Jonathan Harker's journal. Kept in shorthand. The 31st of May. This morning when I woke... I thought I would provide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity. But again, a surprise. Again, a shock. Every scrap of paper was gone. And with it all my notes, my memoranda relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact, all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle.
I sat and pondered a while, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes. The suit in which I had travelled was gone. And also my overcoat and rug. I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new scheme of villainy.