Jack the Ripper

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She's going to win the race today.

- You'll collapse in the fresh air.

- Tell me how much it costs.

My little conk.

I don't think so, fatty. Get lost.

Not even the Bank of England could afford

what you're asking of me, you bastard.

What is he thinking? Who knows what kind

of a person he is? So much is happening.

Half the night wasted with that beer barrel,

and I haven't earned a single guinea.

What dreadful deed did he propose?

There's nothing you haven't done before.

Do you have to get your three ha'p'orth in?

Mind your own business.

- You're just as bad as him.

- If you want, I'll give you a lift.

You have to walk through Kensington

and Chelsea, where he looks for his victims,

then... you're dead.

If I meet him, I'll get two guineas out of him

and have it off with him.

Suit yourself.

I won't let anyone infringe upon my liberty.

I'll walk home if I want to.

What are you doing here?

What do you want?

My child, I'm not doing anything.

I'm simply waiting for my death.

I'll be standing here, asking for pennies,

till the Lord calls me to Him.

I beg, and charitable people

give me small handouts.

It is a pleasant way of making the wait

for my death pass more quickly.

- And every now and then you have a drink.

- Yes, lass, I do.

Everyone lives their life in their own way,

until the Lord shows them mercy.

Thank you. Thank you, my little girl.

May heaven grant you a long and happy life.

Thank you.

- It's all right, my friend.

- Farewell.

My child, where are you?

My child!

What has he done to you?

My child!

Doctor.

- Good evening, Frieda.

- You've brought me another doll.

- Yes.

- Doctor.

A beautiful doll.

I'm coming.

Snip.

Snip.

Frieda. Come and give me a hand.

Of course. Yes, Doctor. Right away.

- Is this my doll?

- Keep going, Frieda.

- Doctor.

- Stop that.

- Do you want me to throw it in the water?

- Yes, of course.

When are you coming back? Soon?

I don't know yet, Frieda.

I never know. I can't know.

Hey, Frieda. Good morning.

Did you sleep well?

Yes.

And now you're looking

for somewhere to have breakfast?

I'm having breakfast by the sewers.

I've brought something to eat -

a sack full of rotten old plants.

I'd keep away from anything old.

I prefer green young things myself.

Oh, it's you. Good morning, Doctor.

Did you work all through the night again?

You will finish yourself off

if you go on like this.

You're not helping your patients this way.

In what way do they benefit, if you're ill?

You should have a strong cup of coffee first.

Is anyone waiting yet?

Yes, they've messed up

my corridor with their dirty shoes.

You should work less

and only treat wealthy patients from now on.

More sophisticated people.

Do you really think...

- Would you like some pie?

- No, thank you.

You haven't eaten anything yet.

Don't you like home-baked pie?

- Not for breakfast.

- It's an old family recipe. It's delicious.

- You should do something for your health.

- Yes.

- Mrs Baxter...

- Yes?

Would you mind if I paid my rent

a little later this month?

Well, for me that isn't a problem,

but it is for you.

You really are an admirable person,

but unfortunately, you are also rather naive.

Thanks very much for the coffee...

and for the compliment.

You're welcome.

Did I make you wait again?

- That's all right. Morning, Doctor.

- Never mind.

- Just one moment, please.

- Take your time, Doctor.

You work day and night,

so we should be able to wait a while.

Hello, little girl. Still afraid

of the doctor with the knife?

No.

- Who was here first?

- I was, Doctor.

- Please sit down over there.

- All right.

My leg is causing me

a great deal of trouble, Doctor.

I'm in a lot of pain.

But I'm sure you'll manage to fix it.

- Let's see.

- Yes.

It's looking better than before.

To hell with that rotten abscess.

They won't want it there.

Pull yourself together.

It's burning like fire.

- Now it's better.

- All right. That was it.

- It's better already.

- See?

- In three days, I'll take another look at it.

- I'll come back then.

But at the moment...

I don't have more than five shillings.

Pay the rest when you've got it.

I really wonder

what a benefactor like you lives on.

You must be stinking rich.

- Possibly, but that's my concern, not yours.

- No offence.

Please move on.

There is absolutely nothing to see here.

Move along. Please move along.

- Scotland Yard in a large-scale operation.

- Exactly.

I'm afraid there's nothing to see here,

young man.

- Ah, Inspector. Everything's ready for you.

- The two witnesses?

Sergeant McCollough entrusted them to me.

I sent them to the pub.

- Was that a good idea?

- I told the landlord not to serve alcohol.

Well, I shall see.

Come with us, Miller.

Inspector.

I think she's called Mrs Higgins.

Come on, stand up.

Listen, I'm a lady,

and I'll only stand up for the Queen.

You're quite right. It seems this young man

has only served in the colonies. And you?

- I see. Take the witness to me.

- Yes, sir. Come on.

Just come with me.

Here we are. Please sit down.

My name is Selby.

I work as an inspector for Scotland Yard.

My name is Pritchard.

Mr Pritchard talked to the victim Sally Brown

shortly before she disappeared.

Before her death.

Shortly before her death, I spoke to her.

How do you know she's dead?

Blindness has sharpened my ears

and I can distinguish

a cry of fear from a cry of death.

I'm like a dog in that respect.

He approached the spot from whence

the cry came. He heard a struggle.

The cry was uttered, and then sounds

of dragging and gasping were heard,

as if the victim was being towed away.

I know what you're thinking. The testimony

is too precise for a blind man.

You don't know how to use your senses of

hearing and smell. My senses are sharper.

If I ever met you again, I would

without doubt recognise you immediately.

I sensed and took in

your aura immediately.

Would you be able to pick out the murderer

from ten people?

Without a doubt.

This man has a personality, even if he

is tormented by his physical urges.

And last night, he was probably tormented

by greater fears

than poor Sally and myself.

Yes, he was incredibly nervous.

So he's a madman?

Perhaps, but he suffers

from the particular kind of madness

that borders on genius.

Do you understand?

Despite everything,

the man does not have a bad aura.

He's more like a victim than an executioner.

Nothing concrete, then.

If you want concrete information,

I shall do my best to provide it.

He has to be short and strong,

and he certainly is not a manual

but rather an intellectual worker.

- Why is that?

- Because he has a certain smell.

A strange, peculiar smell that combines

intellect and strength at the same time.

- Do you know a lot about spices?

- No, I wouldn't say that.

- Then I'll try and give you an example.

- All right. Fire away.

- Indians have special spices for sauces.

- You must have served in India.

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