Surveillance

I felt exhilarated when I left Warren sitting alone in the booth, maybe I had a premonition of things to come. Locating an advantageous spot, I waited, concealed by the night and the creeping fog moving down the cobble lane. Checking my watch, it was just 10:30 p.m. and out comes the Detective. Expecting him to be on guard, I prepare to witness a cops careful surveillance of the situation, but instead, he hangs his head and walks down the street. A concern begins to grow and I wonder if I overestimated this mans abilities. He seems very different than he was just weeks ago, is he the same person? Following him, I begin to wonder... yet, he recognized me and called me by name. Yes, his eyes were the same... he is carrying a heavy burden now and it's because of me. I am very certain he did not reveal our first meeting or the women he saw in the courtyard.
My thoughts are racing as we travel out of Whitechapel and, I hope, to his living quarters. Odd that he didn't hail a cab, maybe he enjoys walking at night, in the cool, wet air with the hope of catching our madman red handed. Ha! I surprised myself... found some humor in this demented situation we find ourselves in. Nothing has struck me funny for a long time now, I wonder if Warren and I can become allies, even friends? Hmm, not sure I will permit that; I am hunting my last friends.
Warren turns and ascends a small flight of brick stairs into what appears to be a rooming house; a few minutes pass and a single lamp is lit on the third floor, facing the street. No one comes to the window and after about 15 minutes the light is extinguished. Nearly midnight, the street is quiet and all good citizens are asleep. I stand silently and watch the bugs commit suicide with the street lamp a few yards from me... time to find a place to hide and sleep until dawn. The next three days prove to be exciting and I need to find out about this Samuel Warren, is he a man to be trusted or killed?