He strode up to the front door without hesitation, forcefully punched the bell.
Lights came on upstairs. Something came clumping down the hall toward the door, opened it.
Bosco was an old, old man in a shining bathrobe. In the light of the hall his alien nose was keen and obvious.
"Emergency," said Web quickly, "are you the Doctor?" He stepped inside the door before the old man, startled, could answer. He stood poised upon a thick carpet, listening for sounds from other parts of the house. The house was silent.
"I am Doctor Bosco," the old man said weakly, nervously, "what is it you want? Who sent you to me?"
"I need your help," Web said. He thought: this one doesn't know me. "Can you come?"
"But ... but ... but ... I do not leave this house. I am not ... I cannot go out. You will have to find someone else." He reached past Web to open the door again. Web decided to make his move.
The arm reached by him. He closed his hand upon the wrist.
The alien froze, stared with enormous horror straight up into his eyes. The wrist in Web's grip was remarkably gaunt and brittle. With a quick downward motion he could break it, and both of them knew it.