In the filthy murk of London's fogs there is a murderer. The gas lit roads of Whitechapel have echoed with the screams of women.
The killer is clever. Among the darkened streets he has committed his crimes unwitnessed. He has victimized the weak, the poor and neglected, targeting the women who ply their trade by night. His victims have led him willingly to the shadows of yards, doorways and alleys, where they could conduct their "business" undisturbed. Here he has killed them, mutilated them and, for incomprehensible reasons, stolen parts of them.
Newspapers report these horrific crimes with sick glee (headlines scream reports of "Jack the Ripper," "Whitechapel Jack" and such, further masking the identity of the murderer) whilst simultaneously baying for justice and results from a police force that is chasing a shadow.
The police have no clues. They have no evidence. And someone is stealing the bodies.
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