Read Online The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Whitechapel Horrors by Edward B. Hanna - Free Book Online

you, Inspector. An astute observation on your part, one that most would miss.”
    “I confess that I certainly would have,” said Watson, who had followed them to the tap and was peering over Holmes’s shoulder.
    Holmes shot him a sardonic glance. “Oh, no, not you, old fellow.”
    Abberline kicked the ground with a foot. “What bothers me is that there are no signs of a struggle. As you can see, there is no proper paving here, just a patchwork of stones and earth. If the woman put up any sort of resistance, you would expect to find some indications of it. Yet, the ground doesn’t seem to have been unnaturally disturbed. She must have come here with him voluntarily, or even brought him here. Certainly, she was not dragged by force.”
    Chandler nodded in agreement. “No question about that. Living here, she no doubt knew the yard well and probably used it with her men friends more than once. As for the ground around the body, I examined that straightaway, as soon as there was light enough to see by. And there was nothing, I assure you, not a sign to be found.”
    Holmes glanced up at the windows of the surrounding buildings looking down into the yard. “No one heard anything, of course?”
    Abberline shook his head. “My lads have been through all of thosebuildings, Mr. Holmes. We have questioned everyone who was in residence last night — everyone within sight of this yard. And of course we’ve questioned the residents of this building — all sixteen of them. Only one individual admits to hearing anything out of the ordinary, a man by the name of Cadosh who lives next door. He said he was in the yard behind his house — the yard that adjoins this one — at precisely a quarter past five — relieving himself no doubt — when he heard a woman’s voice sharply say no followed by the sound of something falling against the fence. He thought nothing of it at the time, he said. Didn’t give it a moment’s notice. Just turned right around and went back to bed. Said he hears much worse most nights.”
    “I shouldn’t wonder,” muttered Watson.
    Holmes looked up sharply. “A quarter past five?” he asked. “You say he was certain of that — most precise?”
    “Yes, absolutely certain. He said he had just heard the brewer’s clock strike the quarter hour.”
    “That’s helpful,” Holmes said. He pondered for a moment. “You examined the fence?” he asked, taking the few steps necessary to bring him up to it: A low wooden wall, made up of rough boards crudely nailed together. It formed a border on three sides of the yard, the rear of the house itself forming the fourth.
    “I ran an eye over it, but I can’t say it’s been examined closely,” admitted Chandler. “You’ll have noted those bloodstains on the boards just above where she is lying, but there’s nothing else as far as I can tell.”
    Holmes whipped out his lens and spent the next several minutes conducting an examination of the fence, concentrating most of his attention on the top edges of the jagged, unpainted boards and on the bottom of the boards where they met the ground. Completing his task finally, he stepped back and placed his hands on hips, shaking his head. “No, not a thing.”
    Abberline spoke up: “I have had a man examine the ground all along the fence on the other side, and there is nothing there either. No footprints, no sign of anyone vaulting over.”
    Holmes nodded. “I doubt if he made his escape this way. He must have used the passage and walked right out through the door, calm as you please. A cool fellow, this.”
    Chandler agreed. “That’s my guess. Yet our men haven’t been able to find anyone who saw a stranger about. Of course it was very early in the morning and still was dark, and most people would have been in their beds.”
    “Yes,” said Holmes tonelessly.
    Abberline referred to his notebook. “As I have said, we’ve interviewed everyone who lives in the immediate vicinity, or has legitimate