Kipling Low and Unconscious

His Physicians Admit the "Gravest Apprehensions for the Outcome."

OXYGEN IS EMPLOYED.

ts Necessity Indicates a Crisis In His Case and that Heart Failure Is Imminent.

STEADY FLOW OF INQUIRERS.

All Information Refused by the Doctors Save the Meagre News in the Bulletins.

WILL NOT EVEN ADMIT PNEUMONIA.

Young Dr. Janeway Called in Consultation — Author's Mother-in-Law a Visitor.

10.20 P. M. — Mr. Kipling's condition remains the same as at last report.
E. G. JANEWAY.
THEODORE DUNHAM.

This was the last previous report:
7 P. M. — MR. KIPLING'S CONDITION ON THIS THE SIXTH DAY OF THE DISEASE IS VERY SERIOUS, GIVING RISE TO THE GRAVEST APPREHENSION FOR THE OUTCOME.

It was said at 10.20 o’clock last night that Mr. Kipling was very low and unconscious.

Mrs. Kipling sent for Dr. E. G. Janeway, and he returned shortly before midnight and made arrangements to stay all night near his patient. Dr. Janeway, his son and Dr. Dunham were in attendance at midnight and intended to remain at the bedside or within call while the crisis lasted.

Several times yesterday the rumor that death was only a question of a few hours, if not minutes, was current in the lobby of the Hotel Grenoble. And the facts were little less alarming than the rumors. Several times during the day and evening the sick man’s life seemed to be hanging by the slenderest of threads. His breathing came in the quick, short gasps characteristic of the acute double pneumonia from which he was suffering. The disease had reached the stage where a large portion of the lower lobes of both lungs was solidified, leaving but scant breathing space, and that space liable to be fatally abbreviated at any moment.

One of the extreme measures at this stage of the disease is to fill the lungs with pure oxygen. It was announced on Saturday that no oxygen had thus far been used and that this was a favorable indication. But whatever hope may have been justified from that circumstance was overthrown early yesterday forenoon, when a large flask of oxygen was carried through the hotel office and up to the patient’s room. Drs. Janeway and Dunham were both present at the time, as was Dr. Janeway, jr., son of Dr. E. G. Janeway, who yesterday was called into consultation.

The oxygen simply meant that the patient’s lungs were so clogged that they could no longer oxydize the blood without artificial aid and that there was imminent danger at any moment of heart failure.

When Dr. Dunham came from the sick room at 11 o’clock all that he would add in addition to the 8.30 bulletin, which had said that Mr. Kipling was in a critical condition, was that if the patient survived the day he would be much nearer safety. In other words, the sole hope was in keeping the disease from making further progress and in the patient’s strength lasting until the clotted mass in the lungs disintegrates in the regular process of nature.

Strength Needed for Crisis.

When that crisis comes an immediate fall of temperature follows, and if the patient’s strength is not too much exhausted recovery, with careful nursing, follows. Yet at any moment Mr. Kipling may give way under the strain and the end speedily follow.

At intervals during the past thirty-six hours the patient has been unconscious and frequently delirious. Yet now and then his mind appeared to be comparatively lucid, and he seemed to recognize those who were about his bedside. Mrs. Kipling bore up bravely under the strain until Saturday evening, when she showed signs of breaking down. Her sister, Mrs. Dunham, then came to her and has not left her since.

An Alarm at Midday.

Mrs. Balestier, Mrs. Kipling’s mother, was at the hotel the greater part of Saturday. She returned again yesterday morning and remained until evening.

An alarm was created shortly after noon yesterday when Mr. Doubleday hastily left the hotel and returned soon with Dr. Janeway, who had not expected to call at the hotel until a later hour in the afternoon. Dr. Janeway remained in the sick room for an hour or more, and shortly before he came down the 3.30 bulletin was issued.

Three Distinguished Callers.

Among the callers yesterday were William Dean Howells, Joaquin Miller and Nikola Tesla.

All yesterday there was not an instant’s relief from the intense strain of anxiety as to Mr. Kipling’s condition, which began with the grave crisis of Friday night and Saturday morning.

On Saturday night there were, in addition to Mrs. Kipling herself, six other watchers who were alert, either in the sick room itself or in the room adjacent. These were: Drs. Dunham and Janeway, Dr. Dunham’s wife, who is a sister of Mrs. Kipling; Mr. Doubleday, of the Doubleday-McClure Company, Mr. Kipling’s publishers, and the two professional nurses. Dr. Janeway, sr., and his son were either one or the other at the Grenoble all night.

Many Attentive Watchers.

It was in the early morning hours that Dr. Janeway, sr., went away, but it was only to return again after a few hours’ rest. Mr. Doubleday rested now and then during the night on a mattress thrown on the floor of the room adjacent to the one in which the sick man lies. Mrs. Dunham was during the greater part of the night in the little adjacent suite of rooms which during the last few days has been occupied by Mrs. Kipling, the three children and the children’s nurses.

The rooms occupied by the Kiplings are on the first floor of the Grenoble and immediately over the Fifty-sixth street entrance of the hotel. The apartments are numbered 1, 2, 3 and 4, and are what is called a double suite; that is to say, they consist of two distinct suites of two rooms and a bathroom, yet both are reached by a common private hall which opens on the main first floor corridor.

How the Rooms Are Occupied.

Mr. Kipling’s bed occupied originally the reception-room at the front of the house, but to get away from the noise of the street it was moved into the bedroom immediately in the rear, a room which has windows opening upon a court and which is as quiet as it is possible for a hotel room to be. The reception-room is now given entirely to the use of the physicians, nurses, Mr. Doubleday and other watchers and assistants. Mrs. Kipling occupies the parlor with her sister, Mrs. Dunham, a room which fronts on Fifty-sixth street and opens through a bath-room into the children’s sleeping room.

The first bulletin yesterday was issued at 8.30 A. M. It merely announced that Mr. Kipling was in a critical condition and that the disease continued.

One Significant Addition.

The second bulletin, issued at 3.30 P. M., varied from the first by only a word, but that word was one of alarming significance in view of the markedly conservative character of every official utterance which has come from the sick room. Whereas the first bulletin had said that Mr. Kipling was in a critical condition, the second one said that he was in a “very” critical condition.

But it was the bulletin issued at 7 o’clock last evening which caused a feeling akin to consternation to spread through the hotel. This bulletin was issued up to that hour, Mr. Doubleday said, in order that it might be in time for the London morning papers.

Apprehension Most Grave.

This bulletin was at once interpreted by the anxious group gathered about the hotel desk as meaning nothing more or less than that the physicians in attendance were anticipating that death might come at any moment.

Beyond the bare text of the bulletins not one word could be got as to what was passing in the sick-room. Neither Dr. Janeway nor Dr. Dunham could be induced to tell a single symptom that had manifested itself. They would not say whether the patient’s temperature had risen or fallen, or whether his mind was clear or whether he was or had been delirious.

Dr. Janeway’s Rule.

“I make it a rule,” said Dr. Janeway, “never to tell anything whatever about the condition or symptoms of a patient. That I always leave to the family.”

Mr. Dunham took the same position, and no inducement could make him swerve from it.

“All there is to say,” he invariably replied, “is said in the bulletins.”

It is believed that Mr. Kipling’s well-known loathing for gossiping notoriety is at the bottom of this remarkable reticence. It is quite natural that Mrs. Kipling, knowing her husband’s feelings in that respect, would carry out, perhaps even to an exaggerated extent, what she would think might be his wishes with regard to making public what occurred in his sick-room. It was observed yesterday that the lines in this respect seemed to be more closely drawn than ever, and that Mr. Doubleday, who heretofore has been a little more communicative, had suddenly become as reserved as the physicians themselves.

Will Not Name Disease.

There has been no disposition on the part either of the newspapers or the hundreds of anxious inquirers to encroach in the least upon the family wishes in this respect, yet it has been a marvel to all that the physicians should carry their reserve to the point of refusing to admit even that Mr. Kipling has pneumonia. Even yesterday they hedged upon the word pneumonia, referring with an almost childish persistency to “the disease.” The only change in their attitude in this respect is in the fact that they no longer speak of “inflammation” and “congestion.”

Great Throng of Visitors.

Notwithstanding the cold sleet and rain of the morning, the number of inquirers at the hotel was greater yesterday than at any time during Mr. Kipling’s illness. It was estimated at the hotel for the three hours following 8.30 in the morning the visitors averaged in number quite one a minute, or 180, who called in person. In addition to this, a steady stream of telegrams came pouring in from all over this country as well as from abroad, while a boy was kept constantly busy answering inquiries by telephone. He had the latest bulletin in the telephone box with him, but had soon repeated it so often that he had it by heart and recited it into the telephone without reference to the paper before him.