The Big Book of Jack the Ripper
Page 6
A meeting of the chief local tradesmen was held yesterday, at which an influential committee was appointed consisting of sixteen well-known gentlemen, with Mr. J. Aarons as the secretary. The committee issued last evening a notice stating that they will give a substantial reward for the capture of the murderer or for information leading thereto. The movement has been warmly taken up by the inhabitants and it is thought certain that a large sum will be subscribed within the next few days. The proposal to form district vigilance committees also meets with great popular favour and is assuming practical form. Meetings were held at the various workingmen’s clubs and other organizations, political and social, in the district, at most of which the proposed scheme was heartily approved.
September 12. The latest reports as to the search for the murderer are not of a hopeful character. On Monday evening it was stated that John Pizer, the man who was detained on suspicion of being concerned in causing the death of the woman, Annie Chapman, was still in custody at the Leman Street Police Station. Last night it was decided to release him.
September 15. Regarding the man Pigott, who was captured at Gravesend, nothing whatever has been discovered by the detectives in the course of their inquiries which can in any way connect him with the crime of crimes, and his release, at all events, from the custody of the police is expected shortly.
September 20. No further arrest in connection with the Whitechapel murders had been made up to last night and the police are still at fault.
THE FIFTY AND SIXTH MURDERS, SEPTEMBER 30
October 1. In the early hours of yesterday morning two more horrible murders were committed in the East End of London, the victim in both cases belonging, it is believed, to the same unfortunate class. No doubt seems to be entertained by the police that these terrible crimes were the work of the same fiendish hands which committed the outrages which had already made Whitechapel so painfully notorious. The scenes of the two murders just brought to light are within a quarter of an hour’s walk of each other, the earlier-discovered crime having been committed in a yard in Berner Street, a low thoroughfare out of the Commercial Road, while the second outrage was perpetrated within the city boundary in Mitre Square, Aldgate.
THE FIFTH MURDER
Victim: Elizabeth Stride
Place: Berner Street
October 1. In the first-mentioned case the body was found in a gateway leading to a factory, and although the murder compared with the other may be regarded as of an almost ordinary character—the unfortunate woman only having her throat cut—little doubt is felt from the position of the corpse that the assassin had intended to mutilate it. He seems, however, to have been interrupted by the arrival of a cart which drew up close to the spot, and it is believed to be possible that he may have escaped behind this vehicle.
The scene of the crime is a narrow court at the entrance to [which] are a pair of large wooden gates, in one of which is a small wicket for use when the gates are closed. At the hour when the murderer accomplished his purpose these gates were open. For a distance of eighteen or twenty feet from the street there is a dead wall on each side of the court, the effect of which is to enshroud the intervening space in absolute darkness after sunset. Further back some light is thrown into the court from the windows of a workmen’s club which occupies the whole length of the court on the right, and from a number of cottages occupied mainly by tailors and cigarette makers on the left. At the same time when the murder was committed, however, the lights in all of the dwelling houses in question had been extinguished, while such illumination as came from the club, being from the upper story, would fall on the cottages opposite and would only serve to intensify the gloom of the rest of the court.
At the club—the International Workmen’s Educational Club—which is an offshoot of the Socialist League and a rendezvous of a number of foreign residents, it is customary on Saturday night to have friendly discussions on topics of mutual interest and to wind up the evening’s entertainment with songs, etc. The proceedings commenced on Saturday about 8:30 with a discussion on the necessity for Socialism among Jews. This was kept up until about eleven o’clock, when a considerable portion of the company left. Between twenty and thirty people remained behind, however, and the usual concert which followed was not concluded when the intelligence was brought in by the steward of the club that a woman had been murdered within a few yards of the house. The people residing in the cottages on the other side of the court were all indoors and most of them in bed by midnight. Several of these persons remember lying awake and listening to the singing in the club, and they also remember the concert coming to an abrupt termination. But during the whole of the time between the hour of their retiring to rest and the moment when the body was discovered, no one heard anything in the nature of a scream or a woman’s cry of distress.
Late last night the woman was identified by a sister as Elizabeth Stride, who it seems had resided latterly in Flower and Dean Street. A correspondent—when he was shown the body of the deceased—recognized her by the name of Annie Fitzgerald as having been charged and convicted a great number of times of drunkenness. Whenever so charged she always denied having been drunk and gave as an excuse that she suffered from fits. This statement, although not strictly true in connection with her special visits to the Thames Police Court, was partly correct, for while evidence was being adduced against her she had fallen to the floor of the dock in a fit and had to be carried from the court to the cell in an insensible condition.
Inquest on Elizabeth Stride, October 2–24
Testimony of James Brown. I saw the deceased about a quarter of one on Sunday morning. At that time I was going from my own house to get some supper at the corner of Berner Street and Fairclough Street. As I was going across the road I saw a man and woman standing by the Board School in Fairclough Street. They were standing against the wall. As I passed them I heard the woman say, “No, not tonight, some other night.” That made me turn round and I looked at them. I am certain the woman was the deceased. The man had his arm up against the wall and the woman had her back to the wall facing him. I noticed the man had a long coat on, which came very nearly down to his heels. The place where they were standing was rather dark. I then went on and went indoors. I had nearly finished my supper when I heard screams of “Police” and “Murder.” That was about a quarter of an hour after I got in. I should say the man was about five feet seven inches in height. He appeared to be stoutish built. Both the man and woman appeared to be sober.
Testimony of William Marshall. On Sunday night I saw the body of [the] deceased in the mortuary. I recognized it as that of a woman I saw on Saturday evening about three doors off from where I am living in Berner Street. That was about a quarter to twelve. She was standing talking to a man. I recognize her both by her face and dress. There was no lamp near and I did not see the face of the man she was talking to. He had on a small black coat and dark trousers. He seemed to me to be a middle-aged man.
Coroner: What sort of a cap was he wearing?
Witness: A round cap with a small peak to it—something like what a sailor would wear.
Coroner: What height was he?
Witness: About five feet six inches and he was stout. He was decently dressed, and I should say he worked at some light business and had more the appearance of a clerk than anything else.
Coroner: Did you see whether he had any whiskers?
Witness: From what I saw of his face I do not think he had. He was not wearing gloves and he had no stick or anything in his hand.
Coroner: What sort of a coat was it?
Witness: A cutaway one.
Coroner: Are you sure this is the woman?
Witness: Yes, I am. I did not take much notice of them. I was standing at my door and what attracted my attention first was her standing there some time and he was kissing her. I heard the man say to deceased: “You would say anything but your prayers.” He was mild speaking and appeared to be an educated man. They went down the street.
Coroner: When you were in Berner Street did you see anyone?
Smith: Yes, a man and a woman.
Coroner: Was the latter anything like the deceased?
Witness: Yes, I saw her face. I have seen the deceased in the mortuary and I feel certain it is the same person.
Coroner: Did you see the man who was talking to her?
Witness: Yes, I noticed he had a newspaper parcel in his hand. It was about eighteen inches in length and six or eight inches in width. He was about five feet seven inches as near as I could say. He had on a hard felt deerstalker hat of dark colour and dark clothes.
Coroner: What kind of a coat was it?
Witness: An overcoat. He wore dark trousers.
Coroner: Can you give any idea as to his age?
Witness: About twenty-eight years.
Coroner: Can you give any idea as to what he was?
Witness: No, sir, I cannot. He was of respectable appearance. I noticed the woman had a flower in her jacket.
Statement of the Coroner. Unlike other victims in the series of crimes in this neighbourhood—a district teeming with representatives of all nations—[Elizabeth Stride] was not an Englishwoman. She was born in Sweden in the year 1843, but having resided in this country for upwards of twenty-two years, she could speak English fluently and without much foreign accent. At one time the deceased and her husband kept a coffeehouse in Poplar. At another time she was staying in Devonshire Street, Commercial Road, supporting herself, it was said, by sewing and charring. On and off for the last six years she lived in a common lodging-house in the notorious lane called Flower and Dean Street. She was there known only by the nickname of “Long Liz,” and often told a tale, which might have been apocryphal, of her husband and children having gone down with the Princess Alice. For the last two years the deceased had been living in Dorset Street, Spitalfields, with Michael Kidney, a waterside labourer belonging to the Army Reserve. But at intervals during that period—amounting altogether to five months—she left him without any apparent reason except a desire to be free from the restraint even of that connection and to obtain greater opportunity for indulging her drinking habits.
[The witness] last saw her alive at the corner of Fairclough Street and Berner Street, saying, “Not tonight but some other night.” Within a quarter of an hour her lifeless body was found at a spot only a few yards from where she was last seen alive. It was late and there were few people about, but the place to which the two repaired could not have been selected on account of its being quiet or unfrequented. It had only the merit of darkness. It was the passageway leading into a court where several families resided. Adjoining the passage and court there was a club of Socialists who, having finished their debate, were singing and making merry. The deceased and her companion must have seen the lights of the clubroom and the kitchen and of the printing office. They must have heard the music and dancing, for the windows were open. There were persons in the yard but a short time previous to their arrival. At forty minutes past twelve one of the members of the club named Morris Eagle passed the spot where the deceased drew her last breath, passing through the gateway to the back door which opened into the yard. At one o’clock the body was found by the manager of the club. He did not inspect [it] himself with any care, but blood was flowing from the throat even when Spooner reached the spot some few minutes afterwards.
In this case, as in other similar cases which had occurred in this neighbourhood, no call for assistance was noticed. Although there might have been some noise in the club, it seemed very unlikely that any cry could have been raised without its being heard by some one of those near. The editor of a Socialist paper was quietly at work in a shed down the yard which was used as a printing office. There were several families in the cottages in the court only a few yards distant, and there were twenty persons in the different rooms of the club. But if there was no outcry, how did the deceased meet with her death?
There were no signs of any struggle; the clothes were neither torn nor disturbed. It was true that there were marks over both shoulders, produced by pressure of two hands, but the position of the body suggested either that she was willingly placed or placed herself where she was found. Only the soles of her boots were visible. She was still holding in her hand a packet of cachous, and there was a bunch of flowers still pinned to her dress front. If she had been forcibly placed on the ground, it was difficult to understand how she failed to attract attention, as it was clear from the appearance of the blood on the ground that the throat was not cut until after she was actually on her back. There were no marks of gagging, no bruises on the face, and no trace of any anaesthetic or narcotic in the stomach, while the presence of the cachous in her hand showed that she did not make use of it in self-defence. Possibly the pressure marks may have had a less tragic origin, as Dr. Black says it was difficult to say how recently they were produced.
There was one particular which was not easy to explain. When seen by Dr. Blackwell, her right hand was lying on the chest, smeared inside and out with blood. Dr. Phillips was unable to make any suggestion how the hand became soiled. There was no injury to the hand such as they would expect if it had been raised in self-defence while her throat was being cut. Was it done intentionally by her assassin or accidentally by those who were early on the spot? The evidence afforded no clue. Unfortunately the murderer had disappeared without leaving the slightest trace. Even the cachous were wrapped up in unmarked paper, so that there was nothing to show where they were bought. The cut in the throat might have been effected in such a manner that bloodstains on the hands and clothes of the operator were avoided, while the domestic history of the dead woman suggested the strong probability that her destroyer was a stranger to her.
In the absence of motive, the age and class of woman selected as victim, and the place and time of the crime, there was a similarity between this case and those mysteries which had recently occurred in that neighbourhood. There had been no skilful mutilation as in the cases of Nichols and Chapman, and no unskilful injuries as in the case in Mitre Square—possibly the works of an imitator; but there had been the same skill exhibited in the way in which the victim had been entrapped and the injuries inflicted so as to cause instant death and prevent blood from soiling the operator, and the same daring defiance of immediate detection which—unfortunately for the peace of the inhabitants and trade of the neighbourhood—had hitherto been only too successful.
THE SIXTH MURDER
Victim: Catherine Eddowes
Place: Mitre Square
October 1. The murder in the City was committed in circumstances which show that the assassin, if not suffering from insanity, appears to be free from any fear of interruption while at his dreadful work. Mitre Square is entered from three places—Mitre Street and passages from Duke Street and St. James’s Place—through any of which he might have been interrupted by the arrival either of ordinary pedestrians or the police, although the square is lonely at nighttime, being occupied chiefly for business purposes. The constable’s beat, moreover, is patrolled in between fifteen and twenty minutes, and within this short space of time, apparently, the murderer and his victim must have arrived and the crime been committed. The deceased was found lying on her back with her head inclined to the left side. Her left leg was extended, the right being bent, and both her arms were extended. The throat was terribly cut; there was a large gash across the face from the nose to the right angle of the cheek, and part of the right ear had been cut off. There were also other indescribable mutilations. It is stated that some anatomical skill seems to have been displayed in the way in which the lower part of the body was mutilated, but the ghastly work appears to have been done more rapidly and roughly than in the cases of the women Nichols and Chapman.
The officer who found the body is positive that it could not have been more than a quarter of an hour before he discov
ered it. He is timed to “work his beat,” as it is called, in from ten to fifteen minutes. The police theory is that the man and woman who had met in Aldgate watched the policeman pass round the square and then entered it for an immoral purpose. The throat of the woman having been cut, the murderer hurriedly proceeded to mutilate the body. Five minutes, some of the doctors think, would have sufficed for the completion of the murderer’s work, and he was thus enabled to leave the ground before the return of the policeman on duty. The murderer probably avoided much bloodstaining on account of the woman being on the ground at the time of the outrage, and leaving the square by either of the courts, he would be able to pass quickly away through the many narrow thoroughfares without exciting observation. But one of the most extraordinary incidents in connection with the crime is that not the slightest scream or noise was heard. A watchman is employed at one of the warehouses in the square, and in a direct line but a few yards away a City policeman was sleeping.
A man named Albert Barkert has made the following statement: “I was in the Three Nuns Hotel, Aldgate, on Saturday night when a man got into conversation with me. He asked me questions which now appear to me to have some bearing upon the recent murders. He wanted to know whether I knew what sort of loose women used the public bar at that house, when they usually left the street outside, and where they were in the habit of going. He asked further questions and from his manner seemed to be up to no good purpose. He appeared to be a shabby genteel sort of man and was dressed in black clothes. He wore a black felt hat and carried a black bag. We came out together at closing time—twelve o’clock.”