Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.

I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome . . .

It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.

The blood is the life!

I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.

Enter freely and of your own free will!

He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.