I was engaged after dinner in my study
posting up my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to
Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed
my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for such
a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the Superintendent's study
is almost unknown.
Without an instant's notice he made straight at me. He
had a dinner knife in his hand, and as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep
the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me, however, for before
I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely.
he could strike again, however, I got in my right hand and he was sprawling on
his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled
on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further effort, and occupied
myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the
time. When the attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment
positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like
a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured,
and to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply repeating
over and over again, "The blood is the life! The blood is the life!"
cannot afford to lose blood just at present. I have lost too much of late for
my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy's illness and its horrible
phases is telling on me. I am over excited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest.
Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep. Tonight
I could not well do without it.