Chapter 20 Chapter Nineteen

Helen Rossi slapped the copy of Dracula—which she evidently thought was the heart of our feud—on the table between us. I asked myself cautiously, this woman had a feud with Rosie, was against him academically, could she be the murderer who hurt Rosie?Was she the one who made him disappear? "Miss Rosie," I said as calmly as I brought the book, cover side down, beside my bag, "if you met him, you'd think he was a lot nicer and friendlier than you thought at the moment. Do—your father—has disappeared." She glared at me. The news came as a surprise to her.The pain in my heart seems to be lessened.

"What do you mean?" I briefly described what had happened that night, starting with the strange book I had brought him, but not the story Rosie had told me. Her face was full of confusion. "Are you kidding me?" "No, absolutely not." "Have the police any clue as to where he is?" "As far as I know, not at all." Her eyes suddenly sharpened: "Then you know?" "I hesitated, 'Maybe.But it's a long story, and it's still getting longer. " "Wait." She stared at me. "When you read those letters in the library yesterday, you said they had to do with a professor's question. You mean Rosie?"

"yes." "What's wrong with him? What's wrong with him now? What do those letters have to do with his disappearance?" "I'm not sure yet. But I need expert help. I don't know what you found in the course of your research—" I said this, and she gave me another vigilant look, "but I believe Luo Sy knew she would be in personal danger before she disappeared." She was trying to take in everything I said, the news about her father, who had been the object of her challenge for so many years. "Personal danger? Where did it come from?"

I'm going to take a risk.Rossi told me not to tell my co-workers his appalling stories.I haven't done that, but now, unexpectedly, I have the possibility of getting help from an expert.This lady probably knew what I had to work on for months to learn. "What does Dracula mean to you?" "What does it mean to me?" She frowned. "The concept? I think it means revenge, eternal hatred." "Yes, I understand. But does Dracula mean anything else to you?" "What do you mean?" "Rosie," I said hesitantly, "your father was convinced—and is convinced—that Dracula is alive."

She stares at me. "What do you think?" I asked. "Does this sound incredible to you?" I expected that she would laugh, or get up and walk away, like in the library. "The idea is ludicrous," Helen replied slowly. "Usually, I'd say it's a peasant legend—a superstition of a bloody tyrant. But it's strange that my mother insisted on the same idea." "Your mother?" "Yes, I told you, she was a farmer. She has a right to believe in these superstitions, though she may not believe them as strongly as her parents. But why should a famous Western scholar think so?"

Well, despite her scathing questions, she's a personal anthropologist.I am amazed at how quickly she can think of this without personal issues. "Miss Rosie," said I, with a sudden resolution, "I have no doubt that you would like to study these matters yourself. Why don't you read the letter Rosie has left? But I want to warn you frankly, as far as I know. , everyone who has studied the subject has been in danger of one kind or another. I am sure you will save more time by reading these letters yourself than by asking me to convince you of the truth of the stories."

"Save more time?" she repeated contemptuously. "Are you scheduling my time?" I was too desperate to ignore her sting. "You know more about this than I do. Read these letters for yourself." I forced myself not to look at her canines.I have already seen clearly that her teeth are as long as ordinary people's.But until our deal is over, I have to lie. "I'm sorry I don't have these letters with me. I dare not carry them around today." In fact, I'm afraid to leave them in the room.I have another reason, I have to test it out, even though the idea of ​​this villain makes my heart sink.That's whoever Helen Rossi is, I have to be sure she's not with that.

"I'll go back and get them. But I'm going to ask you to read these letters in my presence. They are easily spoiled, and they are very precious to me." "Okay." She said coldly, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?" "That's too late. I want you to watch it right away." She shrugged. "Hopefully it won't take too long." "No. Can you meet me at—at St. Mary's?" At least it was a test with which I could practice Rossi's usual delicacy. Helen Rossi looked at me fearlessly, the stern, mocking expression on her face unchanged.

"It's on Elm Street, two blocks away from—" "What time is it?" "Give me half an hour, I'll go back to my residence and get the documents and meet you there."