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Anyone gets curious, move them along.
We don't want her drawing a crowd.
Inspector Rees?
Yes?
Sebastian Stubb, of the London Morning Times.
Ah, yes, of course.
Anything you can share with our readers
about the incident?
I doubt your readers would be very interested, Mr.Stubb.
Oh well, with all due respect sir,
I think I'll be the judge of that.
Lone woman.
Knife wound.
Probably a robbery gone awry some time in the night.
Dear, oh dear, oh dear Inspector,
you'll never make a headline writer will you?
What about "mysterious assailant
slashes wench-woman's throat in bloody midnight attack".
That's conjecture.
Time of death is yet to be established.
All right.
What about "bloody night time attack" then?
It's reasonable enough.
Now I really must be going.
Oh, can I quote you Inspector?
If you must.
Who told you her throat was slashed?
Well, it always pays to be early
on the scene, Inspector.
Morning, Mr Locque.
Inspector Rees sends his regards, sir.
What else?
Oh, it's a young woman.
Found down the dark end of a dark alley in the early hours.
No prizes for guessing what she was up to down there.
Well, we'll find out shortly, won't we?
There's always a trace left behind.
Well, that depends,
on whether she swallowed or spat, doesn't it?
There is always a trace, Dodd.
You would do well to remember that.
What are they saying is the cause of death?
Cut throat, sir.
Have a look.
Now, he was saying, it looked like some fellow had got
what he wanted but didn't wanna pay.
He probably had a penknife in his pocket,
there was a scuffle, and he, er, let her have it.
What?
The penknife.
In the throat, like.
It's a very sharp penknife if it was.
Yeah well, they are, aren't they?
Not usually.
Not this sharp.
If a man carries a penknife
he uses it for all sorts of tasks, sawing rope,
digging stones from horses' hooves, anything.
The blade ends up damaged and blunt,
with the result being that penknife cuts are usually jagged,
with lots of damage to the surrounding skin.
This one is very clean, it's made with a good quality blade.
A knife's a knife.
I'm trying to teach you something here, Dodd.
It would be good if you could show some ambition
to better yourself.
You don't wanna be pushing cadavers round in here
all your life.
No, sir.
But I don't wanna be slicing them up, neither.
Wait!
Death by cut throat, did you say?
That's what he said, sir.
Then what is that?
Jesus Christ!
Well I shall tell you one thing,
this was no scuffle over a coin.
It's a bit early, what are you after?
A quick word with the lady of the house,
if you'd be so kind.
Miss Levine?
If you'd be so kind.
Well, I'll ask her-
- Tell her it's Ins,
Tell her it's Edmund Rees.
Some tea, Inspector?
That would be very nice.
It's been a long time
since you've darkened my doorstep, Edmund.
You have a knack of making every phrase
sound like a euphemism, Miss Levine.
What, "darkened my doorstep"?
Never heard it called that.
I've heard it called a lot of things but that's a new one.
Can you guess what brought me here today?
Yes, I can guess.
So you know what I'm going to ask?
That girl they found in the night.
Not far from here wasn't it?
Two streets down.
It's getting more dangerous by the hour out there.
Can't you do something about it?
Do you know who she was?
I do.
One of the girls from here was the one that found her.
Came running back and told me all about it.
I'd like to speak to her.
I don't think she'd like to speak to you.
You wouldn't have got past the door if Sally
had known who you were.
Did she recognize the victim?
Yes.
Polly Neilson was her name, I knew her.
Had she ever worked here before?
No, but not for want of trying.
They all come here onetime or another.
I mean, wouldn't you rather ply your trade
against a soft pillow than a cold wall?
But I couldn't help her.
No experience.
So she was knew to it, then?
Oh yes.
Fallen on hard times, as they say.
She'd been a maid for a gentleman in a big house.
Very proud of that, she was.
Gave me his card as proof.
Let's see, I've got it somewhere.
This lady, Polly Neilson, she was definitely in the trade?
I should say so.
Unless she found some other way of earning a living
in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night.
The girl that found her, she didn't see anything else,
anything suspicious, somebody running away?
Not that she told me.
Very well.
At least we've got a name, Polly Neilson.
Not staying for another tea?
Er, no thank you,
it's better if I wasn't seen spending too much time here.
Oh, shame.
There's nothing better than something wet
and warm on a cold day, Inspector.
As my dear late husband used to say.
I'll see myself out.
I asked upstairs but the Inspector's out on his rounds.
Never mind.
I'll have more to tell him by the time he gets back.
Any news?
News?
On the murder.
Everyone's asking about it.
Oh, before you sit down, sir, that lad from the morgue
came looking for you earlier.
Said the Medical Examiner wanted a word.
Locque?
Ah, Inspector.
You got my message, I take it?
Er, shame about the circumstances.
Indeed.
Though I can't think of any other circumstances
in which we are ever likely to meet.
A drink some time, perhaps?
Er, no, no thank you, I don't.
So what's this about the young lady?
Dodd said something to my colleague
about an abominable injury?
Abdominal.
An abdominal injury.
What sort of thing are we talking about?
Well, it might be better if you saw it for yourself.
Christ in heaven!
Dodd had it about right.
What would motivate a man to do something like this?
It's not for me to delve into motives, Inspector.
That's your department.
I've never seen anything like this.
Nor have I.
Elizabeth?
Straight to the book cabinet, Thomas?
I sometimes wonder if you care more for those books
than you do for me?
Not at all, I, I just wanted to return this.
I know you're curious about my work, Elizabeth,
but it really is no subject for a lady.
I was bored.
Reading helps to pass the time.
Did you know that the human tongue is made up
of eight separate interwoven muscles?
I'm sure there must be more edifying things
to read about the house.
Or things to do?
Say what you will, Elizabeth.
I'd certainly miss Emily if we had to do without her.
I'm sure you would.
I meant her cooking.
That was an excellent roast beef.
It was just missing a glass of good red wine
to go along with it.
I'll not enter into that debate with you again, Thomas.
No, I only meant-
- I'll not have any drink in this house until you've proved
you're capable of controlling your urge to overindulge.
That was all a long time ago, Elizabeth.
I told you, I'm not discussing it.
How can I prove I can control my urges
when there's nothing in the house to bloody-well drink!
Well.
I think you've just proved the very opposite.
Ah, Stubb.
Just been reading your story in this morning's paper.
I do not appreciate my name being mentioned.
Well, you said I could quote you, Inspector.
Well?
What can I do for you this time?
It's more what I can do for you, Inspector.
What's this?
A confession.
What are you confessing to?
It's not from me!
It's from the killer of that girl.
Where did you get it from?
It was sent to me personally, via the newspaper.
Probably some disturbed person's idea of a joke.
Seems authentic to me, Inspector.
Let me see it.
I thought we could come to some kind of an arrangement.
What do you mean?
Well, I've got the killer's side of the story.
I just need the copper's.
I'd make it a big two-parter, you know,
front page with a big illustration
of the killer standing over the body
with a knife in his hand and-
- Just give me the bloody letter.
Red ink, seems like a gimmick.
Well, it wouldn't be the first time
that a killer's been attracted to the idea
of gaining notoriety now Inspector, would it?
And that would explain why he send it directly
to a newspaper, as opposed to yourself.
Oh, and, er, he's given himself a little trade name.
"Jack the Ripper".
It's good, isn't it?
Better than anything I could've ever come up with.
Oh, and, er, he goes over everything he did to that girl,
in great detail.
This is obscene.
If you publish any of this, you're a damn fool.
Report on Polly Neilson, is it ready?
Yes, I finished with her yesterday,
the report's been sat on my desk all night.
Just give me the highlights, I need to check on something.
Well, the cause of death, as you correctly surmised,
was two deep cuts to the throat, one of which completely
severed all of the tissue down to the vertebrae.
That's the spinal column, Inspector.
What about the other injuries?
Well, there are several small stab wounds
and two very deep ones,
one particularly so leading to a breach of the bowel.
And a very large concentration of damage
to the interior of the abdomen.
When you say the, er, abdomen.
Yes?
A gentleman has an abdomen,
but a gentleman doesn't have a, er-
- The injuries are specific to that part
of a woman's abdomen which differentiates
it to that of a gentleman's.
I made fully detailed notes, in my report.
No, leave that here.
I want to keep the details of this between ourselves
at the moment.
This type of crime tends to attract a lot of attention.
I've already had a reporter in my office this morning.
I understand.
Funny thing is he had this letter,
supposedly from the killer.
Yes?
Thought it was a lot of nonsense, a silly practical joke,
but the description of the injuries was bang on.
A lot of people could have seen the body
before you got there.
Even the internal wounds?
Sorry, sir, but it's urgent.
What is it?
They've found another one.
Another what?
A girl, sir.
Keep a close guard on her 'till the carriage gets here.
I don't want anybody touching the body
till we get it to the medical examiner.
Her name was Mary Anne Keates.
You seem very well informed, Stubb.
I just ask around, Inspector, that's all.
Thought you might have read it in a letter.
You never know, Inspector, you never know.
But, if I do get another one,
you'll be the first to know.
I will?
You will, if we can come to some kind of arrangement.
Otherwise, like everyone else,
you can read it on the front page of the Morning Times.
Have a care, Dodd.
What's the matter?
She's dead, isn't she?
She ain't gonna be complaining about the service.
I have to accurately ascertain the cause of death.
If you throw her from the trolley and break her neck,
how will I know if the damage was done pre or post-mortem?
Yeah, well, the, er, cause of death's no mystery
with this one.
It's a cut throat once again.
Yeah.
And the rest.
You've already examined her?
I had a good look, yeah.
When I took her dress off.
So, you're finally taking an interest in your work?
Only the pretty ones.
So she's the same as the previous one?
No.
She's worse.
Miss Levine, please, now.
Not that I don't appreciate your visits, Edmund,
but you could try to be a bit more circumspect.
Almost knocking the door down in broad daylight?
This is a very serious matter.
It's become apparent that the murders
have a particular edge to them.
The, er, perpetrator seems to be taking a certain pleasure
in the act of violence.
And what light are you expected me to shed on this?
Well it's occurred to me you might have acquired
a substantial knowledge, over the years,
of the preferences of a large number
of the gentlemen in the area.
Do any of your regulars like to get rough with girls?
Hit them, cut them, that sort of thing?
It happens.
But they don't stay regulars very long
once I get to hear about it.
To be frank, Inspector,
it's far more common the other way round.
The other way round?
Oh yes, there's plenty of them
that come here for a bit of abuse.
Doctors, lawyers, judges.
We've got a special room for it.
Would you like to see it?
I'm sorry I can't help you any further, Edmund.
You mentioned a gentleman's card
you were gonna give me.
Yes, I'm sure it's here somewhere.
Never mind, I'm sure it'll show up.
There was one other thing, Inspector.
Some awful man came knocking on the door this morning
claiming to be from the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee.
Accused me of living off immoral earnings.
He's not entirely inaccurate then, is he?
You know this building's all my dear late husband
left me with to eke out a living in my autumn years.
Remind me, what did he die of again?
Misbehavior.
There seems to be a lot of it about.
Inspector Rees?
Yes.
What can I do for you?
I suppose you've seen this?
The newspaper?
This!
These appalling murders.
Murders?
The newspaper only mentions one.
I heard from my carriage driver on the way here
that a second body had been discovered.
Word travels fast.
Yes, a lot faster than you it would seem, Inspector.
Excuse me, sir, may I ask-
- Doctor George Lowry.
Head of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee.
It's simply not good enough, Inspector.
I've been a resident of Whitechapel for over 60 years,
man and boy.
Ran a highly regarded medical practice
until my retirement last year.
This used to be a decent, God-fearing community.
Now look at it.
Once can scarce set foot outside one's own front
door without being accosted by some filthy rag-seller.
Or being propositioned by, well, by the likes of this girl.
And as if that wasn't enough,
now we have some foreign butcher committing acts
of such atrocity-
- Foreign butcher?
Well, wouldn't you say so, Inspector?
I can't imagine a true Englishman sinking to the level
of such depravity.
Do your job properly, Inspector, and I am sure you will find
the dark hand of some Persian or an Oriental
is behind all this.
Be that as it may, there has indeed been a second murder.
So my next step is to establish what connects
the two events-
- Spare me the procedural recitation, Inspector.
The Whitechapel Vigilance Committee are well-versed
in matters of law and order.
Some of our members are retired judges.
Our patron is none other than your very own Chief Inspector.
Answer me this,
do you have any suspect in mind for these crimes?
No.
Then what the devil are you doing sat behind a desk
talking to me?
Get out there, man.
Do your job, knock on some doors.
I can list you a dozen streets
where you will find meat vendors,
and animal slaughterers, and tanners.
And not one of them an Englishman.
Thank you, Dr Lowry, that won't be necessary.
And if you do nothing else,
can you not, at the very least,
put an end to these frightful newspaper stories?
It's bad enough.
We have a murderer on our streets
without the gruesome details being spread far
and wide for the general populace to gossip about.
I will not have the good name
of Whitechapel besmirched any further.
Good day to you, inspector.
Elizabeth?
In here.
What's all this?
I've made your dinner, Thomas.
You have?
What about Emily?
Is it such a surprise?
I'm perfectly capable, Thomas.
Remember when we were first married?
There were no housemaids then.
I remember it well.
Wine, that is a surprise.
I felt badly about what I said yesterday.
Don't let your meal get cold.
Are you not joining me?
I had something earlier.
This is all about you.
I made your favorite.
Steak and kidney.
Mmm, it's excellent, Elizabeth.
You know, Thomas, wine isn't the only thing
we've gone without these past years.
Perhaps tonight could be something of a, a new beginning?
There, I knew we could do without.
Without what?
Without Emily.
Well, for a night, yes.
Did you give her the day off?
I gave her every day off.
I told her to seek a new position with immediate effect.
You did what?
Don't make a fuss, Thomas.
Make a fuss?
I'm the head of this household, Elizabeth.
You should have consulted me
before making a decision like that.
Head of the household?
But I'm the one who's here all the time, you're not.
No, Elizabeth.
I'll not have this.
You must find her and ask her back.
With an apology if necessary.
You'd have your own wife go begging to a maid?
Well I'm sure that won't be necessary, I just-
- I wonder which one of us is more important to you?
What's that supposed to mean?
You've a wandering eye, Thomas.
Don't think I haven't noticed.
I've never laid a hand on Emily!
I'd know if you had.
Believe me.
I know you.
Perhaps better than you think,
remember that.
Have you seen this?
Stubb's published another letter from the Ripper.
Details of the case I didn't even know.
There's got to be something we can charge him with.
Aiding and abetting, sir?
That's going a bit far.
As far as we know at the moment.
Our friend Dr Lowry's not gonna be happy
when he sees this, and he claims to have the ear
of the Chief Inspector.
I wouldn't worry, sir.
Chief Inspector's out of town, family wedding.
Come on, Locque, where are you?
Inspector?
I was just, er-
- We don't leave cadavers out over night, Inspector.
But you do leave the door unlocked?
Not usually.
I was running a bit late this morning.
Perhaps it was Dodd, he has the other key.
What can I do for you, Inspector?
Report on the second Ripper victim,
is it ready yet?
Yes, it's on my desk.
I couldn't see it.
Never mind, just give me the highlights.
Are the injuries the same as before?
More or less.
Would you say it's the same killer?
Most definitely.
The chances of there being two different murderers operating
in such a manner at the same time would be infinitesimal.
Was there anything missing from the victim?
A kidney.
Completely removed.
But you knew that, didn't you?
How?
This morning's paper.
That's impossible.
Published another letter from the Ripper.
What was done to the girl's body in detail.
Well that settles it.
The letters are real, and so is Jack the Ripper.
Sorry sir, I thought you'd wanna know right away.
They've found another body.
Looks like our man again.
Be nice to go just one day without finding another body.
It's Stubb!
I'd like a word with him.
I imagine you know which case you've been invited in
to share you knowledge of?
Invited to share my knowledge?
Yeah well, that's a fine way to put it, Inspector, isn't it?
I'm learning from you, Stubb.
I'm an innocent man, Inspector.
Why did you run?
I've not even been charged with anything.
Allow me to remedy that situation.
Unless you start talking you'll be charged with the murders
of Polly Neilson, Annie Chaplin and quite possibly
the young girl that was found this morning.
Murders?
I, I thought you were gonna charge me with-
- With what?
Nothing.
Nothing, I, er, I misspoke.
Why don't you try again?
I don't know nothing about those murders.
On the contrary, Mr Stubb, you seem to know an awful lot.
Rather too much, as it happens.
Intimate, detailed knowledge of the wounds
to each victim's body, that you didn't get from me
or anybody else in this department.
Well those details were in the letters, Inspector.
Oh yes, the famous Ripper Letters.
In blood red ink, no less.
You said yourself that they were authentic, Inspector.
I said the information in them was authentic,
not the writer.
And it seems to me that you, Stubb,
personally have done rather well
out of this whole, nasty business.
Search his bag.
You've no right to do that.
Something to hide in there?
The murder weapon perhaps?
Of course not.
Looks like a packet of notepaper.
And an ink pen.
Of course I've got an ink pen, I'm a writer aren't I?
Simpson's Best Quality Writing Ink.
Scarlet Red.
I wonder, Mr Stubb, if we took a sample of your handwriting
and compared it to one of these Ripper letters,
what conclusion we might come to?
You got a light?
No.
All right.
I did the letters.
It was just a bit of showmanship, you know?
And er, well, I didn't think it would cause any harm.
And the murders?
No.
No, I ain't nothing to do with those murders.
Then how did you know what to write in those letters?
Every knife slash, every cut.
Every detail of those girls' bodies.
Well sir, this one's in a right state.
Why does he do it, do you think?
It's not for us to divine why.
Yeah but, you must wonder.
I mean, everyone's talking about it,
it's all Ripper this and Ripper that.
I have to keep my head down.
If anyone knew I'd had my hands all over his victims...
The second victim, do you know where my report is?
It'll be on your desk, won't it?
It isn't.
But I'm sure it was last night.
You probably took it home.
Now why would I do that?
Are you sure you don't know where it is?
Put yourself in my position, Stubb.
I'm under a lot of pressure to nab somebody
for these murders, thanks to your bloody newspaper.
You're the first to the scene of every crime,
you've got in-depth knowledge of the killings,
and you, personally stand to benefit
from each and every murder,
the more shocking and perverted the better.
Give me one damn reason why I shouldn't throw you
in the cells this very minute?
Locque?
I'm in the middle of something!
I know.
That is why I came.
Tell him, Dodd.
He got 'em from me.
What?
The medical reports on the bodies.
He's been taking them from my desk,
copying them out and then returning them the next morning.
And the copies went to your friend, there,
from the newspaper.
Are you sure of this?
This morning he forgot to put them back.
And I imagine you paid a pretty penny for them?
It's not a crime to report the true facts
of a case, is it?
Why didn't you just bloody-well say so?
I'm a journalist, Inspector.
I have to protect my sources.
Take 'em away.
It's been a long day.
Join me for a drink, why don't you?
I, um-
- Come on, it's not six o'clock.
You can spare me ten minutes.
I cant stay too long, my wife-
- Keeps you on your toes, does she?
You could say that.
Still, cheers.
It's worth it, I imagine.
You're not married?
No, never found the time.
Must have spent too much of it behind that desk.
Thomas.
It is Thomas, isn't it?
Yes, my work does come first.
I imagine you're under a lot of pressure.
It's not the external pressure,
it's what's in here, Thomas.
I take it personally, whatever happens on my patch,
and whoever the victim is, be it, lord, lady or gentleman.
Or whore.
They all deserve justice.
Now, about the Ripper-
- Isn't that just a name your friend
from the newspaper conjured up?
It is.
But I've a feeling it's gonna stick,
it seems quite fitting.
Not entirely.
Oh?
What's your take on it, then?
Everything I know is in my reports.
Yes.
I'm not interested in what you know.
I'm interested in what you think.
I don't follow you?
You're more intimately acquainted with the injuries
to these girls' bodies than anybody.
Anybody but the killer himself.
You might have some thoughts, some suspicions, anything.
I mean, what could make a man do something like this?
A suspicion doesn't constitute evidence, Edmund.
I might help.
It might throw some light on something.
For instance, what weapon is responsible
for these injuries?
It's in my report, a precision blade.
What does that mean?
A butcher's knife?
No.
No, no, something much sharper, more precise.
A craftsman's blade, perhaps.
A surgeon's scalpel.
Possibly, yes.
On the recommendation of Dr Lowry,
we've got people out interviewing every butcher
and slaughter man in the district.
Are we wasting our time?
I would say so, yes.
The killer's no butcher, he's precise.
And with a knowledge of the human anatomy.
That missing kidney was expertly removed.
An educated man?
Almost certainly.
A man of means?
Possibly.
So robbery isn't his motive, then?
Without a doubt, his motive is something much darker.
The location and savagery of the injuries suggest
he takes an abnormal pleasure in the act of violence.
A prurient pleasure if you like.
There's no shortage of suspects then, is there?
What do you mean?
It's all around us, Thomas.
In every Penny Dreadful novel in every corner shop.
The more gruesome the murders the more the public lap it up.
Did you know, householders in the vicinity
of every murder scene are renting out their upstairs rooms
for people desperate to catch a glimpse
of where a Ripper victim met their demise.
I truly believe it's something buried deep
inside of us, Thomas.
This desire for violence.
In all of us?
If I could get my hands on the bastard that's behind this.
What do you think might release it, this buried desire?
Could be anything, I mean, drink, lust.
Do you think it's possible that the killer himself might
be unaware of his actions?
Unaware?
Of crimes so heinous?
Well, if excessive drink were involved,
in a drunken state many a man have committed acts
that they would normally find abhorrent.
Almost sounds as if you're making excuses for him.
No, no not at all.
Another?
If you don't mind.
So, we've established the type of man we're looking for.
An educated man, a gentleman, quite possibly
some knowledge of surgery.
Yes.
What about his truly defining characteristics?
Well, what do you mean?
Simply having access to scalpel
doesn't make one a murderer.
I mean, what makes a man commit acts
of such appalling degeneracy?
How can you hope to know that from the evidence in hand?
Think, damn it!
Well, there was one thing that struck me as odd.
I didn't mention it in my reports
'cause I wasn't exactly sure how to phrase it.
The way in which the wounds are inflicted is inconsistent.
So you think there's more than one of them?
No, not between the killings,
I mean each one is inconsistent.
The initial attacks, the throat slash
and the abdominal stabbings,
it's all done very fast and with considerable force.
In the heat of passion, you might say?
You might, yes, but then the internal wounds,
the organ removal, this was done carefully
and with precision, almost as if by another hand entirely.
So you do think there's more than one of them?
No, no, no,
I was speaking figuratively.
It's clearly the same blade, I just wondered.
Does this provide any clue as to the killer's intentions?
The murders are committed very fast-
- Not just fast, frenzied.
Once the victim is dead, a different motivation takes over
a more careful, planned act.
But why?
To send a message.
To who?
To us.
The time!
Sorry, Thomas, I've kept you.
Don't concern yourself, Edmund.
I am my own man after all.
You still here, sir?
I was just on my way out.
Just going over these medical reports for the 100th time.
If you're angling for overtime,
the Chief Inspector's not back 'til tomorrow.
Just trying to make sense of it all.
There's no sense to made of it.
What do you mean?
Well, he's mad, sir.
Whoever's doing it.
There's no use trying to make sense of what a madman does.
If it made sense, he wouldn't be mad, would he?
Stands to reason.
Well that's cleared things up no end.
Glad to hear it, sir.
Goodnight.
Had a bit to drink have we?
Never mind, I've got just the girl for you.
Up the stairs, last door on your left.
Not me!
Up the stairs with you, last door on your left!
Oh, come on!
Ain't you got no home to go to?
What is it?
It's ten o'clock in the morning, that's what it is.
This ain't no doss house.
Come on!
Cathy?
Oh, erm, good morning.
What's left of it.
You're supposed to be here at eight on the dot.
Yes, I-
- And the door was unlocked!
It's a good job the reports were in my office,
you know how valuable they are in the wrong hands.
Sorry sir, I thought you'd wanna know right away.
Not another one?
Just up the road.
Thomas, why don't you come with us?
What?
It might be useful to see a body in situ.
No thanks-
- Come on, looks like you could do with a walk
in the fresh air.
Up here, last door on the left.
Thomas, are you coming?
Just catching my breath.
You would've thought he'd be used to this kind of thing.
I need to tell you something, Edmund,
and let the chips fall where they may.
What are you talking about?
I've been here before.
I've been to that room.
What is it you're trying to say?
It's the drink.
I black out.
And then when I wake up, I don't know what I've done.
I think those killings,
I think I-
- Inspector?
There's a Miss Levine up here.
She wants to see you.
Oh Christ.
Bare with me, Thomas.
That girl was like a daughter to me, Edmund.
They all are.
I'm so sorry.
Sorry, yeah, well.
I bet you are.
I thought you were gonna do something about this?
I thought you were gonna catch this bastard?
I thought you cared about these girls,
but, you're just like all the other coppers.
I know what you think.
You think it's a sordid business, what goes on here.
But I'll let you in on a little secret, Inspector.
You know what people come here for?
What they really come here for?
It's love, Edmund.
That's what they long for and that's what we give them.
It might be real love,
but it's as close as some of those poor buggers
are gonna get.
Isn't that what you came here for, Edmund?
All those years ago?
My first time in London.
I didn't know a single soul.
A skinny, innocent young man you were.
And a good deal less innocent when I left, thanks to you.
Didn't it feel like love, Edmund?
Just for a moment?
Sometimes it still does.
That's just how it should be.
When it's done right.
But all these girls nowadays,
on street corners and back alleys.
No wonder someone's turned against them.
I cant help them all, Edmund.
And neither can you, it seems.
This is a difficult case, the evidence is pointing-
- Evidence?
I've got some evidence for you, for what it's worth.
What is it?
The gentleman's card.
The one Polly Neilson worked for,
before she was out on the street.
Bloody hell!
Edmund, about what I said-
- Never mind that!
We've got him!
What?
Dr Lowry.
Inspector?
What is all this?
I suppose there's been some development
you wish to report to me?
There has indeed, sir.
So, you've caught the man?
You have him in custody?
He is at this very moment within the walls
of this police station.
Excellent news!
And what manner of man or beast is he?
Have you questioned him?
I am endeavoring to so.
Doesn't even speak the Queen's English, I expect.
But first sir, I need to ask what your particular
interests in this case?
My interest?
Well, you've been extremely forthcoming
in your willingness to assist.
Well naturally, as a Whitechapel resident,
and one of the better ones if I may say,
I took it upon myself to strive tirelessly
until the culprit was apprehended.
Which has involved, as you previously stated,
going from door to door.
Well I didn't go myself,
I have other things to attend to, but I organized a group
of similarly concerned citizens to do so.
Purely as a concerned citizen?
Yes.
So you don't have personal connection to this case?
Personal connection?
I should say not.
What are you suggesting?
I'm not suggesting anything, sir.
It sounds to me very much
like you are suggesting something.
Do you think a man of my standing would have anything
to do with the sort of people involved in this case?
Or, or any murder, for that matter?
I must warn you, I'm a very good friend
of your Chief Inspector.
Be that as it may, I need to ask you outright,
and I require a truthful answer.
Do you have any personal connection
to any of the victims in this case?
No.
Mary Jane Keates?
Annie Chaplin?
No.
Polly Neilson?
No!
Can you confirm that this is your card, sir?
Yes, of course it is, it's got my name on, man.
And where did you get it?
I got it from a house of ill-repute,
where this morning the body of Catherine Eastwood was found
with her stomach opened from top to bottom.
Are you out of your mind, Inspector?
Well somebody is!
I have never set foot in that establishment.
It was left there by Polly Neilson.
I told you I don't know the girl.
I spoke to a few of her acquaintances
on the way back here.
It's easy enough to do so,
there's plenty that knew her down at the doss house.
Turns out, "Polly" was a name she acquired on the streets.
Her real name was Mary Anne Neilson.
Ring a bell does it, sir?
I do recall a girl of that name, yes.
Worked for you as a maid.
You have to understand, Inspector,
these girls come and go all the time.
My housekeeper takes care of it all.
But you remember this one, don't you?
She told her story quite liberally down at the doss house.
She was stealing, I had to have her dismissed.
Dismissed her personally, I believe?
Threw her out on her ear without two pennies
to rub together.
Is it any wonder she ended up where she did?
A thief deserves no better.
How did you know she was a thief?
She had taken pieces of silver cutlery.
Go on.
She secreted them in her undergarments, isn't that so?
Where you found them, in the course of performing
an indecent act upon her person, isn't that so Dr Lowry?
Damn you, Inspector, this is no business of yours!
And it has nothing to do with these murders.
Oh, I think it's got a lot to do with these murders.
I think it was entirely in your interests
that Mary Anne Neilson should meet her fate that night.
I'm sure you told her to keep her mouth shut
but there was no way of making sure, was there?
And having done it once you acquired a taste for it.
Before you deny it, let me reveal one other fact.
According to the expert analysis
of the Police Medical Examiner, these murders are not
the work of some butcher or slaughter man.
The injuries inflicted upon these bodies were done
by the hand of an educated man with clear knowledge
of human anatomy, quite possibly a doctor such as yourself.
And can I also make it plain that consider your actions
since the first murder to be highly suspicious.
You have shown an unnatural interest in the case,
attempting to railroad the investigation off
in inappropriate directions,
all the time trying to shift blame from yourself.
So, Dr Lowry, I have every justification in bringing you
in here for questioning, and the question I would like
to ask you, is can you account for your movements
over the last two nights?
I think, perhaps, you should ask your Chief Inspector
that question.
The Chief Inspector can account for my movements.
Along with around three dozen members
of his extended family.
I've been away in Guildford for the past two days
attending my God Daughter's wedding.
My God Daughter who also happens
to be the niece of your Chief Inspector.
They even had us pose for one of those wretched photographs.
I'm sure you can examine the plates.
Don't think for a moment this ends here, Inspector.
Did he confess?
God in heaven, please tell me he confessed.
It wasn't him, airtight alibi.
But you said...
I know.
But it had to be him!
It wasn't him.
Not a chance.
You shouldn't take things so personally, Thomas.
It'll come to no good.
I've had to learn that lesson myself.
Take a holiday.
The case isn't gonna go away in your absence.
I know it's none of my business,
go easy on the bottle, old man.
You look like death.
It cant be true.
Good evening, Thomas.
Is something amiss?
No, I just... um-
- There's a spare key to that cabinet
in your desk drawer, Thomas.
Perhaps you'd forgotten?
And I'm not a fool, Thomas.
Perhaps you'd forgotten that as well?
So I'll ask again.
Is something amiss?
Just, just this.
Something else from your desk drawer.
What's it, what's it doing-
- I left it where I knew you'd find it Thomas.
Because I wanted you to know.
To know what?
That I know.
I know about the secret little bottles,
sewn into pockets and hidden behind books.
Elizabeth, I...
And I know about the secret little walks into town.
The midnight, moonlit walks.
I know where you go.
And I know what you do.
I've walked out in your shadow on many occasions.
I'm telling you this, Thomas,
because from now on, it's going to stop.
In fact, I've made sure of it.
At least with regard to those particular girls.
You won't be seeing any of them again.
Except, perhaps, at your work.
Dear God, Elizabeth.
What are you saying?
The whores got what they deserved!
Abusing their womanhood,
using it to steal the husbands of good women!
You're a weak man, Thomas.
Easily led from the straight and narrow path.
That's why I blame them, rather than you.
That's why I had to do what I did.
Christ in heaven, Elizabeth.
You'll hang for this.
Why should I?
No one but you or I will ever know.
And in case you ever think of sharing this knowledge,
think on this, Thomas, there is no evidence to connect me
to these events.
But as for you-
- What are you saying?
If anyone ever asks me your whereabouts
on certain times or dates, well-
- There is evidence, somewhere.
Certain organs were removed.
Oh, Thomas, you disappoint me.
I never blamed you, Thomas,
but I must admit a certain pleasure
in seeing you destroy the very evidence you speak of.
And watching you enjoy every last bite.
It's getting late.
We should head to the bedroom.
Perhaps you can lie beside me tonight?
Morning Thomas.
I was just on my way out.
On your rounds?
No.
Out for good.
Chief Inspector's orders.
Seems my handling of the Ripper case
wasn't as successful as he would have liked.
You cant win them all.
I suppose not.
Funny thing though, there hasn't been
another murder for the last couple of days.
Perhaps it's all over.
Perhaps it is.
We can but hope, anyway.
You seem to be taking it well.
I thought it was your life's work,
bringing justice to Whitechapel?
I may have been wrong about that.
I'm sure I was.
There's more to life that work, Thomas.
And whatever else happens, life goes on.
Yes.
Well, the best of luck to you.
I, er, I've got an appointment to keep.
You going somewhere, pleasant?
Just up the road.
Are you set to go?
I am.
So, where are we going?
Somewhere a long way from here.
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