I felt my hair rise like bristles on the back of my neck, and my heart seemed to stand still.
The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow blind the room was light enough to see.

On the bed beside the window lay Jonathan Harker, his face flushed and breathing heavily as though in a stupor.

Kneeling on the near edge of the bed facing outwards was the white-clad figure of his wife.

By her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in black.

His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw we all recognized the Count, in every way, even to the scar on his forehead.