“I know what you are wondering,” she interrupted hurriedly, her accent thickening. “But I could not think of any other bait for the creature, and I wanted to see his reaction. I would not have given him the map or any more information. I promise you that.”

I studied her suspiciously. Her face was serious, her mouth drawn down into a grim curve. “No?”

“I give you my word,” she said simply. “Besides”-her sarcastic smile reversed the grimace-“I’m not necessarily in the habit of sharing what I can use for myself, are you?”

I had to let that pass, but something in her face did calm my fears. “His reaction was extremely interesting, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “He said he should have been allowed to go to the tomb, and that Rossi was taken there by someone. It is very strange, but he did seem to know something about the whereabouts of my-your adviser. I cannot believe in this Drakulya business, exactly, but perhaps some weird occult group has kidnapped Professor Rossi, something of that sort.”

It was my turn to nod, although I was obviously closer to believing than she was.

“What will you do now?” she asked, with curious detachment.

I hadn’t quite planned my answer before it came out. “Go to Istanbul. I’m convinced there’s at least one document there that Rossi never had the chance to examine, and that it might contain information about a tomb, perhaps Dracula’s tomb at Lake Snagov.”

She laughed. “Why not take a little vacation to my lovely native Romania? You could go to Dracula’s castle with a silver stake in your hand, or visit him yourself at Snagov. I’ve heard it is a pretty place for a picnic.”

“Look,” I said irritably. “I know this is all very peculiar, but I absolutely must follow any trace I can of Rossi’s disappearance. And you know perfectly well an American citizen can’t just penetrate the Iron Curtain to look for someone.” My loyalty must have shamed her a little, because she did not answer. “I do want to ask you something. You said as we were leaving the church that your mother might have some information about Rossi’s hunt for Dracula. What did you mean by that?”

“I simply meant that when they met, he told her he was in Romania to study the legend of Dracula, and that she herself believes in the legend. Maybe she knows more about his research there than I have ever heard from her-I’m not sure. She does not talk easily about this, and I have been pursuing this little interest of the dear old paterfamilias through scholarly channels, not in the bosom of the family. I should have asked her more about her own experience.”

“An odd oversight for an anthropologist,” I retorted crankily. Now that I believed again that she was on my side, I felt all the annoyance of relief. Her face lit up with amusement.

“Touché, Sherlock. I’ll ask her all about it next time I see her.”

“When will that be?”

“In a couple of years, I suppose. My precious visa doesn’t allow me to bounce easily back and forth between East and West.”

“Don’t you ever call or write her?”

She stared. “Oh, the West is such an innocent place,” she said finally. “Do you think she has a telephone? Do you think my letters are not opened and read every time?”

I was silent, chastened.

“What is this document you are so eager to look for, Sherlock?” she asked. “Is it that bibliography, something about the Order of the Dragon? I saw that on the last list in his papers. It was the only thing he did not describe fully. Is that what you want to find?”

She’d guessed right, naturally. I was getting an uncanny sense of her intellectual powers, and I thought a little wistfully of the conversations we might have had under better circumstances. On the other hand, I didn’t completely like her guessing so much. “Why do you want to know?” I countered. “For your research?”

“Of course,” she said sternly. “Will you get in touch with me again when you come back?”

I felt suddenly very weary. “Come back? I have no idea what I’m getting into, let alone when I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll be struck down by the vampire myself when I get wherever it is I’m going.”

I had meant to utter this ironically, but the unreality of the whole situation dawned on me again as I spoke; here I was, standing on the sidewalk in front of the library as I had hundreds of times before, except that this time I was talking about vampires-as if I believed in them-with a Romanian anthropologist, and we were watching ambulance drivers and police officers swarm across a death scene in which I had been involved, at least indirectly. I tried not to see them at their grisly work. It occurred to me that I ought to leave the quad soon, but without visible haste. I couldn’t afford to be taken in by the police at this point, not even for a few hours’ questioning. I had a great deal to do, and it had to be done immediately-I would need a visa to Turkey, which I might be able to obtain in New York, and a plane ticket, and I would need to leave safely at home a copy of all the information I had already. I was not teaching this term, thank goodness, but I’d have to present some kind of alibi to my department and give my parents some explanation to keep them from worrying.

I turned to Helen. “Miss Rossi,” I said. “If you will keep this business to yourself, I promise to get in touch with you as soon as I come back. Is there anything else you can tell me? Can you think of a way I could reach your mother before I go?”

“I cannot reach her myself, except by letter,” she said flatly. “Besides, she speaks no English. When I go home in two years I will ask her about these matters myself.”

I sighed. Two years was too late, unimaginably so. I was feeling a sort of anxiety already at being separated from this strange companion of a few days-hours, really-the only person besides myself who knew anything about the nature of Rossi’s disappearance. After this I would be on my own in a country I had barely ever thought about. It had to be done, however. I extended my hand. “Miss Rossi, thank you for putting up with a harmless lunatic for a couple of days. If I come back safely I will certainly let you know-I mean, maybe-if I bring your father back safely -”

She made a vague gesture with her gloved hand, as if her interest could not possibly lie with Rossi’s safe return, but then she put the hand in mine and we shook on it, cordially. I had the sense that her firm grasp was my last contact with the world I knew. “Good-bye,” she said. “I wish you the best possible luck with your research.” She turned away in the crowd-the ambulance drivers were shutting the doors. I turned away, too, and started down the steps and across the quadrangle. A hundred feet from the library, I stopped and looked back, hoping to glimpse her dark-suited figure among the ambulance watchers. To my surprise, she was hurrying toward me, already almost on my heels. She reached me quickly, and I saw that her face had picked up a ruby flush over the cheekbones. Her expression was urgent. “I have been thinking,” she said, and then stopped. She seemed to take a deep breath. “This concerns my life more than any other thing.” Her gaze was direct, challenging. “I am not quite sure how to do it, but I think I will come with you.”