Thirty-Eight – Jack the Ripper!Despite their best efforts in apprehending me, the police had so far failed miserably. I didn't blame them. I was a force to be reckoned with. But their efficiency was beginning to be questioned by large swaths of the population. What could not be questioned was the efficiency of Her Majesty's Mail.
Outside of my specific knowledge, my little love note, the blood-stained postcard update of my activities I wrote at home Monday morning (after the double event), and immediately mailed to the Boss editor at the Central News Agency, had been received at his office that same morning.
I didn't know a thing until Wednesday, 3 October, when, while walking past the Leman Street Police Station, I was forced to bring myself to a stop. A small (but quickly growing) crow
