'It is an extraordinary case, Watson,' Holmes cried. 'I have been studying it. I knew the police would need my help. Shall I tell you the facts?'
'Please do!' I said. Was this going to be one of Sherlock Holmes's great cases? I hoped that at last he had found something to interest him.
'The women who died were poor, and neither young nor beautiful,' he told me. 'So they were not killed for money or for love. Why were they killed? That is one mystery. There is another. Each woman was killed with a knife. The word "killed", Watson, cannot describe the violent and terrible ways in which they were murdered. They were cut up like meat. The stomach of one was opened, the head of another almost cut from her body. But this is not the worst. There are things that even the newspapers will not describe.'
He showed me a doctor's report on one of the bodies. As I read it, a sick feeling carne over me.
'What man could do this?' I asked. 'What possible reason could he have to do this to a woman? Why, Holmes, why?' He smiled coolly at me.
'Why indeed? That is the real interest of this case. In themselves, these deaths are not important. Women like that are murdered every week. But why does this killer cut them up? Why rip the bodies to pieces with a knife? That is the question which makes this case so exciting!,
If anyone can stop these terrible murders, Holmes is that man, I thought. This case could become his greatest success.
At that moment somebody knocked at the door.
'Ah, come in, Inspector,' Holmes said. 'I understand you have finally decided to ask me to help you catch this Whitechapel murderer.'
Inspector Lestrade did not look very pleased. 'Not at all, Mr Holmes,' he said. 'I was just passing Baker Street, and I know you find these cases interesting.'
'How kind!' Holmes said. 'Please tell us. When did you arrest the killer? I am a little sad, I must say, to find that you have done it all without me.'
'We haven't arrested anyone yet,' Lestrade said, 'but I am very hopeful, Mr Holmes. You see, I have in my pocket a letter from the killer himself.' The smile left Holmes's face. He was suddenly serious. 'May I see the letter?' he asked.
It was written in red, and the name at the bottom was 'Jack the Ripper'. I still remember something of what it said:
I love my work. My knife is nice and ready for the next job. I can't wait to rip again.
Holmes turned to Lestrade. 'What are you doing to stop this murderer?' he asked. 'It is clear that he will kill again very soon.'
'Every extra policeman that we have will be in Whitechapel at night,' Lestrade said. 'And we have a little surprise for Jack the Ripper.' He looked at us importantly. 'Some of our best and bravest policemen will be dressed in women's clothes,' he said. 'We will stop at nothing to catch this criminal.'
There was a moment's silence. Then Holmes and I looked at one another and we both began to laugh. We could not stop.
Lestrade turned very red. 'I see you are amused by murder,' he said. 'You do not wish to work with us. Well, I am a busy man. I must leave you. Goodbye, Mr Holmes. Goodbye, doctor.'
Holmes stopped laughing immediately.
'Inspector,' he said, 'I want very much to work with you. Let us meet this afternoon to discuss our plans.'
This made Lestrade much happier.
When he had left, I said to Holmes, 'You have laughed at the police, but what ideas do you have about these crimes? Who do you think the murderer is?'
'I do not know who he is, Watson,' he told me, 'but I believe I know what kind of man he is. He is far too intelligent, too extraordinary a killer for our good friend Lestrade and his policemen in dresses to catch. No, he shall be mine. He is the criminal that I have waited for. To destroy him will be the greatest success of my life. I dream of it, Watson! I must destroy him! I cannot fail!'
He was shaking with excitement. I had never seen him like this before.
That afternoon he went to Scotland Yard. When he came home, he was very quiet. Next day he appeared dressed in old, dirty clothes.