THE CASE OF THE WHITECHAPEL BUILDER (inspired by true events…present and past)
THE CURIOUS CORORNER
In the spring of ’91, it seemed at last that the horrors of Whitechapel were at last behind a city transfixed by serial butchery of the most savage kind. There was a feeling in the air that the good old town had passed through a storm of demonic proportions and while the fiend known as the “Ripper” had not been apprehended, somehow good in some unfathomable fashion, had triumphed over evil.
During the worst part of the killings, Holmes was in the field as the saying goes, privately assisting Detective Inspector Frederick Abberline and Chief Inspector Donald Swanson of Scotland Yard who headed the investigation. It seemed that someone very high in the Royal family had taken an acute interest in the murders and Holmes had been summoned by his elder brother Mycroft and asked to quietly assist. “It would not appear positive if the public thought the “Yard” was not “up to the job” his brother had told him.
Mycroft Holmes was the most mysterious of men and in physical appearance the exact opposite of his lean and saturnine brother. He was corpulent in the extreme but very agile physically. Some might even call him graceful. Holmes the younger had a vulpine quality to his sharply chiseled face while Holmes the elder could be mistaken for “Father Christmas” until you looked into his eyes that were black as night and the duplicate of his brothers. Those eyes betrayed no emotion or gave anyone a glimpse of what either one was thinking. Those who met them for the first time were aware that they were in the presence of extraordinary men just by looking into those coal black eyes of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.
In revulsion over the murders of these unfortunate women of the East End, Parliament has passed two significant bills known as the Housing of the Working Classes Act of 1890 and the Public Health Amendment Act of 1890 which set minimum standards for accommodations in an effort to transform degenerated urban areas. Intellectuals such as George Bernard Shaw had long advocated for such actions on the basis that poverty and deprivation were the root causes for crime and therefore extreme deprivation caused extreme and wanton brutality. Holmes however thought that premise simplistic, since as the world’s first Private Consulting Detective he had borne personal witness to despicable acts of violence and evil performed by members of some of the highest born and most privileged families in the realm.
However since the passage of these two landmark bills little seemed to have been done and while serious journalists tried to keep the issue alive, the rest of the “yellow press” moved on to whatever new scandal or curiosity seemed to be deemed worthy of a collective vicarious thrill. Only a year before the tabloids had been ablaze with the death of Joseph Carey Merrick also known as John Merrick at the London Hospital. Merrick a former denizen of Whitechapel was the grotesquely and tragically deformed young man that his physician Dr. Frederick Treves had dubbed “The Elephant Man” and Holmes had been his friend. At Merrick’s funeral, Holmes had encountered the coroner at his inquest Dr .Wynne Edward Baker, who had come to prominence during the notorious murders of 1888. Baker had sought Holmes out after the service and entreated him to share a Hansom cab with him back to town. On the ride back Baker shared with Holmes his concerns about the eventual success of the reforms then being debated by the House of Commons. “Mr. Holmes” he had said at one point in the conversation, “there are rumors of forces afoot that mean to use this effort to enrich themselves and if they succeed it will be to the detriment of those poor women and our dear friend that we buried today! They will allow the bills to pass and then they will delay the work until they extract their pound of flesh from the public fisc. It is a heinous threat and not worthy of a Christian nation. More than this I cannot tell you since I learned merely the broadest outlines of this scheme from poor Merrick himself who in turn had heard it from one of his many visitors at the hospital. After that conversation I made some discreet inquiries and met with a dead end when one promising lead was run down by a runaway hackney on High Street. I must confess to you Holmes that when I did my inquest on Joseph, I looked long and hard for signs of foul play but could find no definitive evidence. I am haunted by the thought that poor Merrick being the most trusting of souls, was done in by one of the new friends that came with his celebrity. He could have innocently said the wrong thing to the wrong person unaware that knowledge of this nefarious endeavor could spell his doom.”
Holmes had promised Baker that he would look into it and for a year had surreptitiously delved into the matter often using his amazing skills at disguise to visit the haunts of Whitechapel either as a Lascar seaman on the prowl or a foppish Count from Rumania looking for forbidden pleasures. After a time he ceased to update me on the course and direction of his investigation and I had come to believe that the Coroners fears were unfounded. Then in late April a missive came from Mycroft in the form of his “carte de visite” sans photograph which simply read “M.V. Holmes and underneath “Clerk”. In the upper right hand corner was the unmistakable Royal Coat of Arms of the Queen of England. On the back in the fine but minute calligraphy that was the handwriting of Mycroft Holmes it was simply written “Diogenes…2:00PM…bring Watson”
Holmes who had been languidly sprawled in his favorite easy chair encased in a dense cloud of sweetish tobacco smoke emanating from his meerschaum while perusing the morning broadsheets sprang up with alacrity and while rushing to his chambers to dress commanded me to “prepare yourself my dear old chap…at last the game is afoot!”
AN EPHIPHANY AT THE DIOGENES CLUB
The Diogenes Club was the unofficial home of Mycroft Holmes. While he resided in a flat in Pall Mall his life centered on his offices in Whitehall and his club. The club was one of the oddest in London and as I have previously described it in my writings about the “Greek Interpreter” was as such for the following reasons as states by Holmes himself.
"There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latest periodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Club was started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable men in town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of any other one. Save in the Stranger's Room, no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed, and three offences, if brought to the notice of the committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere."
At 2:00PM precisely we were shepherded into the “Strangers Room” where Mycroft Holmes sat reading a thin dossier with singular intensity. At first I was uncertain that he was even aware we were there and hence cleared my throat as a subtle way of announcing our presence. Without looking up at me Mycroft Holmes swiftly drew his finger across his throat as if the digit was a blade while Sherlock Holmes gave me a piercing glance of opprobrium. Sufficiently chastened, I bit my tongue and stood patiently until Mycroft had finished his scrutiny.
When at last he looked up at us a brief flicker of a smile glanced over his fleshy face and he motioned for us to sit. “Sherlock you look absolutely wretched and you my dear Watson sound as if you have a case of the grippe coming on.” To this assault in lieu of greetings Holmes the younger replied with an acerbic “and you my dear Mycroft look as though you are in need of a gourmet lunch”. With this rather queer round of faux bonhomie concluded, Mycroft went straight to the point. “Dr. Baker’s fears were well grounded. There are forces at work at the highest levels of the Social Democratic Federation that masquerade as friends of the poor but in reality are using them as a puppet master would use a puppet to gain wealth and power. I believe the key to finding conclusive proof of this criminal undertaking lies with no other than Mr. George Akin Lusk.”
“By Jove Mycroft you don’t mean the fellow from Whitechapel and the “Ripper” murders do you?” I asked quizzically. At this juncture Sherlock interjected “yes my dear Watson that is exactly who he means and I am a fool not to have seen this before!” “Do not be too hard on yourself my dear brother” Mycroft said softly in an uncharacteristically kindly way. “It took me a considerable amount of time and no small amount of money to piece together the puzzle of a conspiracy so blatant yet so simultaneously concealed that no one but a criminal himself would see at first blush what in reality was truly occurring. I am asking you …and this request comes from the highest authority…to go where the government cannot since we are in the midst of a very stiff election, where at this point in time the radical Social Democratic Federation may well end up forming a new government. I need not remind both of you that this organization controls the East End now and has made inroads in the slums of Liverpool, Glasgow, Manchester and Leeds. Under a banner of helping the poor they want to tax the wealthy …or at least those whom they consider wealthy in order to bestow a vast amount of public charity upon the unfortunate in the form of direct stipends. The only requirement attached to the recipient is joining and working for the SDF. And …oh yes gentlemen …they are committed to the abolition of the monarchy”.
With that he stopped and simply looked at us for our response. Sherlock Holmes answered for the both of us with a simple nod of his head and with that Mycroft handed us the dossier and we both turned on our heels and quickly exited through the silent club into the bright afternoon sunshine with a dark cloud in the background.
The dossier on George Akin Lusk read as follows:
George Akin Lusk was Chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee during the murders in 1888. Lusk is also a former Freemason (excluded from the Doric Lodge for non-payment of dues). George Akin Lusk is a builder and decorator who specializes in restorations and is also the Churchwarden of his church.
Lusk was elected Chairman by other local businessmen who made up the Committee on 10 September 1888. He and the Committee's Treasurer, Joseph Aarons, wrote a letter to the Daily Telegraph, addressed to the Home Secretary, Henry Matthews, stating that “the offer of a substantial reward from the government would convince the poor and humble residents of our East-end that the government authorities are as much anxious to avenge the blood of these unfortunate women as they were the assassination of Lord Cavendish and Mr. Burke."
In October Lusk came to believe that his house was being watched by a sinister bearded man, and requested police protection. On 16 October 1888 he received a small package in the evening mail at his home, 1 Alderney Road, Mile End. On opening the package he found a letter addressed to himself, inside which was half a human kidney. The letter read:
"From hell
Mr. Lusk,
Sor
I send you half the Kidne I took from one women prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer
signed
Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk"
THE CURIOUS CORORNER
In the spring of ’91, it seemed at last that the horrors of Whitechapel were at last behind a city transfixed by serial butchery of the most savage kind. There was a feeling in the air that the good old town had passed through a storm of demonic proportions and while the fiend known as the “Ripper” had not been apprehended, somehow good in some unfathomable fashion, had triumphed over evil.
During the worst part of the killings, Holmes was in the field as the saying goes, privately assisting Detective Inspector Frederick Abberline and Chief Inspector Donald Swanson of Scotland Yard who headed the investigation. It seemed that someone very high in the Royal family had taken an acute interest in the murders and Holmes had been summoned by his elder brother Mycroft and asked to quietly assist. “It would not appear positive if the public thought the “Yard” was not “up to the job” his brother had told him.
Mycroft Holmes was the most mysterious of men and in physical appearance the exact opposite of his lean and saturnine brother. He was corpulent in the extreme but very agile physically. Some might even call him graceful. Holmes the younger had a vulpine quality to his sharply chiseled face while Holmes the elder could be mistaken for “Father Christmas” until you looked into his eyes that were black as night and the duplicate of his brothers. Those eyes betrayed no emotion or gave anyone a glimpse of what either one was thinking. Those who met them for the first time were aware that they were in the presence of extraordinary men just by looking into those coal black eyes of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.
In revulsion over the murders of these unfortunate women of the East End, Parliament has passed two significant bills known as the Housing of the Working Classes Act of 1890 and the Public Health Amendment Act of 1890 which set minimum standards for accommodations in an effort to transform degenerated urban areas. Intellectuals such as George Bernard Shaw had long advocated for such actions on the basis that poverty and deprivation were the root causes for crime and therefore extreme deprivation caused extreme and wanton brutality. Holmes however thought that premise simplistic, since as the world’s first Private Consulting Detective he had borne personal witness to despicable acts of violence and evil performed by members of some of the highest born and most privileged families in the realm.
However since the passage of these two landmark bills little seemed to have been done and while serious journalists tried to keep the issue alive, the rest of the “yellow press” moved on to whatever new scandal or curiosity seemed to be deemed worthy of a collective vicarious thrill. Only a year before the tabloids had been ablaze with the death of Joseph Carey Merrick also known as John Merrick at the London Hospital. Merrick a former denizen of Whitechapel was the grotesquely and tragically deformed young man that his physician Dr. Frederick Treves had dubbed “The Elephant Man” and Holmes had been his friend. At Merrick’s funeral, Holmes had encountered the coroner at his inquest Dr .Wynne Edward Baker, who had come to prominence during the notorious murders of 1888. Baker had sought Holmes out after the service and entreated him to share a Hansom cab with him back to town. On the ride back Baker shared with Holmes his concerns about the eventual success of the reforms then being debated by the House of Commons. “Mr. Holmes” he had said at one point in the conversation, “there are rumors of forces afoot that mean to use this effort to enrich themselves and if they succeed it will be to the detriment of those poor women and our dear friend that we buried today! They will allow the bills to pass and then they will delay the work until they extract their pound of flesh from the public fisc. It is a heinous threat and not worthy of a Christian nation. More than this I cannot tell you since I learned merely the broadest outlines of this scheme from poor Merrick himself who in turn had heard it from one of his many visitors at the hospital. After that conversation I made some discreet inquiries and met with a dead end when one promising lead was run down by a runaway hackney on High Street. I must confess to you Holmes that when I did my inquest on Joseph, I looked long and hard for signs of foul play but could find no definitive evidence. I am haunted by the thought that poor Merrick being the most trusting of souls, was done in by one of the new friends that came with his celebrity. He could have innocently said the wrong thing to the wrong person unaware that knowledge of this nefarious endeavor could spell his doom.”
Holmes had promised Baker that he would look into it and for a year had surreptitiously delved into the matter often using his amazing skills at disguise to visit the haunts of Whitechapel either as a Lascar seaman on the prowl or a foppish Count from Rumania looking for forbidden pleasures. After a time he ceased to update me on the course and direction of his investigation and I had come to believe that the Coroners fears were unfounded. Then in late April a missive came from Mycroft in the form of his “carte de visite” sans photograph which simply read “M.V. Holmes and underneath “Clerk”. In the upper right hand corner was the unmistakable Royal Coat of Arms of the Queen of England. On the back in the fine but minute calligraphy that was the handwriting of Mycroft Holmes it was simply written “Diogenes…2:00PM…bring Watson”
Holmes who had been languidly sprawled in his favorite easy chair encased in a dense cloud of sweetish tobacco smoke emanating from his meerschaum while perusing the morning broadsheets sprang up with alacrity and while rushing to his chambers to dress commanded me to “prepare yourself my dear old chap…at last the game is afoot!”
AN EPHIPHANY AT THE DIOGENES CLUB
The Diogenes Club was the unofficial home of Mycroft Holmes. While he resided in a flat in Pall Mall his life centered on his offices in Whitehall and his club. The club was one of the oddest in London and as I have previously described it in my writings about the “Greek Interpreter” was as such for the following reasons as states by Holmes himself.
"There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latest periodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Club was started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable men in town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of any other one. Save in the Stranger's Room, no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed, and three offences, if brought to the notice of the committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere."
At 2:00PM precisely we were shepherded into the “Strangers Room” where Mycroft Holmes sat reading a thin dossier with singular intensity. At first I was uncertain that he was even aware we were there and hence cleared my throat as a subtle way of announcing our presence. Without looking up at me Mycroft Holmes swiftly drew his finger across his throat as if the digit was a blade while Sherlock Holmes gave me a piercing glance of opprobrium. Sufficiently chastened, I bit my tongue and stood patiently until Mycroft had finished his scrutiny.
When at last he looked up at us a brief flicker of a smile glanced over his fleshy face and he motioned for us to sit. “Sherlock you look absolutely wretched and you my dear Watson sound as if you have a case of the grippe coming on.” To this assault in lieu of greetings Holmes the younger replied with an acerbic “and you my dear Mycroft look as though you are in need of a gourmet lunch”. With this rather queer round of faux bonhomie concluded, Mycroft went straight to the point. “Dr. Baker’s fears were well grounded. There are forces at work at the highest levels of the Social Democratic Federation that masquerade as friends of the poor but in reality are using them as a puppet master would use a puppet to gain wealth and power. I believe the key to finding conclusive proof of this criminal undertaking lies with no other than Mr. George Akin Lusk.”
“By Jove Mycroft you don’t mean the fellow from Whitechapel and the “Ripper” murders do you?” I asked quizzically. At this juncture Sherlock interjected “yes my dear Watson that is exactly who he means and I am a fool not to have seen this before!” “Do not be too hard on yourself my dear brother” Mycroft said softly in an uncharacteristically kindly way. “It took me a considerable amount of time and no small amount of money to piece together the puzzle of a conspiracy so blatant yet so simultaneously concealed that no one but a criminal himself would see at first blush what in reality was truly occurring. I am asking you …and this request comes from the highest authority…to go where the government cannot since we are in the midst of a very stiff election, where at this point in time the radical Social Democratic Federation may well end up forming a new government. I need not remind both of you that this organization controls the East End now and has made inroads in the slums of Liverpool, Glasgow, Manchester and Leeds. Under a banner of helping the poor they want to tax the wealthy …or at least those whom they consider wealthy in order to bestow a vast amount of public charity upon the unfortunate in the form of direct stipends. The only requirement attached to the recipient is joining and working for the SDF. And …oh yes gentlemen …they are committed to the abolition of the monarchy”.
With that he stopped and simply looked at us for our response. Sherlock Holmes answered for the both of us with a simple nod of his head and with that Mycroft handed us the dossier and we both turned on our heels and quickly exited through the silent club into the bright afternoon sunshine with a dark cloud in the background.
The dossier on George Akin Lusk read as follows:
George Akin Lusk was Chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee during the murders in 1888. Lusk is also a former Freemason (excluded from the Doric Lodge for non-payment of dues). George Akin Lusk is a builder and decorator who specializes in restorations and is also the Churchwarden of his church.
Lusk was elected Chairman by other local businessmen who made up the Committee on 10 September 1888. He and the Committee's Treasurer, Joseph Aarons, wrote a letter to the Daily Telegraph, addressed to the Home Secretary, Henry Matthews, stating that “the offer of a substantial reward from the government would convince the poor and humble residents of our East-end that the government authorities are as much anxious to avenge the blood of these unfortunate women as they were the assassination of Lord Cavendish and Mr. Burke."
In October Lusk came to believe that his house was being watched by a sinister bearded man, and requested police protection. On 16 October 1888 he received a small package in the evening mail at his home, 1 Alderney Road, Mile End. On opening the package he found a letter addressed to himself, inside which was half a human kidney. The letter read:
"From hell
Mr. Lusk,
Sor
I send you half the Kidne I took from one women prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer
signed
Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk"
Convinced the letter was a practical joke, Lusk placed the box and the kidney in his desk drawer. At a meeting of the Vigilance Committee the next day he showed it to other members of the Committee. On 14 October, Joseph Aarons, W Harris and two other members called Reeves and Lawton visited Lusk at home to inspect the letter and the kidney. Lusk wanted to throw both away, but he was persuaded to take them to Dr Frederick Wiles, who had a surgery nearby on the Mile End Road.
Wiles was out, so his assistant, F S Reed examined the contents of the box and took the kidney to Dr. Thomas Horrocks Openshaw at the nearby London Hospital. The kidney was handed over to the City Police in whose jurisdiction Catherine Eddowes had been murdered. It was never conclusively proven that the kidney belonged to Eddowes.
The following is a list of Whitechapel victims and the original letter sent to Lusk.
Date
Victim
Circumstances
Tuesday 3 April 1888
Emma Elizabeth Smith
Assaulted and robbed in Osborn Street, Whitechapel.
Tuesday 7 August 1888
Martha Tabram
George Yard Buildings, George Yard, Whitechapel.
Friday 31 August 1888
Mary Ann Nichols
Buck's Row, Whitechapel,
Saturday 8 September 1888
Annie Chapman
Rear Yard at 29 Hanbury Street, Spitalfields.
Sunday 30 September 1888
Elizabeth Stride
Yard at side of 40 Berner Street, St Georges-in-the- East.
Sunday 30 September 1888
Catherine Eddowes
Mitre Square, Aldgate, City of London.
Friday 9 November 1888
Mary Jane Kelly
13 Miller's Court, 26 Dorset Street Spitalfields.
Thursday 20 December 1888
Rose Mylett
Clarke's Yard, High Street. Poplar.
Wednesday 17 July 1889
Alice McKenzie
Castle Alley, Whitechapel.
Tuesday 10 September 1889
Unknown female torso
Found under railway arch in Pinchin Street, Whitechapel,
Friday 13 February 1891
Frances Coles
Under railway arch, Swallow Gardens, Whitechapel.
A VISIT TO MR. LUSK
The next day Holmes and I prepared to go and visit George Lusk. I was surprised and a bit baffled when Holmes instructed the driver to proceed to 1 Aldeny Road, Mile End, the residence of Mr. Lusk, instead of his place of business. “Holmes” I inquired “why are we going to his home? It is mid-morning surely he will be at his place of business!”
“No Watson Lusk will at home …rest assured!” was his brusque reply.
Sure enough after a brisk rapping on the front door, it was abruptly thrown open by a wild eyed man of middle years in stained, odiferous and badly wrinkled clothing. With a curse and an oath he asked us “Who the bloody Hell are you!” at once betraying the fact that at half past ten in the morning, he was drunk as a Lord.
With a swift push of his right hand which I recognized immediately as an incapacitating blow from the Oriental art of Ju Jit Su Holmes struck .Lusk and abruptly ended the conversation before it could continue.
Lusk crumpled to the floor of his vestibule and Holmes quickly entered the house while dragging the inert form of poor Lusk after him. “Quickly Watson, shut the door before a Constable sees us!” Holmes admonished me as I stood mouth agape at entrance to the Lusk abode.
“Holmes whatever have you done to this wretched fellow?” I complained as Holmes propped up the groggy Lusk who was starting to recover his senses.
“Make coffee Watson…make it strong and make it black and make it quickly!” he commanded.
After a brief span of time and after copious amounts of coffee Mr. Lusk regained a measure of his senses and in a tremulous voice asked who we were and what we wanted with him. Holmes introduced us to the badly shaken man and with that introduction a wave of relief swept over the poor man’s face.
“Oh Mr. Holmes your fame proceeds you sir and very glad I am to make your acquaintance. I thought nothing could be worse than the season of the “Ripper” sir but I now find myself in the grip of forces that threaten to destroy my business and my reputation. As you gentlemen may know my principle expertise lies in the restoration of Music Houses. This is both a specialty and an art because of the knowledge required concerning acoustics, baffling and the like. However when the House of Commons passed the two bills to renew and renovate the East End and in particular, Whitechapel, I realized a great opportunity lay before me and I put all my savings and more into bidding on great swaths of areas condemned for destruction and rebuilding. That is when it first began and I should have known that there was something unsavory about the endless delays and the large sums of money I had to remit to the SDP and its MP from Whitechapel, Mr. Anatole Linski.”
At this pause in the story Holmes interjected “If I am not mistaken Mr. Lusk, this is the same Mr. Linski who claims to have been born in Kiev, Poland and came to London as a small child. At 16 years of age he matriculated at Cambridge under a financial sponsorship of unknown origin and upon graduation was one of the principle founders of the Social Democratic Federation. The SDF was formed as a counter point not to the Tories but to the Liberals, whom they hoped to subjugate to form a Parliamentary monolith that will control the Empire for many years to come. Linski has established local organizations that are recognizable by the red shirts they wear and the brutal street tactics they employ to force honest businessmen such as you to pay them for protection from labor unrest and vandalism. For many years Linski was secretly affiliated with the “Napoleon of Crime” Dr. Moriarty who saw him as a vehicle to increase his nefarious power over the city and nation.”
Amazement spread across the face of Lusk who was for a brief moment was stunned into silence. “Mr. Holmes you not only know this villain well, you have taught me much of which I had no idea” he finally stammered.
“Pray Mr. Lusk do continue with your tale of woe. I must know it all if I am to put an end to this grave threat to the nation. Leave nothing out …each and every little fact is critical” said Holmes gently but emphatically.
Lusk than continued his narrative. “When Anatole Linski first stood for Parliament he was relatively young with his only experience in life being part of the creation of the SDF or the Social Democratic Federation and the clubs affiliated with the movement. At that time he preached a kind of moral purity particularly with regard to the living conditions of the poor. Chapters of this organization have spread throughout the nation and then ever so gradually; it has all but made a metamorphosis into a full fledged political party. Many of his ideas he took from that German refugee writer Marx who died in 1883 and is buried in Highgate cemetery.”
At this point I interrupted to state that I knew the case very well and had in fact been summoned more than once by the children of Marx to attend their father after his wife had died in 1881. “His children were attentive to him plus there was another who resembled him the most and seemed to be in charge. He was introduced to me as the son of his house keeper, a woman by the name of Helene Demuth. By Jove Holmes, that young man’s name was Linski, do you think there is any connection?”
Holmes stared intently at a spot on the wall just above the head of Mr. Lusk and for a brief eternity said nothing at all. At first I thought he had not heard me but as always things rarely got by my friend and after what seemed to be several minutes but was in all reality less than a minute, he answered in a slow measured tone “that Watson may be nothing or it may be everything”.
On that cryptic note, Mr. Lusk concluded his narrative by recalling how he was awarded a considerable portion of the contracts to tear down and rebuild the slums of Whitechapel only to be delayed time and again by permits and regulations that seemed to spring up from every quarter. He and other builders experienced a tangled maze of bureaucracy that eventually drained them of their capital and still denied them the necessary permissions to begin the work and thereby begin to receive their compensation. Then slowly contractor by contractor the final approvals began to be issued…except for Lusk. who held the contracts for the largest amount of the work to be undertaken. In desperation with most of his laborers furloughed until he could begin his work, he went to one of his competitors and begged him to tell how he had received his permissions. “It was in the end quite simple Lusk” he was told “it was £5,000 a contract arranged through a certain Mr. Anthony Ress Esq., a barrister who claimed that by acting as a “facilitator” he could clear up any and all obstacles surrounding any of these awards.”
“With that Mr. Holmes I went to see the esteemed Mr. Ress to plead for his assistance before I faced utter ruin. I met him in a dining establishment instead of his offices which I thought peculiar. He was a clever and glib man, but one in whom I felt inspired little or no trust. He refused to explain what the £5,000 paid for or to whom it went. He kept raising vague reasons in explanation for this fee. I grew frustrated and angry and harsh words were exchanged between us. I accused him of extortion and again demanded an answer as to where this money would go and why it was even necessary in the first place. I raised a clenched fist to his face and his anger grew in response to mine. Then he blurted out the following “Don’t make an enemy of me or mine Mr. Lusk for we are from Hell and to Hell you will be consigned!” I was shaken to the very marrow of my bones with that Mr. Holmes for it was too close by half to the language in the letter sent to me by Jack the Ripper in 1888. I must have turned white as a sheet because at that instance the expression on his face told me that he knew he had struck a nerve. Summoning up all my courage I told him that threats did not frighten me, even though my demeanor must have suggested otherwise. I cursed him even thought I am a God fearing man and a warden of my church and declared that he was running a criminal enterprise and I would see that he was apprehended and punished for his wickedness. He just laughed and with a leer and a snarl on his lips said in the most awful tone “Catch me if you can, Mr. Lusk!”
At this juncture the color drained from the face of George Lusk and he began to shake and weep in the most unmanly fashion. Holmes just stood there and waited for this fit of emotion to pass and then he said in a most surprising kind and gentle voice, “And this is how the Ripper ended his letter to you is it not Mr. Lusk?”
Lusk, still not in full command of his emotions looked up at the great Sherlock Holmes and in a small voice like that of a child instead of a sturdy man of at least 17 stone said, “Oh Mr. Holmes I am a ruined man because somehow the Ripper still lives and once again he has me in his gaze and this time he means to finish me like he did poor Eddowes and the others!”
A TRIP THROUGH WHITECHAPEL
We left the wretched Lusk in the early evening after an intensive interrogation. All of a sudden the case entrusted to us from Mycroft Holmes had taken several unexpected and puzzling twists and turns. Holmes however was in no mood for discussion on our way back to Baker Street in the Hansom cab and so we were both left with our thoughts as we pondered the situation and the facts at our disposal.
When we arrived back at our flat, I arranged for a light supper with Mrs. Turner who had been our first landlady and was for a fortnight substituting for dear Mrs. Hudson who was in Dorset caring for an ailing invalid Aunt. Holmes in the meantime sent for one of the Baker Street Irregulars and dispatched him with a note for Mycroft while commanding the street gypsy to “wait for a response and then return to me as swiftly as a bird in flight!”
After supper Holmes brought out the Stradivarius and serenaded me with a seemingly endless program of exotic, Slavic melodies each one more wild and passionate than the preceding one. Then shortly before midnight, the response from Mycroft arrived and Holmes uttered a harsh barking sound signifying triumph and in an instant donned his hat and coat was out the door saying only “don’t wait up for me Watson.”
Having been through moments like this before I retired to my chambers and fell into a fitful sleep awaking just after sunrise only to fine Holmes still absent. I did not grow worried about him until it was evening and he still had not returned. I resolved to send a note to his brother if he was not back by nine in the evening which came and went with no Holmes in sight. As I sat down to write to Mycroft, Mrs. Turner knocked on my door to give me a note that much to my relief was in the unmistakable handwriting of my famous friend. It simply said “bring your service revolver and take the cab waiting outside…H”.
There was a slight drizzle and a damp chill in the air as the Hansom proceeded at a steady trot through the Bishop’s Gate into Whitechapel. This had never been my favorite part of the metropolis for it contained all manner of dangers. The ugly heart of the district was Dorset Street which many called the most dangerous street in the city and the equal to the notorious “Five Points” of New York. Together with Wapping, Aldgate, Bethnal Green, Mile End, Limehouse, Bow, Bromly-by-Bow, Poplar, Shadwell, and Stepney the entire area was known collectively as the East End and it was the epicenter of every manner of human degradation known to man. Poor Merrick had been exhibited here like a caged freak in a shop on the Whitechapel Road until he was rescued by Dr. Treves. Inspector Lestrade had once told Holmes and me that there were over 1200 women of the night of very low class and over 60 brothels that catered to the most unspeakable practices in Whitechapel alone. All eleven of the poor creatures that had been murdered during the last three years had been fallen women.
The area had become the shame of the nation and during the period of the “Ripper” murders Parliament and such diverse groups such as the Law and Liberty League, The Fabian Society, which was a splinter group of The Fellowship of the New Life and The Salvation Army, (which was formed at 272 Whitechapel Road on August 7, 1878), attempted to reform or help the denizens of this lonely part of Hell. The SDF and the Socialist League were the most ferocious opponents of the status quo as well as of how civilized society was organized in general. In 1887and 1889, they were the principle organizers behind the “Bloody Sunday” November 13, 1887 demonstration in Trafalgar Square for the release of the Irish MP William O’Brien. This event had been the culmination of dozen of East End demonstrations involving both the “Irish question” and the conditions of the East End slums. All the SDF leadership was involved on that tragic day…Elizabeth Reynolds, John Burns, Annie Besant, Robert Cunningham-Graham and of course the omni-present Anatole Linski. 400 infantry and cavalry and over 2000 police were employed that day and when the violence was over, hundreds of men, women and children were beaten with three known deaths. This I know for a fact for I was called to hospital to attend the wounded. The Tory government of Lord Salisbury was shaken to its core but managed to hang on due to the overall distrust of and distaste for the SDF overall. But the winds of change were blowing and while Holmes was generally the most apolitical of men, even he was forced to admit that “This situation cannot continue or we shall all rue the day!”
In 1888 and 1889, the SDF were the masterminds behind the London Matchgirls strike and the London Dock Strike.
The latter event broke out on August 14, 1889 and helped to form the nascent Trade Union movement that now apparently is allied with reformers of all political stripes including the SDF. Cardinal Manning himself was the mediator between the owners and managers of the docks and the newly formed Dock, Wharf, Riverside and General Labourer’s Union. Because it was a largely peaceful event much of the British middle class were sympathetic, if not supportive of the aims of the workers. Because of the Cardinals role, it was rumored that Pope Leo XIII himself was going to align himself with the trade unionists worldwide*.
All of these events, along with the “Ripper” murders were swirling about each other and as Mycroft Holmes once wryly remarked “In the season of virtue, the wicked shall trespass and try and lead the way!” It was a prescient and profound comment that stayed with me.
* On May 15, 1891 Pope Leo XIII issued the encyclical “RERUM NOVARUM (Of New Things”)
POLITICS MOST FOUL
April 24, 1889 article in "The Palace Journal" about Whitechapel
A horrible black labyrinth, think many people, reeking from end to end with the vilest exhalations; its streets, mere kennels of horrent putrefaction; its every wall, its every object, slimy with the indigenous ooze of the place; swarming with human vermin, whose trade is robbery, and whose recreation is murder; the catacombs of London darker, more tortuous, and more dangerous than those of Rome, and supersaturated with foul life...Outcast London. Black and nasty still, a wilderness of crazy dens into which pallid wastrels crawl to die; where several families lie in each fetid room, and fathers, mothers, and children watch each other starve; where bony, blear-eyed wretches, with everything beautiful, brave, and worthy crushed out of them, and
nothing of the glory and nobleness and jollity of this world within the range of their crippled senses, rasp away their puny lives in the sty of the sweater.
The Hansom eventually stopped at what I presumed to be my final destination which was the notorious “Ten Bells Pub” at the corner of Commercial Street and Fournier Street
in Spitalfields in the East End of London. This sordid den of iniquity was notable for its association with two victims of the “Ripper”; Annie Chapman and Mary Jane Kelly. I exited the cab with one hand on my revolver in the side pocket of my coat and the other on my cane, which was of a sturdy bamboo and concealed a sword that could cut through skin and bone with a flick of the wrist.
The drizzle had subsided and there was a fog growing since we were not that far from the docks. I glanced furtively at my watch since it was dangerous to display anything of value in this terrible place. It was half past nine and there was no moon, poor gas lighting, a growing ground fog and myself, alone in the most dangerous area of London looking every inch the proper English gentleman when a shadowy figure emerged from the Ten Bells and staggered over to me. “’Ello Guvnor …’ow ar yew this foine night? Say m’lord dew yew ‘ave a shilling to ‘elp a poor seaman git a ‘alf pint to quench ‘is thirst?”
The man was clearly an “East Ender” with a common “cockney” accent and was dressed as a common workman.
My first reaction was to draw my sword from its cane scabbard, when the man stopped short and said in that unmistakable voice “Be careful Watson oryou will cut yourself with that blade and then have to treat yourself and a Doctor who has himself as a patient, has a fool for a Physician!”
“Good Lord Holmes, I should have expected this from you. You nearly frightened me to death. Where have you been I was about to notify your brother that you had gone missing!”
“No dear Watson, I merely went aground and this night we shall solve a multitude of riddles and hopefully spare the nation a trauma of the first magnitude!”
With that he grabbed my elbow and we proceed south along Commercial Street into the belly of the beast known as Whitechapel.
Our destination was a nondescript building on High Street which when we arrived had us witness Hansom after Hansom pull up and discharge their passengers who promptly entered the structure after speaking briefly with two burly and decidedly malevolent appearing villains with tattoos on their face and necks. “Maoris” whispered Holmes, “on other occasions they use Cossacks or Turks,”
“Follow my lead Watson and when I give you the signal act with alacrity” he instructed me. With a steady gate and a grim visage we strode to the entrance of the building and started to pass through when we were roughly stopped by one of the guards with a rough hand to Holmes’s chest. “’Ere now laddie…there’s no reason to do that” said Holmes in his uncanny cockney. The larger of the two merely grunted “the sign” as Holmes hit him with a punch that dropped him like a load of bricks. The only word he said while this was being done was “gun” and in a split second my revolver was in the face of the second brute. Holmes placed his right hand on the neck of the man still standing and said in a most menacing tone “If you want to live to see the sunrise you will tell us the sign.” As he began to apply pressure on the carotid artery the man began to lose all signs of resistance and just before he crumpled to the pavement, he muttered “Ulyanov”.
Then from out of the shadows two new men emerged who were this time dressed in a Russian peasant fashion but were as menacing as the two who were unconscious on the ground. “Mycroft’s men” Holmes hissed through clenched teeth and in less than an instant both of the Maoris were bound and gagged and deposited in the shadows of the alley way adjoining the building.
With a silent nod to both men, Holmes and I proceeded into the building which turned out to be a moderately sized auditorium on the first floor with a stage and what appeared to be offices or meeting rooms running along the balustrade of the second floor. We followed the sound of the voices and entered the auditorium where close to fifty men and a smattering of women were seated in the audience waiting for some unknown program to begin. Holmes and I slipped in to seats in the rear where the lighting was dim and proceeded to observe the crowd. To our surprise, we saw many familiar faces some of whom were MPs, and others who were prominent wealthy business men or people associated with the recent social disturbances. The room was lined with unsavory fellows wearing the red shirt of the militant guard of the SDF. Then the crowd hushed as a thin man with bushy hair in his mid to late thirties, a younger man with a goatee and moustache and a well dressed man who obviously was well to do entered the stage from stage left and proceed to the three chairs situated behind a lectern at stage front center. I immediately recognized the bushy haired man and nudged Holmes whispering “that is Linski …I remember him from treating the German philosopher Marks…he has come to resemble him even more as time passes. Holmes merely nodded as if he already was in possession of this knowledge and then bid me be silent with a finger to his lips as the bushy haired young man began to speak.
“Comrades” he began “tonight we are on the verge of a great new era where the forces of religion, social convention and the rights and privileges of the bourgeoisie and the ruling class will commence to wither and die like the poison fruit they are. The system of capitalism must be forever be destroyed and we as the vanguard of that destruction must be uncompromising and even brutal if necessary in the furtherance of its destruction. To that end we have endeavored to utilize all means necessary to tear down the old order and create a new man for the new century. Sometimes that has involved what the moralists of this decadent and false democracy would call murder but what we call the sacrifice of the useless for the betterment of the many. I speak frankly to you tonight because you have all been proven to be the trusted members of an elite whose only goal and objective is the revolutionary overthrow of this Monarchy and its colonies and Empire as well as the genocidal faux democracy that grows like a cancer in the United States. Make no mistake about this Comrades… we are embarked upon a world wide struggle of historic proportions. We intend to use the very democratic principles, laws and rights which the capitalists so treasure as their strength, as our weapon and turn that strength into the fatal weakness that kills this beast called democracy from within. Before I introduce our guest from abroad I want to ask our legal advisor Barrister Anthony Ress to say a few words.”
At this point, the well dressed gentleman arose and proceeded to the lectern. “Most if not all of you know me”, he began in a gruff husky voice. Do not let my dress and manner fool you for I was born not far from here on the corner of Flower and Dean Streets which are amongst the very worst places on earth. I escaped this deplorable place by the strength of my wits and my sworn oath of determination to have my revenge upon those who take all the wealth and share it with none. Over the past months we have made sure that the parasites who want to profit off the rehabilitation of the poor of the slums, are forced to pay heavily for the privilege of “doing good”. The delay furthers the unrest of the poor and thus each day brings us more disciples while the blood money we drain from these business men “leeches” fattens our coffers and brings the day of revolution closer. In the upcoming by-elections, the SDF will swamp the Tories and the Liberals which are in such precipitous decline that soon they will die and we will feast on their carcass and assume the mantle as the majority party of the new century and of a new Britain. Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce to you that we have over £1,ooo,ooo at our disposal”. With that there was a collective gasp from the audience which instantly made me think how impressed these would be destroyers of wealth were with wealth itself. Indeed Mr. Ress looked as prosperous a man could be and the others too, while somewhat less fastidious in dress and appearance, wore suits that were not inexpensive and boots that even from my perch in the rear, I knew to be from the Royal boot maker John Lobb of St James Street.
To vigorous applause, Ress concluded his remarks and Linski resumed his place as master of ceremonies before the lectern. “And now Comrades, I want to introduce you to the future…he comes to us tonight, a young man in Law School in St. Petersburg, who will one day take our revolution from the steppes of the Caucasus and to the Urals and from Siberia, to Tbilisi on the Black Sea and Minsk in the Ukraine. His family has already sacrificed one son to the cause of the proletariat and now the younger one has stepped forward to lead Russia into the future. Comrades I give you a young man that you will here much from in the future…a man we had to smuggle out of his country for this meeting …I give you Vladimir Ulyanov.”
Amidst a robust applause the slight young man with the goatee moved to the lectern and proceeded through an interpreter to give a spellbinding and mesmerizing address. One soon forgot the impediment of his youth and was caught up in the intensity and passion of his words and his intellect. His eyes were like coals and strangely reminded me of the eyes of Holmes and his brother. This was a man with a great intellectual gift. This was also a very dangerous man who was as amoral as any I have ever known or read about. He had passion but no soul. Humankind as individuals with hopes and dreams were as unimportant to him as insects. He prophesized a world devoid of the restraints of God where the “Golden Rule” that he saw as the law of the jungle would be replaced by the law of the hive or the collective. He was also much more forth right about his absolute loathing of Jews than the two prior speakers and as he spoke on this topic my mind remembered the “Goulston Street Graffito” found after the Stride and Eddowes murders that inflamed the residents of the East End. It read "The Juews are no the men that will not be blamed for nothing" and while this evidence was removed for fear of instigating a “pogrom” against the many good and virtuous members of that ancient faith, it was revealed surreptitiously to the press and riots ensued.
With the conclusion of his remarks the meeting ended and the members of the audience departed from the hall to waiting carriages and into the arms of waiting members of the British Secret Service. Holmes and I rushed to the front of the hall to intercept Linski, Ress and Ulyanov only to see them disappear through a trap door behind the stage into a tunnel leading to the Thames. We followed andstaggered through the darkness after them pausing only to light a phosphorescent match, the flame of which caused bullets to nearly end our lives. By the time we reached the end of the tunnel and the river there was no sign of the three even as police launches were dispatched to stop each and every craft on the water that night.
Of Linski his fate is unknown but Holmes never stopped searching for him and from time to time rumors would reach him that he had changed his name and gone to the United States where he became obscenely wealthy through his manipulation of the Gold and Silver markets. This, it was believed, caused at least one if not two world wide panics that only made him even richer. One fine spring day in New York City in1907 he was found hanging from a tree in Central Park and his fortune was given to the Church since he died intestate.
Of the larcenous Mr. Anatole Ress, he too vanished from sight, although it was suspected that a body fished from the Thames months later might have been him. The fish and the effect of being immersed in the salt water of the Thames estuary while wrapped in chains for a good deal of time had the unfortunate effect of leaving very little of the corpus to identify. There was attached to his left wrist a handcuff bracelet that had at its other cuff a large leather Gladstone bag with its bottom cut away. On that bag engraved in gold were the initials A. R. Esq.
Of the young and charismatic Ulyanov he returned to Russia where he continued his revolutionary activities and from whence he was exiled several times. Holmes almost caught up with him when he returned to London for a spell and then missed him again when he lived in exile in Zurich. By that time Holmes was very old with the will to fight but not the strength and agility and besides Ulyanov had covered his tracks well. He had changed his identity and was now known by the name Lenin.
Dr. John Hemish Watson MD
London 1918
ERLANDSSON.
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