On Thursday, 6 September, unable to control my jitters, and needing to be rid of them for my own safety, I left my lodgings early. I headed west for several blocks, before circling back north and east to Whitechapel Road. In that way, I gave myself a long walk to my scheduled shift at hospital through the busier sections of the East End and along the edge of what the local residents had begun to call the "Murder District".
Murder DistrictI confess, I did not do so boldly. I wore my collar up. I tugged the brim of my soft cloth cap down. I kept my eyes moving, my mouth shut, and my ears open. I"d spent too long indoors, hiding. I needed to be out and about. I needed to hear what the East End had to say.
What tales I heard!
Tales told with such pride one would have thought the gossipers s
