Now they knew their enemy. They found the boxes of earth he had brought to London and made each one useless to him with a piece of the Host, until only one was left. The Count fled in that last box, by ship, back to his own country. They followed by train and by horse across Europe, hunting him. Mina had been bitten too, and Van Helsing had burned a mark on her forehead with the Host; she was tied to the Count now and could feel where he was, and the sun was going down earlier every day. On the road below the castle, in the snow, they caught the gypsies who carried the box. Harker cut through the ring of men with his great knife, and Quincey Morris, dying of a wound, held the lid open. The sun was on the edge of the mountains. Harker's knife went through the throat, and Morris's knife into the heart, and in a single moment the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from sight.