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‘I HAVE A QUESTION, if I may.’ Hapgood said, setting his pen down and stretching his arm out in front of him. Miller looked at him his expression neutral. Taking the silence as the go ahead to ask his question, Hapgood continued. ‘You speak of the thing inside you driving you to do the...things you did. It seems to me that it or you were quite ready to claim another victim there and then on the night of the twenty eighth. I was curious as to why it took place two days later instead.’
‘Would you like me to answer now or give you a moment to rest your writing hand?’
‘By all means answer, I will make notes before we continue.’
‘Very well.’ Miller said. He watched as Hapgood stood and walked towards the window, stretching his arms and trying to banish the stiffness which was setting in on his muscles. Hapgood looked out at the wet and deserted streets and realised he no longer had any desire to escape. He wanted to hear more. He glanced at Miller who, to his surprise was staring at him.
‘Would you like another drink, Mr Miller?’
Miller shook his head. ‘No, thank you. Fortunately, the man I am now has more control over his habits than the one we have been discussing. That, in part, is the answer to your question, Hapgood. That night, as I left the Ten Bells, the thing inside was enraged, ready to spill the blood of any whore in its path and the intention was to do just that. I recall little in the way of detail due to the ferocity of the rage. I remember making for my lodgings, anticipating collecting my knife and adding to my tally. Sadly, my drink addled body was incapable. I recall reaching my home and heading inside then my next recollection was when daylight had broken and I woke on the floor with my previous evening’s consummation in great pools around me.’
‘The drink stopped you.’
‘Yes. It appears so. Perhaps it was for the best. I was in no condition to complete the task I had set myself.’
Hapgood returned to his seat. He was exhausted by the sheer volume of knowledge he had taken in. ‘Alcohol it seems was a constant in your existence.’
‘Indeed it was. I had developed an uncontrollable shake of the right hand which would only be stilled by more consumption.’
‘You had become addicted.’
‘Yes. And I was aware that the consequences of the drink rendered me powerless to do my work. As fate would have it, the very thing that I detested, the dark part of my psyche that was desperate to gain full control over me was more powerful than the need for drink, and so that day, it made me suffer the pain and ignore the craving as it had desires of it’s own to attend to. It was later, before midnight that my hand was still enough to conduct my work, and with Inspector Abberline’s words fresh in my mind, I set out to once again strike fear into the streets.