He had fallen into staring at me again, too purely shocked to answer. Mojo was giving him the eye now, sizing him up more or less, and offering a friendly lick of his pink tongue to David’s hand. David petted him lovingly, but continued to stare blankly at me.

“David,” I said, as I took off the wet socks. “Speak to me. The other crimes! You said that James had left a trail.”

“It’s so wildly uncanny,” he said in a stunned voice. “I have a dozen pictures of this face. But to see you inside it. Oh, I simply couldn’t imagine it. Not at all.”

“When did this fiend strike last?”

“Ah … The last report was from the Dominican Republic. That was, let me see, two nights ago.”

“Dominican Republic! Why in the world would he go there?”

“Exactly what I would like to know. Before that he struck near Bal Harbour in Florida. Both times it was a high-rise condominium, and entry was the same as in New York—through the glass wall. Furniture smashed to pieces at all three crime scenes; wall safes ripped from their moorings; bonds, gold, jewelry taken. One man dead in New York, a bloodless corpse, of course. Two women left drained in Florida, and a family killed in Santo Domingo, with only the father drained in classic vampire style.”

“He can’t control his strength. He’s blundering about like a robot!”

“Exactly what I thought. It was the combination of destructiveness and sheer force which first alerted me. The creature’s unbelievably inept! And the whole operation is so stupid. But what I can’t figure is why he’s chosen these locations for his various thefts.” Suddenly he broke off and turned away, almost shyly.

I realized I had stripped off all the garments and was standing there naked, and this had produced in him a strange reticence, and a near blush to his face.

“Here, dry socks,” he said. “Don’t you know better than to go about in soaking wet garments?” He tossed the socks to me without looking up.

“I don’t know much of anything,” I said. “That’s what I’ve discovered. I see what you mean about the locations. Why in the world would he journey to the Caribbean when he might steal to his heart’s content in the suburbs of Boston or New York?”

“Yes. Unless the cold is giving him considerable discomfort, but does that make sense?”

“No. He doesn’t feel it that keenly. It’s just not the same.”

It felt good to pull on the dry shirt and pants. And these garments did fit, though they were loose in a rather old-fashioned way—not the slim tailored clothes more popular with the young. The shirt was heavy broadcloth, and the tweed pants were pleated, but the waistcoat felt snug and warm.

“Here, I can’t tie this tie with mortal fingers,” I declared. “But why am I dressing up like this, David? Don’t you ever go around in anything casual, as the expression goes? Good Lord, we look like we’re going to a funeral. Why must I wear this noose around my neck?”