Journeying Home

When I reached the train station I again paid an errand boy to send a message to the telegraph office. This message I was having sent to the persian’s flat in Paris. I knew he would not be in, but he always had a man-servant on staff. I knew that he would know where to find Nadir, even if I didn’t have the time to find him, and perhaps he would get a post dispatched to him on short notice. The note was simple and to the point. Christine ill. Need herbs for chest ailment. Send to Giry. Traveling via train back to Paris. E

I thought that if perhaps by some miracle he was able to at least get some of the herbs she needed to her, most of which were in his apartment already, then she might have a better chance than if the medical doctor was the one in charge of her care. By the time my train reached the next station, I had a telegram waiting for me. It was from Nadir.

Good friend. I have sent requested herbs and more to Giry. You might talk to John Tyndall staying in Paris. Physicist and bacteria expert. Safe travels my friend.

I sent a post back to him, thanking him. Also, I had to bugger him about the book. I’m sure he loved reading that post. Once I get back into the city I must find this John Tyndall the physicist. Well, there is plenty of time to think of what to say to such a man, but I needed to rest, yet my mind wouldn’t let me knowing that Christine’s very life was in danger. I wondered what would be waiting for me once back at the Opera. What would I find as I came in, would Christine be alive or dead? I prayed that her body would at least hold out until I got there, I prayed that she would live, even if not with me, just that she would not die.

-E