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a souvenir?’
    It was a grim thought. He was not a man at all predisposed to superstition, but the dark workings of men’s minds could be depressing.
    ‘And this was the same with Rainham?’ he asked. ‘No head?’
    ‘The Rainham woman’s body was found in eleven different sections,’ Hebbert said. ‘And no, the head was never recovered. She was of a similar age to this one, and she was no working girl either, if I recall – not like Jack’s Whitechapel victims, at any rate.’
    ‘And the body parts were pulled out of the river?’
    ‘Yes.’ Bond nodded. ‘Perhaps he’s getting braver with this one, leaving the torso where he did, but the arm came out of the water at Pimlico. And who knows where the rest of her will turn up?’
    ‘What about the dismemberment?’ Moore peered at the various cavities. ‘The cuts look relatively clean.’
    ‘I would say he knew what he was doing,’ Bond said. ‘He used a sharp knife. Perhaps a saw.’
    Moore glanced over at the table of tools. There were several of both such items. ‘So he could be adoctor?’ The same had been suggested of Jack, given the mutilations he carried out on the women after murdering them so viciously. Moore didn’t miss the sharp look that passed between the two surgeons.
    ‘As we told them at the Rainham inquest,’ Hebbert said, ‘it’s likely the killer had some knowledge of anatomy, but we doubt he was a medical man.’
    Moore didn’t argue, but he took that statement with a pinch of salt. It was natural for the two men not to want to bring their own profession under suspicion or into disrepute. He didn’t hold that against them – it wouldn’t stop him following any leads that might lead him to a surgeon, so they could be as defensive as they wished.
    ‘It was a hot day in Camden for the inquest, wasn’t it, Thomas?’ Charles Hebbert shook his head slightly. ‘All of us crammed into that small space. I was glad to get outside, but God’s teeth, the whole city stank that afternoon. Do you remember the stench coming from the canal? Worse than anything I had come across in any mortuary for a while. Juliana and her young man had come to meet me, and they’d waited so long she complained her new dress reeked.’
    ‘I remember,’ Dr Bond said, smiling. ‘There were a fair few frockcoats in that inquest that were start to reek themselves, and probably ours amongst them. Standing on those steps while we talked was a great relief.’ He smiled again, and then his face fell slightly. ‘I remember,’ he muttered again.
    ‘I say,’ Hebbert turned to Bond, ‘why don’t you join us for dinner this evening? Juliana asks after you often – she’s very bright you know, very interested in our work. And Mary would love to see you too. What do you say, Thomas?’
    ‘Well, if that’s all you’ve got for us,’ Inspector Moore interrupted, never that good with small-talk of his own, let alone listening to that of others, ‘then we’ll head back and leave you to finish up your work. I don’t know whether to thank you or not.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Two murders by the same hand a year apart? Maybe he won’t strike again for another year. By then, at least, we should have found our Jack.’ He spoke more confidently than he felt. He would be more than happy for Jack to take a year’s absence from his work, just so they – and the rest of London – could get back to a decent night’s sleep.
    ‘Let’s hope we don’t see each other again too soon shall we, gentlemen?’ he added as Dr Bond finally looked up from his workbench. ‘And certainly not on the streets of Whitechapel.’ The two surgeons said their farewells and then he and Andrews left them to it as Hebbert again pressed Bond to accept his dinner invitation.
    ‘The good Dr Bond looks exhausted,’ Andrews said as they strode back to the main thoroughfare. ‘Did you see him as Hebbert was talking of Rainham? He paled and trembled – only for a moment, but I saw