I opened the door and confirmed my first impressions. Outside the threshold stood a stranger, a man of uncertain age and nondescript clothing, long-haired and full-bearded, four or five inches shorter than me. He was not smiling, but there was an expectant look in his brown eyes.

“Good afternoon,” I said. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t know about that.” He raised dark eyebrows and took a step closer. “But I sure as hell hope so, Doc. Because if you can’t, I’m beat to say who can.”

The voice and West Virginia accent provided the link, far more strongly than the casual “Doc.” It had been twenty-seven years, but I knew who he was-and I knew that he knew me. My instincts shouted, “Kill him!” but instincts are highly unreliable. Moreover, I lack a talent for unpremeditated murder.

Instead I said, “Seth Parsigian. Would you like to come in?”

I did not offer my hand. He nodded, grinned-l would have recognized that smile, after much longer than twenty-seven years-and stepped through into the hallway of gray slate. He stared around him.

“I wondered if you’d recognize me,” he said. “Where are the kids?”

“They are away in Sligo, and they will be gone for two days. Furthermore, I cannot believe that you are unaware of that fact.”

He winked. “Could be. Not very smart of me, eh? Coming here alone, nobody else around. Might be dangerous. But I don’t think it will be. You an’ me, we got too much to offer each other.”

That short exchange told me several things. He knew about my darlings, and I must assume that he had possessed the information for some time. And he could not be the only one with knowledge of my whereabouts. Seth Parsigian merited several unpleasant adjectives, but stupid was not one of them.