The Night of the Ripper

~ THIRTY-FOUR ~

As Robert James Lees entered the office, Abberline introduced him to Mark, then nodded at the medium. “What brings you here?” he said.

“Unfinished business, Inspector. You remember what I told you at your home the other evening? About the thread of evil?” Lees’ eyes glittered. “I’ve come to tell you that I’ve followed it.”

“Another vision?” Abberline frowned impatiently. “Look here, Mr. Lees. I’d be happy to listen, but it’s been a long day for me and the hour is late—”

“Later than you think,” Lees said. “And I’ve had no more visions. Not since the night before the murder, when I gave you the name and the number.”

Abberline’s frown was erased by recollection. “That’s right — McCarthy and thirteen.”

The psychic nodded. “It’s a pity I couldn’t have been more specific. If I’d only known then what I know now—”

“What do you know, Mr. Lees?”

“After I learned about the murder it weighed on my conscience. I felt that in some way I was responsible for not being able to provide the exact information which might have prevented this dreadful crime. The least I could do now was attempt to find the perpetrator.”

“That’s what we’re all trying to do,” Abberline said. “Of course the newspapers still speak of tracking him down with bloodhounds, though no one takes it seriously.”

“I did,” said Lees. “Yesterday I went to Miller’s Court to see if this faculty of mine would pick up the scent.”

“A human bloodhound, eh?” Abberline’s retort was more mocking than mirthful.

“You might call it that.” Lees spoke without rancor. “Needless to say, I failed.”

“Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“No. There’s something else. As I say, there’ve been no more visions. But a strange feeling came to me when I stood there in the courtyard, staring at the numeral on the door of Mary Jane Kelly’s room. The number seemed to change — and suddenly I saw the address I’d been trying to evoke ever since the day that I encountered Jack the Ripper and tried to follow him to his destination.”

Abberline spoke swiftly. “The address — can you give it to me?”

“I’ll do better than that.” Lees nodded. “I may not be a bloodhound, Inspector — but if you’ll come with me now, I’ll take you to the house where Jack the Ripper lives.”