Thirty – Singing WhoreAgain the happenings in Berner Street, at the time, were completely outside of my knowledge. As the body was being discovered and investigation in the gateway of the socialist's club was getting started, I was on the run. I did not have a destination. I merely needed to be away from Dutfield's Yard.
I could have gone home, certainly. Fact was, at the moment I slit the Squealer's throat in Berner Street, I was only a few short blocks from my lodgings. I might be thought crazy not to have gone home. But I couldn't, could I? I just couldn't! I'd accomplished my work. I had rid the street of a dirty w***e, that's true. But not cleanly. No, the events in Berner Street had gone pear-shaped. Hadn't they? The results had been unsatisfactory. The w***e was dead but, owing to
