The unspeakable, of which he had
spoken for thirty years, had happened at last. There was something he
was supposed to do.....
Slowly his weary eyes and mind focused, his German courage rallied, and
he saw before him the young man he had once caught trying to steal
morphine from the hospital storeroom. In a moment almost of nostalgia,
he recalled the incident. He had not called security or the police, had
not tried to confront the sick and desperate youth, but said simply,
'Go back to your room, son. No, I'm not going to turn you in.
We'll talk about it later.' And to the young man's astonishment
they HAD talked, on several occasions and for hours at a time. William
found in the aging and alienated recluse a friend, and the closest thing
to a father that he would ever know. When he had spoken of his life,
Krause listened attentively, as if finding in the bitter tale of poverty
and poor health, pursuit and persecution, a note in harmony with his own
struggle amidst the viper-filled pit of unenlightened human nature.
Upon William's release he had shown him his laboratory, and explained
what it was for. And he had told him to come, if this moment ever
arrived.
'Hello, William,' he said quietly.
'Doctor!' said the other breathlessly. 'I don't care about
myself, but you HAVE to save Kathy.
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