "We must try not to attract attention to ourselves."
They went outside into the street and walked for a short distance, Wells craning his neck backward, looking up above them at the impossibly tall buildings and the traffic overhead. He stopped in the center of the sidewalk, gazing up with rapture and in moments• there were a number of people around them, likewise looking up, wondering what he was looking at.
"Herbert, for God's sake, please!" Moreau said, dragging him on.
They hadn't walked a block before an adolescent girl with varicolored hair cut in a geometric style and wearing high black boots, scarlet clingpanties and a see-through halter sidled up to them and propositioned Wells. Moreau
grimaced and waved her off.
Wells grinned. "Well, in some respects at least, things have not changed very much at all."
"If you had accepted her proposition," Moreau said sourly, "I think you'd have found that things have changed more than you might think. Come, let us go back to the hotel. I do not wish to expose you to so much that your mind will be shocked by overstimulation. We have much to talk about."
"Please, can't we stay a little while longer?" Wells said. "Can't we walk about? There is so much to see! I have a thousand questions bursting from my brain!"
"Later, perhaps," Moreau said. "Regrettably, we cannot remain here for long. Bringing you here was a great risk and Iam still not certain that it was the right decision. However, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps now you will possess enough perspective to fully appreciate what I have to tell you. It would take hours to even begin to answer some of those questions you have, but I needed to eliminate your doubts."
"And that you have," said Wells, glancing all around him. "To think that I have traveled hundreds of years into the future! What a world awaits us! What astonishing accomplishments! Please, Moreau, can't we stay awhile longer?"
Moreau smiled, "Very well. But keep close to me. If we were to become separated, you would become truly lost, forever. —
"I do not know that I would mind that very much,— said Wells.
"Don't even joke about it," said Moreau.
"What would happen if we did not go back?" said Wells. "Purely for the sake of argument, of course."
"There is no way of knowing exactly what would happen.” said Moreau, "but you can be certain that history would be changed. The results could be disastrous on an unimaginable scale. By the act of bringing you here, I have already altered history, but the risk is slight if we follow proper precautions. It is nothing compared to the risk we all face hack in your own time. And now that you have seen all this, perhaps you might begin to understand. Come, I will tell you about myself, about who and what I am and where I came from, and about
the crowning achievement of my career, which has now turned into a nightmare
that threatens all humanity. And it all began when a device known as a chronoplate was invented and man achieved the capability of traveling through time . . ."
"Count Dracula?"
The tall dark man in the black opera cape paused as he was about to get into his coach outside the Lyceum Theatre. "I am Dracula.” he said, turning around.
"Inspector William Grayson, Scotland Yard. Might I ask you to give me a moment of your time?"
"Certainly. Inspector. How may I help you?"
"I should like to ask you a few questions. I understand that you were one of the last people to see Miss Angeline Crewe alive. "
"Yes," said Dracula, "I suppose I must have been. I had heard about her collapse during rehearsal. Poor girl, a tragedy to die so young. But why should the police be interested? It was an illness, no?"
"We have reason to suspect that it may not have been.” said Grayson. "Why, did she seem ill to you?"
"I thought she seemed a trifle pale," said Dracula.
"You had dinner with her and another young woman from the company, a Miss Violet Anderson?"
"Yes, that is correct.”
"And there was another gentleman present, a Mr. Anthony Hesketh?"
"Yes, it was Mr. Hesketh who introduced me to Miss Crewe."
"Isee. When was the last time you saw Mr. Hesketh?"
"I believe it was that evening, when we all had dinner together."
"And you have not seen him since?"
"No, I think he said something about going abroad on business.”
"How well do you know him?"
"We occasionally take in a play together. We met here, at the Lyceum. He was kind enough to share my box with me and assist me with the language. English is not my native tongue, you know."
"You seem to speak it very well," said Grayson.
"Thank you, but my fluency is not all that I would like it to be. The theatre is an excellent place to hear it spoken properly. I never tire of listening to Mr. Irving."
"So you and Mr. Hesketh are not very close, then? You see each other only at the theatre?"
"And sometimes for dinner, afterward." said Dracula. "I am a very private person, Inspector. I generally keep to myself and only go out at night. Mr. Hesketh seemed like a very pleasant and well-educated young man, but he is only an acquaintance, nothing more. I could not even say what business he is in. I do not recall ever discussing it with hint. Such matters bore me. We spoke mainly about music, literature and the theatre. I fear that I am not being of much help to you." "On the contrary," Grayson said, "every little bit of information helps. Might I ask what brings you to London?"
Dracula smiled. "I am a very wealthy man, Inspector Grayson, thanks to the fortunes of my family. I devote most of my time to travel. There is not a great deal to occupy one's time in my native country. The night life of London is so much more fascinating.
"
"I see, May I ask where you are staying'?"
"For the present, I am taking rooms at the Grosvenor. But I enjoy sampling your hotels as much as I enjoy sampling your theatr
e. In fact, I am enjoying England so much that I am considering purchasing a home here. Perhaps nothing quite so grand as my family castle in Transylvania, but on the other hand, nothing quite so old and drafty, either."
"Speaking of your family." said Grayson, "I once heard a fascinating story about a prince from your country whose name was the same as yours. He was also known as Vlad the Impaler. I believe."
