Exactly how long I sat in stunned silence I’m not sure. Eventually, a sort of calmness asserted itself over my trembling limbs, my mind cleared as though I was escaping from the grip of an icy fog, and I slowly regained a modicum of composure. As reality replaced fantasy, and the dreamlike images faded from the forefront of my mind, I shuddered with the remembrance of that terrible image, those eyes peering deep into my soul, my eyes! Why should my own eyes have manifested themselves into those of the Ripper? I had killed no-one, had never had a violent thought towards anyone in my life, and yet, there was no denying that as I’d seen that terrible vision of the Ripper the face behind the scarf had been mine
Was it a dream, or could it be that in my own state of disturbance I had started t
