Chapter 16 Chapter Nine: The Ripper's Lair

All I can do is wait.Infected by Holmes' impatience, I took stock of the situation and tried to pass the time in the same way I had seen Holmes for so long. I thought about the four men Holmes identified as possible Rippers.Readers may make their own judgments, but I'm baffled by many other factors - Mycroft's claim that the clues are still incomplete, Holmes' desire to catch the "tiger" stalking the streets of London.If the Ripper was one of the four men Holmes had ever met, what about "Tiger"?Why must the "Tiger" be found before the Ripper can be found?

Had I realized then that I held the key to the mystery, I would have been elated.It's just that at the time I was blind to the key and its meaning; when I realized it later, it brought me nothing but humiliation. I passed a long time in monotony and annoyance, with nothing but a note from a page boy in livery. "Sir, Mr. Mycroft Holmes has asked me to deliver it to Mr. Sherlock Holmes." "Mr. Holmes is out at the moment," I said. "You may leave the note." I unwrapped the package and examined the note.The note was sealed in an envelope stamped Foreign Affairs Office.Mycroft worked there.

I have itchy fingers and want to open the envelope so badly.Of course I didn't.I put the letter in the drawer and continued my thinking.Time passed by, and Holmes had not returned. I went to the window and watched the smog hanging over London.As dusk dawned, I wondered if this might be another lucky night for the Ripper. Apparently, the lunatic had the same idea.Quite dramatically, when I first had this idea, Holmes sent a letter from a street urchin.While the boy waited, I tore open the envelope with trembling hands. I'm sure this handsome little boy in front of me has never received such a high reward.I gave him five shillings for his relief.

I immediately got into a small two-wheeled carriage and kept urging the coachman to speed up and gallop forward on the crowded street.Fortunately, the coachman was very familiar with the road, and his skills were quite good. After a while, he said, "Master, here we are, it is the door on the right. Go straight ahead, but be careful not to be hit." I groped for the entrance, entered it, and across the yard saw Holmes standing beside the raised bed in the morgue. "Another one, Watson," he said gravely. Dr. Murray and the mentally handicapped child were also on the sidelines.Murray stood silently by the table, and Michael Pierre huddled against the wall, his face full of naked fear.

Murray remained motionless, and Holmes frowned.He said sharply: "Murray, you don't want to ask Dr. Watson how his stomach is?" "No, no." Murray pulled the sheets. Still, my stomach was put to the test.No sane mind could imagine such an unbelievable atrocity of carcasses.Insane Ripper skills are bordering on insane.In justice, I omit those details, but I still can't help but catch my breath. "The breast is missing, Holmes!" "This time," said Holmes grimly, "the madman has taken a breast." I couldn't stand it any longer and stepped off the platform.Holmes followed. "For God's sake, Holmes," I cried, "the rampage of the monster must be stopped!"

"We all hope so, Watson?" "Can Scotland Yard help you?" "Of course, Watson," he replied darkly, "how can I be of any use to Scotland Yard? Very little, I am afraid." We leave Murray and Retarded.Standing on the foggy street, I shuddered. "That monster that had been Michael Osborn... maybe it was just my fancy, Holmes, but Michael crouched there like one of Murray's faithful hounds, expecting to be kicked by his master for a mistake? " "Or," replied Holmes, "like a faithful hound that senses its master's fear and wishes to share it with him. You are too entangled with Michael Osborne, Watson."

"Perhaps." I forced myself to sort out my thoughts. "Holmes, have you found the escaped messenger?" "I followed him for a few blocks, but he knew the streets of London so well that I lost track." "May I ask, what did you do afterwards?" "A trip to the Bow Street Library, trying to sort out the mind-patterns of a madman's murder." I followed him slowly through the fog. "Where shall we go now, Holmes?" "A particular area in Whitechapel. I devised a pattern, Watson, locating all known victims, and marked them specifically on the map. I studied for hours and determined that the Ripper's site revolved around a central , a room, or an apartment, a shelter, where he can leave safely to return."

"Are you going to search there?" "Yes. The method of staying at home has failed, so let's see what you can gain by running around." "Indeed, with such a heavy fog, you can only work with your legs." "Yes, but we have another advantage. For example, I intend to question witnesses." This startled me. "Holmes, I do not know of any witnesses." "Witnesses of some sort, Watson, there must have been. Several times the Ripper had been at close range beforehand, and I suspect he murdered in that manner on purpose, out of contempt and bravado. You have to remember our contact with him."

"certainly!" "At any rate, I have decided that, judging by the sound of his retreating footsteps, he is heading for the center of his range of motion, and it is this center that we are looking for." And so, on that foggy night, we made our way into the Whitechapel quarter, which was as filthy as the city's biggest sewer.Holmes walked steadily, which showed that he was very familiar with this place.Neither of us spoke until Holmes broke the silence: "By the way, Watson, you are sure you have a gun in your pocket." "I checked it last before going out."

"I have a gun too." We first came to an opium den.Holding my breath against the stench, I followed Holmes through the rows of smoker's bunks.The big smokers lay there, enjoying the unreal dreams brought on by drugs.Sometimes Holmes paused to examine, and sometimes he said something briefly, and the answer was extremely brief.We could see by the time we left that he hadn't gotten a valuable lead from there. After we came out, we went to the slums, where most of the residents were sad and silent.Holmes spoke in low tones to acquaintances, and occasionally dropped a coin or two into their dirty hands.But we still left.

The third place we went, was even more repulsive than the first two, and I couldn't stand it anymore. "Holmes, the Ripper is not a cause. He is an effect." "A result, Watson?" "The results of these fallen places." Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't this make you angry?" "I would certainly welcome a radical change, Watson. Perhaps in the future, enlightened times will come. At the same time, I am a realist. Utopia is a luxury, and I have no time to dream." Before I could answer, he pushed open another door and we found ourselves in a brothel. Cheap perfume smells harsh.Walking into a living room, nearly half of the prostitutes bared their breasts and seduced with extreme lewdness the womanizer who came in from the fog. Frankly, I immediately looked away from the ghostly smile and seductive pose and surveyed our surroundings.Holmes was as calm as ever when he noticed a pale and lovely little fellow sitting there in a long gown that was casually turned up at a corner.He said, "Good evening, Jenny." "Good evening, Mr. Holmes." "I gave you the doctor's address, have you gone?" "Yes, sir. He says I am in perfect health." The beaded curtain parted, and a fat woman with eyes like raisins stood in the doorway. "How did Mr. Holmes come out on such a night?" "I'm sure you know why, Leona." Her fat face was clouded. "Why do you think my girls are going out on the streets? I don't want to lose any of them!" A fat prostitute with heavy make-up shouted angrily: "He is a bloodthirsty demon who can suck your blood dry in an instant." Another said: "Better than slashing your stomach with a razor blade, honey." "I almost ran into one too. I knew he lived in Paquin. He was wearing a white tie and cape, and he came up the stairs, and when he saw me he stopped. There were already sounds of a police search in the street. He said : 'Honey, go to bed now. Act like this night never happened.'" a girl sitting on the floor said harshly. "The gentleman has escaped, I suppose?" said Holmes calmly. "There's a house up there, isn't there? But he didn't take me there." "For a gentleman, such an abode is rather queer, don't you think?" The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, "He can do whatever he wants, but we also have eyes." Holmes was already walking towards the door.As he passed me, he whispered: "Come, Watson! Come on! Come on!" In the thick fog, he held my hand tightly and moved forward desperately. "We have found him, Watson! I am sure it is true! Visiting—questioning—offhand remark—the criminal we are after seems capable of everything, but there is one thing he cannot do, and that is invisibility." There was pure joy in every word, and a few minutes later I found myself being dragged by Holmes to a wooden wall leading up to a narrow flight of stairs. Even Holmes, who has superb endurance, was overwhelmed after running desperately.As we climbed the stairs, he said out of breath, "Watson, Paquin is a gray apartment. There are many such apartments in the Whitechapel area. Fortunately, I know the name." I looked up and saw a door that was ajar.After climbing the stairs, Holmes rushed in immediately, and I did not leave. "Damn luck!" he cried. "Someone got there before us!" In all the days and nights I have spent with Holmes, I have never seen him look so defeated.The furniture in the room was dilapidated, and he stood in the middle of the room, pistol in hand, his gray eyes blazing with anger. "If this is the Ripper's lair," I cried, "he has escaped." "Of course, without a doubt!" "Perhaps Lestrade was after him." "No, I'll bet Lestrade was just stalking some alleys." The Ripper's hasty escape left the room in disarray.I was thinking how to comfort Holmes when he took my arm coldly. "If you suspect that this is not a madman's cave, Watson, look there!" I followed his fingers and saw a trophy—the hideous breast missing from the Montague Street morgue. I've seen enough violence and death, but nothing worse than this.There's no anger, no blood here; just bleak terror, and my stomach starts to cramp. "I must go, Holmes. I will wait for you below." "I'm going to leave soon. What I can see here is very limited. Our prey is too cunning to leave any clues." At that moment, perhaps as a distraction, I remembered the letter. "By the way, your brother Mycroft Holmes delivered a letter to Baker Street this afternoon. I was too happy to forget." I handed it to him, and he tore open the envelope immediately.I didn't get the thank you I hoped for.After reading the letter, Holmes' eyes were cold. "Do you want to know the content?" "really want to know." "The letter read: Dear Sherlock: I have a little information here that may be helpful to you. As for where I got it, I will tell you later. A man named Max Klein There's an Angel and Crown pub in Whitechapel, but a very recent purchase, four months ago in fact. Your brother Mycroft." I was so ashamed that I wanted to find a hole in the ground and crawl into it.I have no way to excuse myself, no amount of excuses can explain how stupid I am.Anyway, I blurted out: "Oh yes, Holmes, I can confirm that. That girl told me that too at the Angel and Crown." "Are you sure?" asked Holmes cautiously. "Klein was a scary guy. I don't think it took him long to make that impression on everyone around him." Holmes broke out, raising his fist. "Great God! I am the idiot of idiots!" I did not expect such a strong reaction from Holmes. I opened my mouth and said feebly: "I do not understand, Holmes." "Watson, you are really hopeless. First, you did not tell me the information you had, which deprived me of the opportunity to solve the problem; second, you once again forgot to send me a letter with the same important information. Watson! Watson! Which side are you on?" If I was ever lost, now I am completely lost.Protest is out of the question; rebellion, protection of self-respect is out of the question. But Holmes never scolded others repeatedly. "Angels and crowns, Watson!" he cried, rushing out the door. "No, first to the morgue! Let us show the devil a sample of his own making."