It was too bad that since her rebirth she had taken to molesting children perhaps, I thought, her brain as well as other organs had been damaged by the transfusions. Whilst in a newspaper office, gathering what additional facts I could from a study of recent editions, I looked through columns of death notices to find where Lucy had been interred. Wounds in the throat, no more than pinpricks, were observed in every victim. Through some equally mysterious translation of children's jargon into that of journalists, the unknown woman had acquired the "bloofer" title.
I hastened to read the article, and discovered that the child mentioned was only the latest of a series to have complained, within the past few days, of being abducted and assaulted by a mysterious woman who roamed on Hampstead Heath at twilight. I continued in the peaceful pursuit of my own affairs, until on September twenty-fifth my attention was caught by headlines in the Westminster Gazette: I was not even aware that the Harkers were in England, much less that they had seen me in Piccadilly. At this time I knew of Van Helsing his name and reputation, and that he had been one of Lucy's physicians and therefore might now pose a danger to me but that is all I knew.
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