From M(e)moirs of Death, chapter: Blasthole
I do not have the slightest idea how he found Lord Carnarvon in the hotel but he climbed the outside via the terraces and fully surprised the Lord that night in April.
But he hadn't come to do any harm. He came to pay his respects and provide a gift to his savior. He wished to offer some kind of tribute for freeing him from that dark dungeon. Lord Carnarvon approached with curiosity, not animus then bowed in reverence as you would to a pharaoh. Clueless of each other’s language, they showed with their bodies that nothing terrifying would happen.
And nothing did. Instead, the two tried to tell their life’s stories through hand gestures, unintelligible whispers, and inscrutable facial expressions.
Finally, the figure set a small glass container on the ratan table on Carnarvon’s terrace. Inside, protected beneath the cork stopper, was something that looked suspiciously like a severed human finger, fresh blood still oozing down its pale skin.
Then he raised his hand to the moonlight. Where once a finger had sat, there was now a gap. Blood dripped on the hotel’s tiled floor.
With another bow, the figure gestured to his neck. He was trying to make it clear to the Lord that he was in dire straits from a poison and might not last the night.
It was a short meeting on the balcony of the Continental-Savoy hotel. It didn't last more than 15 minutes. Then, as Lord Carnarvon reached for the glass bottle, the figure jumped from the terrace. Just a millisecond before the jump, the figure glanced at me as I stood watching in the terrace’s corner. He looked me right in the eye and grinned. I wish I knew his plans now when he is finally free...