Young Loomis has a capacity for survival that may prove as fatal as Doctor Hoffman’s incompetence.  Were Young Loomis to die of, let me see, oh yes, five bullet wounds already received?  No one would notice.  And my life would be one of peace.  That was all I asked of Doctor Hoffman, and yet her Hippocratic Oath extends to everyone but me!  Somehow, the vile little reprobate has scraped through.  All I asked Doctor Hoffman to do was to kill one man already in critical condition. Why do I suspect that we would have fared better had I asked her to stay far away?  Or better yet, cure him?  He’d be dead within seconds of her stethoscope leaving the bag.

I set up a rather brilliant maneuver to hornswaggle the Constable and Mr. Evans into seeing Young Loomis as the guilty party, and then Doctor Hoffman ruins it from afar.  She is not only curing me of vampirism, but of life and liberty, it seems.

The death of Young Loomis may require my personal touch.  If he talks, I am doomed.



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