All language subtitles for Jack.The.Ripper.1988.720p1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]-English

In the early hours of Friday morning,
August 31st 1888...

a penniless prostitute was
slaughtered on a London Street.

Her name was Mary Ann Nichols.

With the death of this
one woman began...

a reign of terror so horrifying
that the world remembers it still.

Jack the Ripper.

- Whitechapel!
- Whitechapel, get yer Star!

Fresh flowers. Penny a
bunch, penny a bunch.

Fresh flowers.

- Whitechapel.
- Get yer Star.

Get yer Star. Murder!
One penny. Get yer Star.

Murder in Whitechapel.

- Get yer Star.
- There you are, son.

One penny. Star special.
Murder in Whitechapel.

Get the Star.

Murder in Whitechapel.

Get the Star.

Eighty thousand prostitutes.

Disgrace to the nation.!

- Crime is now a way of life?
- It's all true, Mr O'Connor.

This is a newspaper, not
a scandal sheet.

How many copies did we
sell last week?

And how many are we
selling today?

It's a murder, Bates,
that's all. Just a murder.

But it could become a crusade.
Don't you see?

A crusade? Women like that
get killed every month. Jerry!

Exactly, that's my point.
It's a jungle down there.

Poles, Frenchmen, Jews.
Pouring in from everywhere.

It's a wonder there's
not been a killing everyday.

One spark and the whole
East End of London goes up.

- Just like that.
- And you're the spark, is that it?

- Jerry!
- Look...

- I've just been to Scotland Yard.
- Jerry!

And they're putting Abberline
on the case.

- Yes, Mr O'Connor?
- Shut up.

They're doing what?

Putting Inspector Fred Abberline
on the case.

For a dead whore?

Abberline's the best
detective they've got.

What's going on?

The East End of London is
out of control...

Mr O'Connor. You know that.

The police are losing
their heads.

Aren't they?

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Morning Sarge.

- Morning, Pete.
- George.

- Where's Abberline?
- He's downstairs.

Dawson!

Hello, Bill.
Where's Inspector Abberline?

Number five, Sergeant.
Number five.

- George?
- Yeah.

Chief Superintendent
Arnold wants to see you.

Arnold?

Does he know where I am?

No, but he's about the only policeman
in Scotland Yard who doesn't.

Better read that.

- "Have police lost control?"
- Yeah.

George.

Get me a razor.

Well, what else did old
boot-face have to say?

Detective Chief Superintendent
Arnold thinks I need a rest.

A rest? Never
heard it called that before.

Anyway, I like Whitechapel.

Good. 'Cause one day
they're gonna send you back here...

permanently.

- End of a brilliant career.
- Don't start, George. Not now.

Why d'you do it, Fred?

We all like a drink now and again,
but give you a bottle and you're...

All right, George, you've had
your say, now leave it alone.

This it it. Bucks Row.

- Put it back, Whizzer.
- I only wanted to see what time it was.

Half past four.

What're you doing, Sonny?

Well, I'm not 'avin' tea
with the Queen, am I?

- I'm washing the blood away.
- This is Inspector Abberline...

from the Yard.
Stand up straight, son.

Sorry, sir, urm, it's
Inspector Spratling's orders, sir.

Keep the place clean.

You know what that
was, don't you?

Evidence.

Is that why you're
here, Inspector?

Bringing in Scotland Yard because
the local boys can't cope. Is that it?

- And who might you be?
- Bates.

Benjamin Bates, with The Star.

Why is Scotland Yard so
interested in a local murder?

My readers would love to know.

Busy Joe, can
you come here a minute, please?

Enter.

Chief Superintendent Arnold.

Shut the door.

Whose idea was it to send
Abberline to Whitechapel?

I'm in charge of the Detective
Department, sir, the choice was mine.

How many more articles
like that...

do you think Commissioner
Warren can withstand?

Last year there were
riots in Trafalgar Square.

People were injured, the
Commissioner got the blame.

Bloody Sunday. The Prime Minister
hasn't forgotten, Mr Arnold.

What is this to do
with Abberline, sir?

I gather he's still drinking.
And heavily, too.

You have chosen a drunk
for the job, Mr Arnold.

Sit down.

Murder. Well, I suppose
that's one way of putting it.

As you can see, the killer
severed the throat...

right back to the vertebrae...

then removed the uterus,
the kidneys.

The poor woman wasn't just...
Murdered. She was plundered.

Dr Lewellyn, last night,
according to this report...

you said she'd been
"operated on".

What do you mean? An abortion?

- No, no, nothing like that.
- But you said, er, "operated"?

Well it's not just a
stabbing, is it?

A police surgeon in Whitechapel sees
enough of those, I can promise you.

I was here for fourteen
years, Doctor.

Well, the flesh has been torn;
Ripped apart with great force.

- And yet...
- And yet what?

Well, the cuts are
quite deliberate.

- Almost clinical.
- Was he a surgeon like yourself?

Surgeons save lives, Inspector,
they do not destroy them.

No member of my profession
would make incisions like that.

There's no medical purpose
in them, you see.

But he knew the workings of the
human body? You'd go that far?

Where to find the organs, yes, but
that doesn't make him a doctor.

- Any butcher would know as much.
- Thank you, Dr Llewellyn.

I won't keep you,
it's been a long day.

Doctor? I see the
inquest is tomorrow.

That's right.

Well, goodnight.

Goodnight, sir.

Inquest tomorrow. How do we
present evidence by tomorrow?

We can't.

You mean we're not meant to?

I don't know yet,
but something stinks.

And it's not just this place.

George. First thing tomorrow...

I want a list of every doctor,
vet, butcher, feldsher...

anyone who makes a living with
a knife, within a five-mile radius.

I wanna know where they
were last night, and why.

What about the moneylenders,
the pimps, the bully boys?

And them too. And find out
about our friend, the Doctor.

Him, Llewellyn?
He's a local police surgeon!

Just read that duty
officer's report.

- Evenin'.
- Evening.

Evening.

According to that, he examined
that girl twice last night.

- Twice?
- Yeah.

And the first time, he
only found a cut throat.

- Cut throat, she was gutted.
- Yeah.

I think we'd better find the
man who wrote this report.

Inspector John T. Spratling.

- Be it ever so humble...
- There's no place like home.

- Hey, what's going on?
- Looking for a policeman.

Very funny. Local inspector,
name of Spratling.

You've found him. Who are you?

Sergeant Godley, sir,
Scotland Yard.

Scotland Yard!

Well, well well.

A real detective from
Scotland Yard...

come to tell us how to
do our job, Kerby.

Sergeant Godley, is it?

Dear, dear. Sergeants
round here make the tea.

What do inspectors do?

Abberline.

We'll need a clean office,
George. That one's filthy.

Sergeant Kerby, is it?

George takes sugar
in his tea, I don't.

Hello, Jack.
How's the collection business?

Still making a profit,
or shouldn't I ask?

What are you doing
back here, Abberline?

The Nichols case.

- The what?
- Mary Ann Nichols.

Common prostitute, murdered
last night in Bucks Row...

examined by Doctor Lewellyn in
your presence sixteen hours ago.

Half her insides missing.
Ring a bell?

Er, there was also some bruising
along the lower edge of the jaw...

on the right side of the face.

On the left side, about an
inch below the jaw...

there was an incision terminating
three inches below the right jaw.

Thus. This incision, about
eight inches in length...

was made with with such force
that it completely severed...

all tissues down to
the vertebrae.

Why are you letting this go on?
We're not ready for it.

I want to see who's here.

Dr Llewellyn, those were not the
only injuries inflicted on the body.

No, sir, the abdomen had been
cut open from the base of the ribs...

down the right side.
Our young reporter has found a friend.

Bates from The Star.
He was at the murder site.

I know. Who's that with him?
Big one with the hat.

- Looks like an artist.
- Or an anarchist. Neither of 'em are local.

Doctor Llewellyn, would these injuries
imply a... medical knowledge?

In my opinion the organs could
not have been removed...

in the way they were without
at least some...

anatomical knowledge
of the viscera.

Doctor?

Order, please.

- Order.
- It's true.

Mr Baxter, I am the detective
in charge of this case...

and I'd like to request
an adjournment.

You have further evidence
then, Inspector?

I've had less than twenty-four hours,
sir, and I have no evidence.

And you want the inquest
deferred to give you time?

- That's right, sir.
- Yes, I've been surprised at the...

haste of all this myself.
Order, order.

This inquest will now be adjourned
sine die, at the request of the police...

to allow further evidence
to be presented.

Thank you, sir.

What's 'is game, then?

It's called digging your
own grave.

- Get me a cab.
- What're you gonna do now?

Find his boss.

That's right, Commissioner, the inquest
was adjourned at his own request.

How quick is this local
man - Spratling?

You're not thinking of
replacing Abberline, sir?

If he's going to turn the death of a
whore into a three-act opera...

the sooner he's out, the better.

May I say something, Commissioner?
Abberline's in charge.

Replace him now and
people will ask why.

- The press'll have a field day.
- They're doing that already, Mr Arnold.

We're caught between the
devil and the deep blue sea.

- Let me talk to him, sir.
- And if he won't listen?

He'll listen to
me, Commissioner.

That I guarantee you.

Time?! What time?

There isn't any time.

I assigned you to this case because
the Commissioner needs an arrest.

Not next week or next
month, he needs it now.

And you know why
he needs it now?

"Police baffled." "No evidence, say
police." "ls the East End lawless?"

Do you think the
East End is lawless?

I am not responsible
for the papers!

No, you're responsible to me, and
I want this case closed, Inspector.

Yes, and why is that,
Chief Superintendent?

Mary Nichols was a
shilling whore.

She wasn't killed for money,
she didn't have any.

Her neighbours can't
remember any enemies...

and according to the Doctor, she
wasn't even sexually assaulted.

Yet somebody tore her
to pieces in the street.

So find him.

D'you want the killer
or will anybody do?

Sit down, Frederick. Go on.

- The finest malt.
- No, thanks, I'm not drinking.

We're two of a kind, you and me.

We came up the hard way.

How long have you been
an inspector, Fred?

Fourteen years.

You should be a
superintendent by now.

It's all a game, you know.
You've got to hedge your bets.

Is that what you're doing?

We're pawns. You, me.
Shilling whores.

And all around us,
the kings and queens.

Our sort can't win.
You should know that by now.

Bury this case, Frederick.
We'll see you back at the Yard.

Mr Lees, he's still waiting.

- Shall I tell him to go?
- No, George.

I'm coming.

- Mr Lees, this is Mr Abberline.
- You know who I am?

By reputation, yes, Mr Lees.

My visions have been
of use before.

- To the police, anyway.
- The boy in the river, I remember it.

And other cases.

Please sit down.

I've see him. The killer.

Not his face. Well, yes,
his face - but not clearly.

My visions are symbolic.

Intuitive. Not like a
photograph, you understand?

You saw the killer, in a vision?

Imagine two windmills, turning.

Like two wheels.
And each, a face.

Together, but apart, like
the wheels of a coach.

Two wheels.

But two faces.

- You mean, two killers?
- No, one killer with two faces.

Two faces, but the same man.

I'm afraid you've lost
me, Mr Lees.

His victim has a black straw
hat with a green feather.

A brown dress with two patches, and
one of her shoes is missing a heel.

Am I right?

I'm right, aren't I?

Look for a man with two faces.

Come on, Fred, you don't
believe in fortune tellers.

Someone must have told him.

But why? Why is she
so important?

Important, Mary Nichols?

First the Doctor doesn't
notice she's been gutted.

Next, they wash the blood away.

Then they hold the fastest
inquest I've ever known...

and tonight I'm told
I can't win.

Out!

Go on, out!

So what are you saying?

Well, if the dead woman isn't
important, then the killer must be.

And you know who
Lees is, don't you?

Well, yeah, seances, bring back
the dead for rich old women.

- He's a loony.
- He's more than that.

He's the close friend and psychic
medium of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

You did the right thing coming
to Ben Bates, Mr Lees.

The public will be grateful to
both of us for this, you'll see.

There, Mr Lees.

Is this what you
saw in your vision?

Not exactly, Miss Prentice,
the hair is too long.

- But near enough, yes?
- Let him speak.

Emma we go to press
in three hours.

And I'll walk out of here
in three minutes...

if you don't stop badgering me.

- Shorter hair, you said?
- Yes.

And this one should be...
Far more frightening.

With shorter hair, you know...
You know who this reminds me of.

- I'm gonna lose my job.
- Richard!

- Yes, that's who it is.
- Richard?

Richard Mansfield, the
American actor.

Well, he's the toast of London in
Robert Louis Stevenson's play.

- Play?
- At the Lyceum.

Of course! Mr Lees,
have you seen this play?

I never go to the theater.

- Large crowds upset me, I'm afraid.
- I think you should.

You'd find it most
interesting, I'm sure.

Would you be free
tonight, by any chance?

As a guest of
The Star, of course.

Morning, George.

Fred, do you know anything
about these suspects?

What suspects?

Er, they're waiting for you
at the Masonic Hall, sir.

I'm supposed to take you there.

There's eight of them.

Are you pulling my leg, son?

No, sir! Mr Spratling's orders.

Eight suspects.

All ready, sir.

- Who the hell are they?
- Inspector Spratling's murder list, sir.

Charlie, there, he's a mucher.
Then there's Arthur...

What?

A mucher's a man who
robs drunks, sir.

I know what a mucher is, son.

- What's a murder list?
- Well, we, er...

we round 'em up, sir,
when there's a murder.

- The same people?
- Mostly, yeah.

Keeps the public happy.

That's what Inspector
Spratling always says.

- And what then?
- We let 'em go.

Well, they don't mind.

Most of 'em volunteer.
It's for the soup, sir.

I did it, sir!
As God is my witness.

I killed him with my bare hands.
He was a Roman.

A filthy Roman solider!

A spy of the accursed
Julius Caesar!

And he deserved to die!

As, kind sir, do I.

I forgive you.

God almighty.

- What shall I do with 'em, sir?
- Give them the soup.

Come on, George,
we've got work to do.

Right, come on. Form a line.

- Old boy, come on, where I'm going?
- Outta me way!

Jesus!

Please sir, come on, halt! This
is disgusting. Come on, form a line.

Half the world seems to
have known Mary Nichols.

Time to go 'round
the pubs, George.

I thought you weren't drinking.

Not me, George, you.
Get your ear to the ground.

Start with the, er, Britannia...

- corner of Dawson...
- Dawson Street, I know.

Then the Ten Bells, where
all the prostitutes go.

You know, I've talked to more
prossies in the last six hours...

I won't tell your wife.
Talk to some more.

What's your guv'nor
think he's doing, Godley?

This is a muster room,
not a church hall.

Make me a cuppa tea, Kerby.

- John, did you hear that?
- No sugar.

- Here you are.
- Great.

- Treble.
- Thanks very much.

So, you're back in Whitechapel,
Mary Jane.

- Where d'you get to this time?
- Here and there.

- A gentleman took me to Paris.
- Paris?!

- Paris is beautiful this time 0' year.
- Mary Jane, you're the limit.

The laughter, the music.
I was an artist's model for a while.

Marie Janette...

that's what they called me.

She's never been south of
the river in 'er life.

I have, too!

Now, listen, what I wanna know is,
who killed old Mary Nichols?

- You must know somethin'.
- Did she have regulars?

Regulars? They'd 'ave to be
blind. Did you see 'er?

- I mustn't speak ill of the dead.
- Still sitting on the rent, Cathy?

Right, mister, time is money.

Now, she's not cheap but she
used to be an acrobat.

Gawd save us. 'Ave you met my
friend? Archbishop of Canterbury.

Right, come on Johnny. Make up your mind.
Which one d'you fancy?

Bloody cheek! You don't run
Mary, does he love?

- No.
- Goodnight, Annie.

And you can shut up, too.

She's gonna need a protector
the way things are going.

- What things?
- I 'ope you never find out.

- Never find out what?
- I'm not talkin' to you.

No, I'm talking to you. What do you
mean, "never find out"?

There's a smell in 'ere.

I asked you a question.
Find out what?

Right. Outside. Come on,
let's have a little talk.

Get your 'ands off
me, Johnny, or...

- you'll be coughin' up teeth.
- Now, don't be...

Hoor!

Go on, Billy, Mark 'im!
Mark 'im!

Arhh!

Now that is a big mistake.

Get out, Johnny, while
you've still got a face.

Come on, come on, Johnny
where's your guts??

- John, shouldn't we give 'im a hand?
- Arh, you're off duty, Sergeant.

Entitled to finish your drink.

What're you waiting for??

Arrh!

Get 'old of 'im.

What've you...?
Get him, get him, copper.

Arrh!

You stupid twerp!

I'm gonna kill yer!
I'm gonna murder yer...

yer bleedin' great ponce!

I said outside.

I 'ate you, I really 'ate you!

Come on, then!

Get him out will you,
what's the matter with yer?

What a lovely sight!

Who is he?

I don't know, but I'm
taking him in.

Wait a minute, how long
have you been there?

Well, I looked in but you
seemed to be doing all right.

Hullo, Billy.

I didn't know he was one of
yours, Mr Abberline.

Honest, I didn't.

But you're one of mine,
aren't you, Billy boy?

I don't know anythin',
Mr Abberline, honest.

I'd tell you if I did,
wouldn't I?

Yes, you'd tell
me, that's for certain.

Let him go, George. We'll pick
him up tomorrow if we need him.

One of your snouts, is he?

So was his father before him.

Right, lads, come on, look sharp,
look sharp.

Nothing changes.

George, I've just been
to Bucks Row.

And there's something wrong.
What?

Nobody heard her scream.
There's at least eight families...

living opposite, and
nobody heard a thing.

Well, that's Whitechapel,
isn't it?

Hear no evil, speak no evil.
Even with murder.

This isn't just murder, George.

This is something else.
Something different.

I promise you won't
be disappointed, Mr Lees

That's why everyone's
standing back.

- Who is it?
- It's the Queen's grandson.

Prince Albert Victor.

Duke of Clarence and Avondale.
And the future King of England.

Well, he did promise
you a special evening.

Shall we settle what remains?

Think before you answer, Lanyon.

It'll be done as you decide.

And if you say yes, Lanyon,
I promise...

a province of knowledge and
power shall be laid open to you.

Why in this very room, upon the
instant, your sight shall be blasted.

And by a prodigy,
Lanyon, I tell you...

he will stagger Satan.

Satan himself.

I have come too far, to
pause before the end.

Very well. And you, too? Yes.

You, who have denied the virtues
of transcendental medicine.

No. You, who have derided,
consistently, your colleagues...

your superiors.

Behold.

No...!

- No, no, no, no.
- Mr Lees.

Get him some Brandy.

I can see him.
The faces, two faces.

No. S-stop them,
somebody stop them.

Queen's medium sees killer!

Killer seen in dream!

Killer seen in dream!

Right, Dr Llewellyn.

Hul-ewellyn, actually.

Let's talk about blood.

The woman was disembowelled.

That would cause a
heavy loss of blood.

An understatement.

How much was on the
pavement, would you say?

It was dark, but a
great deal, of course.

So dark that you
didn't even notice...

that her "abdomen had
been completely cut open..."

from the base of the ribs,
under the pelvis, and across..."

to the left of the stomach."

Not at first, no.

How many pints of water, Doctor?

Four or five.

- It's hard to say.
- Two.

Two pints.

I measured it.
Deceptive, isn't it?

You spill a cup of tea,
you think it's a flood.

And it's just that much liquid.

So what are you
saying, Inspector?

What I'm saying is...

we can't be sure she was
murdered where she was found.

Guv'nor, your visitor's here.
I've put him in your office.

George, get a cab
for Dr HUL-ewellyn.

- Is that all, Inspector?
- Yes, Doctor.

For now.

Now, Mr Lees.

What's this about a play at
the Lyceum Theatre?

You mean he does this,
on the stage?

In full view of the audience.

Unbelievable.

My piece this morning was
no exaggeration...

as you can see, Mr O'Connor.

Miss Prentice.

If you can produce a really life-like
version by tomorrow, I'll print it...

with a new article
from Mr Bates here.

- How life-like?
- Draw it from life, Miss Prentice.

Draw it from life.

It's still fiction, Mr Lees.

There's no Dr Jekyll,
there's no Mr Hyde.

- They don't exist.
- But the actor does.

Now, I know what you're
thinking, but I'm not mad.

I beg you; Come
to the theater...

and see for yourself.

All right.

But you keep it to yourself.

Understood?

You are afraid of mockery.

I've lived with that
all my life, Inspector.

What people don't understand
they try to destroy.

They're trying to destroy you.

Aren't they?

Good evening, Mr lees.

No, you bastards.

It's not gonna be that easy.

I look like a midwife.

Yeah. Time to go home, Derek.

Well, what did Lees have to say?

First thing tomorrow, George,
I want you to find me...

the best man on madness.
Top expert in the country.

You mean from Bart's Hospital,
somewhere like that?

Yeah, wherever the top man is.

What we need now, George,
is the best man in the country...

on madness.

You think Lees is mad?

I hope not.

He's just given me a
description of the murder.

Thank you very much, sir.

Right what'd you find out?

Sir William Withey Gull,
MD, FRCS, FRS, LLD.

Member of the General
Medical Council.

President of the Clinical Society.
Books on diseases of the brain.

Papers on vivisection and
cretinoid women.

And, physician to
Her Majesty the Queen.

Inspector Abberline
and Sergeant Godley, sir.

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Sir William?

Not so distinguished, I'm afraid!

I'm Dr Acland. Er, he'll be
here in a moment.

Would you er,
care for some... milk?

- Yes, please.
- No, thank...

Charles Darwin.
Fellow of the Royal Society.

- Just like Sir William.
- Darwin?

All our ancestors were monkeys.

That's the one.
The Descent of Man.

- Something wrong with the milk?
- No. Thank you.

There you are.

Sorry to keep you.

- William Gull.
- Yes, Inspector Abberline.

Sergeant Godley.

- Sit down, sit down.
- Right, sir.

Now, gentlemen...

did anybody offer you luncheon?
Or are you self-sufficient?

George?

- Er, no, we've eaten, thanks.
- Er, just a moment. Theo.

Don't be late back tonight, we
have those French people coming.

The French?

A compelling argument
for Darwin's theories.

Hah.

Good day to you, gentlemen.

Good day.

My son-in-law.

First-class mind...

even though he was born with
a silver spoon in his mouth.

I don't hold that against him.

- Do you, Inspector?
- I'd have to know him better, sir.

Good answer.

Now, your question.

Sir William - what
exactly is madness?

Goodness me, we won't get
through that in an afternoon!

Can you be more specific?

Well, is it possible to be
half mad, like...

normal one minute and
insane the next?

Fascinating question.

In my opinion yes,
perfectly possible.

Though you won't find
that in any text book.

- Why is that, Sir William?
- Well, the concept of a...

multifaceted mind is, er,
too radical for the...

medical profession to cope with.

In years to come it will be
accepted as a matter or course.

But in the meantime, we lump
such phenomena under the...

rather vague title of
dementia praecox.

Could a man be, er, sane and
insane, like, er, two different people?

Certainly, although most of my
distinguished colleagues would...

- sneer at the very idea of it.
- Sneer?

Knowledge hurts, Inspector,
especially if it's new.

I mean, take this poor
fellow, for example, Darwin.

Now, he was perfectly right.
Yet millions of educated men...

still believe that the
human race began with two...

naked lovers frolicking in
the Garden of Eden.

You try saying the name
Darwin to any churchman.

Or, for that matter, my own name
to half the Medical Council.

If a man did have two minds,
could they be opposite?

Like good and evil?

The Saint and the
beast, you mean?

- Yeah.
- In one human being?

Yes, I don't see why not.

I don't see why not.

Then very well!

Why, you, you who have denied the
virtues of transcendental medicine.

You, who have derided, consistently,
your colleagues, your superiors.

Behold.

- Please, Mr...
- I don't care who they are.

- Mr...
- I see nobody after a performance.

- I have told them that, Mr...
- Do you understand me?

Well, you tell them again!

What did I tell you?

He never sees anyone. Happy?

- He'll see me.
- Not if you were the Prince of Wales.

We're gonna have a little talk.
That should be nice.

What are you doing?
Let me go, let me go.

Who the devil are you people?
Gentlemen, look.

If you don't leave this room at once
I'm gonna have to call the police.

I am the police, Mr Ma...

Good evening, Frederick.

Hello, Emma.

Well, isn't this cosy? You know
each other, obviously.

Are you a policeman, too?

Mr Lees is a clairvoyant.

A policeman and a clairvoyant.

I see.

Richard I... I should go.

- Really? I ordered us supper.
- Please forgive me...

but I'm rather tired.

I thought we'd discuss
the sketch.

I'll, I'll leave it here and
collect it in the morning.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Good evening, Emma.

So, all right, enough.
What the hell is this about?

If you could just tell us how
you change into that monster?

What goes through your mind?

So you just come barging
in here...

demanding to know how
I turn into Hyde?

- Do you want the truth?
- Please.

I don't know.

This is a police enquiry,
Mr Mansfield.

- Answer his question.
- A police enquiry?

Answer him.

Well, this is bizarre.

Very well. I observe and
I imitate, do you understand?

And I do that over and over until I
become the person that I want to be.

- Are you satisfied.
- So...

if you, if you play a doctor, you
go out and observe doctors...

- is that right?
- Bravo.

And the other one; Mr Hyde.

How do you create
a creature like that?

Talent, pure talent.

They're the worst, of course.

I dressed Irving once.
That was agony, too.

- Goodnight, Miss Prentice.
- Goodnight, John.

Er, what's he like? Mansfield?

I never betray a
confidence - never.

My lips are sealed.

- What about?
- Well, the women for a start.

And the places he
goes to, well...!

You mean brothels, opium
houses, that sort of place?

Well, sometimes, yes. How else
could I observe these characters?

I mean, that is my job,
isn't it?

So is Hyde someone you've met?

He's several people -
don't you understand?

There's a criminal in New York
I use for the voice...

there's a man here in
London I use for the face...

- I-in...
- In London?

The, er, East End, perhaps?

You see, I don't have to
answer these questions.

Yes, you do.
You ever been in Whitechapel?

Spitalfields, that sort of area?

Quite possibly, sir.
I wouldn't recall the details.

When was the last time you saw
this man, this real Mr Hyde?

I mean, was it last month,
last week?

See, er, I don't
keep a diary, so...

- Or was it last Friday?
- What're you trying to say, sir?

A woman was killed last Friday.

And if your Mr Hyde was in
the East End at the time...

I would like to meet him.

But you don't think I'm
caught up in all that, do you?

All of what?

I would just like to meet the man
who gave you your other face.

The man who looks like Mr Hyde.

And you're gonna introduce us.

Now!

- Are you sure this time?
- Well, I recognise the door.

And will this Mr Hyde
recognise you?

If not, the girls will.

Yes, the girls.

Women often do
remember me, Inspector.

I'm getting awfully tired
of your remarks, by the way.

If I am under any kind of
suspicion here, you just say so.

Because I am a friend of
royalty, you know.

I don't need to... Er, this is
him, here. This is the man.

- Cor, yer bleeder!
- Language, Rodman.

I've brought a friend of
royalty to see you.

Bloody 'ell, it's
you, Abberline.

- I thought you was dead.
- I'm surprised you still know me.

I never forget a voice.

Good evening, er,
we've never spoken...

but I was here last Friday.

In fact, you'll remember me,
of course, because...

- Who is it, Mr Abberline?
- It's not your lucky day, Mansfield.

Rodman here is stone blind.

Let's hope you're right
about the girls, shall we?

Foreign girl, Rodman,
name of Ann, Anika...?

Does a duet?

No, there's a gentleman in,
Mr Abberline.

Well, let's get him out,
shall we?

Hah! Very funny,
Mr Abberline.

No!

Good evening, my lord.

Nice evening?

Let him go, George.

I know who he is.
So does half of Whitehall.

- Are you Anika?
- No.

Annette.

Have you ever met
this man before?

Don't be frightened.

No.

Are you sure?

No.

Dixie!

Well, good old Dixie.

Yes, I was here last Friday around
eleven, you said it was your birthday.

- Yes.
- How long did he stay last Friday?

All night! Sometimes Monique was
sleeping, sometimes I was sleeping.

La, zut.

All night.

I guess that's why they
remember me.

I gave you a present,
Annette, do you still have it?

This? You say it is gold.
Now it is green.

Perhaps that's why they
remember you? Hey?

Goodnight, Mr Mansfield.

Goodnight.

Nice evening.

Driver.

Can I take you anywhere?

Thank you.

Walk on.

Lees must have gone
home, with Dixie.

Hair today, gone tomorrow.

You take the cab, George,
I need to think.

You wouldn't be thinking about
a certain young lady...

I saw at the theater tonight?

Emma Prentice?

Goodnight, George.

Don't be a fool, Fred,
she's trouble.

Out, out you, out the cab!

What the bloody hell do
you think you're doing?

We've been told to stop
everyone in the area.

There's been another one.

- In Hanbury Street.
- What?!

This one's worse. Kerby
saw 'er - and threw up!

Right, get in. Hanbury Street!

Soon as I saw 'er,
I started yellin'...

- an' the police come.
- And what's your name?

John Richardson.

Kerby, get those people away from
that fence, this isn't a side show.

Sir, I found this on the tap.

- It's leather apron, all wet.
- Yes, I can see that, Derek.

Put it back. Did you send
for the divisional surgeon?

Yes, sir, and the local one's just
arrived with Inspector Spratling.

Kerby, I want everything left as it is,
I want all your men out of this yard...

and get those people
away from that fence!

You lot, off. Come on, all
of you, out the yard.

Not you, Mr Richardson.

What time did you
walk through here?

- Half past four.
- And she wasn't here then?

- Not at half past four, no.
- On your way to work?

Yeah.

- You ever use a knife?
- Of course I do, but...

Now, look, I never done it.

Well, you can ask anybody!

There are two detectives inside
taking statements. Give 'em yours.

No use shouting at
Kerby, you know.

- Where's your own sergeant?
- My sergeant is the only...

policeman in London who's not
walking all over this bloody yard!

That I do know.

Police, open up.

Mansfield, open this door
or I'll break it down.

Mansfield, open the door!

D'you hear me, Mansfield?

I'll break it down!

What d'you want?

Look, what the hell is it now?

I've been up the whole night
with you people. I'm getting...

- tired of this...
- Are these the clothes you wore?

- What is this?
- Are these the clothes...

- you wore last night?
- Yes.

Put them on again. Now.

Right. All right.

Watch your feet.

- Same killer, Dr Llewellyn?
- Yes, no doubt about it.

- And you've seen these, of course.
- Yes.

Her belongings, I imagine.

Well, they didn't fall
like this, did they?

All very carefully arranged.

Very exact.

He's a savage one minute, tearing
a woman apart like a sack of grain.

The next moment he
carefully folds a piece of muslin.

Arranges her comb, her pills.

- What d'you make of that, Dr Llewellyn?
- You're the detective.

You tell me.

Good morning, Dr Phillips,
thank you for coming.

You know the, er, divisional
surgeon, don't you?

He's gonna give us
a second opinion.

- Good morning, Llewellyn.
- Second opinion, on what?

The mutilations.

Excuse me.

Dr Llewellyn, before you go.

Do you mind telling me where
you were last night?

Thanks for the tip,
Mr Spratling.

The Star is always
very grateful.

Who the hell are they?

The one in the hat's
Richard Mansfield, the actor.

- The other one's Robert James Lees.
- Who?

The Queen's fortune-teller,
my friend.

Animals!

The Queen's fortune-teller!

Annie Chapman!

Who killed Annie Chapman?

What's your name then, miss?

I bet it's a lovely name
as well as a lovely face.

Did you know Annie?
Annie Chapman?

- So what the hell is going on?
- Lift up your shoes.

- What?
- Lift up your shoes.

This is absurd.

The other one.

- Yours too, Mr Lees.
- He was washing when I arrived.

But he's clean, not a spot of blood
anywhere. Same with him.

Are those the shoes you
wore last night, Mr Lees?

- Yes.
- Mansfield's bed hadn't been slept in...

the sheets were cold.

Out all night, Mr Mansfield?
Or have you just got bad circulation?

Inspector, what I do with my time
is my business, is that clear?

You know, I'll be seeing
the US ambassador today.

He's a personal friend.

- When I tell him about this...
- He'll be delighted to hear...

that you gave us your
fullest cooperation...

for which we are most grateful.

Don't change your lodgings,
without telling me.

Is that it? Is that what you
brought us here for?

- Can you think of anything else?
- You go to hell.

- Now, Mr Lees, what's your story?
- I went straight home.

The cab driver will remember
because I was sick on the way.

I had a vision, you see.

It was horrible.

And what did you see, this time?

A tall man, out there in
the yard, I saw the blood.

Everything. But it was too late.

That's the trouble with the
spirit world isn't it?

Always telling you after the
event but never before.

Good day, Mr Lees.

You think I'm a charlatan, don't
you? I can see it in your eyes.

I'll tell you one thing.

And in case you can't see this
in my eyes, I'll say it out loud.

If you did see the killer, you'd
better be careful who you tell.

He might come looking
for you, mightn't he?

Ambassador.

Better be careful, Fred.

Yeah.

Hang 'im! Murderer!

- There's the other one!
- The other one!

Let him through.

- Fred.
- Yeah?

Someone's stirring that up.

They've got the
truth, don't let 'em go!

Hang em!

This way gentlemen, I've got a
cab waiting. Courtesy of The Star.

Come on.

Coppers, they work for the rich.

Get one of the boys to find Lees'
cab driver, and check his story.

And find out if there was a baby
born round here last night.

- Baby, why?
- Dr Llewellyn said...

he was delivering one,
in the next street.

But he can't remember
the name of the mother.

We're still checking doctors
from last time, and butchers.

We're gonna need more
men, you know that, don't you?

Get a couple of hours'
sleep, George.

I'll carry on with Mansfield.

If you mean talk to
Emma Prentice...

then I'd better do it. Every time
she crosses your path...

Why do I bother?

Who is it?

You're almost a year late.

I've been busy.

I had an interesting evening,
with your friend last night.

- You mean you got drunk?
- No.

I only drink in
the afternoons now.

This is
strictly business, is it?

Do you enjoy holding
that door open?

There's a terrible draught
through here, you know.

What do you want, Freddie?

Everything you know
about Mansfield.

Mansfield?

There's nothing to know.
He's young, handsome, famous...

- clever, talented.
- Rich.

Witty, popular, amusing.

- Educated.
- Well connected.

And as bald as an egg.

It'll end in tears, Freddie,
it always does.

But we do have a
laugh first, don't we?

Do we?

I've forgotten.

Leather cutting room!
Leather apron!

Leather apron! Leather
apron! Leather apron!

Leather apron. Pizer,
pizer, pizer, pizer.

Pizer! Pizer! Pizer!

Pizer! Pizer! Pizer!

Move it. Come on, get back.

Hey, stop it.

What the hell d'you
think you're doing?

Found an apron by
the corpse, didn't they?

Well, he wears one. Murderer!

Hang him!

Leather apron! Leather
apron! Leather apron!

- Hang him.
- Pizer!

Pizer, murderer, hang him!

Get The Star.

Read all the latest ne-ews.

Star!

Yes, yes, of course.

I fear I may
have talked too much, Mr Bates.

I'm not used to
champagne, you see.

You, won't print anything
untoward, will you?

Mr Lees.

Trust me.

Yes.

Well, goodbye.

You all right, mate?

They're trying to murder me!
They're trying to murder me!

He's drunk.

- He's been drinking. Leave him.
- They're gonna kill me.

No, no, don't leave me!

- They're gonna kill me!
- He's been drinking.

Help me! Somebody.

Please!

Help me!

I told you, didn't I?

So she had no one
looking after her?

- Not even a pimp?
- Well, there's pimps...

and there's pimps, ain't there?

Billy, come over 'ere.

See, there's pimps - and pimps.

You see, Sergeant.

I've just said that,
haven't I, Liz?

My, Gawd. Billy White.

Is that the dirtiest
look you got?

The Sergeant 'ere wants to know
if Annie Chapman had a pimp.

What if she had?
Wouldn't have done 'er no good.

Word is, it's a
copper that's doing it.

One 0' your lot.

Don't mind 'im, love. I take everything
he says with a dose of salts.

I'll remember that.

Let me know if you
hear anything, Cathy.

'Course I will, Georgie. You don't
mind me calling you that, do you?

You look like a Georgie,
Y'know what I mean?

That's funny.
Does of salts!

Take everything he said
with a dose of salts.

That's the trouble, Liz. Drinking with
us, we're always six gins behind.

They're out to kill me, I know
it. They're gonna kill me.

Now keep calm, Mr Lees.

Thank you, Derek. Sit down.

There you are.

I've drawn the coach,
as best I could.

It's the crest on the side.

Is this the coach
that ran you down?

- Yes.
- But you didn't see the driver's face?

What does that matter?
It's the coach that counts.

- Coach?
- I'll never forget that coach, Inspector.

I've... ridden in it, you see.

When I went to see the Queen.

The Queen?

It's a royal coach.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

It has the crest on the side,
it belongs to the Royal Mews.

Arrest. Murder reports.

Have you told anybody
about this?

Anybody else at all?

No, I, I came straight here.

Well, don't.

Because, I assume
you understand...

the significance of what
you just said?

Fred, you see who that was?

Queen's grandson.

His Royal Highness Prince Albert
Victor, Duke of Clarence, Sergeant...

that's who that was.

Mr Thackeray, you sure there
were no royal coaches like this...

out on the streets yesterday?

Quite sure, Inspector, the coach
that just left was on standby all day.

The other two are being repainted.
You can see them if you like.

Could somebody, er - I don't
know how to put this - er...

borrow one for a
couple of hours?

Borrow one? This is the Royal Mews,
Inspector, it is not a cab company.

No, of course not. Sorry
for taking up your time.

- Good day, Mr Thackeray.
- Good day, Inspector.

Now wait, I'll, er, ask a scratch driver,
they usually know what's available.

Scratch driver?
Freelance, what for?

He thinks we want
to borrow a coach.

I'll strangle that Lees.

Royal crest, my eye.

Don't wanna be
late for the Commissioner.

Excuse me. Er, I hear
you want a coach?

Er, not really, no.

The Mews Master
said you wanted one.

No, it's a mistake, he got it wrong.

Wait a minute. Come here.

D'you think you could
find one like that?

I'm a freelance, guv'nor.
Find you anything.

For money, of course.

It's your lucky day George,
see yer tonight.

All right. Good luck.

Er, do you need horses, do you,
or is it just a coach you want?

Well, that depends, don't it?

You were right to bring this to
my attention, Abberline.

But from what you say you don't
take Mr Lees' story seriously.

Is that right?

Not without proof,
Commissioner, no.

When you first started
on this case...

I thought you were the
wrong man for the job.

- Sir?
- But the way you've handled this...

royal coach business
has been most discreet.

Exemplary.

In exactly forty minutes I'm seeing the
Prime Minister at ten Downing Street.

I'd like you in attendance.

- Me, Commissioner?
- You, Inspector.

Take, er, Prince Albert Victor.

Now, he's always good for
a fiver after a night out.

Down the East End,
know what I mean?

You drive him too? The Prince?

Not personally, no.
But I'm a privateer, see.

This old coach, here,
it's my own coach.

- I own it.
- Do you?

I'm at the Palace two
days a week.

- What about the rest of the time?
- Medical profession.

Doctors.
I drive surgeons, mostly.

- I'm on all the lists.
- Lists? What lists?

'Ospitals. Only the
big ones, mind.

I only do the big ones.
I leave the rest to the peasants.

These doctors, they must need
drivers all of the time, of course.

I'm a doctor meself.

- Really?
- And a good one, too.

I've studied it, see.

Libraries and places,
pick up a lot from books.

If I'd been born on the right
side of the blanket...

I'd have been a top
surgeon by now.

- Well, it's in the mind.
- And you've got the mind for it.

I've got the hands, too.

Surgeon's hands.

Steady as a rock. See?

Blimey, is that the time?

Well, I've got to go. I'm due at
the hospital in half an hour.

Ask for me at the Mews.
John Netley.

Dr Netley, they call me.

- What's your name.
- George.

George.

I'll look out for a coach
for you then, George.

But are you in control?

There is now a so-called
vigilante committee...

in Whitechapel, is there not?

- Prime Minister, if I...
- What're we to expect next, Commissioner?

Armed mobs on the streets?

Last time you sent in the troops.

That was a political uprising, Prime
Minister, this is a murder case.

The Secretary of State for the
Home Department...

may wish to comment on that.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

Charles, only a year ago we had
full-scale rioting in Trafalgar Square.

People were injured.

Here, at the heart of the greatest
empire the world has ever seen.

The papers called it Bloody Sunday,
and you were held responsible.

- Secretary of State, I...
- Now we have armed vigilantes...

on the streets of Whitechapel.

This government cannot tolerate
further civil strife, whatever the cause.

Even for a murder case.

Neither can the Queen.

- The Queen?
- Mr Abberline.

You're responsible for this case, do
you have everything you need?

I could always do
with more men, sir.

Then the Commissioner will
arrange it. Good day, gentlemen.

Prime Minister,
Secretary of State.

Henry, the Queen's concerns are a
matter for her and for us, no one else.

Now, what exactly are these
rumours about her grandson...

- Prince Albert Victor?
- Well, they say the Prince has been...

seen in a house of ill repute,
Prime Minister.

A brothel? It's unfortunate.

- Where?
- Whitechapel.

In the very area where these
murders are taking place.

Take this away now, will you.

It's been confirmed, Fred. Same
knife, same cuts, same killer.

Dr Phillips, at the inquest, er,
can you do something for me?

Certainly, what?

Can you keep one thing, one, er,
characteristic, of this killing...

absolutely secret?

Leave one thing out and
don't tell anyone what it is.

Dr Llewellyn, can I do
something for you?

I...

I left my bag.

Excuse me.

Extraordinary behaviour.

Yeah.

It doesn't matter what it is, Doctor, so
long as only you and I know about it...

and no one else.

Keep one of the injuries secret,
you mean?

Yeah, nothing big but
something important.

And then you tell me, in secret.

Would you excuse us, Doctor,
we've got a lot to do. George.

Right, your coachman. Is he
out looking for black coaches?

Have to find his brain first,
he thinks he's a doctor!

What's your news?

We've got extra men, officers,
transport - everything we need.

All we gotta do is ask.

The Commissioner
offered you all that?

Commissioner?
Er, not exactly, no.

- How the hell d'you manage it then?
- Natural charm.

And last of all, I want a
list of every ship, barge...

tug and bucket moored in
the Pool of London...

at the time of the murders.

Complete with the names of every
crew member, including the ship's cat.

So that's doctors, medical students,
butchers, slaughtermen...

chiefs, ships' cooks,
barbers, and anybody...

with a history of violent crime,
from Aldgate to Mile End.

What about artists, sir?

Artists?

Well, some of 'em cut up horses.
To see how they work.

George Stubbs did that,
and he was an artist.

All right, son. Artists as well.

Now, on this board, we have
everything we know...

about the man we're looking for.

It's from the statements of the
nine people who saw the victims...

talking to a man, shortly
before they were killed.

So now, write this down.

Are you ready? Up to six feet.

- Long coat.
- Coat.

Deer stalker or peaked cap.

- Carrying a parcel, or bag.
- Parcel. Right.

Light hair, could be grey.
Thirty or forty. Could be older.

Soft spoken, could be foreign.

- Could be half the men in London.
- Could be you, Kerby.

Anyway...

he knows the area, he's
physically strong...

and he may have
medical knowledge.

- Sounds like a midwife.
- Hope you're not...

married to one, Spratling.

- What about a pimp, sir?
- We're checking 'em anyway.

Any more questions?

Right, off you go.

Did you know City Police are putting
half their men into plain clothes?

Run out of uniforms, have they?

No, they're gonna beat
you Scotland Yard boys to it.

Thought you'd like to know.

I'm gonna get them
when this is over.

- No, you're not.
- Why not?

'Cause I am.

Hold on, boys.

Where d'you think you're going?
Where's Abberline?

Llewellyn did deliver a
baby that night.

A Mrs Kandinsky.

There was no clock in the house so
we don't know exactly when he left.

- Keep him on the list.
- I told you, you're going nowhere.

- Where's he hiding?
- I told yer once.

Abberline! Abberline!

I want a word with you.

The name's Lusk.

- George Lusk. I'm Chairman...
- Chairman of the so-called...

vigilante committee.

I wondered when you
were gonna show your face.

I'll show you more
than a face, Abberline.

- I'll show you a hundred armed men.
- And what might they be for?

He can't keep the streets
safe for ordinary working people.

Can you? So we're
gonna help you.

Are you now?

Well, unplug your ears, Lusk, because
I'm gonna tell you something.

I grew up with these people
and they matter to me.

I know what matters to you.

It's written all over your face.

Power.

So take my advice and go home.

The revolution may not
start this week.

Abberline.

- It was a bit sharp wasn't it?
- Only a bit? I must be getting old.

Inquest tomorrow, do
you want to see Phillips' report?

I hate politicians. George, find
me a volunteer for the Lusk mob.

Tell him to keep his eyes open.

- Volunteer, what for?
- If I was a killer I'd join up with Lusk...

and go out at night looking for
meself - wouldn't you?

Done. Er, what about
the phantom coach?

Do you still want me to
chase up John Netley?

John doctor coachman? No.

His sort are all wind and piss.

Like that rat catcher in Peckham.
Do you remember that?

No, he was different.
He was all piss and wind.

Lovely.

- Relaxes the throat.
- Last time it relaxed your brain.

Yes, Mother!

Cheer up, George.
We're winning!

Is that a promise?

Yes, my old friend.

That is a solemn promise.

Order, please.

I have asked for all children to be
removed from the court...

because of the nature of the
evidence we're about to hear.

And I would ask the gentlemen
of the press to consider carefully...

whether all the details
are fit for publication.

And proceed, Dr Phillips.

The woman's abdomen
had been laid open.

The intestines had been severed
from their mesenteric attachments...

lifted out in their entirety, and
placed on the shoulder of the corpse.

From the angle of the cuts, it is
clear that the knife was...

held in the left hand, rather
than the right...

as all the cuts were made
in that direction.

Left-handed.
Llewellyn never noticed that.

Look who just walked in.

The uterus, together with
its appendages...

Doesn't mind being noticed,
does he?

And the posterior two thirds of
the bladder had been removed...

together with the upper
part of the vagina.

Dr Phillips, were these organs
removed separately, one by one?

- They were, sir.
- With medical knowledge?

Coroner, I have never seen
such terrible things...

done by any member of
my profession.

You mean it was frenzied?

- The act of a mad man?
- No, sir. Quite the reverse.

The organs were removed
purposefully. Individually.

It would've taken a skilled surgeon
at least fifteen minutes...

to have cut away so many...

- one at a time.
- Thank you, Dr Phillips.

We will hear more
from you tomorrow.

Now, members of the jury...

Fifteen minutes. He took his
time didn't he?

- The cause of death...
- Our friend is leaving.

Failure of the heart's
action in consequence of loss of blood...

caused by the severance
of the throat.

- Dr Acland.
- Inspector, how nice to see you.

I didn't know you were
interested in this case?

You created the interest yourself,
Inspector, by coming to the hospital.

And I've known Dr Phillips
for some time, so...

- You on your way to the Opera?
- What?

- The Opera.
- The togs!

No, not the Opera.
Melodrama at the Lyceum.

- Lyceum, that's Jekyll and Hyde.
- Yes. I've got free tickets.

My only claim to fame.

- How was that, Dr Acland?
- The actor came to me for advice.

He plays a doctor, you see. Charming
man, an American called Mansfield.

Quite, er, quite
famous, I believe.

And what advice
did you give him?

I showed him an autopsy,
removal of the viscera.

Mansfield watched a post-mortem?

Yes, preparing for his part.

People usually faint
at autopsies, don't they?

But he sent me free tickets.

So it didn't upset him too much!

Good day, gentlemen.

I wonder if Mansfield's
a left-hander?

I wonder if Acland is?

On yer feet, Pizer.

Jack Pizer's a shoemaker.
They call 'im Leather Apron.

- Do you know why you're here?
- Yeah, they were gonna lynch me.

- They threw brinks at my window...
- Where's your liver?

They didn't give me no liver.

- Those are beans.
- Not yer food, on yer body.

Where is it?

That's yer kidneys.

Catch.

Right-hander.

This one's Isenschmid, the butcher,
sir. They were gonna drown him.

- You speak English?
- Ja, ja, naturlich.

Where on your
body is your liver?

- Ja, it is here.
- No - where exactly is it?

- You-you're a butcher, aren't you?
- For the pig, I know exactly.

For a people, maybe here...?

No, that's only in Bavaria. In the
rest of the world that's your bladder.

Pick up your knife and fork.

Sweet dreams, Herr Isenschmid.

Dummkopf.

They're both right-handers
George, let 'em go.

Done. Fred. Yeah?

Where is your liver?

Well, it's under yer ribs,
on the right.

Just making sure you
knew, that's all.

Get some sleep, George.

Thank you, Nurse.

I'll take rounds at three,
carriage at five-thirty.

Yes, Dr Acland.

I'm so sorry.
I thought you were alone.

No, come in, Bill.

You're just what we need,
a second opinion.

I'll try.
Good afternoon, Inspector.

Removing a kidney, in the dark.

- Or a bladder, say; Could you do it?
- In the dark?

And without damaging any
other organs, not a scratch.

Now, don't let me down, I've just said
my son-in-law could do it blindfold.

Good heavens, no.

Half an inch to the left or
right and you've...

cut into another part of
the viscera.

I presume this is your
murder case, Inspector.

- Yes.
- Couldn't he have had a lamp?

Anything is possible, Dr Acland.

Forgive me, I need your opinion on
the hemiplegia. May I leave the file?

You will in any case, dear boy,
no matter what I say.

Please excuse me, inspector, this
place is rapidly becoming Bedlam.

- Well, is that it?
- There is one more thing, Sir William.

If you have a moment.

One of the great paradoxes
of life, Inspector...

is that all that one is left,
at my age, is time.

How can I help you?

Have you seen the play,
Jekyll and Hyde?

No, but I feel as though I have.
Theo can't stop talking about it.

Sounds pure nonsense
to me, I'm afraid.

But the other day you said that one
man could be two different people.

Yes, but not by drinking
a potion.

I meant, changing from within.
An act of will.

You mean, doing it on purpose?

When I was a boy, Inspector, an
infected wound could result in death.

Today...

today I can cut my
finger, quite deliberately...

let it fester, on purpose.

And then cure it in a moment...

by dipping it in antiseptic.

Now, a few years ago the world
would've laughed at such an idea.

But by boldness and experiment,
the truth was found.

It will be the same with
the mind.

So there, there could be
a real-life Jekyll and Hyde?

A man who could turn
himself into a monster?

Yes, I see no reason why not.

But would he have the power
to restore the Dr Jekyll in himself?

An equally fascinating
question, don't you think?

Evening, sir.

I wasn't, I wasn't asleep, sir.

Of course not, go home, son.

Anything I can do, sir?

Guv'nor?

Good night, Derek.

Who are you...

you bastard?

Get The Star.

"Dear boss, I keep hearing
the police have caught me."

"And that joke about the leather
apron gave me real fits."

"I'm down on whores and I shan't
quit ripping them until I get buckled."

- "The next job I do..."
- I found him, Mr O'Connor.

- Where the hell've you been, Bates?
- Vigilantes. Hello, Mr Paulson.

"The next job I shall do, I shall clip
the ladys' ears off just for jolly...

wouldn't you?
Yours truly, Jack the Ripper."

- Jack the Ripper?
- "P.S. Don't mind me giving away..."

the trade name. They say I'm
a doctor now. "

Jack the Ripper!
It's a newsman's dream.

- We aim to please at Central News.
- I'll buy it, Mr Paulson...

we'll talk terms later.

Bates is going with you to Whitechapel.

I'm writing the lead story, I want
a special in the streets in one hour.

Arrived this morning at
the Central News Agency.

Mr Paulson here brought
it straight to The Star.

That is an exclusive, that is.

- I get three letters a day like this, Bates.
- In red ink?!

Hum, nasty touch, that.

Shocked everyone at your news
agency, didn't it Mr Paulson?

Yeah.

People do this kind of thing
as a joke. They think it's funny.

I don't. Goodbye.

Here, Bill,
give us a hand over 'ere, will yer?

- I'm busy, I'll be there in a minute.
- Come on, what're you doin'?

Can't you give us a few words for the
readers? They'll expect something.

I'll do better than that, I'll give you a
dozen letters more boring than this one.

On second thoughts,
write your own.

George.

- Read that.
- God, not another one.

Me bruvver done it, it's the
Jews. I'm a giant vulture.

Read that last line.

"The next job I do I shall clip
the lady's ears off...

and send them to the
police officers just for jolly."

Hum, so what?

Do you know what Doctor
Phillips didn't say at the inquest?

What, the thing he
kept secret, you mean?

The ears. He cut the ears.
Not off; He just cut them.

Now - I knew that, Phillips
knew that, and so did the killer.

Now, why does this joker say,
"next time I'll cut the ears OFF"?

Doesn't prove our man
wrote this, does it?

No. Unless there's another one.

- Another one?
- George...

I want every statement,
report and file we've got.

We'll find it if it takes all night.

Well, don't just sit there,
go and get it.

Jack the ripper! Jack the ripper,
ladies and gentlemen.

Letter from the ripper.
Come on, ladies and gentlemen.

- Get yer star!
- Over here, boy.

Thank you very much, sir.
Come on, now...

Jack the ripper.
Jack the ripper.

Letter from Jack the ripper.

- Police investigation.
- There you go, boy.

- Get yer star, get yer star.
- I'll have one of those, boy.

- Letter from jack the ripper.
- Just one, son.

Charles, good to see
you again. Sit down.

Er, that'll be all for tonight,
thank you, Peter.

The er, Prime Minister wants to know
if you've heard about this rumour...

- that's going round the clubs.
- Rumour, Secretary of State?

What rumour?

About the Queen's grandson,
Prince Albert Victor.

With the greatest respect to the Prime
Minister, there's been malicious...

gossip about the Prince
for years. And I...

- Concerning Whitechapel?
- Whitechapel?

The latest gossip...

connects him with a house
of ill repute in Whitechapel.

He's said to go there incognito.
And to be a frequent visitor.

- Is it true?
- Good heavens, man...

it doesn't have to be true.

If it involves the man
who may one day be the...

King of England, the truth
will be irrelevant.

It's the rumour that'll
be remembered.

And the damage to the
monarchy could be incalculable.

Does the Queen know?

That's not for me to say.

But if the papers get
a hold of this rumour...

every fanatic, anarchist, and
anti-monarchist...

in England will be running
through the streets...

screaming for
a bloody revolution.

It's started already.
This vigilante man...

George Lusk; He's got
a hundred followers.

Yeah, and how many do
you think there would be...

if the Prince's name got linked
to headlines like these?

What exactly are you
asking me to do, Henry?

Find this killer.

Whoever he is.

We'll do the rest.

- Right, what are we looking for?
- Pairs, George, I told you - pairs.

There's a hundred and
seventy-one of these.

All single statements.
None of 'em tie up.

Look, two butchers in the same pub.
Two sailors on the same ship.

There's got to be a link,
somewhere.

Keep going.

The Lord love us, Liz,
will you take this!

Look, Mary Jane, you need
protection, I supply it.

It's as simple as that.

Yeah, what's it gonna cost me,
then? Three nights' work a week?

Don't trust 'im, love.
They 'anged 'is dad.

Look, why don't you mind
your own bloody business?

- Here you are.
- That's mighty fine of you, Billy.

- Same again?
- Yes.

Same again, please, pet.

- So who did write it?
- His partner.

He must've had
a partner. Otherwise...

how could he have worked in
that yard for fifteen minutes?

And that's why we're
looking for pairs.

Right.

'Ello!

'Ere, I've got 'em back, Mary.

Pinched 'em, more like.

She didn't pinch them, she
hooked them, they're mine.

I've been in the cells.
Bloody copper says I was drunk.

- I give 'em your name as well, love.
- Cathy!

- Nice friends you've got.
- You are nobody's friend, Billy White.

But I am your protector.
Aren't I, Liz?

All right, George,
ask yourself this.

Why are the witnesses...

so confused about this stranger
they're supposed to have seen?

He could have light hair,
could be grey.

Could be average height,
he could be tall.

It's a deerstalker hat,
it's a peaked cap.

They don't know who
they're describing...

- do they?
- Because there's two of them.

George, there's got to be.

Somewhere, in all of this,
there's got to be a pair.

Keep going.

Goodnight, sir.

Goodnight, Rodman.

If she doesn't want to,
leave her alone.

Look, I won't tell you again, get
out there an' earn your bread!

- You see what he's like, Mary?
- Just get off, will you...

you old bag.

I'll be back - you see
if I'm not!

Now, Mary Jane, what's it to be?
Protection, or stay on your own?

Sex, revenge, robbery.

Not a pair among 'em.
Sorry, Guv'nor.

What's missing in
all this, George?

Motive.

There isn't any motive.

Lusk. Bates. Mansfield, Acland.

Lees. Llewellyn.

Thought you might
like some tea, sir.

- Derek, it's better than Kerby's.
- Thanks, sir.

We should do one another
favours, Frankie, you and me.

Why don't we start by you
doing me one?

You've had enough, Cathy,
I can smell it from 'ere.

Frankie, be a dear, go stick
yer 'ead in a bucket and kick it.

What's the matter, girl? My God!

My years of...!

- What's going on?
- Find Spratling now!

Berner Street, Dutfield's Yard.

Hello.

Look at them. Hello.

Hello.

Are you asleep up there?

If the clock strikes you'll
turn to salt. D'you know that?

All I wanted was a glass of gin.

No, nobody was here.
Nobody in the street.

- Why don't you pray for her?
- We sent for a priest, Mr Diemschutz.

I have a wife and two sisters.

All these women killed.
Why you do nothing?

We are doing something,
Mr Diemschutz.

- Did you take his statement, George?
- Yeah. The blood was still fresh.

They found her between one and five past,
we must've missed him by seconds.

Mein Gott!

A woman is cut to pieces, and all you talk
about is between one and five past.

Why the police do nothing?!

- Well, did he do it?
- Did he do what?

"Next job I do I shall clip
the lady's ears off...

and send them to the
police officers, just for jolly."

- No. They're still there.
- So this letter's a hoax.

Like the others.

But that's not a hoax.

Abberline!

Lusk.

- How the hell did that bastard find out?
- Whitechapel torn toms.

Get that body away.

- Abberline!
- Right, sir.

Abberline, there's been another
one, Mitre Square.

- What?
- We've sent for the Commissioner.

- The Commissioner?
- This one is terrible! I mean, terrible!

Keep your voice down, you
want to start a bloody riot?

Abberline! So, you
don't need us?

Isn't that what you said?
He doesn't need us!

Get this mob off the
street, Lusk.

Or I'll run you in for incitement to
riot so fast you'll skin your feet.

You're finished, Abberline.
The people are taking over!

Yeah!

The Whitechapel
Vigilance Committee...

- protects innocent working people.
- Spratling, get that body away, George...

- The police do nothing!
- Come with me.

And why? I'll tell you, my friends.
They don't want the streets safe!

Got a statement for The Star?
Early edition.

Yeah. Shut yer face.

- I'll print that.
- Your wives don't count.

Your daughters don't count.

You don't count!

Mobilise and organise!

Join the people's committee!

Well, this is Mitre Square...

- what's going on?
- Are you Mr Abberline?

- Where the hell's this body?
- They've taken it away, sir.

- Taken it away?!
- City morgue, ten minutes ago.

Now, I washed the blood off best I could
but I haven't got a brush, you see.

- You washed the blood off? Why?
- I was told to, sir.

The Commissioner's been here.

He's waiting for you at Goulston
Street. I thought you knew all this.

It's definitely part of her apron,
Commissioner...

cut off with a knife, I'd say.

Soaked in blood. Why leave it
here, several streets away?

To prove the writing's real.

Shine the lamp.

"The Juwes are the men that will
not be blamed for nothing."

So the Jews should be blamed
for something...

that's what he's saying,
isn't it, Commissioner?

Spelling, Chief Superintendent:
J U W E S.

That's why I sent for you,
let's get rid of it.

Wipe this off now.

You wanted me, Commissioner?

Yes, Abberline, we found this,
it's part of the dead woman's apron.

- Which one?
- The second one, Mitre Square.

Excuse me, sir. What the bloody hell
do you think you're doing?

- I was told to, sir.
- My orders, Abberline.

It's anti-Semitic filth.

"The Juwes are the men that will
not be blamed for nothing."

This area's teeming
with immigrants...

a lot of them are Jewish and
they're not popular.

One word about it being a Jew and
we'll have lynch mobs on the streets.

- It's happened before. Wipe it off.
- If he's a Jew, why draw attention to it?

To make us think he's a Jew, put us
off the scent - haven't you got a brain?

George, write this down, and you too,
Constable, and get the spelling right.

- J U W E S. It may be important.
- How?

You tell me, Chief Superintendent.

I will tell you: He can't spell, and that's
all there is to it. Now wipe it off.

Wait.

What's that, Abberline?

It's a letter to the Central News
Agency, Commissioner.

Same writing, is it?

- No, completely different.
- So wipe it off.

I don't want to see it
printed in a newspaper.

I'll see you back at
the Yard, Abberline.

One hundred and forty-three
plain-clothes men..

Hundreds more in uniform,
and all these weeks later...

we're still no further ahead,
is that what you're saying?

Commissioner, we've taken
thousands of statements...

we've doubled the patrols
on the streets and I've got...

every known informant with
his ear to the ground.

But something's got to
be done, gentlemen.

The Secretary of State for the
Home Department is now being...

bombarded with letters from the
chairman of something calling itself...

the Whitechapel
Vigilance Committee.

George Lusk. He's a thug.

Thug or not, he's offering help.

No, Chief Superintendent,
he's offering trouble.

I'm afraid that is not a view that the
Secretary of State can take...

and neither, frankly, can I.

He's a rabble rouser, a politician, and
he's using these murders for his own ends.

So what is he, an Anarchist?
Irish revolutionary?

Well, he calls himself
a Socialist.

But if you want a riot,
George Lusk is your man.

And if the Secretary of State is
going to accept his so-called help...

I'll have to resign.
And I mean it.

Vigilantes, East End in turmoil.

Get yer Star. Get yer Star

Vigilantes.

Get the news.
East End in turmoil.

- Vigilantes! Buy the news!
- East End to march!

- Get yer Star!
- East End to march!

- Buy the Star.
- George Lusk to march.

All right. Listen again.

All the killings were done within
a few streets of each other.

All the victims were prostitutes.

No one sees anything,
and no one hears anything.

He just vanishes.
Time after time.

Local knowledge, we
said so from the start.

The women are ripped to pieces.

Now, he must be drenched
in blood. Pints of it.

So he's got to get off
the street.

Now, where does he go?

- Obviously somebody's hiding him.
- Why's that obvious? He might live alone.

Sir, why do they keep going
with him? The prossies, I mean.

Now, that's a good
question, Derek.

He might be someone they know, or-or,
someone they think they can trust.

What, like a doctor, you mean?
Or a priest?

- Or someone else in authority.
- What, like one of us?

That's not funny.

No, Spratling, but it's why we are
questioning everybody in the area.

Man, woman and child.

Somebody must know something!

- Yes.
- Definitely.

Now, we know what he
looks like...

well, roughly - from the
statements we've got already.

So, for the next three days you
go round, knocking on doors.

And if anybody knows
anything, write it down!

And bring it back here!

Questions?

Wear your boots out.

Morning, boys.

There's a nice crowd outside the
police station. And here is your article.

George Lusk speaks.

I'd say the campaign's going
very well. Wouldn't you?

Just shut up and do your job.

- There they are, go on, get 'em!
- When're you gonna do somethin'?

'Bout time you
did somethin', ain' it?

One white handkerchief
with a red border.

One matchbox containing
cotton. Two clay pipes.

One red cigarette case.
Five pieces of soap.

One tin containing
tea and sugar.

One broken pair of spectacles,
one comb, one red mitten...

and one ball of worsted
wool. You got all that?

What are you doing
here, Doctor Llewellyn?

This one wasn't killed
on your patch.

I am examining the injuries,
Inspector...

to see if they match those
inflicted on Elizabeth Stride.

You will concede she was
killed on my ground...?

And do they? Match?
Here's the report, Inspector.

Read it yourself.

Who's your friend? I thought police
surgeons were supposed to help us.

George.

You still got that letter?

What, you mean hoax number four
hundred and twelve? I'll chuck it.

- No, read it out.
- What, all that bunk about...

"cut the ears off, just for jolly"?
Never happen, Fred, he didn't do it.

Not to Liz Stride.

This is Cathy Eddowes.

Look.

God, he's, he's done it.
He's cut her ears off!

Just for jolly.

- But if this letter's real...?
- Then you are looking at his handwriting.

You mean he's just given us
his handwriting?

He has done more than that, my
old friend. He's just hanged himself.

Get me Bates.
I want him here, now.

Two murders in one night,
half the country screaming...

for justice, and my best
reporter disappears.

- May I see, Mr Paulson?
- Always glad to be of service to The Star...

Mr O'Connor. For a
consideration, of course.

It arrived this morning, addressed
to us at Central News and signed...

Jack the Ripper,
just like the last one.

"I was not codding dear old Boss
when I gave you the tip."

"Double event this time."

- "Number one..."
- "Squealed."

"Number one squealed a bit."

"Had not time to get
ears, for police."

Same handwriting as the
first one? Are you sure?

Central News is a respectable
News Agency, Mr O'Connor.

We're always consistent.

- How do I know it's genuine?
- You don't, that's a job for the police.

If I were you, I'd give that to
Abberline. Er, print it first, 0' course.

For the usual fee.

Did you pay a lot for this,
Mr O'Connor?

The handwriting is the same
as the last one, Inspector.

You don't think it's genuine?

As I told your reporter last time,
we get a lot of strange letters.

Especially on murder cases.

My favourite's the man who thinks
he's a giant vulture.

He writes to us once a week.

I hope you don't think I've
wasted your time?

Not at all, sir. That's
what we're here for.

- Good day, sir.
- Thank you.

I can't believe it. It's as
if he wants to get caught!

"First one squealed a bit,
had not time to get ears."

Because of Diemschutz,
the man with the cart.

Diemschutz must have almost
trodden on him.

- Or them.
- You still think there's more than one?

It takes fifteen minutes to cut up
one of those bodies.

That's what Dr Phillips said at
the Nichols inquest.

- Someone keeping watch, you mean?
- Would you risk it?

- Right out in the open, alone?
- All right, let's say there's more than one.

That's why the handwriting
on the wall was different.

"The Juwes are the men that won't be
blamed for nothing", or whatever it was.

But why?

I mean, why write
anything at all?

Because he's playing with us, George.
Some people are so dammed cocky...

- they think they can't be caught.
- What's the motive?

- There's still no motive.
- There's got to be a motive.

- There's never been a murder without one.
- So what is it?

The women have got no money.

We've ruled out revenge, and
there's never any sex...

- according to the doctors.
- No, this one's different.

- Something special.
- What, a medical thing?

Some of the organs? I mean,
half the stomachs are missing.

Too high a risk. There's something
powerful driving this one along.

Black magic, you mean?
Some sort of secret society?

- Involving more than one.
- Fred.

Do you ever get the feeling that
someone knows something we don't?

I mean, getting the Commissioner out
of bed; Washing the blood away?

Two men. Two faces.

Lees.

The Queen's fortune-teller?
Come on, Fred, the man's a fraud.

He can write, can't he?
Bring him in.

The Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Prime Minister.

Come in, Henry. Sit down.

Whitechapel. The Queen is now
sending me telegrams.

She fears a breakdown of
law and order.

Well, with vigilantes on the streets, Prime
Minister, I'm beginning to share her concern.

When Parliament reassembles,
this government could be...

faced with a vote of
no confidence.

You're going to have to replace
the man in charge, Henry.

I want a new face.

Well, Commissioner Warren's a
stubborn man, Prime Minister.

He may defend this
Inspector Abberline to the end.

I'm not talking about the Inspector, it's
Commissioner Warren who'll have to go.

Now, these rumours. Whitechapel,
and Prince Albert Victor...

what've you found out?

Well, nothing concrete,
Prime Minister, it's er...

- it's just rumour.
- We're talking about the Queen's grandson.

If he visits houses of ill repute then
this government must know.

There's no proof, Prime
Minister. It's all speculation.

Speculation be damned!

Whitechapel is the scene of the
biggest manhunt we've ever known.

If the Prince's name is linked to that,
the whole future of the monarchy...

in this country will be at risk.

I want the truth, Henry, before these
rumours reach the Queen.

Well, where is he? Where's Lees?

Floating through the air. First I had
to wait, while he finished a Seance.

Then he told me how the
Queen asked him...

to bring her husband back
from the dead.

Then I got that bloody
coach story again.

And in the cab he went through
all three acts of Jekyll and Hyde.

- I'm deaf in one ear now.
- Where is he?

Er, wha...?

It's not mediums
that make you deaf, George.

- Not what I heard, anyway.
- He's in the muster room...

writing out a description...

of the coach
that knocked him down.

Bring this.

Right, Mr Lees.
Have you written it?

It's not much of a description.

Just a black coach with a
crest on the side.

Can't think why you
need it in writing.

The drawing I did will give you a
much better idea.

The Sergeant here said you wanted
to talk to me. What about?

After you told us about being run
over by the coach in the street...

we went over to Buckingham
Palace, to the Royal Mews.

I was right, wasn't I? It was
a royal coach.

- No, Mr Lees. It wasn't.
- But I've ridden in it...

- when I went to...
- When you went to see the Queen.

Yeah. You told us.

- All right, Mr Lees, what's your game?
- Game?

- I'm not lying, I saw what I saw.
- You see so many things, don't you?

- Visions, for instance.
- And monsters.

Dead women's clothes.

And murders before they happen!

And men with two faces,
like doctor Jekyll...

and mr bloody Hyde!

Are you such fools?

I took you to the theater...

to prove how a man can have two
faces, like that actor on the stage.

And until you believe in
my visions...

these killings will go
on, and on!

It's for Strand Magazine.

Handsome isn't he?

- Which one?
- Dr Jekyll, of course.

Just because he acts a monster onstage,
doesn't mean he is one in real life.

Why do you keep hounding him?

- I'm not hounding him, it's just...
- Don't say it; It's your job.

You could've been anything,
Freddie; A doctor, a teacher.

Why do women never say an explorer, a
hunter, something with a bit of excitement?

- You're a wreck.
- Yes.

I haven't had a drink
in six weeks.

All right, Freddie.

So you want me to smile at the
great Richard Mansfield...

when I deliver the drawing.

And then dig away and see if
I can find out if...

he really hates women under
all that charm.

Shall I write it down,
like one of your Sergeants?

No, just repeat it ten times
before you go to sleep.

Of course, he may want
to find out if I like men.

Have you thought of that?

If he does, you tell him...

that I learned everything I know from
my old dad, who was a blacksmith.

- He spent his whole life hitting things.
- Are you threatening to defend me again?

Last time you almost
ended up in jail.

You mean over the one who
said he was your husband?

Not husband - fiancé.

Good, I hit him just
in time then, didn't I?

Emma.

Don't ever be alone with him.

I mean it.

Right, today, leaflets.

We've had eight weeks of statements,
eight weeks of questions.

We've looked at every butcher, doctor, cook,
knife-grinder within ten miles of here.

We've questioned almost every
resident of Whitechapel.

We've had interpreters for
Jews, Poles, Germans, French.

We've got police on almost
every corner.

But he's still out there.

Someone, somewhere,
knows something.

- So today, leaflets.
- What if he's left the country, sir?

The world, thank God, is not
my responsibility, Derek.

But if it cheers you all up...

half the papers on the Continent
are watching our every move.

America, too.

Leaflets will make
exciting news then.

Every police station
has a bunch of these.

And we're handing
'em out like confetti.

If you ever have an idea of your own,
Spratling, warn me first.

I don't wanna die of shock.

Right. Move yourselves.

Back to the lock-up, Derek.

Take Joe with you. Visit every pub
on the way and show the uniform.

Right, sir. Right, Joe.

Well, well. If it isn't
Dr Jekyll himself.

Or is it Mr Hyde?
Evening, Mansfield.

Relaxing after the show?
Little Annette again?

Or are you taking your
chances in the pub this time?

I don't have to answer
impertinent remarks, now, do I?

You're in my way, here.

Well, thank you.

Definitely Mr Hyde.

Terry, that was Richard Mansfield,
the actor.

Stay with him, let me know
where he goes.

Right sir.

Good evening, sir.
Can I buy you a drink?

Or would you like
to buy a lady one?

Her name's Mary Jane, she's fresh from
the Emerald Isles and lovely with it.

Well, hello, Mary Jane.

Marie Janette. I'm from Paris.

Really? I'm from Boston,
call me Dixie.

Bartender.

- Out.
- Police.

Fred, something about
this doesn't make sense.

- What?
- Well...

Do come in, Terry.

Is it raining?

He picks up the proz, took her
home. She stayed all night.

Eight o'clock, put her in a cab,
sent her back to Whitechapel.

And does this proz have a name?

- Mary Kelly.
- Well, write it down...

and leave it in
Mansfield's file.

Well, can I get dry first?
I think I've caught pneumonia.

Well you know what they
say, don't you, Terry?

If you can't stand a joke,
you shouldn't'a joined.

Thanks.

What doesn't make sense?

Well...

if there's more than one.

What's holding 'em together?

I mean, look at us; We work
in hand in glove together.

But if one of us started
cutting up bodies...

Doesn't anybody
know how to knock?

He's sent you a present, boys.

What have the geniuses of the
press come up with now?

Something you'd never 'ave
dreamt of, Sergeant.

And it arrived in
the morning post.

- Right, Mr Paulson?
- That's right.

No.

Well, Doctor?

It's a human kidney.
What do you want me to say?

Does it belong to one
of the victims?

I have no idea, Inspector.

- Why, is it too decayed to tell?
- It's not decayed at all.

You're entitled to a
second opinion, of course

- Try Dr Phillips again.
- He's away.

Is he?

Well, if you'll excuse me.

I have patients to attend to.

Never mind, Abberline.
It's the note that counts.

"Dear Mr Lusk, I send you half the
kidney I took from one woman."

"T'other piece I fried and ate.
It was very nice."

"Signed, catch me when you can."

Wonderful copy.

- Don't you agree, Mr Paulson?
- Yeah.

Why did he suddenly
write to George Lusk?

All the other notes went to
the Central News Office.

That's your news
agency, Mr Paulson.

So why address this one to Lusk?

- Well...
- You'll have to find him...

and ask him.

Won't you?

Cheer up, Sergeant.
Couldn't 'ave tasted all that bad.

He probably 'ad it
with sage and onion.

What are you gonna do with it?

Take it to the Queen's doctor.

Our old friend Sir William Gull.

- I'll wait here, Fred.
- Why?

You know how I feel
about things like this.

Gull's gonna start cutting it up
or pouring acid on it, or something.

You know what they say, George.
If you can't take a joke...

You shouldn't'a joined.
Yeah, I know, guv.

'Allo, George.

Remember me?

From the Royal Mews? Netley.

John Netley.

Yeah.

Yes, it's a female kidney, belonging
to a woman of about forty-five...

in an advanced
state of alcoholism.

She's also suffering from Bright's
Disease. Take a look, Theo.

Did it belong to
Catherine Eddowes?

That's what I need
to know, Sir William.

Let me see the autopsy report.

You all right, Sir William?

Yes, just, just a little tired,
that's all. Let me see it.

This kidney's been
preserved in alcohol.

The way a medical man
would do it, Dr Acland?

Alcohol's easy enough
to obtain, Inspector.

Anyone can get hold of it.
Not just doctors.

Yes, I'd say it belonged
to this poor woman.

- Are you sure?
- How long is a renal artery, Theo?

Three inches, as you
very well know.

Yes, well, there are two inches
left in the body, and there...

unless I am mistaken,
is the missing inch.

Was it removed professionally,
Sir William?

- You mean by a surgeon?
- Why all this emphasis on surgeons?

You don't need a medical degree to
take hold of a kidney and cut it out.

Butchers do it every
day, for goodness' sake!

I was only asking, Dr Acland.

Ever since the day you consulted me
about mental instability, Inspector...

my son-in-law's been
following this case avidly.

All this talk in the press
of doctors...

has hurt his professional pride.

- Nonsense.
- No, just mild paranoia.

Nothing to worry about.?

I drive doctors all the time.

Yeah, so you said.

- Yeah.
- Fred.

Remember John Netley, from
the Royal Mews?

Yes. Weren't you gonna keep your
eyes peeled for a black coach?

- Like a royal one?
- Yeah, well, I've been busy.

John's been telling me about the
doctors he drives, haven't you?

Only the big ones.
Well, I'm the top driver, see?

Waitin' for a famous surgeon
now, as a matter of fact.

He's driven royalty, too.
Haven't you, John?

Highest in the land, yeah.
Not in my coach, mind.

When you work for the Palace,
they give you a beauty.

- Tell him about the Prince.
- Prince Albert Vee?

He's a lad,
is Prince Albert Vee.

Well, that's what we call him in the
Mews, see. Vee for Victor.

- Shouldn't've told you though, should I?
- What kind of a lad?

Nah...! I know how to keep
my mouth shut, I do!

You won't catch me.

Here, you know what that is?
Gallbladder, that's what that is.

I've studied it, see? I'm a
doctor meself, part time.

- Yeah?
- Aye aye, here's me surgeon now.

Gotta go..

He's stark raving mad.

Well, what did Sir William
have to say?

It's hers, Cathy Eddowes'.

Cannibal in London!
Cannibal in London!

Get The Star.
Ripper eats kidney!

Ripper eats kidney!
Cannibal in London!

Cannibal in London.
Get The Star.

I only spent an hour with him,
of course...

but I certainly don't think
Mansfield hates women.

Mind you, I don't think he
values us much, either.

His whole life seems to be
one long love affair.

- You mean any woman will do?
- No.

Nobody else is involved.

Not if you're Richard Mansfield.

And what was the other thing?

You said there was
something else.

Well that's much more exciting.

It's about the Queen's
grandson, of all people.

And what about the Queen's
grandson, of all people?

Well, a certain reporter
told me...

that Prince Albert Victor, Duke of
Clarence and Avondale...

has visited a bawdy house.

- Several, in fact.
- Show me a prince who hasn't.

But this one wears a disguise.

And the best bit is, his
favourite place happens to be...

Whitechapel.

Have you got him on your list?

Emma.

Who told you about all this?

Ben Bates, of The Star.
It's absolutely delicious, isn't it?

I hope you don't go around
repeating it.

Gossip like that can
be bloody dangerous.

Freddie, you can be
very dull sometimes.

Must be your job.

Why don't you try something
exciting for a change, like...

an explorer, for instance.

I'm sorry.

- I'll come back later.
- Sergeant Godley, isn't it?

Still keeping the maestro on
the, er, straight and narrow?

I'll see you out, Emma.

Better not. People might talk and
er, gossip can be bloody dangerous.

By the way, I'm having dinner with
him. At the er, Café Royal tonight.

Don't worry, they'll be eight of us
at the table, I'll be quite safe.

Shut the door, George.

- What is it? What's wrong?
- Sit down, and listen to this.

And their faces,
when they saw that kidney!

Yes!

They didn't know which way to turn.
They didn't know what to say, what to do.

They didn't even know
what to think!

They were confused.

I wish I had your way with
words, Paulson, I really do.

So are you going to print it?

The story about the Prince?

Phh. The power of the press,
my friend...

is the threat of the press.

Even for royalty.
Let them sweat.

Yeah.

Hello Bates. Getting into
sedition now, are we?

What do you want? Sergeant.

- I want to talk to you.
- What about?

About a little rumour
you've been spreading.

What rumour?

About a certain royal personage
visiting Whitechapel.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

You print one word of it without proof,
and we'll seize the edition.

Better still, we'll put
you behind bars.

And that would make
me very happy.

Aren't you gonna pour
me a drink?

Er, sorry.

- Have you told anybody about this?
- Only my Sergeant, Commissioner.

He's trying to
establish the facts.

Facts!

People don't want their
gossip spoiled by facts.

We're talking about a royal prince,
who may one day be King of England.

If he sneezes he must
have pneumonia.

If he's been within a mile of Whitechapel
he's obviously Jack the Ripper.

Gossip is far more
powerful than facts.

What if it isn't gossip, sir?

What if the rumours are true?

If the Prince visits brothels,
that's a scandal.

Scandals die down.

But if he's suspected
of murder...

we'll be facing a crisis that will rock
the British Empire to its foundations.

What do you want me to do, sir?

I swore to uphold the law, Abberline,
just as you did, without fear or favour.

And while I'm Commissioner of the Metropolitan
Police, that is what I will do...

no matter who the killer is.

Do we understand each other?

Yes, sir.

If Mary Nichols
had been Lady Nichols...

the Prime Minister himself
would've been here.

- Yeah, right.
- That's right.

If Annie or Cathy
had been duchesses...

they'd have brought the army in!

But they're only our women.

So they don't care, my friends.

Long live the revolution!

And long live Karl Marx!

Rubbish!

- What a mouth.
- I thought he was wonderful.

- I'm gonna talk to him.
- Wonderful? It's a load of old toss.

Look, Mary Jane, his sort,
they never pay.

Billy, go to hell and be
dammed! I'm gonna talk to him.

Er, excuse me, Mr Lusk.

I thought your
speech was beautiful.

I, I especially liked what you
said about freedom.

Did you, now?

What if I told you there's a way
you could help the revolution...

sister...?

I tried everything but he
shut up like a clam.

Freedom of the
press, he called it.

George, if this rumour's true, we'll
be setting sail without a map.

- You know that, don't you?
- I'm not that stupid, Fred...

I know what royalty means.

You've got a family.

You don't have to stay, that's
what I'm saying.

I know what you're saying. Look, how
long have we worked together?

- Four years.
- Then you should know me by now.

I only get anxious at midnight. I'll let
you know when it's chiming, all right?

Bucks Row, second on the right.

Billy, for heaven's sake, look.
Will you just leave us alone.

You don't know what you're
getting yourself into, Mary Jane.

She's breaking free of
pimps and scum.

Get back to the sewers
where you came from.

And where do you come from?

Heaton and Oxford, and you
come down 'ere tryin' to talk like us.

I know what your game
is, Lusk. Don't think I don't.

A little knowledge is a dangerous
thing, don't you agree, sisters?

All right, number one, Mary Nichols.
Feet this way, head there.

And not much blood, no
more than a pint of it.

How d'you know that? They'd
washed it away by time we arrived.

Look at the windows.

What have windows
got to do with blood?

You'll see.

- Where have you been?
- Getting you a photographer.

One? I want more than one.

So, who are these two, then?

We have met before.
It was Hanbury Street.

Yes! The day after
Chapman was killed.

You're a whore too, aren't you?

Number two, Annie Chapman.
There.

She was dragged in
here, then she was killed...

and then she was taken
to bits, slowly.

Do you believe it?

Believe it? What d'you mean?

Watch this.

- Hey?
- Who's that?

Police.

Goodnight. Come on, George.

The police doctor didn't
help them at all.

And they couldn't work out why
the kidney was addressed to you.

All they need now is another murder
and they'll be really confused.

Another murder.

Nothing more certain, Bates.

Right, I'll... I'll see you
outside Scotland Yard, then.

Nine-thirty. Sharp.

- So, work just started on Liz Stride.
- Yeah.

When up the street
comes a horse and cart.

Er, Diemschutz, the
man who found her.

No time to cut the ears,
so it's off to Mitre Square.

- Time?
- Er, between one and five past.

- Check your watch.
- Right.

- Ready?
- Go.

It's not just anarchists.

There's republicans,
Irish revolutionaries.

Now something calling itself The
Women of East London.

- Four thousand signatures.
- Everyone with an axe to grind?

I hear they've closed
down a theater play.

Jekyll and Hyde.
In case it inspires the killer.

Whole town's gone mad, Torn.
It's getting very dangerous.

But you won't resign.
Not till this is over.

We still need you.
Don't we, Commissioner?

Pay attention,
brothers and sisters.

Tonight, we take our
power to the streets.

Yeah!

Tonight, we take the
battle to the enemy!

Yeah!

Tonight, we strike
our blow for freedom!

Yeah!

- Scotland Yard!
- Yeah!

Warren out! Warren resign!

- Nine minutes.
- No.

He wouldn't run like we did, George.
He'd attract too much attention.

- Quarter of an hour.
- Minimum.

All right, call it er,
one fifteen.

So, he kills Cathy Eddowes.

Operates on damn near every one of
'er organs, one by one.

Now remember, it's dark.

Then he dumps 'er
carcass over there.

Right, another twenty,
twenty-five.

- Yeah. So that's, er, forty minutes.
- So what?

She was murdered at one forty-five.
He's got five minutes to spare.

What if he can't find a girl?

For ten minutes,
maybe fifteen minutes.

What if the city copper doesn't
discover the body right away?

- Then it can't be done.
- Unless...

he can get 'ere twice
as quick as we did.

- It's impossible.
- No, it's not.

- Not if he had a coach.
- Coach?

And it doesn't drive
itself, does it?

- Fred, that's it.
- It's a coach, George.

And it is more than one!

- That's the answer.
- It's more than one...

and they're using a coach!

That's it, Fred!

Quick, this'll do.

Come on!

Come on.

Warren out! Warren resign!

- Come on, quick! The doors.
- Come on, get the doors closed.

Warren out! Resign, Warren!

- Close all the doors!
- In yer get.

Come on, shut the door,
shut the door!

Warren out?

- Warren out?
- Warren resign! Warren out!

- That's my name they're shouting.
- We can leave by the back door.

Tom, if the people are against me,
too, perhaps I should resign.

No!

Move it.

One more push and
we'll take over the streets!

Yes! Yes.

If it's a secret society
there could be hundreds of 'em.

No, George, there's only two.

Just two men.
And d'you know why?

Because what all those people told us
about the stranger they'd seen in the area.

He's tall, short, old, young,
he had light hair, grey hair...

- who are they describing?
- Two different men.

There are two different
kinds of handwriting.

One of them drives a coach,
while the other one cuts up the body.

The coach is on the move.
So you get that ragged cut.

They leave the body
in a quiet place.

And there's, there's not much blood
on the ground because most of it's...

Most of it's in the coach.

They'd be taking a
hell of a risk, though.

I mean, what if one of
our men stops the coach?

Not this coach, George.

Nobody stops this coach.

What? Two men?

That's what I'm telling you.
We think there's two men...

and we think they've got a
coach. So warn all the girls, okay?

Does Mr Spratling
know about this?

He does now.

- I told 'em, Sarge.
- Right, let's do the Ten Bells.

- Two men in a coach.
- Bluff, Scotland Yard bluff.

- Don't know a thing.
- But I 'eard it...

Finish yer drink.

What is it this time, Inspector?
I was just going out.

Take a look at this
sketch you drew for me.

The coach you saw in the vision.

- The one that tried to kill you.
- What about it?

- You said it was a royal coach.
- Very like a royal coach, certainly.

Like a royal coach.

But you said you'd ridden in it
when you went to see the Queen.

Now is it royal, or isn't it?

It had a sort of crest on the
side, as I've drawn it there.

- Perhaps that confused me.
- I like straight talking, Mr Lees.

And I'm not hearing it.

So there's a warning
for you, Mary, all right?

The day I take on a twosome for
the price of one's the day I give up.

You're new aren't you,
what's your name?

- Millie.
- It's her first night, Sergeant.

Don't frighten her.

Hasn't she the most beautiful
hair? Come on, pet.

Look after yourself, Millie.

Sarge, there are three
more pubs in Fashion Street.

I know that, Derek.

The supernatural is
never simple.

I told you what came
to me, Inspector.

He's a man with two faces.

I'll tell you what's come to me,
Mr Lees. He's two men.

Excuse me I didn't reali...

Good evening, Mr, er... whatever
your name is, it escapes me.

Mr Mansfield was having a
physic session when you arrived.

- About... about his acting career.
- Yes, that's right.

And how is your acting
career, Mr Mansfield?

Well, I guess you've heard about the
play, Jekyll and Hyde, no? I er...

suddenly found myself
playing to half-empty houses.

Don't get to be my monster
anymore, so to speak. Chin, Chin.

You're the best in the
world at that, aren't you?

- Changing from Jekyll into Hyde.
- What's behind that remark, inspector?

What's behind you getting Dr
Acland to show you an autopsy?

You like watching bodies
being cut up, do you?

I was preparing for
my role as Dr Jekyll.

You know, I resent being...

- spoken to as if I'm some...
- Listen. She's singing.

There.

Look, she's singing.

God! Stop him,
somebody stop him!

Stop him!

All right.

I-l-long hair.

Yellow hair, she's got
b-beautiful yellow hair.

A man wearing armour.

What is this, Mansfield?

He's having a vision, here, Inspector.
I think we should leave.

Like a, like... like a knight with
a sword. A knight in armour.

A knight in armour.

- God!
- Here, drink this.

- He's cutting, he's cutting... No!
- Please.

No!

You sure you're feeling
better now, Robert?

Quite sure.

Come back tomorrow, Richard
and I'll tell you your future.

I'll show myself out.

You and Richard Mansfield seem to have
struck up quite a friendship, Mr Lees.

My visions are never wrong.

Look for a man wearing armour,
and a girl with long, yellow hair.

She'll die.

She's going to die.

Billy! My God!
What've they done to you?

It's my own fault, I should
learn to keep my mouth shut.

- About what?
- Look.

- I've got a job for you.
- No, Billy, I'm not going out.

- They say there's two men in a coach...
- You don't have to go out.

It's at your place.
It's as safe as houses.

Millie, I got somethin'
special for you.

Very special. And it'll
pay well, too.

Another drink, Mr Netley?

No. And it's Dr Netley.

- Cup of tea, Sarge?
- Yeah.

- What's that, Sergeant?
- Nothing, sir.

Just a few statements.

- Where's Abberline?
- I think he went home, sir.

You think he went home, sir?

The Commissioner wants to see him
tomorrow. Eleven o'clock. Sharp.

Right, sir.

Mind where you're going, son.
And do that collar up.

- Sarge.
- Yes, Derek?

That was the Chief Super
from Scotland Yard.

I know, Derek.

Well, what's he doing
in Whitechapel?

I don't know.

- What's that you're reading, Sarge?
- Derek, will you find something to do?

All right.

Now come on, Millie,
it's time to go.

- All right, I'm coming!
- Billy don't push her!

Push her? I'm helping her.
Now come on.

- He'll be here soon.
- Billy.

It's her first night out
in the street!

Come on, pet.

Don't worry pet, it's all right.

Come on, pet. All right?

Listen, just don't
get in any coaches...

and if you don't like the
look of him, just...

go on in, you'll be safe inside.

You'll be all right.
I'll see ya tomorrow.

- I thought you'd gone home.
- Isn't this home?

The Commissioner wants you.
Eleven o'clock tomorrow.

And these arrived. At last.

Court circulars?

Every engagement he's had for
the last three months.

Now this is the
London list, right?

- No. Scotland.
- What?

The Prince has been in Scotland
for the last ten weeks.

- Are you sure?
- I've checked every guest list...

speech, shooting party on the
whole royal circuit.

He never left Scotland,
not for a day.

Well, well, well.

What price Mr Benjamin bloody
Bates now?!

Lee's was telling Mansfield's
fortune...? Did you believe it?

Not after he started flying
round the room, no.

What d'you think they're up to?

Your guess is as good as mine.

A knight in shining armour,
and a girl with yellow hair.

- Come on Fred, let's go home.
- No, I'm gonna stay and have a think.

That was "think", not drink?

Goodnight, George.

Don't forget the Commissioner.
Eleven o'clock tomorrow.

Yes, George.

Come in, s'open.

Can I take your coat?

Is something wrong?

Dear God, no, no, God No! No!

Morning Mrs Curry. Mrs Shultz.

Have your rent ready,
I'll be round later.

Don't you never take
no 'olidays?

It's the Lord Mayor's parade...

- give us a rest.
- Mummy, mummy!

- Mummy, it's the rent man.
- Quick, get inside.

Pay yer tomorrow, John.

Right.

Rent.

Rent day.

Come on, Mary. Six weeks behind.

Rent day.

You're quite sure the Prince was in
Scotland on every single murder night?

Those are the official court
circulars, Commissioner.

His Royal Highness Prince Albert Victor,
Duke of Clarence and Avondale...

thirtieth of August with
the Queen at Invercoe.

Seventh of September
at Glenmore.

Then Balmoral. One night he
dined with foreign royalty...

until one thirty in the morning.

- It's all there.
- So, unless he sprouted wings...

and flew to London in less
than eight minutes...

He can't be Jack the Ripper.

He was four hundred miles
away, with fifty witnesses.

- Fifty?
- Butlers, footmen, valets.

Half the royal family, a dozen
guests. They're all listed.

Come in.

- Excuse me, Commissioner.
- All right, Mr Arnold, I'm coming.

Lord Mayor of London's parade
today. Annual farce.

Well, the people enjoy it, sir.
It's a public holiday.

They wouldn't enjoy it if they
had to march through the streets...

dressed like a turkey.

- May I have a word with you, sir?
- We can talk on the way.

No, Commissioner.

I think you should hear it now.

It's looking bad, John.

The locals are taking this
very hard, Commissioner.

Yes, we all are, Tom.
We all are.

The eyes of a dead person
record the last thing they see.

That's what I've heard.

Photographers brought a
special lens...

just in case it's true.

Good day, gentlemen.

He's offered to resign.

Lost a good man.

- Frederick, Mr Bowyer.
- Yeah.

So you er, came to collect
the rent, Mr Bowyer?

- Now, what happened then?
- I looked through the window.

And then I saw these... bits...

all over the room,
down the walls.

There's nothing left, nothing
left of her.

All right, old son.
It's all right.

It's okay.

A man in armour.
What are we gonna do, Fred?

When we catch whoever
did that, George...

I'm gonna kill him.

I wouldn't want to have
to face him, John.

Sir? Who killed Mary?

She was gonna meet
someone special.

- Who hated her like that?
- Shush.

Abberline! Abberline!
There he is.

- STRING HIM UP!
- Here, here.

HANG HIM.

The police are your enemy. They don't
care about ordinary working people.

- No police!
- No police!

No police! No police! No police!

- Fred, leave it!
- That scum. I'll get him, George!

Here, you see?
That's your enemy!

No police! No police! No police!

Mansfield!

Mansfield, open this door!

Mansfield, this is the police!

Open the door!

Mansfield, this is the police!

Open the door.

- You can't come barging in here like this.!
- Where is he? Mansfield?!

- Where is he?
- Well, the theater, probably.

- What's this?
- It's a costume design for his next part...

Richard III.

Where is he?

Hey, you!

Where do you think you're going?

I'm talking to you!

Who the hell are you?

I am his dresser, Sergeant,
not his keeper.

He is leaving for America and I'm
packing for him and that is all I know.

Where was he last night?

With some unfortunate
female, I suppose, he usually is.

Can't you see, his bed
hasn't been slept in.

And so the coup de grace
is done like this.

Richard, that's wonderful.

Just hold that pose.

Yes, just like that.
I'll work as fast as I can.

You forgot this.

- Where were you last night?
- Last night?

With Robert Lees,
and you were there.

Tuesday night, you slept with a
young girl called Mary Jane Kelly.

- She's dead.
- Really, and what'd she die of?

She said she was gonna
see someone special.

Where did you go, Mansfield,
after you left Robert Lees?

- Freddie, please don't do this.
- After I left Robert Lees?

Ask the lady here.

Ask her!

You gonna tell him?

You're not?

Richard and I...

had supper together.

And then?

- What happened then?
- I went home...

to an empty bed. What else?

You didn't think I'd damage a
lady's honour here, did you?

Miss Prentice.
I don't wanna finish this poster.

In fact, I don't want to continue
our association.

You know, I don't like
the company you keep.

Everyone you meet.

Everyone's a criminal to be
hounded and accused.

Emma, last night a
young woman...

- was pulled to threads by...
- Why don't you accuse me?

Shall I make up an alibi, shall I
say I went to bed with him?

Is that what you want to hear?
Well, is it?

- Emma, please.
- It's no use, Freddie.

We belong in different worlds,
just... Just stay out of mine.

It's Lancelot and Guinevere, for goodness'
sake, of course he's wearing armour.

It's also a girl with long hair, now that's
more than a coincidence, Mr Lees.

It's no coincidence at all!

My physic visions are
world famous.

Why do you think I advise the Queen,
and half the nobility of England?

- Do you think I'm a fraud?
- Answer the question.

- Have you see this picture before?
- It's a cheap reproduction.

You can buy them on
any street corner.

So you never left this house,
last night? Not for a minute?

Sergeant Godley, please tell your
Inspector Abberline...

that I am in no way connected
with these murders.

And I resent any suggestion
that I might be.

I approached you first,
in order to help you.

But if you bother me again...

I shall use every means at my disposal
to get you dismissed from the Force.

I am not without friends.

Now, please leave.

It's near somewhere, George.

It's gotta be.

- Area?
- All killings within a mile of each other.

Then it could be local,
but they used a coach.

- Method?
- Organs removed.

Could be medical but
there's no proof.

And they're drenched in blood.

Yes, so they've got to wash their
clothes or throw them away.

And if they throw them away...

- they can't be poor.
- They won't be poor.

- Llewellyn?
- Our own police surgeon?

Local, uncooperative, and he's got,
of course, medical knowledge.

But he had an alibi for
the Nichols murder.

A question mark.

- Lusk?
- Political, violent.

- And he knows the area.
- But did he have the knowledge?

- Lees.
- The Queen's own psychic medium.

No doctor's knowledge, and he's got
an alibi for the Chapman murder.

But he described the
knight in shining armour.

Acland, doctor, attended Chapman's
inquest with a very weak excuse.

Leave him on.

- Mansfield.
- Your friend, the actor?

Alibi for the Chapman killing...

but he knows about autopsies
'cause Acland showed him one.

- Underline him. Is that all?
- Yeah.

Mind you, you're pretty good
with a razor.

So are you.

Put us both down.

- Nice.
- Yeah.

Lady Gull.

Good afternoon, Inspector. I'm
sorry to keep you waiting.

- Would you like some tea?
- I gather Sir William is resting?

He'll be down in a moment.
Any excuse to ignore doctor's orders.

- Is he ill?
- No, not really.

He had a small stroke some time ago
and our son-in-law insists on a nap.

He's a doctor too, Dr Acland.

It's quite a battle, I can
assure you.

A stroke? I, I didn't realise
he had a stroke.

Yes. He hardly practises at all now,
just, er, a day or two at the hospital.

He gets very depressed and tired, so
don't tax him too much, will you?

Thank God. Someone's come.

How about some tea, m'dear?

No, I can see you've
already thought of that.

I hope we're not interrupting
anything, Sir William?

Good heavens, no. When you grow
old, they treat you as a child.

Send you to bed. Now that you're
here, I shall be allowed some cake.

Sit down, sit down.

Now, what can I do for
you, gentlemen?

Sir William, what kind of man
could do that to a young girl?

- Good God. When did this happen?
- Last night.

What kind of man am I
looking for, Doctor?

It's what we now call
a psychopath.

Mentally deranged person.

With a chronic sexual difficulty,
I'd imagine.

According to the police surgeons who
went in, there was never any actual...

- No intercourse?
- No.

You surprise me.

Have you ever seen anything
like that before, Doctor?

Never.

I've engaged in vivisection, of course,
it advances medical science.

But, what purpose
there could be in this...

total destruction of a
healthy human being...

I'm at a loss to understand.

How would I recognise him?

That won't be easy.

He'd probably appear
quite normal...

until his insanity rears
its head.

We find that quite common.

We think there may be two
of them, Sir William.

Two?

Well, that is interesting.

They would have to be very
sure of one another to share...

a thing like this.

Very sure indeed.

Family ties?

Urm, possibly.

Some exotic religion
perhaps? Politics...

anything which makes one man
submit to the will of another.

- Politics?
- Certainly.

Convince a little man that he's
serving some great cause, some...

grand experiment, and he'll do
practically anything for you.

- Kill people?
- Of course.

He'll burn witches for you.
Torture your enemies for you.

And he'll do it with a smile,
if he thinks it's right.

The history books
are full of it.

Convince a little man.

There will always be leaders
and followers, Inspector.

You even have them in the
police, do you not?

Come, my dear.

Come on, Theo, jump. Good boy.

Where's Grand papa?

Splendid.

Netley, will you wait?

Inspector.

Caroline, this is Mr Abberline,
you remember I told you about him.

Yes, of course.
How do you do, Inspector?

And this is my son,
Theo William.

You've been to see my
father, Inspector?

Yes Mrs Acland, we've
been er, talking to Sir William.

I hope you left him in
a good mood?

He can be quite a
tyrant at times.

Well!
Good day to you, gentlemen.

Good day, Dr Acland. Mrs Acland.

Nice to see you again,
miss. Are you well?

- Yes, very well, thank you.
- You remember John?

Well, then, young man,
how are you?

That's it, Fred, that's
the coach.

They've taken off the royal crest,
you see that?

Yeah, the patch on the side, and that's
John Netley from the Royal Mews.

- "Convince a little man."
- We're gonna lose him, Fred!

Bring him it at six, the
cell routine.

- Right.
- We've got him, George...

we've got both of 'em, now go.

It's too late, Abberline, there's
nothing I can do, not now.

But I need that document
today, Commissioner...

with your signature on it.

There'll have been other documents
today, Abberline.

Telegrams.

And the signature on this one will
make my position very clear to you.

"This new and most ghastly murder
shows the absolute necessity for some...

very decided action."

Those are the words of the
Queen, Abberline, this morning.

- But Commissioner, you said yourself...
- One hour ago...

the Secretary of State
replied as follows.

"Mr Henry Matthews begs to
inform Your Majesty...

"that the Cabinet have today decided
to accept the resignation...

of the Police Commissioner,
Sir Charles Warren."

- Does that answer your question?
- No, Sir Charles.

You are still Commissioner
until midnight.

See my successor,
Abberline, on Monday, please!

You told me to bring you
Jack the Ripper.

You sign that piece of paper,
and I will.

Tonight!

I work for the royal mews, I do!

See, peasants?

Get off! Come on, then!

You're gonna regret this...!

I work for important people!

- We've noticed.
- What this?

- Pick up the chalk.
- You're breaking my arm!

What chalk?

The chalk on the floor!
Pick it up!

Pick it up!

Right. Now write on the wall...

- "The Jews..."
- I can't...

I can't write!

How do you study those
medical books, then...

you snivelling little worm?
Write!

"The Jews are the men...

that will not be
blamed for nothing."

- Leave me alone!
- Write! Write!

"The Jews... ""the Jews..."

"J".

"U", "W"...

"E", "S".

You're gonna hang, "Dr Netley"!

Hang, you bastard!

Faster!

Come on, faster!

It's not just the writing on the wall.
It's the pimp. The pimp!

What pimp? I don't know no pimp!

The pimp who got you Mary
Jane Kelly, you little runt.

He's gonna point you out
to us, isn't he?

I told yer.
I don't know any pimp

Why d'you hang the royal crest
on the side of your coach?!

Wh-what royal crest?

In case you got stopped, wasn't it?
When the coach was full of blood.

Nobody'd dare open the door,
if they thought it was a royal coach.

Leave me alone.

What did he promise you?
Money? Lots of money?

For you to become
a doctor, was it?

Well, he's laughing at you, because
now you're gonna hang.

Except for this. This piece of paper,
John Netley, is your life.

Listen very carefully to
every golden word.

Rodman!

"Whereas, on November the
ninth, at Millers Court, Spitalfields...

Mary Jane Kelly was murdered."

Rodman, police. Open up!

"The Secretary of State will advise
the grant of Her Majesty's pardon...

"to any accomplice who shall
give such information...

"as shall lead to the conviction
of the person or persons...

who committed the murder."

Rodman!

What?!

Now, look, bottom left-hand corner,
that is signed...

Sir Charles Warren.

Commissioner of the
Metropolitan Police.

- The French girl, Annette.
- Inside.

Come 'ere, you bleeder.

Now, God help me.

That is a Queen's pardon.

But you are gonna
have to earn it.

You are gonna bring out Jack
the Ripper - tonight.

Out you go, Rodman,
and shut the door.

Remember me?

I was hear two months ago with
a man called Mansfield.

An actor. You called him Dixie.

Remember?

- You are police, no!
- Don't be frightened.

- But I have done nothing wrong.
- I know that. Now, listen.

How would you like us to pay
for you to go back to Paris?

Paris?

Or... or, wherever you want to go.

I mean...

twenty pounds.

- But why?
- Because we need your help.

Do the police know the
identity of the Ripper?

Read all about it!
Commissioner resigns.

Jack the Ripper - is his
identity known?

Do the police know the identity
of Jack the Ripper?

Late paper.

Do the police know the identity
of Jack the Ripper?

Read all about it.

I've packed everything,
Mr Mansfield.

So what're you waiting for?

Well, it is customary at the end
of an engagement...

to offer one's dresser
a small token of...

appreciation.

I'll take this down for you.

The coach will be here soon.

Good night, Dr Acland.

What are you looking at?

Good evening, sir.
Can I help you?

Where's Abberline?

I, I don't know, sir.

What's that about?

I'll see him again in
the morning, all right?

Thank you Dr Llewellyn,
and good night.

Good night.

Wait there, sir.

George, George!

- George!
- Let her go! Run!

Go, get out of it!

Handcuffs, George! Handcuffs!

- Got him?
- Yeah. That's it.

- My work!
- Gull!

Get away. My work!
You're destroying my work!

The great experiment! The mind!

- He's mad.
- The mind!

The great experiment...!
They're only whores.

They're only worthless whores!

You're destroying it all! Urghh!

No!

- Get out the way, George.
- No, Fred!

- Get out the way, George.
- No, Fred!

You'll hang!

He's... He's breathing.
He's alive.

Come on, tut tut tut.
There, there.

- Well, Dr Acland?
- It's a massive cerebral haemorrhage.

If the bleeding continues he could
expire within the next few hours.

And if it stops?

Weeks, months.

He's as good as dead
now, Commissioner.

He'll never recover.

What was your father-in-law
working on, Dr Ackland?

What?

He kept talking about
his "work".

What kind of work?

He hardly had any.
He was a sick man, he...

- My God.
- What was it?

What was he working on?!

Dementia praecox, with a particular
reference to the splitting of the mind.

Two minds in one,
like Jekyll and Hyde?

It's true he saw the human mind
as having two sides, like a single coin.

The sane and the insane, but I
hardly think you can interpret that as...

He called it "an experiment".

What kind of experiment?

I wasn't privy to
all his researches, Inspector.

- Answer the question!
- Abberline, please.

To him, insanity was
a disease like any other.

Something to be understood
before it could be cured.

Understood? So he used
those women as Guinea pigs...

in some mad experiment?

For god's sake, man,
he'd had a stroke!

He was the Guinea pig!

Trying to understand
his own dementia!

You mean he was mad?

- There's no need for this.
- Yes there is!

Was he mad?!

Yes!

How many people know the truth?

- Civilians, I mean?
- Civilians?

The coachman, and the girl.

- Why?
- Netley won't talk...

in case he's judged
equally guilty.

The girl can be paid.

That leaves you, me, and Godley.

All serving officers holding
the Queen's warrant.

What are you saying, sir?

For the next eighteen minutes, I'm still
Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.

- You're not thinking of keeping this quiet?
- The man's as good as dead.

He'll never stand trial,
why cause more damage?

Damage? He's a killer!

He's also the Queen's doctor, and
a brilliant scientist.

- He's killed five women!
- Listen to me!

Just listen to what
I have to say.

If you don't agree, you can
talk to my successor.

But I warn you, his response will
almost certainly be the same as mine.

Sit down.

- Goodnight, sir.
- Goodnight, Sergeant.

Enjoy your retirement, sir.

- What happens now?
- Nothing.

Nothing?

Why ruin the lives
of two more women?

Innocent wife and daughter.

Why bring medical
science into disrepute?

Is that what Warren said?

That's what they'll all say.

The new Commissioner,
the Prime Minister.

Maybe even the Queen herself,
if she gets to hear about it.

The the files will
start to disappear...

and they'll stamp
the case "unsolved".

What? He's guilty!

And he's the Queen's doctor.

The implications. The scandal.
The political upheaval.

Think of the public good,
George.

Think of the public good.

- What did you expect, my old friend?
- Justice.

That's what I expect.

Straightforward, bloody justice.

Then you should've let me
shoot him...

shouldn't yer?

Shouldn't yer?

Sir William Withey Gull
lived on for fourteen months.

In breach of medical custom
and practice...

his death was certified by
his own son-in-law...

Dr Theodore Dyke Acland.

Cause of death:
Cerebral haemorrhage.

John Netley died under the
wheels of his own coach in 1903.

His death was recorded
as accidental.

Sir Charles Warren went
on to fight in the Boer War...

and later helped build the
Boy Scout movement.

He died in 1927.

Robert James Lees published several
books on telepathy and reincarnation.

He died in 1931.

The actor Richard Mansfield...

returned to America, where he married
his leading Lady, Beatrice Cameron.

He died in 1907.

George Godley rose to
the rank of Inspector...

and retired in 1908.

And, after investigating the famous
Cleveland Street scandal...

Detective Inspector
Frederick Abberline...

left the Police Force.

He died in 1929.