Jack the Ripper – A Love Story ( Excerpt 138 )
Then much to my consternation, Arthur insisted on questioning me about my years in Whitechapel. It seemed like most people he was curious about my knowledge and theories concerning the Ripper.
These events happened twelve years ago and I had tried to erase them from my memory, but unfortunately, they keep coming back to haunt me. Much as I may want to deny the fact of the matter, I was Jack the Ripper, but that is for my ears only.
I had to grudgingly answer Arthur’s questions, or I may have drawn suspicion on myself, like Abberline, Arthur Conan Doyle was not a man to underestimate. it was only when we got down to the intimate surgical details that I felt a little uncomfortable, Arthur, like myself was an accomplished surgeon, on that basis alone I would have to be careful with my answers, less I let suspicion fall on myself.
I thought I had convinced him of the pointlessness of a Sherlock Holmes v The Ripper scenario. But he still insisted on gleaning every gory detail from me, I found it most unnerving. At what finally appeared to be the conclusion of his questioning, He stated, ‘And you are certain that this Jack creature is a surgeon?’
‘I would say so, Yes! everything I witnessed bought me to that conclusion, Abberline could not understand me when I said I was somewhat in awe of the mans skill, the speed he worked at and the conditions he worked under and the results were certainly to be admired.’
‘So you came to the conclusion, that the man himself must be a skilled surgeon, not a butcher, barber, mortuary assistant or medical student?’ ‘All I can say Arthur is that if you had seen the quality of his work you would have arrived at the same conclusion as I did,’ I stated honestly.
(C) Damian Grange 2019