“That is my theory,” he said, and now he produced a map pocked with red circles, connected by a line. The circles began at the far northwest corner of the state, and then trailed southward with minor deviations to the east and west. “These seven points, you see? Each one a crime so terrible that we’re keeping the journalists from as many details as we can. Beginning first up here, at the university.” He tapped the northernmost dot. “Then one after the other . . .”

“Coming south. Coming toward Fall River.”

“I believe so. This last set of killings—the woman and her family—it was only forty miles north of here, and a final destination of Fall River is no guess: for this is where Dr. Jackson’s packages have originated. Or so I learned when I received the remains of one, and checked the mark upon it—but even without the postal hints, you could simply follow the trajectory thus far and see that Fall River is in Zollicoffer’s way, if not in his plans. And his note, you see . . . it says, right here: ‘I know it is possible that you have become like me like I have become.’ What if the mad professor is right? What if Doctor Jackson is as mad as Doctor Zollicoffer—though his spree has run shorter, consisting only of the Hamilton family?”

“It’s a clever hypothesis,” I granted.

“Then you understand why I must find this fellow, and find him soon—before he selects another family to eradicate by whatever strange means his correspondent has discovered. If he’s mad like Zollicoffer, surely he will not stop.”

I fell quiet, because I had no other course of action to save me.

Inspector Wolf was silent, too, the pair of us looking over the sheets that sprawled across the table between us, occupying all the tablecloth between our plates and cups. Wolf was a brilliant man himself, and for all that he spoke of these two mysterious professors and their terrible brains, I had no doubt that one way or another, this inspector would find his way to Maplecroft eventually.

I didn’t dare risk him snooping about, gathering information on the ladies therein, and possibly falling prey to some creature like the one I’d seen. No, all my good sense said it’d be wiser by far to escort him, quietly inform him, and allow him to ask his questions of the “doctor” herself—if she felt up to the task.

I made up my mind to serve as a helpful go-between. He could either storm into Maplecroft on his own, like a very smart bull in a very prickly china shop; or I could gently guide him there, and thereby minimize any damage he might inadvertently inflict.