“Possibly. I think he wants to be caught.”

“No, David. He’s hiding. From you, from me, and from the others. Oh, he’s very smart. Here we have this beastly sorcerer, capable of cloaking himself entirely, and where does he conceal himself—amid a whole teeming little world of mortals in the womb of a fast-moving ship. Look at this itinerary! Why, every night she’s sailing. Only by day does she remain in port.”

“Have it your way,” said David, “but I prefer to think of him as an idiot! And we’re going to catch him! Now you told me you gave him a passport, did you not?”

“Clarence Oddbody was the name. But surely he didn’t use it.”

“We’ll soon find out. My suspicion is that he boarded in New York in the usual way. It would have been crucial to him to be received with all due pomp and consideration—to book the finest suite and go parading up to the top deck, with stewards bowing to him. Those suites on the Signal Deck are enormous. No problem whatsoever for him to have a large trunk for his daylight hiding place. No cabin steward would trouble such a thing.”

We had come around again to my building. He pulled out some bills to pay the driver, and up the stairs we went.

AS SOON as we reached the apartment, we sat down with the printed itinerary and the news stories and worked out a schedule of how the killings had been done.

It was plain the beast had struck my agent in New York only hours before the ship sailed. He’d had plenty of time to board before eleven p.m. The murder near Bal Harbour had been committed only hours before the ship docked. Obviously he covered a small distance by the power of flight, returning to his cabin or other hiding place before the sun rose.

For the Santo Domingo murder, he had left the ship for perhaps an hour, and then caught up with her on her journey south. Again, these distances were nothing. He did not even need preternatural sight to spot the giant Queen Elizabeth 2 steaming across the open sea. The murders on Curaçao had taken place only a little while after the ship sailed. He’d probably caught up with the ship within less than an hour, laden with his loot.

The ship was now on her way north again. She had docked at La Guaira, on the coast of Venezuela, only two hours ago. If he struck tonight in Caracas or its environs, we knew we had him for certain. But we had no intention of waiting for further proof.

“All right, let’s think this out,” I said. “Dare we board this vessel ourselves?”

“Of course, we must.”

“Then we should have fake passports for this. We may leave behind a great deal of confusion. David Talbot mustn’t be implicated. And I can’t use the passport he gave me. Why, I don’t know where that passport is. Perhaps still in the town house in Georgetown. God knows why he used his own name on it, probably to get me in trouble first time I went through customs.”