“Ah, Sir John!” exclaimed Dr. Carr, spying us both. “Working again with Mr. Donnelly, are you? I had heard he gave you help on that nasty homicide behind New Broad Court.”
“And now there is a second,” said Mr. Donnelly.
I noted Sir John’s lips purse at that. I could tell he felt that Mr. Donnelly had spoken out of turn.
“You don’t mean it?” said the former army surgeon. “Who was it?”
“A prostitute, like the first,” said Mr. Donnelly.
“Ah, those poor women. I daresay they are the least safe of all on the street.”
“Unfortunately so,” agreed Sir John.
“You know,” said Dr. Carr, “when I heard of your service to Sir John, it was days after the event, and the victim was already underground, I’m sure. But if there is indeed a second victim, you may be able to put this bit of advice to work for you.”
“What advice have you, Dr. Carr?” said Sir John. “I am most eager to know.”
“Mr. Donnelly, I seem to recall that formerly your surgery was equipped with a — what do they call them? micro…?”
“A microscope, sir.”
“Ah yes, most up-to-date and scientific you are. I trust that you still have it somewhere about?”
“Oh indeed I do. I find it aids me in a multitude of ways.”
“Now, what I tell you may sound a bit outlandish, but I assure you that it is proven fact. I myself have observed it after a fashion, as I shall explain.” With the attention of both men, he seemed to expand visibly, wishing to extend his lecture and thereby hold them even longer. He paused to build a sense of anticipation. At last he resumed: “Now, in several instances while in the Army I had the occasion to examine the eyes of the dead, and I can tell you that it is true that in their pupils you may see the last image imprinted upon the living eye. There was indeed something there! The difficulty is, of course, that it cannot be perceived even with a magnifying glass. I know that, for I tried on those several occasions with just such an instrument.
“But you, Mr. Donnelly, with your microscope, would fare much better. My advice is this: Simply remove the eyeballs of the second victim and place them in such a way that the pupils may be minutely examined. I know the power of those micro … uh … scopes. They are quite amazing. Once you have a clear picture of the pupil before you, increased many tens of times over, you will also have a picture of the murderer. Is that not quite logical?”
“Oh … very … I suppose,” stammered Mr. Donnelly.
“Would you like me to assist in the operation?”
“That will, unfortunately, not be possible,” said Sir John, “for Mr. Donnelly has concluded his examination, and the victim has been sent off to the Raker.”
“Perhaps the body could be returned,” suggested Dr. Carr.
“Why, perhaps it could! Come along, Jeremy, let us go and look into that possibility. Goodbye, all.”
And faster than we entered, we left that modest surgery. Sir John pulling me by the arm, and the deserted Mr. Donnelly staring after us unhappily. The magistrate said not a word until we reached the street, and even then he kept his voice to just above a whisper.
“Jeremy,” said he, “I always thought that man Carr was a fool, but I was wrong. I see now that he is quite mad.”
FIVE
That evening, having returned with Constable Perkins from another of his exhausting lessons in self-defense, I happened to be about below when Sir John summoned the full complement of Bow Street Runners to his chambers. Curious as always, I trailed in among them. Though I had not been invited, I had not been told specifically to stay away. I chose for myself an inconspicuous spot in one comer. None in that group of red-vested worthies questioned my right to be present; none so much as looked at me askance. When all had come together, and Sir John had been so informed by Mr. Benjamin Bailey, he stood up before them and addressed them as follows:
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you have all been made aware by now of the two homicides perpetrated within our precinct during the last days. The unfortunate victims were both women of the streets. Our inquiries have so far yielded naught save a single name which I shall give to you presently. We have no proper motive. Each of the women was left with money, however little, on her person. The second, whose body was discovered last night by Constable Brede, was horribly mutilated. I can only speculate that the murderer, whoever he may be, took some perverse pleasure in the insult to her corpus.
“Now, there is little, perhaps, that can be done to prevent these attacks, for they are accomplished in secret and in dark places. Wliat can be done, however, is to make the probable victims of them aware of their danger. That for whatever vicious reason the murderer has made women his particular victims seems obvious. The nature of the mutilation of the second victim confirms it. I should hazard that prostitutes have been chosen because of their availabiUty and their willingness to accompany the murderer into dark comers. What you must do tonight and each night until this man be caught, is to warn these women, all of them you may come across — and that will of course be a great many — of the threat to them. If they have not heard that there has been a second victim, then inform them.
“And while you are about it, give them the name ‘Yos-sel,’ and ask them, do they know him, and have they seen him. This name was given me by four women, all of whom knew last night’s victim by sight and one of whom had seen him and the victim quarreling earlier last night. He was described by two as a ‘foreigner’ and by two others specifically as a ‘Jew’ — though he has no beard, and his garments are not such as a Jew might wear. All four agreed he is the sort who robs prostitutes of their earnings. That was likely the basis of his quarrel with the victim, whose name, by the bye, was Priscilla Tarkin, better known as Poll.’”
At this point. Sir John paused. Then said he: “It comes to me that at least some of you may know this fellow Yossel by reputation and by sight. Would you give me an ‘aye’ if you do?”
The men exchanged glances, as if seeking permission each from the other to speak out. As a result, the response was delayed somewhat but came as a resounding affirmative when at last it was heard.
“Ah!” said Sir John. “It appears Yossel is well known to most of you. Then by all means, bring him in if you see him. Detain him for questioning. In all truth, I cannot yet call him a suspect, yet his name was given me, and it is at present the only one that we have. He is said to go armed with a knife, so treat him with the proper degree of caution — though I doubt not that each of you is capable of handling him.”
Again he paused — but just long enough to offer a nod in dismissal. “That will be all, gentlemen,” said he. “I thank you for your time, and I do put my faith in you.”
With that, he resumed his seat behind his desk, folded his hands before him, and waited thus until we had all filed from his chambers. I ascended the stairs to our kitchen, secure in my belief that when next I came down again, the villainous Yossel would be apprehended, locked up in the strong room, and awaiting Sir John’s pleasure as to when and where to interrogate him.
Alas, however, it was not so. For when, next morning, I answered Sir John’s summons and returned, I found the strong room empty and Mr. Millhouse arrived, pacing up and down, looking left and right. He recognized me immediately and came to me forthwith.
“Ah,” said he, “young Mr. Proctor, is it not?”
I agreed that it was.
“Perhaps I’ve come too early for my appointment with Sir John. He asked only that I come by in the morning. I sent in word by that gentleman there” — he ducked his head in Mr. Marsden’s direction — “that I’d arrived. But I was told simply to wait. If this is an inconvenient hour, I should be happy to return later. I wonder,” said he. hesitating, “could you possibly tell him that for me?”