After I gained assurances that I would control the “Old House,” I came into the acquaintance of the obsequious, Irish fisher-man (or some such given his dress and backwards brogue), the man who was the prior tutor of Young Loomis.  Had he been more vigorous with the birch in his pedagogy, I’d have to brandish my cane with far less frequency.  (If it cracks in the education of Young Loomis, perhaps I should bill the Celtic Cretin!)

This encounter reassured me that my presence here is in no ready danger.  Let us reflect  for a moment that they allow Irishmen in-doors… they’d certainly have less concern with a vampire.  (A bottle of Bushmills has no heart with which it may refill itself!)  Nonetheless, McGuire was an unsavory type of sea-tramp  keenly interested in the various jewels held by the family.

Whatever he is, I will kill him when he becomes too much of an inconvenience, no doubt to the relief of all.

And now, to work!



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