Chapter 20

by Bram Stoker

　　JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL1 October, evening.--I found Thomas Snelling in his houseat Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a conditionto remember anything. The very prospect of beer which myexpected 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 homeand 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 producedfrom some mysterious receptacle about the seat ofhis 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 fromCarfax 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 refugesof his over London, these places were chosen as the firstof delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully.The systematic manner in which this was done made me think thathe 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 ofhis diabolical scheme, let alone the City itself and the veryheart of fashionable London in the south-west and west.I went back to Smollet, and asked him if he could tell usif any other boxes had been taken from Carfax.He replied, "Well guv'nor, you've treated me very 'an'some", Ihad 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 agoin 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 couldget 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 wasgoing to begin the search then and there.At the door he stopped, and said, "Look 'ere, guv'nor, there ain'tno 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 giveme 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 mindthe booze the night afore."This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a pennyto 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 addresswhen 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 looksa 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 worriedin such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctors were quiteright 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 hasbecome reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the Countor 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 scrapof paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter's pencilin 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 fromthis new search, I would arrange for her going back to Exeter.I think she would be happier in our own home, with herdaily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongstus and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment,and told him where I was off to, promising to come back andtell 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 Courtinstead 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 shookhis 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'tnobody of that kind livin' 'ere or anywheres."I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me thatthe lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me."What are you?" I asked."I'm the depity," he answered.I saw at once that I was on the right track. Phonetic spellinghad again misled me. A half crown tip put the deputy'sknowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam,who had slept off the remains of his beer on the previousnight at Corcoran's, had left for his work at Poplar at fiveo'clock that morning. He could not tell me where the placeof work was situated, but he had a vague idea that it was somekind of a "new-fangled ware'us," and with this slender clueI had to start for Poplar. It was twelve o'clock before Igot any satisfactory hint of such a building, and this I gotat a coffee shop, where some workmen were having their dinner.One of them suggested that there was being erected at CrossAngel Street a new "cold storage" building, and as this suitedthe condition of a "new-fangled ware'us," I at once drove to it.An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman,both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm,put me on the track of Bloxam. He was sent for on my suggestionthat I was willing to pay his days wages to his foreman forthe privilege of asking him a few questions on a private matter.He was a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing.When I had promised to pay for his information and given himan earnest, he told me that he had made two journeys betweenCarfax and a house in Piccadilly, and had taken from thishouse to the latter nine great boxes, "main heavy ones,"with a horse and cart hired by him for this purpose.I asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly,to which he replied, "Well, guv'nor, I forgits the number, but it was onlya few door from a big white church, or somethink of the kind, not long built.It was a dusty old 'ouse, too, though nothin' to the dustiness of the 'ousewe tooked the bloomin' boxes from.""How did you get in if both houses were empty?""There was the old party what engaged me a waitin' in the 'ouse at Purfleet.He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me,but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' him a old feller,with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn'tthrow a shadder."How this phrase thrilled through me!"Why, 'e took up 'is end o' the boxes like they was pounds of tea,and me a puffin' an' a blowin' afore I could upend mine anyhow, an'I'm no chicken, neither.""How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?" I asked."He was there too. He must 'a started off and got there afore me,for when I rung of the bell he kem an' opened the door 'isself an''elped me carry the boxes into the 'all.""The whole nine?" I asked."Yus, there was five in the first load an' four in the second.It was main dry work, an' I don't so well remember 'ow I got 'ome."I interrupted him, "Were the boxes left in the hall?""Yus, it was a big 'all, an' there was nothin' else in it."I made one more attempt to further matters. "You didn't have any key?""Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he openedthe door 'isself an' shut it again when I druv off.I don't remember the last time, but that was the beer.""And you can't remember the number of the house?""No, sir. But ye needn't have no difficulty about that. It's a 'igh'un with a stone front with a bow on it, an' 'igh steps up to the door.I know them steps, 'avin' 'ad to carry the boxes up with three loaferswhat come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin's, an'they seein' they got so much, they wanted more. But 'e took one of themby the shoulder and was like to throw 'im down the steps, till the lotof them went away cussin'."I thought that with this description I could find the house, so havingpaid my friend for his information, I started off for Piccadilly.I had gained a new painful experience. The Count could, it was evident,handle the earth boxes himself. If so, time was precious,for now that he had achieved a certain amount of distribution,he could, by choosing his own time, complete the task unobserved.At Piccadilly Circus I discharged my cab, and walked westward.Beyond the Junior Constitutional I came across the house described andwas satisfied that this was the next of the lairs arranged by Dracula.The house looked as though it had been long untenanted.The windows were encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up.All the framework was black with time, and from the iron the painthad mostly scaled away. It was evident that up to latelythere had been a large notice board in front of the balcony.It had, however, been roughly torn away, the uprights which hadsupported it still remaining. Behind the rails of the balcony Isaw there were some loose boards, whose raw edges looked white.I would have given a good deal to have been able to see the noticeboard intact, as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownershipof the house. I remembered my experience of the investigationand purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that I could findthe former owner there might be some means discovered of gainingaccess to the house.There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side,and nothing could be done, so I went around to the back to seeif anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mewswere active, the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation.I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I sawaround if they could tell me anything about the empty house.One of them said that he heard it had lately been taken,but he couldn't say from whom. He told me, however, that upto very lately there had been a notice board of "For Sale"up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the house agentscould tell me something, as he thought he remembered seeingthe name of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seemtoo eager, or to let my informant know or guess too much,so thanking him in the usual manner, I strolled away.It was now growing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in,so I did not lose any time. Having learned the addressof Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley,I was soon at their office in Sackville Street.The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner,but uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told methat the Piccadilly house, which throughout our interview he calleda "mansion," was sold, he considered my business as concluded.When I asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider,and paused a few seconds before replying, "It is sold, sir.""Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a specialreason for wishing to know who purchased it."Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more."It is sold, sir," was again his laconic reply."Surely," I said, "you do not mind letting me know so much.""But I do mind," he answered. "The affairs of their clients are absolutelysafe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy."This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and therewas no use arguing with him. I thought I had best meet himon his own ground, so I said, "Your clients, sir, are happyin having so resolute a guardian of their confidence.I am myself a professional man."Here I handed him my card. "In this instance I am not promptedby curiosity, I act on the part of Lord Godalming, who wishesto know something of the property which was, he understood,lately for sale."These words put a different complexion on affairs.He said, "I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker,and especially would I like to oblige his lordship.We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambersfor him when he was the Honorable Arthur Holmwood.If you will let me have his lordship's address I willconsult the House on the subject, and will, in any case,communicate with his lordship by tonight's post.It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate from our rulesas to give the required information to his lordship."I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so Ithanked him, gave the address at Dr. Seward's and came away.It was now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got a cupof tea at the Aerated Bread Company and came down to Purfleetby the next train.I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale,but she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful.It wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep anythingfrom her and so caused her inquietude. Thank God, this willbe the last night of her looking on at our conferences,and feeling the sting of our not showing our confidence.It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of keepingher out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled,or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her,for when any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders.I am glad we made our resolution in time, as with such a feelingas this, our growing knowledge would be torture to her.I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we were alone,so after dinner, followed by a little music to save appearances evenamongst ourselves, I took Mina to her room and left her to go to bed.The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clungto me as though she would detain me, but there was much to be talkedof and I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has madeno difference between us.When I came down again I found the others all gathered roundthe fire in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far,and simply read it off to them as the best means of letting themget abreast of my own information.When I had finished Van Helsing said, "This has been a great day's work,friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing boxes.If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the end.But if there be some missing, we must search until we find them.Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to his real death."We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. Morris spoke, "Say!How are we going to get into that house?""We got into the other," answered Lord Godalming quickly."But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we hadnight and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty differentthing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night.I confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agencyduck can find us a key of some sort."Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he stood up and walked about the room.By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of us,"Quincey's head is level. This burglary business is getting serious.We got off once all right, but we have now a rare job on hand.Unless we can find the Count's key basket."As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at leastadvisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from Mitchell's, we decidednot to take any active step before breakfast time. For a good while wesat and smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and bearings.I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the moment.I am very sleepy and shall go to bed. . .Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her foreheadis puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks even in her sleep.She is still too pale, but does not look so haggard as she did this morning.Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all this. She will be herself at home in Exeter.Oh, but I am sleepy!DR. SEWARD'S DIARY1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield.His moods change so rapidly that I find it difficult to keeptouch of them, and as they always mean something more thanhis own well-being, they form a more than interesting study.This morning, when I went to see him after his repulse ofVan Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding destiny.He was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively.He did not really care for any of the things of mere earth,he was in the clouds and looked down on all the weaknessesand wants of us poor mortals.I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked him,"What about the flies these times?"He smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smileas would have become the face of Malvolio, as he answered me,"The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature. It's wingsare typical of the aerial powers of the psychic faculties.The ancients did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly!"I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said quickly,"Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?"His madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face as,shaking his head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in him.He said, "Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want."Here he brightened up. "I am pretty indifferent about it at present.Life is all right. I have all I want. You must get a new patient,doctor, if you wish to study zoophagy!"This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on. "Then you command life.You are a god, I suppose?"He smiled with an ineffably benign superiority. "Oh no!Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity.I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual doings.If I may state my intellectual position I am, so far asconcerns things purely terrestrial, somewhat in the positionwhich Enoch occupied spiritually!"This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recallEnoch's appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though I feltthat by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic."And why with Enoch?""Because he walked with God."I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it,so I harked back to what he had denied. "So you don'tcare about life and you don't want souls. Why not?"I put my question quickly and somewhat sternly, on purposeto disconcert him.The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into hisold servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon meas he replied. "I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don't. Icouldn't use them if I had them. They would be no manner of use to me.I couldn't eat them or. . ."He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his face,like a wind sweep on the surface of the water."And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you'vegot all you require, and you know that you will never want,that is all. I have friends, good friends, like you,Dr. Seward."This was said with a leer of inexpressible cunning."I know that I shall never lack the means of life!"I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he sawsome antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the lastrefuge of such as he, a dogged silence. After a short timeI saw that for the present it was useless to speak to him.He was sulky, and so I came away.Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would nothave come without special reason, but just at present I amso interested in him that I would gladly make an effort.Besides, I am glad to have anything to help pass the time.Harker is out, following up clues, and so are Lord Godalmingand Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my study poring over the recordprepared by the Harkers. He seems to think that by accurateknowledge of all details he will light up on some clue.He does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without cause.I would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I thoughtthat after his last repulse he might not care to go again.There was also another reason. Renfield might not speakso freely before a third person as when he and I were alone.I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool, a posewhich is generally indicative of some mental energy on his part.When I came in, he said at once, as though the question had beenwaiting on his lips. "What about souls?"It was evident then that my surmise had been correct.Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic.I determined to have the matter out."What about them yourself?" I asked.He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and up and down,as though he expected to find some inspiration for an answer."I don't want any souls!" He said in a feeble, apologetic way.The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it,to "be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like life,and you want life?""Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about that!""But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without gettingthe soul also?"This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nicetime you'll have some time when you're flying out here,with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birdsand cats buzzing and twittering and moaning all around you.You've got their lives, you know, and you must put upwith their souls!"Something seemed to affect his imagination, for he put hisfingers to his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightlyjust as a small boy does when his face is being soaped.There was something pathetic in it that touched me.It also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that before me was a child,only a child, though the features were worn, and the stubbleon the jaws was white. It was evident that he was undergoingsome process of mental disturbance, and knowing how his pastmoods had interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself,I thought I would enter into his mind as well as I couldand go with himThe first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him,speaking pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed ears,"Would you like some sugar to get your flies around again?"He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head.With a laugh he replied, "Not much! Flies are poor things,after all!" After a pause he added, "But I don't want theirsouls buzzing round me, all the same.""Or spiders?" I went on."Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anythingin them to eat or. . ." He stopped suddenly as though remindedof a forbidden topic."So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he hassuddenly stopped at the word `drink'. What does it mean?"Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a lapse,for he hurried on, as though to distract my attentionfrom it, "I don't take any stock at all in such matters.`Rats and mice and such small deer,' as Shakespeare has it,`chicken feed of the larder' they might be called.I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well aska man to eat molecules with a pair of chopsticks, as to tryto interest me about the less carnivora, when I know of whatis before me.""I see," I said."You want big things that you can make your teeth meet in?How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?""What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?" He was getting too wide awake,so I thought I would press him hard."I wonder," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is like!"The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his high-horseand became a child again."I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!" he said.For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his feet,with his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement."To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do you plague meabout souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, to distractme already, without thinking of souls?"He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for another homicidal fit,so I blew my whistle.The instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said apologetically,"Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not need any help.I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be irritable. If you only knewthe problem I have to face, and that I am working out, you would pity,and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not put me in a strait waistcoat.I want to think and I cannot think freely when my body is confined.I am sure you will understand!"He had evidently self-control, so when the attendants came I toldthem not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield watched them go.When the door was closed he said with considerable dignityand sweetness, "Dr. Seward, you have been very considerate towards me.Believe me that I am very, very grateful to you!"I thought it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came away.There is certainly something to ponder over in this man's state.Several points seem to make what the American interviewercalls "a story," if one could only get them in proper order.Here they are:Will not mention "drinking."Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of anything.Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future.Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads being hauntedby their souls.Logically all these things point one way! He has assuranceof some kind that he will acquire some higher life.He dreads the consequence, the burden of a soul.Then it is a human life he looks to!And the assurance. . .?Merciful God! The Count has been to him, and there is some new schemeof terror afoot!Later.--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told himmy suspicion. He grew very grave, and after thinking the matterover for a while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so.As we came to the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily,as he used to do in the time which now seems so long ago.When we entered we saw with amazement that he had spread outhis sugar as of old. The flies, lethargic with the autumn,were beginning to buzz into the room. We tried to make him talkof the subject of our previous conversation, but he would not attend.He went on with his singing, just as though we had not been present.He had got a scrap of paper and was folding it into a notebook.We had to come away as ignorant as we went in.His is a curious case indeed. We must watch him tonight.LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY TO LORD GODALMING."1 October."My Lord,"We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes.We beg, with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed byMr. Harker on your behalf, to supply the following informationconcerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly.The original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. ArchibaldWinter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman,Count de Ville, who effected the purchase himself payingthe purchase money in notes `over the counter,' if yourLordship will pardon us using so vulgar an expression.Beyond this we know nothing whatever of him."We are, my Lord,"Your Lordship's humble servants,"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY."DR. SEWARD'S DIARY2 October.--I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told him to makean accurate note of any sound he might hear from Renfield's room, and gavehim instructions that if there should be anything strange he was to call me.After dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire in the study,Mrs. Harker having gone to bed, we discussed the attempts and discoveriesof the day. Harker was the only one who had any result, and we are in greathopes that his clue may be an important one.Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and lookedin through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly,his heart rose and fell with regular respiration.This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little aftermidnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat loudly.I asked him if that was all. He replied that it was all he heard.There was something about his manner, so suspiciousthat I asked him point blank if he had been asleep.He denied sleep, but admitted to having "dozed" for a while.It is too bad that men cannot be trusted unless they are watched.Today Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and Quinceyare looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will bewell to have horses always in readiness, for when we getthe information which we seek there will be no time to lose.We must sterilize all the imported earth between sunrise and sunset.We shall thus catch the Count at his weakest, and withouta refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the BritishMuseum looking up some authorities on ancient medicine.The old physicians took account of things which their followersdo not accept, and the Professor is searching for witchand demon cures which may be useful to us later.I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanityin strait waistcoats.Later.--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track,and our work of tomorrow may be the beginning of the end.I wonder if Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this.His moods have so followed the doings of the Count, that the comingdestruction of the monster may be carried to him some subtle way.If we could only get some hint as to what passed in his mind,between the time of my argument with him today and hisresumption of fly-catching, it might afford us a valuable clue.He is now seemingly quiet for a spell. . . Is he?That wild yell seemed to come from his room. . .The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield hadsomehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell, and when he wentto him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with blood.I must go at once. . .