The Night of the Ripper

~ NINETEEN ~

Mark turned to confront the speaker.

She was one of the patients he’d noticed waiting for consultation on a bench near the wall; a woman in her early forties, or so he judged, with dark hair and a pallid complexion. She wore a black crepe bonnet, a black skirt, and a black velveteen jacket trimmed with moth-eaten fur. A checkered scarf tied in a bowknot around her neck helped to conceal the telltale wrinkles at her throat. But when she opened her mouth nothing could disguise the gap between her lips; the upper teeth were missing.

The gap was elearly visible now as she spoke again. “I’m not one to pry, but I couldn’t ’elp ’earing. That bloke you and the young lady was talking about — the one as did the dirty—”

“You say you know him?”

The woman nodded, her gray eyes furtively scanning the seated patients in the background. Moving closer to Mark, she lowered her voice. “That’s for dead sure. I knows ’is name and I knows ’is game, the filthy sod.”

Mark frowned. “Why haven’t you given your information to the police?”

“Me blow to the crushers?” She shook her head indignantly. “I don’t trust a one o’ that lot.”

“But it’s your duty. Don’t you want to see this man apprehended?”

“I wants to see ’im strung up by ’is bloody bollocks, if that’s what you means.” She nodded quickly. “Like you say, it’s me duty. The thing of it is, if I go nosin’ to the pigs they’d not believe me. But if a respectable gentleman like you was to speak out—”

“You want me to pass the information along, is that it?”

Again the gray eyes darted cautiously toward the patients on the benches behind. “If we can do a deal.”

“You needn’t worry about keeping your name out of this,” Mark said. “I promise I won’t reveal my source.”

“Fair enough.” The woman gave him a knowing smile. “That way you stands to make a packet.”

“What do you mean?”

“No need to play the innercent with me. There’s a lollopin’ fat reward posted for the bugger, and you’ll be in line to nab it all.”

“If that’s what worries you there’s no problem,” Mark told her. “You’re perfectly welcome to the money, I give you my word on it.”

“And oo’s to say the rozzers don’t diddle you out of their perishin’ reward in the end?” Her lip curled in scorn above the gap. “So let’s not ’ave no more muck about promises. What it comes to is this — you wants the gen on ’is nibs and I wants five couter, now.”

“Five pounds?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Mark hesitated. “Forgive my bluntness, but what assurance do I have that you’ll be telling me the truth?”

The woman shrugged. “That’s for you to decide when you ’ears it. If you reckon I’m codding you, there’s no need to pay. But if you wants to lay ’ands on the one as did in those pore souls, you’d best listen.”

“Very well, then.” Mark made his decision. “If you’ll come with me we can find a quiet place to talk—”

“Not ’ere!” She glanced around quickly. “Not now.”

“Then where and when?”

“You knows the Coach And Four?”

“It’s a public house, isn’t it?”

“On Commercial Road. I’ll be stopping by there tonight.”

“I’m on call here until twelve.”

“Shank of the evening.” The gray eyes narrowed. “There’s a room in back where’s we can ’ave our privacy. I’ll wait for you there.”

“Who shall I ask for?”

“Tell Jerry behind the bar you come to see Annie Fitzgerald.”