Dracula's Daughter Page #2

Well, you're wrong. Dracula's destroyed.

His body's in ashes. The spell is broken.

I can live a normal life now,

think normal things.

Even play normal music again.

Listen.

A cradle song... a song my mother

once sang to me long, long ago,

rocking me to sleep as she

sang in the twilight. Twilight.

Quiet. Quiet.

You disturb me.

Twilight...

long shadows on the hillsides.

Evil shadows.

No.

No, peaceful shadows,

the flutter of wings

in the treetops.

The wings of bats.

No.

No, the wings of birds.

From far off,

the barking of a dog.

Barking because there are

wolves about.

Silence! I forbid you! "Forbid"?

Why are you afraid?

I'm not.

I'm not.

I found release!

That music doesn't speak of release.

No. No!

You're right!

That music tells

of the dark...

evil things,

shadowy places.

Stop. Stop! Stop!

Sandor, look at me.

What do you see

in my eyes?

Death.

Hurry. Hurry,

it's almost daylight.

There's blood on it

again.

When did he have

the last transfusion?

About four hours

before he died.

What do you think

caused his death?

An unnatural loss of blood which

we've been unable to determine.

If we only knew what caused those two

sharp punctures over the jugular vein.

Well, at any rate, a good tramp over

the moors and the smell of the heather...

may help me forget London and

case histories of neurotic ladies.

Aye, but remember: You're not here to

doctor the birds, but to shoot them.

There are a few "birds" in London I'd like

to shoot, and they haven't feathers either.

All right, Jock.

It's my assistant, Janet Blake. I left her in

London with orders to forget where I'd gone.

- Jeffrey!

- Well, what in the name of...

Excuse me.

Well, what do you want? You. Come on. Get in.

You're going back to London. Oh, no. I

have an appointment with several grouse.

You have an appointment

with Scotland Yard.

What for?

I haven't killed anybody.

No, but a friend of yours has...

a man named Von Helsing.

Von Helsing? Professor Von

Helsing? He's in Budapest.

No, he's in London.

He needs help badly.

They tried to reach you here by phone yesterday,

and ended by my planing to Edinburgh...

and driving from there

all night.

I'm in no mood for an argument! Jeffrey,

we've barely time to reach the positions.

Miss Blake, Mr. Graham.

How do you do?

You'll have to forget about me.

Got to dash back to London.

Here, Angus. I knew I had no business buying

it in the first place. Keep it for next year.

Besides, I don't trust myself

with it at the moment.

Forgive his bad manners, Mr.

Graham. Never mind my bad manners!

I'll drop you a line.

Good shooting! Good-bye.

Just because you're a baronet's daughter, you take

liberties an ordinary secretary wouldn't think of.

The ordinary secretary wouldn't have

intelligence enough to think of it.

Well, you're driving.

Go ahead.

You want them to hang the

man before we get there?

I'm a psychiatrist,

Professor, not a lawyer.

I'd do anything in the world

to help you, but what?

You must convince them

of my sanity.

If I do that, they'll

hang you for murder.

You can't murder a man who's

been dead for five centuries.

Talking like that

won't help.

When you were a student under me in Vienna,

Jeffrey, you had a far more open mind.

My mind is just as open

as it ever was, Professor,

but it's a scientific mind, and there's

no place in it for superstitions.

Superstition?

Who can define the boundary between

the superstition of yesterday...

and the scientific fact

of tomorrow?

In the history of your

own profession, psychiatry,

a century before, hypnosis

was looked up as black magic.

Today it is accepted as

commonplace, even used in anesthesia.

What would have happened

to a man a hundred years ago...

who advanced the present-day

theories of the subconscious?

Oh, I know, I know.

Do you, as an intelligent scientist,

dare to dismiss as superstition...

the principles underlying

Tibetan magic,

voodooism, thought transference, No.

Well, there you are.

Oh, wait, Professor, wait.

Arguments of this sort are all right in academic

circles. You're up against stern reality.

You can't defend yourself

by quoting folklore.

There isn't a jury in

England that will believe you,

and, if I had the most brilliant legal

mind in the world, I couldn't make them.

Then I must stand alone,

Jeffrey.

No, Professor.

I'll help you.

I don't know how. I haven't the

faintest idea where to start.

But I'll stake my reputation

against the facts...

if there's a way

to clear you, I'll do it.

Who did this?

A Hungarian. She just arrived

in London a few weeks ago.

She's charming.

What's her name?

Countess Marya Zaleska.

Excuse me, Jeffrey.

My dear, how sweet

of you to come.

Don't you know it's very

rude to stare at strangers?

Thought I'd gotten

rid of you for a while.

Not while there's a dangerous-looking

brunette like that around.

You know, my guests are

dying to meet you.

Countess Zaleska, I want

you to know Jeffrey Garth,

one of my most intimate

friends. How do you do?

And Janet Blake,

who doesn't like

your painting very much.

No. Oh, he doesn't like

it, either. He says that...

- Quiet.

- Sherry, Marya?

No, thank you.

I never drink... wine.

You didn't stay in Scotland

long, did you, Jeffrey?

No. Didn't fire a shot,

never even saw a grouse, thanks

to Father's little helper here.

Oh, that Von Helsing thing. I've

been reading about it in the papers.

That vampire case?

Yes, the man who was known

as Count Dracula.

Rum sort of thing.

Seems this fellow, Von Helsing,

shoved a stake through

this Dracula fellow's heart.

- Do you know him, Jeffrey?

- Mm-hmm. I studied under him.

I owe most of my success to

him. What are you going to do?

Well, I don't quite know yet.

One thing I'm pretty sure of,

they won't press

the murder charge.

They haven't been able

to find Dracula's body.

Maybe one of his vampire friends

flew in and spirited him away!

Well, strangely enough, Von Helsing

takes his vampires quite seriously.

Why not? Possibly there are more things

in heaven and earth than are dreamed of...

in your psychiatry, Mr. Garth.

I'm sure we'd all be interested to know what

modern science has to say about vampires.

Go on, Jeffrey.

But surely you don't believe that

preposterous rot, old fellow, what?

But I believe in Von Helsing. He's gone much

deeper into these things than most of us.

Perhaps he's taken them too literally. Such

researches can easily lead to obsession.

You mean like people

imagining they're Napoleon?

More or less, and like any disease

of the mind, it can be cured.

We have to discover what brought about the

obsession in order to effect mental release.

- Release?

- Yes, release.

Sympathetic treatment will release

the human mind from any obsession.

I'm-I'm interested in what

you've been saying, Mr. Garth.

I'm wondering if we might...

talk about it one evening soon,

just you and I.

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