As I stretched my aching limbs, I realised that the day was drawing in. It was late afternoon and darkness was beginning to descend on the world, as it had so long ago on the streets that were the Ripper’s stalking ground. My own intense immersion in the matter in hand, and the light from my desk lamp, which had burned faithfully on my desk all through the daylight hours, had helped to disguise the gathering gloom outside my window.
Feeling cold and weary, I rose from my chair and crossed the study, and, for the first time in many months, I turned on the antique design, log effect gas fire. Its instant warmth suffused the room, bringing a degree of light and cheer to my self-imposed cloistered environment. I reached for the dimmer switch on the wall by the door, and turned it up to halfwa
