Paula Cohen - What Alice Knew - A Most Curious Tale of Henry James and Jack the Ripper

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 cant 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 till 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.

And at a right angle to the note was written at the bottom:

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.

“The reference to Leather Apron is to a criminal with that nickname who was associated with the murders but has since been cleared,” explained William. “It’s a reference that warrants additional looking into,” he noted, more to himself than to the others.

Alice glanced through the remaining sheets. “Here’s the postcard that they printed in the papers,” she said, holding it up so William could see what she was referring to, and then peering at it more closely. It read:

I wasn’t codding

dear old Boss when

I gave you the tip.

Youll hear about

saucy Jackys work

tomorrow double

event this time

number one squealed

a bit couldn’t

finish straight

off. had not time

to get ears for

police thanks for

keeping last letter

back till I got

to work again.

Jack the Ripper.

William again provided the commentary. “That was also sent to Central News and was postmarked October 1. The reference is to the double murder of September 30. Elizabeth Stride, throat cut, but no further violence done her, followed a few hours later by the extensive stabbings to Catherine Eddowes. It is true that one of the latter’s ears was partially severed, suggesting that the murderer was attempting to follow his intention in the former letter.”

Alice had taken up a third letter on a larger sheet and scrutinized it, with Henry leaning over her shoulder.

From hell,

Mr. Lusk

Sor

I send you half the

Kidne I took from one women

prasarved it for you tother piece I

fried and ate it was very nise I

may send you the bloody knif that

took it out if you only wate a whil

longer

signed Catch me when

you can

Mishter Lusk

“The man certainly could use a spelling primer,” noted Henry. “Who is this Mishter Lusk?”

“Mr. George Lusk,” explained William, “president of the community’s Vigilance Committee, whose assistance to the police the murderer was apparently very proud to thwart. The letter was received only a few days ago, along with a small parcel containing half of a left kidney. Catherine Eddowes’s left kidney was indeed missing. There is no proof, given the timing of these letters, that they could not have been written based on newspaper accounts, hearsay, or even presence near the scene upon the discovery of the bodies. The organ too could have been obtained from another source. Still, the handwriting in these letters shows marks of similarity which, though hardly definitive, are noteworthy.”

“I see no consistency in the misspellings and punctuation,” noted Alice. “It looks like someone making up the mistakes as he goes along.”

William nodded. “They’re erratic, extravagant sorts of mistakes: ‘sor’ for ‘sir’; ‘knif’ for ‘knife.’ He drops the e but keeps the silent k . It’s what I call ‘disingenuous illiteracy,’ the spelling and syntax errors of someone who knows language but wants to appear ignorant.”

Alice had been fingering the letters ruminatively. “This one is on good vellum,” she noted. “Is there a stationer’s mark?”

“What?” asked William.

“The imprint that they put on stationery of a particular brand. It’s not readily perceptible, but held to the light, you can see it.”

William looked interested, if slightly annoyed. “I don’t know that either Abberline or I took note of that. It would be hard to trace a piece of vellum in London.”

“That depends on the quality. And certainly, if it’s good quality, it would help locate the killer as someone who circulates outside the East End.” She held the paper up to the light on her bed table and pointed to a mark that read “Pirie and Sons.” “It would be worth finding out how much of this paper they sell and the nature of their clientele. And if you had a suspect, you could check to see if his other correspondence comes from this particular stationer.”

“Good point,” said William, a touch sheepishly. “Are you going to illuminate anything else?”

“It seems interesting that the pens are different colors.”

“As the first letter said, he tried to use blood but substituted red ink instead.”

“True, but this ink on the postcard appears to be purple or brown. More than one colored ink was used, it would seem.”

“Part of the fantastic nature of the creature,” said William.

“Yes, but the inks themselves. Where did he get them?”

“I don’t believe that they’re hard to find.”

“But not in a cheap stationer’s.”

“It supports my theory that the man is not a poor illiterate,” said William a bit smugly. “I’ve already suggested as much. The handwriting, even when it seems to be primitive, is too good. And the spelling seems too mannered in its inaccuracy to be genuine.”

“Hmm,” said Alice. “What’s this?”

“What?” William asked. He had begun to feel defensive in the face of his sister’s astute observations.

“This mark near the bottom.”

“I noted that.” William nodded. “Abberline and I assume that it’s glue. It’s clear and shiny, slightly raised. It might suggest that the writer is in one of the trades, a cobbler or furniture maker, for example.”

“Possibly,” said Alice. “And this?” She pointed to a smudge on another letter.

“It looks like dried blood,” said Henry, leaning closer.

“Does dried blood look this way?” Alice asked William, assuming that, with his years of medical training, he could validate this fact.

He paused. “Not really. I made a note to look into it. The police assume it’s blood, given the context, but blood generally dries darker. But if it’s not blood, I don’t know what it is.”

“If it’s not blood, then what it is, is interesting,” said Alice a bit sharply. “I should like to study the letters this evening.”

“I don’t think so,” said William, taking them from her, replacing them in the envelope, and putting them back in his pocket.

“Were you planning to look at them tonight yourself?”

“No, not tonight. I have an appointment with Professor Sidgwick of Cambridge University.”