CHAPTER FOUR
"Dear Boss..."
Holmes did not return to Baker Street until much later that night. He bounded into the sitting room and began feverishly hunting for his pipe. I enquired where he had been all these hours and he spoke feverishly in response.
"Watson," said he, "if ever again I act so foolishly as I did this morning you are to shoot me on sight, do you understand me?"
"Whatever do you mean, old man?"
"Ah-ha!" Holmes exclaimed, triumphantly, holding up his battered old Calabash. He took an ember from the fire and held it to the pipe. "Watson, my dear fellow, I have been with Inspector Lestrade."
"Then whatever are you so excited about? Ten minutes with that man is enough to depress even the hardiest of fellows."
Holmes laughed, "that may well be the case, but, alas, meeting with Lestrade was in this case an absolute necessity."
"Poor chap. But why, pray, was this meeting so necessary?"
"Because, my dear friend, Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard is one of the few men in London with the authority to admit a mere consulting detective, such as yours truly, into the morgue. I had the devil's own time trying to explain why I needed to see the body of Annie Chapman again after he," Holmes broke into an impression of Lestrade that made me laugh out loud, "'bent over backward to 'elp you already Mr. 'Olmes' - but nonetheless, he let me examine the body and, my dear fellow, I have found out a singular fact of incredible importance."
Before I could ask what this piece of information was, Holmes had strode across the room and was tinkering with his microscope. "Where is the sample of blood you took from Dr. Jekyll's bed?" I handed Holmes the sample and he asked, "and the sample from Jekyll himself?" Handing Holmes the vial containing Jekyll's blood, I sat at the other end of the table to observe my friend at work. He rummaged in a drawer for some slides and, upon finding some placed a drop of blood from each vial onto a slide. First he placed the slide containing Jekyll's blood under the microscope. Holmes was about to announce his findings when suddenly he looked at me a sly grin playing on his face. "You're a medical man, Watson. Tell me what you see."
I squinted through the microscope at the blood sample on the slide. It seemed to be a perfectly healthy, perfectly normal blood sample and this fact I relayed to Holmes.
Holmes smiled. "Exactly, Watson. Now, what do you make of this?" Holmes asked, replacing the slide containing Jekyll's blood with the slide containing the blood found on Jekyll's bed. As my eye focused on the sample I saw the unmistakable corkscrew-shaped Treponema pallidum bacterum.
"Syphilis," said I. "Unmistakably."
Holmes produced a small test tube from his coat pocket, containing a small amount of blood. "This sample, Watson, comes from the body of the unfortunate Miss Annie Chapman." He transferred a spot of blood from the tube onto a third slide and slid it under the microscope. I had already guessed what I would see. Once again, the tiny Treponema pallidum provided the tell tale signs of syphilis.
"Miss Chapman had syphilis," said I. "Undiagnosed, probably. Poor woman. Wait a minute, Holmes. Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"And what am I suggesting, my dear fellow?"
"That whoever entered Jekyll's room is the Whitechapel murderer!"
"Exactly. The blood found upon Jekyll's clothes and bed matches that of the murdered woman exactly. We know the murderer is not Dr. Jekyll, but therein lies a problem. If Jekyll is not the murderer - and we know he is not - then why was the murderer wearing a suit of Jekyll's clothes? And, furthermore, why did the murderer return Jekyll's clothes to him?"
"As you said earlier," I began, "the murderer can enter and leave Jekyll's house as he pleases. Perhaps Jekyll and the murderer are working together. Shades of Burke and Hare and Dr. Knox?"
"No, Watson, I don't think so. After all, why would a man working with a murderer come to me for help. No, that's not it, old boy." Holmes stood up and began refilling his pipe from the Persian slipper in which he kept his tobacco. I lit a cigarette and held out the match, Holmes lit his pipe from it and continued. "The murderer must have some connection to Jekyll, otherwise he would not be able to -" Holmes was cut off by the soft knock of Mrs. Hudson at the door. "Come in, Mrs. Hudson" Holmes called out.
Mrs. Hudson entered, the figure of Inspector Lestrade close behind. "Inspector Lestrade so see you, Mr. Holmes," said she.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, thank you. Come in, Lestrade. To what do I owe the honour of seeing you twice in one night?"
"Good evening Mr. Holmes," Lestrade said, shaking Holmes' hand. "And Dr. Watson, I'm glad you're both at home."
"Evening, Lestrade" said I. "What brings you to Baker Street? There hasn't been another one, has there?"
"Thankfully no, doctor. But he's sent us a letter." Lestrade reached into his coat and produced an envelope. "This here letter was sent to the Central News Agency this morning. Scotland Yard have been investigating it, but some of the men thought you could shed some light on it for us, Mr. Holmes."
"Give it to me," Holmes said, and Lestrade passed the envelope to my friend. "'The Boss, Central News Office, London City'" Holmes read. "Red ink. The letter writer shares my flair for the dramatic, it would seem."
"Wait 'til you read the contents, Mr. Holmes" Lestrade said.
"Watson, perhaps you'd be kind enough to pour the inspector a glass of sherry while I pursue the contents of this envelope."
I complied with Holmes' wishes and poured Lestrade a drink as Holmes sunk into his chair, the pipe wreathing his head in thick blue smoke. He read aloud the letter.
"Dear Boss," Holmes began, "I keep on hearing the police have caught me, but they won't fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them 'til I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now? I love my work and want to start again, you will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I can't use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha ha. The next job I do I shall clip the lady's ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly - wouldn't you? Keep this letter back 'til I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife's so nice and sharp, I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good luck. Yours truly, Jack the Ripper. Don't mind me giving the trade name. PS, wasn't good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it. No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. Ha ha." Holmes sat back and sighed.
"Jack the Ripper?" said I. "What kind of monster are we dealing with?"
Just then the door burst open and two police officers rushed in, leaving poor Mrs. Hudson in their wake.
"Inspector Lestrade, sir!" cried one. "Thank God we've found you!"
"What is it?" Lestrade demanded. "Come on, man, speak up!"
The second policeman spoke.
"There's been another one, sir."