15 May 1898
Some progress has been made but it is slow work. One would not suppose there were so many Europeans in the city. Still, I have narrowed the field down somewhat—some several hundred men have been excluded. Collins’s men have found nothing, despite all the nights they have spied in the taverns and the streets. No one has seen the man I seek, or else they do not remember it.
My own researches have yielded only tantalizingly obscure clues. There is little reliable literature on the subject and, of course, no scientific studies. The books of Summers and Calvert have nothing of substance to add to my search. But in more ancient texts I have found some threads worth pursuing. There are tales of undying alchemists, such as the notorious St. Germain, and so I have begun a search of the shipping manifests of our train and ship lines to seek those ingredients that would have to be imported for such work. Certain events in Paris twenty years ago implicate a Russian nobleman and my agents on the Continent are seeking the truth with the authorities there.
Henry, of course, scorns all this as a foolish waste of our resources. He continues to press me about the expansion of our mills and shipping lines, as well as urging me to buy out one of the faltering financial institutions in the city. He supposes, of course, that I do not know about the other schemes he has—and the “machinery” he ships to both the Americans and the Spanish for their use in their war. We pretend that we do not know each other’s business—and it is better that way.
Carstairs has just come with a letter from my Berlin agents. It contained a list of names of those linked to magic and murder there, as well as what historical attributions of vampirism he has been able to uncover. Forty names—but that is better than four hundred. I will send for Collins and have his men begin the search for any in Toronto who bear these names.
Carstairs is back—the doctor waits in the drawing room. When he comments on my erratic heartbeat, as he always does, I will have to try not to laugh. Whose heart, after all, would not beat faster when its desire is in sight?