"An excellent deduction, Dr. Doyle." the vampire said, smiling wry slightly. He did not bare his teeth when he smiled. "No. regrettably, your work is not available in my homeland, but I have read your stories here, in the editions published by George Newnes, Ltd. I was sorry to read about the unfortunate demise of Mr. Holmes. Perhaps he may yet return from the dead, no?"
Doyle smiled. "An interesting turn of phrase," he said. "Return from the dead. No. I do not think so. After all, once people die, they stay dead don't they?"
"Except, perhaps, in fiction or in legend," Dracula said. "And the abilities of your Mr. Holmes are certainly legendary. Dr. Doyle. It would not surprise me if you were to inform us all that he had somehow cheated death and come back from the grave."
Doyle pursed his lips, maintaining eye contact with the Count. "Indeed. Speaking of legends, I am familiar with one from your own homeland, that of a certain Wallachian prince whose name you share. Vlad Dracula, also known as Vlad Tepes, the Impaler."
"An ancestor of mine," said Dracula. "Much maligned by history. I am afraid."
"You are saying that he did not kill all those thousands of people he is reported to have done away with so savagely?" Conan Doyle said.
"My ancestor lived in savage times," said Dracula, "and savage times demand savage measures. There are times when it is necessary to kill in order to survive. My ancestor was at war against the Turks. How many people has your British Empire killed in its wars for survival and colonial expansion?"
"A great number. I am sure," said Doyle. "Still, there is a difference between killing in wartime, on the field of battle, and torturing people in dungeons and impaling them on wooden stakes. I would find it difficult to justify such barbarous acts."
"Would you find it easier to justify the acts of your English privateers, pirates with a license from the Crown to pillage, rape and torture on the high seas and in the West Indies?" said Dracula. "And what of the acts of your English kings, such as Henry VIII and Richard III? Or the acts of your crusaders, for that matter? What of all the implements of torture that I have seen in your Tower of London? The thumbscrew: the rack: the iron maiden. Is your English history so free of bloodshed that you can throw stones at that of my own country?"
Doyle cleared his throat. "Your point is well taken. Forgive me. I did not mean to be rude. It is only that the senselessness of violence has been much on my mind of late, becoming something of an obsession. Apparently, I cannot even enjoy an evening at the theatre without dwelling on them. I am referring to these crimes in Whitechapel, the hideous murders the police have been investigating. I have been consulted by them, in a purely medical capacity, as they have been quite baffled by the manner in which the unfortunate victims met their deaths., As it happens, one of them was a girl who was a member of this very company. You knew her, Stoker, what was her name again?"
"You mean Miss Angeline Crewe?" said Stoker, picking up his cue.
"Yes, that was her name." said Doyle. “I understand you knew the young woman, Count Dracula."
"Yes, I knew her slightly," said the Count. "I had the pleasure of her company at dinner with some friends. A charming creature. A tragic loss. So young. So beautiful. So innocent. Have the police made any progress in their investigation'?"
"Well, I am not privy to all the details," said Doyle, "since they consulted me only in my capacity as a physician, but I understand that they are seeking several of her friends to question them about the case. A Mr. Tony Hesketh and a Miss Violet Anderson, I believe. I do not suppose that you would be familiar with them'?"
"Miss Violet Anderson was the other young woman in the aforementioned dinner party," said the Count, “and Mr. Hesketh was the other gentleman. I have attended the theatre with Mr. Hesketh on a number of occasions, as I think you knew already. Dr. Doyle. However, I have not seen him in some time. I think that he has gone abroad on business of some sort."
"And Miss Anderson?" said Doyle. "Have you seen her recently?"
"No, I have not," s
aid the Count. "And I have already said as much to the police. Or are you pursuing your own investigation, Dr. Doyle?"
"I was merely making conversation," Doyle said. "It was you who asked me if the police were making any progress.”
Stoker pulled out his watch and held it up in front of him. "The second act will be starting in a moment," he said, holding the watch out almost level with his eyes. A small silver crucifix dangled from the watch chain.
"How interesting.” said Dracula. "You arc a Catholic, are you not, Mr. Stoker?"
"I beg your pardon?"
“I was merely noticing the little crucifix upon your watch chain." said the Count, smiling slightly. "It is of Eastern Orthodox design. A lowly little cross, may I see it?"
He reached out and touched it as Stoker held on to the watch, staring at him. He turned it slightly.
"Beautiful engraving. Was that purchased here in London?"
"I… I found it in an antique shop," Stoker said, his face flushed. "I took a fancy to it and… and had my jeweler attach it to my watch chain."
"Yes, well. I see the play is about to start." said Dracula. "Perhaps we shall speak again later."
The lobby emptied as the signal for the conclusion of the intermission was given and Stoker and Conan Doyle stood outside alone, Doyle smiling slightly.
"Couldn't resist, could you?" he said.
Stoker grunted. "I feel like a bloody fool.”