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Authors: Anthony Berkeley
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full of strange twists; the idea of hanging a girl with a lisle-thread stocking would probably shock him as much as it would you or me.”
“It’s on Jack the Ripper lines, right enough,” commented the Chief Inspector.
“That’s another heading: Criminological Parallels. There’s Jack the Ripper, as you say, and Neill Cream, though he’s rather different psychologically. I never could understand him not wanting to watch his victims die, could you? I should have imagined that was the whole object of that type of murderer. Can you think of any other similar cases besides those two?”
“Sexual murders, Mr. Sheringham, or lust-murders, as the psychologists call them? Well, they’re not very common in this country, are they? Most of the foreign ones are like Jack the Ripper, too, aren’t they? Stabbing, I mean. I suppose, taking ’em all round, the best-known are Andreas Bickel, Menesclou, Alton, Gruyo and Verzeni. Then there was an outbreak of stabbing murders in New York in July 1902, and another in Berlin, funnily enough, the same month. Then there was Wilhelm Damian, In Ludwigshafen in Germany, in 1901, and——”
“Great Scott, Moresby!” interrupted the astonished Roger. “You must have been sitting up late since they made you a Chief Inspector. How on earth do you know all this?”
“It’s my business, Mr. Sheringham,” replied the Chief Inspector austerely, and drowned his smile in good XXXX.
“Well, what I meant,” Roger continued, in somewhat chastened tones, “is, can we learn anything from these parallels?”
“I doubt it, sir, except that of all murderers these are the most difficult to catch; and it won’t need any criminological parallels to teach us that, I’m afraid.”
“Well, let’s go on to the next heading: Victims. What do they give us? The Monte Carlo woman—do you know anything about her?”
“Not yet. I’ve written over for all details. But if it was the same man, we get that he must have been in Monte Carlo at the time, of course.”
“Yes, that may help us a lot. What about getting hold of a list of all English visitors at Monte Carlo last February?”
“I’ve done that, Mr. Sheringham,” replied the Chief Inspector with a tolerant smile; in matters of routine no amateur could teach him anything. “And in Nice, Cannes and all the other Riviera places as well.”
“Good man,” said Roger, uncrushed. “Well, then there’s Janet Manners—or Unity Ransome, as I think we’d better go on calling her. The only thing I can see there is that he must have been known to her; and pretty well too for her to have taken him into her sitting-room when she was alone in the flat; that is, if I read her rightly. That may be a useful help to us.”
“That’s true enough.”
“Elsie Benham, so far as I see, gives us nothing at all. He might have been known to her or he might not. In the second alternative she must have picked him up between the club and her flat off the Tottenham Court Road; in the first, he might have been waiting for her at the flat. The only hope is that the constable on the beat caught sight of them together.”
“And he didn’t,” put in the Inspector. “I’ve already ascertained that. But I’m having inquiries made as to anyone else having done so, though I don’t think there’s much hope.”
“And that leaves Lady Ursula. Well, you know, I can’t see that there’s much more there. When one comes to think of it, he needn’t have known her at all. He could have introduced himself easily enough in the street as a friend of a friend of hers; a little thing like that wouldn’t have worried Lady Ursula. Or he might have been a friend of the girl who owns the studio, and knocked in passing on seeing a light inside. I can’t see that there’s much more.”
“There’s the note, Mr. Sheringham,” the Chief Inspector reminded him. “In my opinion that shows that the thing was premeditated, and the note was brought for the
“It’s on Jack the Ripper lines, right enough,” commented the Chief Inspector.
“That’s another heading: Criminological Parallels. There’s Jack the Ripper, as you say, and Neill Cream, though he’s rather different psychologically. I never could understand him not wanting to watch his victims die, could you? I should have imagined that was the whole object of that type of murderer. Can you think of any other similar cases besides those two?”
“Sexual murders, Mr. Sheringham, or lust-murders, as the psychologists call them? Well, they’re not very common in this country, are they? Most of the foreign ones are like Jack the Ripper, too, aren’t they? Stabbing, I mean. I suppose, taking ’em all round, the best-known are Andreas Bickel, Menesclou, Alton, Gruyo and Verzeni. Then there was an outbreak of stabbing murders in New York in July 1902, and another in Berlin, funnily enough, the same month. Then there was Wilhelm Damian, In Ludwigshafen in Germany, in 1901, and——”
“Great Scott, Moresby!” interrupted the astonished Roger. “You must have been sitting up late since they made you a Chief Inspector. How on earth do you know all this?”
“It’s my business, Mr. Sheringham,” replied the Chief Inspector austerely, and drowned his smile in good XXXX.
“Well, what I meant,” Roger continued, in somewhat chastened tones, “is, can we learn anything from these parallels?”
“I doubt it, sir, except that of all murderers these are the most difficult to catch; and it won’t need any criminological parallels to teach us that, I’m afraid.”
“Well, let’s go on to the next heading: Victims. What do they give us? The Monte Carlo woman—do you know anything about her?”
“Not yet. I’ve written over for all details. But if it was the same man, we get that he must have been in Monte Carlo at the time, of course.”
“Yes, that may help us a lot. What about getting hold of a list of all English visitors at Monte Carlo last February?”
“I’ve done that, Mr. Sheringham,” replied the Chief Inspector with a tolerant smile; in matters of routine no amateur could teach him anything. “And in Nice, Cannes and all the other Riviera places as well.”
“Good man,” said Roger, uncrushed. “Well, then there’s Janet Manners—or Unity Ransome, as I think we’d better go on calling her. The only thing I can see there is that he must have been known to her; and pretty well too for her to have taken him into her sitting-room when she was alone in the flat; that is, if I read her rightly. That may be a useful help to us.”
“That’s true enough.”
“Elsie Benham, so far as I see, gives us nothing at all. He might have been known to her or he might not. In the second alternative she must have picked him up between the club and her flat off the Tottenham Court Road; in the first, he might have been waiting for her at the flat. The only hope is that the constable on the beat caught sight of them together.”
“And he didn’t,” put in the Inspector. “I’ve already ascertained that. But I’m having inquiries made as to anyone else having done so, though I don’t think there’s much hope.”
“And that leaves Lady Ursula. Well, you know, I can’t see that there’s much more there. When one comes to think of it, he needn’t have known her at all. He could have introduced himself easily enough in the street as a friend of a friend of hers; a little thing like that wouldn’t have worried Lady Ursula. Or he might have been a friend of the girl who owns the studio, and knocked in passing on seeing a light inside. I can’t see that there’s much more.”
“There’s the note, Mr. Sheringham,” the Chief Inspector reminded him. “In my opinion that shows that the thing was premeditated, and the note was brought for the
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