Chapter Text
AS diverse and amazing as Doc Savage’s exploits were, many forgot that his first calling had been that of a surgeon. To this day he still felt those skills were his sharpest, and it was when faced with a medical problem that he felt most at home. He had invented dozens of new techniques, many revolutionary, and devised a number of new treatments for conditions previously thought untreatable, including criminal lunacy.
Thus, the moment he had seen the girl, pale and tiny, in Pat Savage’s arms, the pieces had all fallen together in his mind. The Eisenbraun’s were descended from one of the sons from the first marriage of Arella Kindlmüller, and from her had inherited the same condition which lead her other daughters to be short lived. But lacking whatever the second husband had contributed to prevent this problem, the daughters of this line fell ill almost from birth.
“It seems to be a very rare, inherited deficiency of the blood,” Doc Savage explained to Ham and Monk as they stood outside the hospital rooms of the children. “Only blood transfusions from the boys were keeping her alive. There is something in their blood she lacks completely.”
“But couldn’t he get blood from anyone?” Monk asked.
“No,” Doc shook his head, and looked over to where Leopold Eisenbraun was handcuffed, guarded by two police officers. “She’s like the boys, and their mothers. She has a very rare blood type, made worse by a combination of antibodies in her blood. If she received a transfusion from someone else, she would likely die.”
“Is there anything you can do, Doc?” Monk looked worried, his expression darkening further as Doc Savage shook his head again, unwilling to state the obvious.
“Mr. Savage?” The quiet voice of Mrs. Meier asked from beside them. “I am sorry. I could not but overhear. You say the man’s little girl, she will die if she does not have blood from our boys?”
“That’s the short of it,” said Monk.
“What about my blood, Mr. Savage?” Doc looked at her, thoughtful.
“It would only need to be a little, but she would need it regularly. I would have to add a few things to it, to add the last of the missing elements. But it would work.” Doc Savage looked to the little woman.
“You would do this, for the daughter of the man who kidnapped your boy?” He asked in her dialect of German.
The little woman nodded. “He was only trying to save his little girl.” She switched to English, “This, I understand.”
“Well, now ain’t that a Christmas miracle,” said Monk as he watched Doc Savage and the woman walk over to Eisenbraun to ask his permission.