The Return of Moriarty by John E. Gardner

of enthusiasm, and also lurid details of the double killing—he had, with many others, visited both the murder sites early on Sunday morning—returned to Moriarty’s house on the dot of midday. It was hardly a convenient time, as the Professor and Miss Fenning had decided to breakfast late and together. When Paget went down the area steps and in through the trademen’s door, he could hear the sound of laughter from upstairs and had to remain in the kitchen until a little before one o’clock when, following prolonged farewells, Mildred Fenning was escorted to a hansom, clutching various presents.
    After allowing enough time to elapse, Paget went up the stairs and, crossing the hall, tapped on Moriarty’s study door. He found his employer in good humor, though looking a little tired, a state that was seemingly rectified once Paget told him, in serious tones, of Eddowes and her story.
    â€œI knew we would find him,” the Professor smiled grimly. “Get the woman and bring her here as quickly as you can. I want Spear, your man Davis, and the colonel as well. See to it.”
    Paget set the operation in motion, going last to The Lamb, where he waited with Davis until almost half-past-three. Rumor was rife everywhere, but the two murder victims had not yet been named, and neither Paget nor Davis even suspected that Eddowes could possibly be one of them.
    â€œLike all the others,” Paget remarked bitterly. “A cunning lush.”
    â€œI could have sworn she knew.”
    Davis was well aware of what they might expect from Moriarty. In the end Paget ordered Davis to stay at The Lamb until he had at least talked to the Professor about the turn of events.
    Moriarty was cool, Spear and Colonel Moran having waited with him, in some expectation of their problems coming to a fruitful conclusion. By seven in the evening, Paget and Spear both had their men out in some force, making inquiries about the whereabouts of Kate Eddowes, but to no avail. Their reports were indeed depressing, for the whole Whitechapel-Spitalfields area was alive with police, uniformed and plainclothed, while local inhabitants thronged the streets—a great deal of ill feeling had been brewed by this last atrocity—and by late on Sunday evening Moriarty was conscious that things were getting out of control. Both Paget and Spear reported that they did not know how long they could really hold their own men and women, for even the closest had been emotionally roused.
    Moriarty, by this time, had lapsed into anger, for he knew there was but one way of gaining his former hold on the territory—to dispose of the murderer and rid the streets of the constant patrols and lurking police officers. Thinking they were so near to success, with the news of Eddowes’ seemingly firm knowledge, her swift and sudden disappearance had brought about a classic elation followed by depression. The Professor had but to sit down and think clearly to see how far and how sadly his business interests were being hindered. In many ways he now regretted having used this poverty-stricken breeding ground as a focus for much of his work. On the other hand there was no place better in London for recruitment—hunger, lack of means, degradation and filth bred a desire among the young, particularly the lads, to better themselves, and a large number of the men, operated through Paget and Spear, had been culled from the awful streets of that territory to be willingly trained in the many arts of the cracksmen, dippers, patterers, operators of Moriarty’s long firms, protectors, whores’ cash carriers, procurers of anything from young lithe flesh to extra amounts of laudanum, the price of which was always at a premium.
    However, the world that thrived so well below the surface of high-flown morals and respectability, the thin veneer of the age, had taught even Moriarty a certain fatalist philosophy, and by Monday he had accepted the fact