I have been waiting in the street, watching who comes and goes at the rooming house, and the only way to know more about what is happening with Warren is to get to the doctor treating him.
The doctors carriage arrives mid-day, on the third day, for a follow-up I presume, and I follow him in a small cab, once he's left there; all over town we go, the cabby could care less it seems, since I paid him generously and finally we return to the doctor's office. Apparently it was house-call day. I won't bother trying to speak with Dr. Watson since his Hippocratic oath won't allow him to discuss patient information and threatening him would only compound matters; it would have made things much simpler and given me more time to save a life though. While waiting, I composed a letter to Warren and had it hand delivered, in the hope he would be coherent enough to grasp the cryptic message.
The doctor dawdled at his office when others would have closed shop and retired to their comfortable homes. Finally, he finished and departed just after 11 p.m. I entered his offices, through a window I left unlocked, one most would not check when locking up and since the doctor stayed late, it disrupted the normal procedures for security and aided my opportunity to search his patient files.
How clever I was pretending to be ill and his pretty, young nurse so concerned, put me in a room to lie down, while the doctor concluded his current consultation. Opening one of the windows, I moved the privacy screen to cover it and then slipped out the window, quietly and very carefully closing it down, leaving the tiniest crack for access later. Then it was back to waiting, I am going to need new shoes soon; no doubt there was a surprise to find the room empty. A harmless prank to save a life is worth the strife caused. Entering was the easy part, finding Warren's file was more of a challenge; going through every filing cabinet, once I picked the locks open (need to work on that skill) I did not find any file with Samuel Warren on it. Even a first time patient gets a damn file! It had been several hours and I checked all the files, twice, thinking the name was written wrong etc. Zip! Utterly frustrated, I plopped down at the doctor's desk and groaned. I needed a drink...I began opening all the desk drawers...found a bottle of whiskey, what a surprise. After a few healthy swigs, I set me mind to task. Starring at the surface of the desk, piled with papers, notes, and journals, I suddenly had a brainstorm. His house calls means he had to write up his notes in their actual files and he may have not put them away yet! Finally, a break and there, in one of the piles was Warren's. Scanning all the notes, the following symptom details are significant:
Extremely high fever and sweating, welts (rash) all over the chest and back area, pain in the lower spine and intestines and most curious, a small wound, near the lower spine that was pussy and bright red.
A puncture! Damn it, there is a possible conclusion and if I'm right, it could mean it's too late already. Looking at the time, nearly 3 a.m. now, I have just enough to get the tools, supplies I need and return to the rooming house. The doctor has a few of the items I'll need for the operation...scalpel, tongs, antiseptic, and bandages. I can only hope I'll be in time and not get arrested for assault or murder!
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