I scurried out from under the bed, slipping and sliding on the b.l.o.o.d.y floor. On my feet, I made the mistake of looking back.

There was Mary.

She didn't look much like a person at all, the way she was carved up. It was so awful, if I did any kind of job telling you about it here, you might get so revolted you'd quit reading my book. Besides, I'd feel guilty for putting such pictures into your head. My aim is to inform you and entertain you with the tale of my adventures, not to give you black thoughts or put you off your feed.

Let me just say, the way the Ripper left Mary, you couldn't have figured out whether she was a man or a woman. She didn't have much face, either.

I looked longer than I should've, mostly because it took me a spell to figure out what the mess on the bed really was. was. When I caught on, I gagged and looked away. But I looked away in the wrong direction, so I saw the stuff on the table. Both her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and a gob of innards. When I caught on, I gagged and looked away. But I looked away in the wrong direction, so I saw the stuff on the table. Both her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and a gob of innards.

I started to keel over, but somehow stayed on my feet and stumbled to the window. I shoved it open. Tried to climb out, but fell out instead. The cold and rain cleared my head some. As I picked myself up, I recalled why I'd snuck into the room in the first place. But I wasn't raring to climb back in to fetch any shirt and coat. I saw them on the chair when I pulled the window down, and kept my eyes on them so I wouldn't catch another look at Mary.

Then I ran through the courtyard. The rain quit when I was under the arch. I stopped running, and leaned out far enough to glance up and down the street, scared the Ripper might be there. I didn't see him or anyone else. But the gas lamps didn't give off a whole lot of light, and left plenty of black s.p.a.ces where someone might be lurking.

All I wanted, just then, was to find my way home without running into more trouble. The last thing I wanted was to meet up with the Ripper. But a close second was getting took for the Ripper myself.

Being shirtless and b.l.o.o.d.y in the Whitechapel area at an hour like this, I was bound to rouse suspicion in anyone who might see me. That being the case, it shouldn't matter a whit whether I tried to walk casual or raced along like the devil was on my heels.

At least if I ran, I'd be quicker about getting away to somewhere safe.

I stepped out from under the arch. The rain came down on me. While I tried to decide which way to go, I rubbed my hands together until I figured most of the blood was off. Then I rinsed my chest and belly real quick.

Being lost, it didn't matter much which direction I picked.

So I turned to the right and kicked up my heels. I went splashing through the street top speed. So much motion started my head to hurting something fierce, but I kept on chugging. At a corner, I checked both ways. My heart did a tumble when I spotted some folks off to the left. One was a constable. n.o.body let out a shout, though, so maybe I wasn't seen.

Safe past the corner, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't go back and tell the Bobby everything. Just didn't have the gumption, though. First thing you know, he'd be thinking I I was the one that done in Mary. was the one that done in Mary.

And I was was the one that stabbed Ned or Bob in the alley tonight. Rain or not, there might still be blood on my knife from him. I could throw my knife away. Didn't fancy doing that, however. Aside from it being a gift I prized, it was my only weapon and I might need it. the one that stabbed Ned or Bob in the alley tonight. Rain or not, there might still be blood on my knife from him. I could throw my knife away. Didn't fancy doing that, however. Aside from it being a gift I prized, it was my only weapon and I might need it.

So I figured my best plan was to keep shut of constables or anyone else.

Well, I rushed around a bend in the road and pulled up short and lost my breath. My stomach dropped down to my heels.

Not that I recognized him. Cramped under the bed that way, I hadn't seen enough: just his legs, his hands when he reached down a few times, his trousers and shoes. There was nothing particular about any such thing.

The fellow walking past the street lamp ahead of me wore a hat and overcoat. Below the hem of the coat were trouser legs. They might've belonged to the pants I'd seen in Mary's room. Looked the same. But dark pants are dark pants. From where I stood, I couldn't see enough of the shoes to know if they were like the Ripper's.

But he carried a leather case like a doctor's bag.

That was enough for me.

I just knew, deep down, this was Jack the Ripper. In my rush to hightail, I'd chanced to take the same route as him, and caught up.

What with the distance and the rain smacking down all around us, he hadn't heard me come around the corner. Or if he did hear, he didn't look back. He kept on walking, and left the glow of the street lamp behind him.

I stood still and watched.

It'd likely take me hours to scribble out all the thoughts that went through my head then. But they boil down to this: much as I wanted to get away from the Ripper and go home to bed and pull the covers over my face, I reckoned as how it was my duty to follow him.

And that's what I did, even though it scared the tarnation out of me.

I was fifteen and wet and cold and terrified, and as I followed Jack the Ripper in those dark morning hours I reckoned I might not live to see the daylight.

But I kept after him, all the same.

Here's the thing.

He was a monster who'd done unspeakable things, not only to Mary but to a handful of other women. He deserved the worst kind of punishment for that. More important, though, there'd be more women falling under his blade if somebody didn't put a stop to him.

Maybe it was chance. Maybe it was fate or the will of G.o.d. But somehow, I'd ended up being the fellow with an opportunity to put the quits to his string of b.l.o.o.d.y murders.

It wasn't a job I could walk away from.

CHAPTER SIX.

I Tail the Fiend My plan was to follow the Ripper to his digs, wait till he'd settled in, and then fetch the police. I sure didn't aim to tangle with him. He'd had a lot more practice in the way of knives, and he was a head taller than me so he'd have me beat on reach. Besides, I was scared witless of him. I'd be doing enough if I just stayed on his trail.

He led me this way and that, picking streets that were mostly deserted. I hung back. I kept off to the side so I could duck into doorways or alleys in case he might take a notion to look over his shoulder.

He acted like he didn't have a worry. He never once checked his rear. I got a side view of his face a few times when he turned corners, but couldn't tell much. Just too dark, and his hat brim shadowed it from the street lamps. All I could see was he had a beaky nose and a weak chin.

I judged as how it might be a good thing to get a close-up look. But I didn't dare have a go at that. Knowing his face wouldn't count for much if I ended up dead for trying.

The trick was to stay alive and not lose him.

After a while, it started seeming like a fairly simple trick. He wasn't being cautious or dodgy. He walked along like a gentleman out for a stroll. I didn't have a bit of trouble keeping my eyes on him.

Though we sometimes walked by other folks, they minded their own affairs. A few gave me odd looks, but none spoke to me or raised any sort of fuss.

I got to pondering what a hero I'd be for tracking Jack the Ripper to his lair. Why, I'd be the most popular bloke in London, in the whole of England, for that matter. Her Majesty the Queen, herself, would likely honor me. Mother, she'd be just so proud...

That reminded me of Mother's plight, the reason I'd set out in the first place. Well, I hadn't managed to fetch Uncle Bill, but it didn't seem very important just now. Barnes wouldn't be getting out of the handcuffs. Mother ought to be all right.

What I should do, I decided, was go and find Uncle Bill first thing after discovering the Ripper's lodging place. That way, he'd get in on the glory.

I picked up my pace when the Ripper vanished around a corner. I got him in sight again. He was strolling toward a street lamp, toward a woman who stood there holding on to the post.

She spoke to him. I couldn't make out her words.

He walked over to her.

There was n.o.body else on the street that I could see.

I went all soft inside and felt like my heart might explode, it was thumping so hard.

He doesn't dare! I thought.

I stood frozen while the woman took his arm and snuggled up against him and they started walking off together.

He'd done two in one night before, so this shouldn't have surprised me. But it sure did. I'd just known known he would lead me straight to his lodgings and I'd end up a hero. he would lead me straight to his lodgings and I'd end up a hero.

It wasn't about to happen that way, though.

Mary hadn't been enough for him. He was fixing to butcher this gal, too.

It'd be my fault, if I let it happen.

I dug the knife out of my pocket, pried open its blade and rushed after them.

My father had died in battle. If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me. I reckoned I might be meeting up with him any second. Eager as I was for the reunion, though, I hoped it wouldn't happen for considerable more years.

I didn't want to die just yet. But I couldn't let this gal get killed, either.

I slowed down a trifle as the distance closed. Pretty soon, I was no more than a few paces behind them. The gal wore a bonnet. Her head was leaning against his shoulder, and her arm was hooked around his back. He had one arm around her. His other swung the leather case along at his side.

They hadn't heard me yet. I was holding my breath. It helped, too, having lost my shoes to the thieves.

It went against the grain to backstab a fellow.

I went on and did it anyway.

Charged right up behind him and jammed my blade through his coat.

He let out a sharp cry. I tugged the blade out to get ready for another go. Before I could stick him again, he whirled around. His case clobbered the side of my face and sent me staggering. As I fell on my rump, the woman took to screaming. Then she took to her heels.

The Ripper didn't go after her.

I'd saved her.

But matters were looking dicey for me.

I scrambled to get up as the Ripper came at me. He didn't seem to be in any great hurry. He switched the case to his left hand, reached inside the front of his coat, and came out with a knife. Likely the same knife he'd used on Mary.

"You're Jack the Ripper!" I blurted as I got to my feet.

"Am I now?" he asked.

It was the same voice I'd heard on the bed above me.

I backed away into the street and slashed about with my knife to keep him at a distance.

His knife was a d.a.m.n sight bigger. He didn't swing it at me. He just held it steady in front and looked like he didn't plan to fool around, just ram it through my gizzard and hoist me off my feet with it.

"Give yourself up," I said, "or I'll run you through."

He laughed at that. Can't say I blamed him.

I kept backing away. He kept coming.

I kept hoping he'd topple because of the stabbing I'd given him, but my blade must've hit a place that didn't count for much.

Suddenly, he made his move.

He lunged, thrusting at my belly.

I leaped aside. His blade missed me by a hair, and I whipped mine down. I didn't have any target in mind, just hoped to slash him somewhere, hurt him the best I could. But what happened, I whacked off most of his nose. It came clean off and fell.

He squealed.

Sounded a bit like the squeal he'd torn out of Mary.

He dropped his satchel and clutched his spouting stub and roared. roared. The sound of that roar made my heart quake. The sound of that roar made my heart quake.

I made like a jackrabbit.

It might sound cowardly, but I'd had enough. That roar did it for me. He stopped being a wounded man and turned into the monster that had cut Mary into a faceless, gutted carca.s.s. That had eaten eaten her. her.

I wanted shut of him for good.

And I'll tell you, I didn't feel much like a coward as I raced off. I'd done my duty. I'd saved that woman from him and I'd marked him in a way he couldn't hide.

I figured, if I could only make my escape and live to tell my tale, Jack the Ripper would either disappear forever or end up in jail next time he showed his noseless face.

I hadn't killed him. I hadn't captured him. But I'd stopped his reign of terror.

That's what I thought, anyhow.

Even though he was chasing after me, I figured he wouldn't catch up. After all, I was young and quick. And I wasn't hurt.

From the sounds of him dashing along behind me, I hadn't lost him yet.

I took a glance back when we were near a lamp, and saw how near he was and shriveled up inside. The knife in his right hand was pumping up and down. He'd lost his hat. His coat had come open, and was flapping behind him. His face and bare chest were black with blood.

He looked like the worst kind of nightmare spook.

I took to yelling for help. Not that I had much breath to do it with. The yelling came out feeble. And nothing seemed to come of it. After a while, I gave up and put all my energy into staying ahead of him.

I dashed down streets and alleys. I plowed around corners. Every so often, something came out of the dark and b.u.mped me. I tripped a few times, but always got up and running again in time to keep from getting killed.

We ran past people sometimes. None was a constable. None tried to help. They all either ignored us or cowered or ran out of our way.

That eager mob must've turned in early.