I shall write some letters home, and I shall try to get them posted. I have already spoken to the gypsies through my window so that they can recognize me. They took their hats off politely and made many signs. However, I could not understand the signs any more than I could their spoken language.

I have written the letters. I wrote to Mina in shorthand. In my letter to Mr. Hawkins I simply asked him to get in touch with Mina. To her I have explained the situation, but I have not described the horrors which I may only be imagining. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to tell her what I really think. Should the letters not arrive, then the Count shall not know my secret or how much I know, as he will not be able to read the shorthand.

I have given the letters. I threw them through the bars of my window with a gold piece. By signs I did my best to show that I wanted the letters to be posted. The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have written here what I have been doing.

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and he took out the two letters. He said in his smoothest voice "The Szgany have given me these. I know not whence they come, but I shall of course, take care of them. See!" He must have read it. "One is from you, and it is to my friend Peter Hawkins."