'Look again, Watson,' Holmes said with a smile. Suddenly, I understood. 'It is a letter M!'
'Yes, Watson. M for murder, M for .. .' 'Moriarty! Holmes, do you mean to say ... ?'
'Yes. He is writing his name in blood upon the face of Whitechapel. And, as you see, I know where he will try to kill tonight, and where I shall go to meet him.'
'Not without me,' I said. 'I must come with you.' We left the police station just before midnight.
For the first time, 1 walked through the narrow streets of east London, streets that I had seen before only through the window of a cab. People think that murders happen in dark, empty streets. That is not always true. A strange and horrible fact about the streets where Jack the Ripper murdered women is that they were busier and better lit than most other London streets. They were full of pubs and cheap hotels. At all hours the streets were full of people who were too poor to find a bed anywhere, drunks looking for a bar that never closed, and all kinds of criminals. Finally, there were the women - those women who work only at night, when their more honest sisters are asleep.
I studied medicine in London, and while I was a student I saw something of the low-life of our capital. I was, after all, a healthy young man, and young men must amuse themselves. But I had never seen women like these. Holmes stopped several to question and to warn them, and I looked at their faces carefully. They were old at the age of twenty, dirty, diseased and hopeless. One thing was clear to me - they were not like other women. Does it matter, I began to think, if Jack the Ripper kills women like these? Death by his knife is quick. It cannot be worse than the slow and painful death from disease which most often ends their short lives.
We returned to the police station after one o'clock. I was tired and sick at heart. Lestrade did not stop talking, telling us that we should catch no murderers that night.
Suddenly, Holmes jumped up and walked out into the street.
I followed him.
'Stay inside, Watson,' he said. 'You are tired, dear fellow, and you cannot help me.'
'I am coming with you,' I said. 'Nothing will stop me.' 'Come, then. But we must hurry. Moriarty is near. I can feel it.'
It began to rain. He walked fast and I almost had to run to keep up with him. His eyes moved restlessly from side to side. Suddenly he stopped, and stared into the darkness.
'Twice, Watson,' he said softly. 'He will kill twice tonight.
We stopped him killing a woman last time, so he must kill two tonight.'
Before I could answer, he was moving again. Then he stopped, and pulled me into a dark corner. Someone was coming towards us. Holmes spoke in a low voice, bur I shook with fear at his words. 'It is Moriarty.'
A man passed our corner and disappeared into another street. I could not see his face.
'Run to the police station and fetch Lestrade. He knows what to do,' Holmes said. 'I shall follow Moriarty. Hurry, man, hurry!'
Then he was gone. I cannot explain why I did not do what I was told. The fact is, instead of going to the police station, I followed Holmes. Perhaps I was afraid that my friend could not fight Moriarty on his own.
I ran to the corner of the street. I could just see Moriarty, walking straight on. Then, to my great surprise, Holmes turned left, and disappeared into a house, while Moriarty reached the end of the street and turned the corner. I could not understand what was happening, or what I should do next. What if Holmes, realizing that someone was following him, thought I was one of Moriarty's men? Some minutes later, I was still wondering what to do when I heard a door close. A man came out into the street. It was Holmes. He was now richly dressed, in a hat and a long, dark coat. He had changed his appearance in several small and clever ways, but I knew him.