Twenty – Drunk with BloodIn the days following Stockings' untimely demise, I began to feel restless.
And decidedly curious. All I knew about what was happening in Hanbury Street, in the streets of the East End, throughout ol' London-town, or behind the scene with the investigating plods, I gleaned from Mrs Griggs and her papers at home, or Miss Adler and her party of nurses at work, complete with the facts, fictions, guesses, and opinions mixed into the writing or attached in the telling.
The papers on their own were little help. The stories were all over the place. The radical press had the coppers stumped, a-sea without a clue. The liberal press was hopeful the unfortunates would find help in these troubled times. The conservative writers had the heroic coppers hot on the miscreant's t
