A Study in Terror by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page A

the tables were occupied by sheeted, still figures; but Lestrade led us to the far end.
    There, another platform stood, with its table and sheeted morsel of humanity. This platform was slightly higher, and so placed that a sign, The Corpse for To-day , might well have seemed appropriate.
    â€œAnnie Chapman,” said Lestrade, morosely. “The latest victim of our butcher.” With that, he drew back the sheet.
    Holmes was the most objective of men where crime was concerned, but a grim pity invaded his face. And I must confess that I—accustomed to death both in the bed and upon the battlefield—was sickened. The girl had been slaughtered like an animal.
    To my amazement, I saw what appeared to be disappointment supplant the pity upon Holmes’s face. “The face is not scarred,” he murmured, as if in complaint.
    â€œThe Ripper does not mutilate the faces of his victims,” said Lestrade. “He confines his attentions to the more private parts of the body.”
    Holmes had turned cold and analytical. He could now have been regarding a specimen in a dissection-room. He touched my arm. “Note the skill of this unholy work, Watson. It verifies what we have read in the journals. The fiend does not cut at random.”
    Inspector Lestrade was scowling. “There is certainly nothing skilful in that slash across the abdomen, ’Olmes. The Ripper used a butcher’s cleaver for that one.”
    â€œBefore the abdomen was dissected, possibly with a surgeon’s scalpel,” muttered Holmes.
    Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “That second blow, the one to the heart. It was done by a cleaver, also.”
    â€œThe left breast was removed with consummate skill, Lestrade,” said I with a shudder.
    â€œThe Ripper’s surgery varies. Its skill seems to depend upon the time that is available to him. In some cases there has been scarcely any, cases in which he was interrupted in his devil’s work.”
    â€œI am compelled to alter certain superficial ideas I had formed.” Holmes appeared to be speaking to himself rather than to us. “A madman, certainly. But a clever one. Perhaps a brilliant one.”
    â€œThen you admit, Mr. ’Olmes, that the Yard is contending with no blundering idiot?”
    â€œMost assuredly, Lestrade. And I shall be happy to give you whatever aid my limited powers allow.”
    This widened Lestrade’s eyes. He had never before heard Holmes deprecate his own talents. The policeman searched for a suitable rejoinder, but apparently such was his astonishment that he could find none.
    He recovered sufficiently, however, to voice his standard plaint. “And if you are lucky enough to apprehend the fiend—”
    â€œI seek no credit, Lestrade,” said Holmes. “Rest assured the Yard shall reap the glory.” He paused, then added, gloomily, “If there is any.” He turned to Dr. Murray. “I wonder if we may be permitted to inspect your hostel, Doctor?”
    Dr. Murray bowed. “I should be honoured, Mr. Holmes.”
    At that moment a door opened, and a pathetic figure appeared. There was much about the shuffling creature to pity, but I was struck first by the total vacancy in his eyes. The expressionless features, the sagging, partially-open mouth, bespoke an idiot. The man shuffled forward and stepped upon the platform. He cast a look of empty inquiry at Dr. Murray, who smiled as one smiles at a child.
    â€œAh, Pierre. You may cover the body.”
    A spark of eagerness appeared on that vacuous countenance. I could not help thinking of a faithful dog given a chore by a kindly master. Then Dr. Murray gestured, and we moved away from the platform.
    â€œI’ll be off,” said Lestrade, sniffing wrinkle-nosed at the carbolic. “If there is any information you require, Mr. ’Olmes,” said he, politely, “do not hesitate to call upon me.”
    â€œThank you, Lestrade,”