He still watched her and questioned her. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. “I truly am a vampire, John. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. But that possibility had been anticipated. All the world before you, all the ologies. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose.
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